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sugar-petals · 3 years

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Club Daemon (m)

PAIRING. merman!baekhyun x vampire!reader

↳ PLOT. You join a club of half-demons all hailing from different supernatural species — and find an unexpected love.

↳ WORDS. 27k

TAGS / WARNINGS ⚠️ eventual smut, jealousy, explicit bloodsucking sex (mutual oral, vaginal), fangs kink, pining, groping, femdom!reader, angst/action, neck fixation, rough sex, fantasy au

The room is filled with smoke, but not from any cigarettes. Somewhere around here, or so you’ve been told, must be the entrance to actual hell.

A gloomy spiral staircase headed for the core of the earth, kind of rusty and gleaming in red, fog everywhere, you get the idea. But so far… that’s none of your business. And either way.

The architecture in the part of the mansion you were invited to elegantly pools into a massive door of brass and copper. An embossed piece, amazingly sculpted — a hundred years old or more.

The center depicts a translucent emblem that appears to be strangely double-headed. Two facial profiles. One gazing east, the other, west. What exactly that’s supposed to mean: You have no idea, but you get the gist. Some kind of Greek mythology visual going on there.

Doesn’t look like hell, does it.

You approach the door with slowed steps, tug your blazer into a comfortable fit at the lower hem. Had a mint? Check. Documents? Check. Posture? Semi-check. Adjusting necessary. Back straight, firmer walk. Done. Hopefully. As long as you don’t have to take those reckless stairs down south, you’re surprisingly ready for this. And what kind of preparations can you take for this kind of encounter in the first place anyway.

Beside the door, a concierge behind a luxurious, bulky table lifts his golden-framed glasses. They’re exceptionally thin and round, making their wearer appear like a wise, yet prying owl. Mister Mark Lee, apparently, going by how Taemin described him to you.

Oh God, Taemin’s pointers saved your life finding this place. He’s been so forthcoming and took the time to explain as much as he could. The moment makes you reminisce a little. Your eyes lose focus.

Meanwhile, fully in the moment, the conscierge seems to cloud himself in the mystery of his dark green suit without any words. A man as groomed as this very Victorian penthouse. And this very borough, and this very carpet you’re standing on. Greeting you with a nod as understated as can be.

It’s not like he’s treating you like air — he simply keeps the certain reserve you’d expect from a nocturnal bird. Or so it seems. That you’d be scrutinized you already expected, but this way feels a bit uneasy in the chest. If you’re the mouse to the owl, you want to move on past that door as fast as you fucking can.

You try to continue standing straight and hand him your letter as inconspicuously as possible. Oh, that damn piece of paper that turned your life around. A little ‚good evening‘ barely leaves your throat and Mister Lee presses a button underneath the table top after gazing over the document nearly thrice. Following his insistent eyes, you leave your phone on the table altogether, and now have virtually nothing to hold onto. You opt for putting your hands in your navy blue pants pockets. If that’s any good around here, staying a little hellishly casual.

‘A very good evening indeed,‘ is what Mister Lee’s eyes seem to reply.

The door shifts open with a dull, booming sound. Very well then. You stagger inside toward what’s hopefully behind it — suddenly feeling so terribly exhausted. Hazy. You don’t know how it hit you. So many scents. Impressions. Movement. Space. Eyes. Heartbeats.

You try hard to focus on the first candle you can see around, and you do find one, and it does ground you. After their split-second delirium, your feet anchor on the carpet now, and the scenery pulls you back to breathing. Now, the bigger picture becomes a lot clearer.

There are several men settled everywhere across the room that opens before you so luxuriously. All dressed in the finest of garments and polished shoes, donning the most annoyingly impeccable haircuts on top of that. Everything about this room screams dignity, and haughtiness, and a hefty bank account.

But you can’t deny another, stronger hunch. The presence of one gentleman in particular sends a chilly feeling down your spine. You can’t tell who it is now. You just know that somebody here is very different. Dangerously so.

Between armchairs, chandeliers, blood-filled cups and side tables, you spot arrangements of night-blooming jasmine and daffodils. Large and opulent, really catching your eye with their elegant trumpet shapes.

Perhaps, and you really have no clue whether that’s a good theory, to suggest that however solid teak and mahogany this entire interior might be, there is still life and scent in it. But it’s all… so carefully curated. Too deliberate to be authentic in the very least, and that’s what is making you tense up so much. You know very well that nobody in this room, if it weren’t for this meeting, would be preoccupied with flowers. Except maybe Taemin. But he’s half-elven, so that doesn’t count. Elves love jasmine.

Meanwhile, you suspect that the cups with blood were purposely brought in to catch you off guard pretty much right away. To test your self-control, get you startled, or lord knows what. Power games in this club, you’d not be surprised. But the scent really is so overbearing. You become all light-headed. Whatever they set up for you here, it’s already working. You feel like falling asleep in the middle of the damn night.

The fumes, and the candles, and the daffodils—

„Wong Yukhei,“ a voice finally pierces through the mist inside your brain.

You perk up. It belongs to a figure seated in the deeper middle of the room. A dark-haired man, noticeably tall and baritoned, with full lips, immense shoulders. In fact, a frame to behold all tailored in matte black. Down to the pointed oxford shoes, laced up in a very brisk way as if someone pulled a corset very tight.

„Yes—?“

„Half-lycan. Club president. Have a seat.“

Now you know why he speaks first.

It’s like you’re frozen on the spot. Judging by how muscular he is underneath that very suit, especially around the upper body, you don’t want to catch a glimpse of what happens when the moon says hi. Half werewolf it is. No wonder his hands are huge like paws. You don’t have to count one and one together to know that this guy could go casual beastmode and rip the room’s door in half.

„A... alright.“

Stammering like a fool isn’t something you planned but comes out as a sheer reflex. To distract from the awkward tone, you resort to looking around. You wonder if the club is in full attendance. Because who knows, they could await some more people like you later on. There are actually quite a few empty seats to choose from. A dozen, perhaps a bit more. Each with a filled cup on a table, right to the brim, one more flavorful than the other.

Since the president didn’t gesture towards any seat in particular, you find yourself having to make an intuitive choice. Whether that’s some werewolfey ‚where does she put up her territory?‘ personality quiz or whatever… is unimportant because your nose is already telling you precisely where to sit anyway. In fact, obnoxiously so. It’s itching like crazy at most of the scents except one. You realize — at least that you can rely on. There’s that one cup you want to be close to. Ignoring it would probably torture you for the entire night so you give into it.

Taking the empty chair at the chimney fire on the right side of the room comes naturally. And: With several eye pairs resting very firmly on you. But your attention is elsewhere already. The blood in the goblet of this particular table really does smell like the most delicious thing. There’s something magically attractive about the consistency. You can feel with your whole body just how amazingly juicy and welcoming the drink is. For a strange reason, it seems like it’s almost iridescent. You’ve never seen that before. Everyone in the room has the current pleasure of watching you being smitten by a fucking drink.

There’s no way they didn’t see you lick your lips like a first class pervert either.

Whatever first impression you’re giving them, it’s one that makes a part of you mentally run out the door again. Poor Taemin thought you were a promising invitee. You feel bad for disappointing him already. Slave to your instincts, how on earth are you even supposed to sit here in the finest and highest of company. Creating sexual tension over a glass of blood in a millionaire’s club or whatever.

Still, against all odds, the other part of you glady reclines in your seat, sleazy like a retired Russian oligarch on his yacht. Because that means: Smelling that heavenly scent up close. Hell, just fuck everything else. It’s the most gratifying thing you’ve come across. Did they brew you a damn magic potion or something?

You have a hard time snapping back to the conversation and realize everyone is still intently looking at you admiring your cup as if it’s a prime time television event with Zac Efron in it. Which you now force yourself to break from. Not so gladly this time. You really want to have a sip, but Yukhei’s pressing gaze demands you to make your move. You wonder why his eyes are so livid, but again realize that he probably doesn’t need the moon to be wolf-like, does he.

„So you were the one who came up with inviting me, then?“ you say, and the words come out much more bluntly. It surprises you. Since you skipped the introduction and small talk altogether, maybe your mouth thought, why not strike a direct tone. Just being in the vicinity of something so mouthwatering makes you feel on top of the world out of literal nowhere. You’re about to lose your train of thought again that Yukhei fervently shakes his head.

„It was Baekhyun’s suggestion. A terribly daring one I thought,“ he says. „Thank him that we agreed to meeting you in person. In fact, he was very adamant we’d do so.“

You look around the assembly, hoping to find clarity about whoever prompted the invitation letter. Since nobody seems to put anything forth, you quiz yourself on who of these gentlemen looks like a Baekhyun, and why nobody is reacting. Everyone’s literally sitting there like marble statues.

According to Taemin, getting an invitation to Club Daemon is not only something that excludes the general public, but also merely a fleeting ‚rumor‘. Not even a neighborhood legend if it came down to it. Because on more official papers, this guild does not exist. Whoever wanted to invite you was indeed taking a notable risk — to the president’s nuisance, on top of that.

Oh yeah. Now you’re at the edge of your seat.

„Eh. I’m afraid Baekhyun cannot meet you in this particular setting,“ Yukhei breaks into a lop-sided smirk. You’re shocked he’d pull a dismissive face like that. So openly, like he simply doesn’t give one damn all of a sudden. Strangely enough, it still doesn’t take away from just how nobly he’s dressed. It’s seriously messing with your head. Or is it the goblet?

„So, this setting, um—“

You look like Yukhei just spoke in a different language now. Stifled laughter among the guild members. At least they’re reacting now. That’s progress. But you’re even more confused and stuff your hands back into your pockets.

„See. Carpets are typically not Baekhyun’s favored grounds. He’s half-merman,“ Yukhei continues, very much composed in his seat now just as before. And it finally registers.

Oh man.

You can’t spot some giant water tank in this room or anything of that kind. There’s no way he could just casually hang out here. Of course he can’t greet you in the club. Sweet Jesus. You have too much blood and flower scent around you.

„But not to worry. You’ll get to meet your sweet benefactor,“ Yukhei leans back, the smirk growing even wider. „Baekhyun can speak to you in the club bathroom from time to time. If he’s not out there playing around in the bays like the kid he is.“

„I see? Uh...“

You shift back and forth in your seat. Even if your brain somehow tries to piece that information together, keeping your eyes off the chalice is so hard all over again.

You can’t lie, it’s even starting to get you hot and bothered from the toes up. Gritting your teeth is all you can do not to gasp out loud. Literally, you’re one moan away from semi-public indecency. That is, if human law applies to this room. Going by how everyone is so keen to see you react, it probably doesn’t. Your ears are telling you that pretty much everyone is holding their breath right now. Untouched orgasm at 7:30 PM? Wasn’t on your plan either. But looks like you’re headed for it. You wonder if Yukhei has been planning to set you up for this and—

„We didn’t put this up to confuse you, Y/N. Please feel free to drink. We want you to feel welcome here,“ a second, innately friendly voice addresses you now, parting the silence like a vintage knife through warm butter. It’s much softer than Yukhei’s, as if laced with honey.

Immediately, you recognize the sound. It is Taemin.

Seated to Yukhei’s far left in a flawlessly upright posture. Blond and lavish, dressed in a type of brocade tux. It seems to be a mix of burgundy and golden pipings in the fire light, but you could be wrong. With good reason and regard to most members present, the room is kept very dark. In fact, the atmosphere couldn’t be any more controlled. Nevertheless — finally reuniting with him is such a relief. You already want to thank him for averting a full-on catastrophe.

„Taemin! It’s good to see you again,“ you finally break the tension. Your tone loses all discomfort, your face brightens. Taemin gently bows in response. His poise lights up the room, and you even manage to detach from the chalice.

„The pleasure is ours. It’s great to see you again as well.“

You recall. The memory is still so vivid. He was the one who brought you the letter in the late evening. You were sitting on your balcony scrolling through your phone feed and boom. There he was, sitting — even seemingly glowing or whatever it was — in a cherry tree. With his pointy ears and an envelope for you, the exact invitation Baekhyun had suggested. As far as you can remember, he’s been elected as the Club’s vice president very recently.

Taemin explained a lot of the club’s incentives to you on the balcony. Even if you did manage to drop your phone in shock at his appearance, his open approach had you packing up your bags for the mansion in a matter of two days. Seems like the club knows who to send when they don’t want to intimidate possible recruits. If Yukhei showed up in that dark suit and the low brow, you probably would’ve turned into a bat and headed for the forest. Well, or something like that. Meanwhile, Taemin feels like you’ve been familiar for decades.

„Do drink. It is handpicked for you!“

„Thank you, Taemin,“ is all you can say, and turn back to your drink with shaky hands. Finally. And well. If Taemin offers it, it can’t be wrong. It’s far too late to ignore it anyway. You already grab the base of the chalice like you’re holding on to dear life.

The first sip is so hasty, Yukhei almost has to laugh out loud. Or is it a laugh? Taemin frowns right at him, but you’re too busy chugging to notice. Hawthorn, lotus, apples, water lily, chestnuts and vanilla. So many nuances, too little tastebuds and too little words to describe it. You’ve never tasted blood of such a quality. For free. Not one pause to breathe, it just goes down like fine liquor.

Everything in your body starts to feel completely alert. Whoever this blood belongs to, whatever is going on, this is the most thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a while. It’s like floating inches above your seat. Your face is feeling all heated as if the chimney fire burns your cheeks. Your skin is normally pretty cold and stays that way if you think about it.

At the same time, you’re surprisingly refreshed on the inside. The blood left a minty trace on the back of your tongue. You know the men are watching you, but you can’t help but ride the high of the taste for a few seconds with your eyes closed. Once the rush is fully over, you slack in your seat. Open your eyes. And sigh out. Goddamn.

If that means to feel welcome here, then you’re more than convinced. Taemin knows how to serve an aperitif. Everything about your body feels relaxed. You bet your pupils are more blown than Yukhei’s dick in his freetime going by how he sits and watches your reaction. Manspreading is an understatement. Wolfspreading is the new thing. Literally, what on earth happened. He’s glowering at you like you just stole the keys to the glitzy silver sportscar that’s parked in front of the mansion and without a doubt must be his. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you even if the light is so dim: He’s straight-up gotten all angry to the point of gritting his teeth.

But there’s also something that tells you he’s afraid.

„Now, you probably want to know why we’re interested in you, right,“ Taemin gently continues once you put the empty chalice down and make very needed use of the napkin already placed next to the cup. Heartbeat: Speed of a bullet train arriving at a station.

„I’m starting to see why.“

Most of your exhaustion is actually… gone. Out of the blue. You’re feeling much more perceptive, much faster in every move. Maybe Edward was right with his personal brand of heroin. You just never knew because you had 5 Pounds 50 blood from TESCO’s every day until now. So that’s that.

„We didn’t find a novice in twenty years,“ Taemin says. „Nor a half-vampire for that matter.“

In passing, he ushers a slender-looking butler towards your table. Casually, as if he did it a million times already. So far, using the shade of the lighting, the butler had been blending in with a velvet curtain until now. You ask yourself if you’ve actually noticed him or not. You can’t clearly tell which is strange. But then again, going by the course of events until now, not really.

„Right,“ you reply, trying to focus on Taemin — without much success. The butler simply looks too striking. He uses a large carafe to refill what probably measures up to another quarter liter into your chalice. He looks at you with sheer intent, it’s Yukhei’s gaze times ten, almost like it’s bundled into a lazer. Instead of being excited about the refill, you find yourself trying to desperately decipher the butler’s look. It’s not wolfy this time, that’s for sure. It’s something far, far different. It’s something deeply scary.

The butler lingers. It takes five seconds too long for him to return to the curtain. There’s that feeling again. That hunch from before when you came in, so much stronger now. You’re shivering. The man looks so serious in his crisp red suit, with the pin stripes and a golden pocket watch at his lapel. His aura is so freezing cold.

„Meaning, our guild could urgently use a new addition,“ Taemin keeps on speaking, with Yukhei closely listening to how he puts his words. In the meantime, the butler stands completely still in the dark, merging with the curtain almost completely again. But you can tell his eyes are on you. His frame looks so skinny at a distance, but you can tell he’s much stronger than that. Lord knows Yukhei might not be the only one who could break the door in half.

You hold on tight to the napkin in your lap. Where you thought you’d feel elated, you’re all sober now.

„Twenty years is a long time,“ you comment, a lot more dryly this time.

Even in a club where nobody ages by human standards, this could be quite a frustration. Looking around, you begin to understand why the invitation was such an urgent matter and there are many more empty seats. All the members look very established and at home to say the very least. Nobody here appears to be a novice.

„It is,“ Taemin replies. „You can see why we wanted to talk to you.“

„Yes. I can. Thank you for considering me. It was a bit out of nowhere but, I guess there’s no way to do it differently.“

Taemin nods. Meanwhile, Yukhei remains visibly displeased in his center seat, with his expression growing much darker by the minute. You can’t tell whether he didn’t like you downing the blood so fast like a post-diet Dracula or how Taemin explained all of this to you now. You don’t have to wonder for a long time, though.

„That we expand our assembly with a half-vampire out of all possibilities— was not my idea,“ Yukhei taps his fingers onto the lion-shaped armrests of his chair. The poor fellas probably have a hard time carrying his frame, fragile as they look. Taemin, on the other hand, is as nonchalant and petite as you got to know him. Like a feather on his seat, he sways his torso ever so slightly while he listens. Then, he reaches over to pat Yukhei on the shoulder with a wide, reassuring smile.

„But you were still delighted that Baekhyun found someone, didn’t you.“

„You make it sound like a public holiday. Eh, we’re recruiting, Taemin.“

„You didn’t take too long to agree to sending the invitation at all. Back when Kai joined, you needed five months to say yes. And he’s half-lycan himself.“

„Because Jongin was a grade A stupid bastard… and still is,“ Yukhei darts an even lower gaze to a particularly shaded corner of the room. Whoever this guy Kai is, he’s sitting right there and grins his life away. Now that you set your eyes on him, you’re about to piss your fucking pants.

Even behind a particularly large array of jasmine bouquets, his silhouette looks the most powerful out of all the club members despite him not being as tall as Yukhei. Where you would’ve called the Yukhei ‚strong‘, Kai was first and foremost athletic — head to toe, with a looming frame. He’s kept silent for the entire time, but he sure listened well.

„It’s a competition, Yukhei,“ the silhouette crosses his legs, laughing. „Whoever is bastardly enough is qualified for being the club president. Sounds like I’m headed right for it. But you’re also knee-deep. Knee-deep, I’m telling you.“

Kai’s voice is much lighter than you thought it would be, but the way he speaks commands instant respect. Yukhei’s answer is a mixture of a growl and a huff, but it’s so blended together that it’s becoming hard to distinguish to your reeling ears. All you know is that the atmosphere in the room feels like a string ready to snap.

So that’s what half-lycans are all about, then.

In case they’re about to fully out-bastard each other, you take another sip to distract yourself. You hear your ears pulse even more. The blood really is delicious and takes your mind off. To your surprise and relief, Yukhei squarely turns to the assembly with a much more point-blank attitude in his movement now. Kai remains entirely ignored.

„That she’s not part of a vampire clan and we couldn’t find possible members for so long is the only reason she’s here, that’s all.“

„Enough a reason,“ Taemin smiles even wider, and puts more soothing into his phrasings. Kai’s unsettling presence doesn’t seem to faze him the very least.

„We’d be happy to have you join us if you’re inclined,“ he now addresses you again. „I’m sure our talk about the training and formal things will bore you, though. I reckon you want to be introduced to your kind first.“

„Oh…“

Your kind.

That explains a lot. A whole damn lot, to be exact. You can’t help but suck in air, but it’s less awkward than you thought. In fact, your reaction brings some life into the room. Looks like everyone has anticipated this. Yukhei’s eyes narrow. Kai seems even more alert. You feel like a lab rat new to the cage.

„You felt his presence when you stepped in, didn’t you,“ Taemin asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

You did. The half-elf looks confirmed in his statement.

„It’s him, right,“ you direct your eyes toward the curtain, but don’t dare to lift your gaze any further.

The butler.

He’s been sticking out like a sore thumb.

You felt him since the very first moment.

„Yes,“ Taemin says.

Your suspicion, or rather, what your body told you from the beginning with every shiver and every fiber, was entirely right: With an interpretation you couldn’t grasp just then. But now you do. Your intuition didn’t lie.

„Ma’am. Pleased to meet you. Lee Taeyong,“ the butler strikes a surprisingly fluid introduction. You freeze up again. It’s very unlike his stiff positioning, stepping forth from his usual waiting place so his face is visible to you in candle light entirely at a bit of a distance. Lee Taeyong. His face… really is sharp.

„I was expelled from my clan 80 years ago,“ he disposes of his tray to speak freely now. His voice is so deep, it almost resonates in your ribcage. But then, you see something vulnerable in him. You don’t know what it is.

„Expelled?“

„You can imagine. They found out I wasn’t full vampire,“ he continues. Now you do see them. His fangs. You should’ve noticed. Damn. „That’s how I got here.“

And now you actually get what happened. Taeyong is an outcast. Looking past his teens, 150, 170 years, a tenth of Taemin’s age at the very least. And he’s half-vampire who’s been on his own pretty much: Just like you. That’s something that still didn’t sink in yet. Your kind. The butler of Club Daemon.

No wonder he took his time pouring the blood into your chalice and looked at you like you’re some kind of revelation. If the cups in the room smell only half as delicious to him as they do to you? He has admirable self-control just standing there at the carpet without losing his mind.

You shift forward on your seat — as does Yukhei, unseen to you. Almost automatically, your tone becomes more tense.

„So what happened?“

„I didn’t know my entire family history until that point. I was orphaned,“ Taeyong expands, his mimic controlled. „The clan was all I knew. I never thought I could have any demon heritage. Literally any. For decades. Until my father showed up. It was…I didn’t know he was that far up the hierarchy.“

Your jaw drops. He has to be kidding you. That can only mean one thing, there’s only one person he could refer to.

„You met Satan personally?!“

Dead silence in the room. You could hear a pin drop. In fact, an elven hair strand.

„I wish I didn’t,“ the butler finally says. With a more silent voice. You can tell he has to cave in, force himself. „He gave me this.“

Taeyong begins to slowly loosen his tie. Taemin already averts his eyes. The butler goes on to reveal a left collarbone so scarred, you can’t bear to look at it for very long yourself. The tissue has been deeply torn. The bone, presumably broken twice, healed in an odd way on top of that. You feel the pain in the very same spot within your own body.

Taeyong doesn’t have to tell you that the altercation left his arm fully paralyzed. You just know, like you could sense his presence from far away already. Meeting his father changed his life forever in the worst way possible. Now you understand why Taeyong does the butlering in the club — he can keep his left hand behind his back at all times.

„His father rejected him,“ Yukhei says, sterner than ever. His anger has faded, and an extreme seriousness begins to sink his brows.

„It’s that — Neither my clan nor demon folk really want me present,“ Taeyong’s face is even more barren of an expression now. He’s bottled it all up, it’s hard to watch. It sounds like he hasn’t spoken about this for years. „This was the only place I could go at that point. Yukhei was very helpful. I hope you can feel the comfort of being accepted here like I do.“

„I… don’t understand why Satan would disapprove of you so much, Taeyong.“

„Some demons willingly get together with vampires,“ Taemin steps in now, careful in his intonation. „But Lucifer rarely does. And, only when he’s drunk. If you ask him on a normal day, and I know this sounds harsh… he despises most of pure vampires, and half-breeds even more so. He is also Yukhei’s father.“

„He is?!“

Now you’re almost falling off your chair. That Yukhei’s father must be one of the higher-ups in the demon ranks was already a no-brainer, but this —

„Idiot cast me from hell the second he found out I can grow these longer than his silly horns,“ Yukhei points at his mouth, baring all teeth now. Even in their natural shape, they’re already razor sharp, sporting clearly prominent fangs. Even your canines, and those are hardly used and worn down, aren’t as slicing as his. When he says he can grow them that long, you fucking believe him.

„He’s… not been the most accepting dad to say the least,“ Taemin folds his hands in his lap. “And doesn’t stick up for any mistakes.”

„’Cause he’s an insecure ass,“ Yukhei makes a disgusted grimace. „Fucks around and then gets mad at what he’s done. Vampire girls he sure likes when he’s doing one of his stupid orgies. But not the consequences. He’s so easily threatened. That’s almost funny.“

You’re stiffer than ever now, glued to your seat. Not in a million years did you think there was some serious family drama going on behind those fancy suits.

„So that’s why this club exists. Satan can’t handle us,“ Kai adds, kneading his thighs. Looking much more detached, almost demure. You can tell that Taeyong’s speech hit the underbelly of everyone in the room. That even Kai looks so sunken catches you off guard. „We’re half this, half that. I mean look at us. Yukhei and I could never be part of a pure wolves pack. Never. We can’t mingle with demons either. They doubt us in any place. Shitty situation.“

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Now, the double head emblem on the embossed door makes a lot more sense. It’s not just for the aesthetics. Two faces going into opposite directions. Always torn. Always the onlooker, yearning from a distance. Unable to go in either direction. Seems like you’re in the right place. Or the wrong one: Because you bet this assembly is the very eye of the storm.

„Why did Satan not try to attack the Club yet? Isn’t there even a stairway to hell in this house?“ you ask. If Satan got pissed off by Yukhei’s or Taeyong’s abilities, several people of that kind in one place sounds pretty much the ultimate provocation. Installing a designated hell door with smoke all around even more so.

„He sure wants to,“ Kai shrugs, again, smirking in this very distinct way. He builds himself up again, and the teasing undertone in his voice strengthens back to normal. „But he’s afraid and doesn’t know about half of us. You see… Hellboy has no way of gauging what expects him. Even if he fucking hates us and wants us dead in a ditch, whatever. We know him inside out, too. Even more than he knows us. I’m sure he doesn’t want to face Taeyong now that he’s not young and weak anymore. He only exploits way down the hierarchy. He knows he can win there.“

„Makes… sense. Sort of— preying on vulnerable people.“

That an insecure hell boss is the reason this very club has formed? Seems to be a better explanation than you thought. No way so many species could stick together otherwise. How you’re in a room with two high functioning, protein-powered lycans both standing over six feet is already a miracle. Just sitting there sipping your bloody drink. There’s even an elf guy. That’s some surreal shit, even Salvador Dalí wouldn’t believe it.

„And, um. Saying that there’s a hell door is a joke Taemin pulls on every recruit,“ Taeyong scratches his head now.

„Everybody thought that Mark was vaping but he actually put up a room difuser down the hall,“ Kai adds. „He’s using essential oils in there since a couple weeks. So sometimes we do have some fog round that area. But there’s no actual stairway or anything. It’s a club tradition... a hoax.“

Your what-the-fuck expression must be hard to beat right now.

„Er. All right then. So much about hell smoke.“

A whole damn prank. Taemin is not as angelic as he looks, is he. Still part demon, after all. It really felt like there was an entrance to hell around when you arrived here. Taemin’s little giggle right now doesn’t worry you as much as Yukhei’s grunting.

„So much about a hoax,“ he growls back. „I wish we actually had that door so I could go beat his ass.“

High functioning, protein-powered lycans with daddy issues. You never thought this club had major drama. Your lips think its time for another comfort sip from your chalice. Blessed thing you have that one. Because all this… got you into something bigger than expected. Eating shrimps on a terrace with some fellow half-breeds on a cozy Sunday evening? Nothing of that kind. Rating Christopher Lee movies and signing up on vampire tinder together just for fun? Nothing of that in sight.

„So, naturally. That we can recruit you is a good feat,“ Kai continues. „You might grow very strong in training.”

“Strong in training?”

“Vampire half-breeds are always up for a surprise. You see how Taeyong is like. He can open jars even I can’t crack. With just one hand. Long as we have a balance of power with hell, the Club is quite safe. Even from my father.“

Looks like what you got yourself into is a Cold War that coincidentally involves people from Down Under — but it’s not Australians.

„Are you Satan’s son as well, Kai?“

Kai shakes his head quite firmly. Just how stark his face structure is becomes visible when Taeyong puts a candle into his vicinity, helping you gauge Kai’s outline much better, which is a bit more reassuring. The butler seems to almost read your thoughts. Your initial shiver gladly has been in decline ever since Taeyong spoke up. And you do believe he can open those jars.

„My old man? Mammon.“

„Mammon? Ugh.“

You can already guess what this is all about. You don’t need to wait a second for Kai to go on a rant.

„He’s a fucker, fucked up, a fucking twat, and fucks around even more so than Satan,“ Jongin kicks his left foot, looking mighty grumpy in the candle light. „I’m sure you know what he’s in charge of. He likes fear and chaos. To say the very least.“

You sure can imagine. Mammon governs the most powerful resource on the planet. Or rather, what people do with it, so… you already don’t have to know anything more than that.

„Talking about him is of no use,“ Yukhei intervenes. „Lost cause, wasted time. What I wanna say is. The vampire clans also don’t know much about us either,“ he now points at you. „That’s our advantage. And the reason why you will have to quit most of your regular life if you agree to be a member. Or take a serum that will make you forget about meeting us. At least, up to the point where you received the letter. I know this is quite a severe change. You can imagine how discrete we have to be. Given everything you heard.“

Yukhei looks dead serious.

Well, alright then. The case is clear. This is legitimate big business.

Club „Most Hated Half-breeds“ Daemon. Outsiders, all of them. The first rule is: You do not talk about Club Daemon. A guild for the All-Transylvanian Rejects, the crossovers from hell gone hiding, the MIB of supernatural creatures. And all just because big daddy Lucifer loves to host an infernal orgy every now and then and never heard of a condom. It’s crazy. So much information intake, it’s time to sort your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, let the blood chalice dance in your cupped palm. Sweeping the remaining liquid at its very bottom, rhythmically. Sweet lifeline. You observe how the drops run as if nothing else in the world existed. And still, you have crystal clear hearing, and your voice is again becoming firmer. It’s the effect of the drink, you can feel it. Such good stuff, really.

„It’s not that I didn’t anticipate it. Taemin said something along those lines when we met. I get why you have to be discrete,“ you hum. Even telling you about the serum before any other information would give away too much. „I’d be back to square one anyway.“

Taemin nods at you.

„We’ll always be between elves and demons, mermen and demons, vampires and demons, werewolves and demons… This club wants to protect anybody who’s caught between chairs. We go to great lengths with secrecy. I hope you will join us in our cause. It’s a new life. Lucas has great plans for us.“

‚Lucas‘ seems to be Yukhei’s club nickname. Taemin appears to confide in him a lot even if he will smooth out his blunders. Meanwhile, you remember how Taemin talked to you about his own parents on the balcony.

Apparently, none other than Beelzebub is Taemin’s father since over ten centuries. His latest habit seems to be blowing up his son’s phone with strange texts about recent hell politics. If that’s not enough, he asks about what he’s doing all day. It really is a new level of hell-icopter parenting. No wonder Taemin learned to be so appeasing in all situations.

„There are also ways of us finding out who your parents are,“ Taeyong comes to rest his right hand on your shoulder. Carefully, as if asking if it’s okay to touch you. You let him, without much care. Simply by— well, what is it, instinct?

Particularly Yukhei seems to observe this moment with much intent. Monitoring with piercing eyes, wild and deep. Trying to see through you at all cost. Surveying whether you’re a suitable club member, fair enough. But you seriously begin to wonder why he’s trying so damn hard to get into your head. He wants you on his side, sure, why’d he stare like that all the time?

Meanwhile, you don’t even know much about yourself except that you find veiny necks extremely appealing. Duh. So what’s there to analyze. You’re still kinda new to this. Blunt how Lucas is, wouldn’t he tell it to your face if he knew something you didn’t by now?

„At least, your demonic heritage,” Kai finishes the butler’s thought. “It’s not an easy discovery, however.“

Taeyong’s hand really does comfort you. But the thought of involving yourself in family affairs feels more than daunting and spoils the moment more than you want to. It’s something you could avoid until now thanks to simply not knowing much about your background. But apparently there’s no way to run from it.

„You might wanna anticipate that shit,“ Kai cracks his neck from side to side, then adjusts the sleeves of his white camisole. You’re suddenly so very well aware that he can probably see and smell your hesitation from a mile away. „Because when pa from hell shows up to see what’s going on? Preparation is better than being sorry. You gotta know who you’re dealing with. Art of war 101.“

Kai pointing at Taeyong’s battered left side reminds you all the more that lifting the veil is probably better than hoping for the best. If Satan happens to be your dad as well, you’re in huge trouble should he ever find you. Kai is right. Without allies and any knowledge of what you’re dealing with, you’d be lost.

Not to mention that Taeyong and Lucas would be your half brothers. Among probably a thousand other people. You didn’t walk through this door to get instant patchwork family. It would be a whole town of siblings now that you think about it.

If Satan has been even busier than that, which you’re sure of, that could mean an entire nation of people related to you somewhere overseas. Most of them being far from half-breeds. Why? Because Satan still preferred his own kind if he wasn’t completely hammered.

„Sounds like a nice prospect,“ you mumble, arms tightly crossed. Thousands of demons all out for your neck. Joining a notorious club network would certainly hide your identity much better than you hanging out in your small apartment in the middle of nowhere behaving like an average citizen. Glorious. You hate everything.

Which one person, as always, disagrees with.

„He makes it sound more dramatic than it is. Especially in this club you are more secure,“ Taemin softly adds, swiping a blonde strand from his right eye. „You must understand. Kai is in charge of defense. We all have our tasks.“

„Figured as much.“

„We all specialize in something we’re really suited for. Depending on our species, usually,“ Taeyong picks up Taemin’s point, and you begin to understand.

On the balcony, Taemin had even mentioned a gryffin member who worked as the designated club driver. Mister Ten as they called him, who was always out and about for a gazillion tasks. From hell mail to picking up tailored suits to doing the shopping to frequenting hospitals and various butchers for… leftovers.

Taeyong being an older vampire would require very specific blood (type A respectably, whreas you preferred O), and both Lucas and Jongin are in their wolf prime. Kai being slightly older but all the more active by the looks of it. So, just like Baekhyun, Ten seemed to be busy tending to that all the time, nowhere to be seen nor even mentioned. Which was a little… suspicious.

But the ‚everyone has a task‘ seems to be a big deal. And: Everybody is set up to take their spot very seriously, in their supposed element. Being the VP suits Taemin just like being the butler really suits Taeyong. Even Yukhei, you admit, has the exact leading, head-on personality, although mixed with a lot of tempers, that his position would require. And Kai — his body doesn’t lie. Of course he is in charge of defense.

„We would strive to find out your ideal role in the club, too,“ Taemin says. „Kai thinks about this scenario from a combat perspective, but know that cases like Taeyong’s are extreme ones. We’re used to this but you don’t have that struggle. It’s probably like different worlds at the start but don’t let it phase you.“

You exchange looks, and Taemin gives an empathetic nod. His face is really gentle. It seems trustworthy. Again, you notice how his diplomacy helps you the most right now. It’s a bit cryptic, but it’s the type of classy conduct you were expecting to find in the club. You’re damn glad he’s here. Half-elves simply have a different kind of wisdom.

„I guess,“ you look at Taeyong. „It’s an extreme case because he was part of a clan, right, and I wasn’t.“

„Smart,“ Taemin takes up a porcelain cup from his own table and guides it to his lips. It appears to be some sort of elven elixir inside of it, light blue and sparkling. Maybe that’s the source of his maturity or something. „This is exactly the reason how so much conflict was possible in the first place.“

„Right.“

„You grew up with adoptive parents after your mother’s passing. It was unfortunate but also a hidden feat of luck later on,“ Taemin balances the cup between his elegant fingers. „Nobody from hell could find you. You didn’t show many abnormal traits. Nor were you close to any clans that fostered your abilities or spread the word. But especially the former. You grew up in human ways. Your abilities weren’t worked with.“

„Which we can do for you now if you want to,“ Taeyong clears your table off the empty goblet. Instead, he puts a booklet with a red ribbon around its hard cover just there. „In a more covert way that doesn’t arouse any attention.“

„Can we really do it so secretly?“

He really did read the concern out of your face all over again.

„Yes,“ Taeyong emphasizes, then directs his gaze toward the fireplace. „For any half-demon, half-vampire, this is the place to develop herself. We want to honor both sides and work with it. As good as we can.“

„All other approaches usually fail because they’re one-sided,“ Taemin raises his tea cup indicating towards a thoroughly disgruntled Yukhei. You get what the elf wants to say by that.

Yukhei — another extreme case, perhaps the most severe. From a certain perspective, you can imagine how being antagonized by his father and wolf packs at the same time would motivate Lucas to run a club like this. And what would motivate him to act like this, anyway.

Leading Club Daemon with a velvet gloves approach? It’d be more dangerous than an iron fist mentality. Although it feels so clear to you, past the nebula of the blood cocktail, that Yukhei completely turned this aggressive style into a hyperbole. But you never know what or whom he’s doing it for.

Even at such a young age. You are convinced he really can’t be anywhere near 30 years of equivalent human age even if his height and way of dressing makes him look so settled. His overall presence on top of that: Whatever training they have to offer, it must be compelling.

At this point, you can only say to yourself — fuck everything. And lords knows the whole club is green of envy. No wonder they’re staring at you like that. You grew up so unbothered, your life is a joke compared to theirs. You were ignorant about way too many things about yourself. Looking at how everyone here embraces their origin, not developing your abilities was a full-on heresy.

„I’m actually considering it,“ you browse through the booklet, directing all attention in the room at you so keenly. Taemin sits at the edge of his seat himself. The paper feels luxurious between your fingers. As a first page, the name of who assembled the booklet’s contents is printed in bold. Mark Lee, conscierge, Club Daemon. 1999 edition.

The text details several time lines, diagrams, and fact lists about vampire-demon halfbreed history, on top of outlining a program featuring traits that a club novice could develop.

Sprouting and care of demon wings. Usage of blood banks. Defense against crosses and garlic. Cities with high vampire populations. Types of claws. The culture of hell. Demonic Spells. Battle Gowns. Impact of ‚Twilight‘ on public perception of Vampires. Symbolism. Vampiric Reflexes. Christopher Lee Movie Analysis. Avoiding Exorcism. Communication with hell hounds. On Hunting and Forests. Fist-fighting Lucifer. Evolution of Ancient Vampire Dress Codes. Fang safety. Hierarchy of hell. Nutrition. Choosing a castle. Strength development. The list is nearly 200 bullet points long.

And the majority of training, it states, is supervised by Kai. Even the lessons on Vampires and Sexual Relations. Other lessons are conducted by Taeyong and Mark, mapping the more theoretical contents.

Most of the listed training units feature things you never knew you could possibly try let alone perform. Some lessons are even more vital than you thought they would be. Things your apartment life wouldn’t have to offer in the very least. At this point, walking out the door would be a grave mistake for an entire variety of reasons and you trust your instinct. The only thing that makes you bargain is not the elephant — but the big and bulky alpha wolf in the room.

What to do about Yukhei.

Given the hardliner choice between serum or a complete new existence, it’s a question you’ll have to postpone. Interestingly enough, even though he was lycan through and through, Kai doesn’t bother you nearly as much anymore after the initial shock effect faded.

So what is it about Lucas. Even more things you’ll have to find out, then.

You’re nervous with the booklet in your hands, but you can’t complain. The two cups of blood in your system have given you more courage to look the four of them in the eyes.

„Considering what: Joining for the cause or the heritage?“ Yukhei crosses his arms at the solar plexus. His eyes are so probing on you, but you keep your head straight. You very well know that he’s testing you with this one.

„Both. And I want to know my role, too.“

The president seems to ponder for a bit. Then, he hums. More placid than before, you note. He actually seems satisfied with that answer.

„Then let’s start out,“ Kai rises from his seat alongside Yukhei, and both walk towards the red curtain in big strides. Taeyong sweeps it to the side, revealing a heavy door to another room.

Unlike the rest of the house, or at least the parts you’ve seen so far, this area has no embellished walls or ceilings. Not a spark of luxurious colors, either. No dark materials, no curtains, no dutch paintings, just concrete everywhere. It looks heavily worn, but strangely, doesn’t seem to be a relic like the fireplace room’s wooden tiles. All lighting is purely artificial. It seems part gym, part studio, and all furniture is solid metal, minimal, angular. You’d never expect such a modern, plain grey room to be anywere around the house. It smells like a damn hospital in here.

„Our training grounds,“ Kai paces around the area, clearing it and turning a knob that seems to activate floor heating. „The second safest place in the manor.“

„What’s the safest one, then?“

„We have a bunker downstairs. Flood-proof, radiation-proof.“

And Satan-proof, you don’t have to guess.

„Oh wow.“

„It’s unused so far when it comes to catastropes,“ Yukhei roughly pulls off his tux jacket and hangs it over a steel chair. Given how he stretches his arms, you figure it’s to gain some mobility. Or… to show off his huge build to impose his authority and intimidate you which surely is working. „But we do run it as a makeshift jail.“

„You’re keeping criminals in here?!“

„If you’d call Kai a criminal,“ Yukhei raises a brow.

Now you understand. The bunker is actually not meant for somebody else unless the situation calls for it.

„You’re isolating yourself during full moons.“

„You got it,“ Kai nods. „Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Two days. I got used to the cold down there. And Yukhei locks himself in here with a pile of meat.“

„I…see.“

So that’s why the concrete walls look so damaged despite not seeming that old. If you look close enough, it’s actually not hard to imagine how there’s massive strength and claws at work here. And there must be plenty of things to desinfect afterwards. Hence the hospital smell.

But then again, Lucas is not the one who gets put in the bunker downstairs. If that one is the safest room, Kai is in all regards the strongest. Which makes sense given his task here. But something about it makes you shift from one foot to the other. If Kai has to jail himself in an atomic prison, what a fucking beast are you even dealing with?

So this is with who you’ll train with, then.

„Nothing you’ll see anything of,“ Taemin clasps his hands, bringing your mind back to the image of meat piled up all over this room. „The member’s private rooms are way up on the 3rd floor. You’ll be situated there as well, in whatever free room you choose. They are very pleasant suites. The interiors are selected Victorian antiques. It’s not like around here.”

“Thank you, Taemin. That sounds great actually.“

“And— we can always predict their transformations without failure.“

„The suites have steel doors as well,“ Kai adds on. „Easy to lock from the inside. We’ve had centuries to think all of this through.“

„Reassuring…“

„Mind you. In case you feel you get a bad craving, you’re doing the same thing Kai and I do,“ Yukhei re-ties his left shoelace, foot placed on the metal chair like a 6’0 Napoleon. „It’s not like we aren’t the only people who have to protect others from ourselves.“

You don’t like the tone he’s striking and try not to look into his direction. As if you’re some crazed vampire lord with a body count and not a bloody amateur. Whatever cravings he’s talking about, it’s hard to imagine how you’d go absolutely buckwild on a concrete wall whining for blood.

„With half-vampires, well… It can happen,“ Taeyong helps Kai pull off his jacket as well. „But lycans still have to take more prevention if I may add. Simply because their whole being transforms and they’re gaining unexpected strengths from it. Vampires hardly do. Our strength is present always. We naturally learn how to deal with it each day. Lycans have exponentional and way more erratic powers in a shorter period of time.“

Now that puts it into perspective. You exchange a thankful glance with Taeyong. The butler gives a composed smile. Yukhei sees that and huffs. Looks like someone’s been projecting.

„We’re dealing with threats from the outside, better check the ones from the inside,“ Kai says, shrugging. „We can’t change that we’re aggressive species but we can lock a door ten minutes before shit goes down. Early risk detection. That’s gonna be a lot of what you’ll learn in the programme anyways.“

„Pragmatic, I guess,“ you scratch your chin.

And he’s right. There’s nothing else the members could possibly do. Unleashing someone outside of the manor into the surrounding woods sounds like an overall bad idea. There’s a town somewhat nearby, fifteen minutes down the road. And as a matter of fact, you’ve never heard of suppression pills for half-demons on the market. Each species would need a different concoction: Tailored exactly to them in a long chemical process. Given the variety of Satan’s harem, that equals pure scientific madness.

Yukhei cracks his neck, puts the steel chair back in its spot. „We hope so. What reasons you’ll have to lock your suite for we’re about to find out.“

Three minutes later, you’re face down on the center table of the room, Yukhei pulling off your blazer. Even if you thought it would be much more unceremonious, he seems to do it rather slowly. In the meantime, Taemin rings a little silver bell. The sound is shrill and obnoxiously piercing. Seconds later, the concierge enters the room with a clipboard, introducing himself fully now.

Oh shit, you almost forgot about the owl guy.

„Mark Lee. Bookkeeper, treasure master. Half-goblin. I also do our finances.“

Joining the club officially unlocks a whole new level of information, does it.

„Bookkeeper, I see?“

„Yes, we do keep a secret chronic.“

„Oh, alright? Spanning for how long?“

„Older than this house. I’ll introduce you to the archive next week, in fact. Welcome to Club Daemon, Miss. I’ll be documenting the findings of this test.“

Then, he turns to put down your phone on another table. First you missed it, now you don’t even care. Mark’s sudden appearance has you all wondering. He’s different now. Maybe his initial silence was very much connected to the exact level of secrecy Taemin has been talking about.

Mark comes across much more high-spirited when he talks, and his face appears youthful once it comes into motion. You give a little ‚mh’ as a rather distracted reply, and he begins a lightning fast scribble on his board, using a golden pen that looks like it’s worth your apartment.

Meanwhile, Kai’s interest seems to gravitate entirely to your shoulder blades. He goes about tapping the skin and muscles surrounding the bone, even pulling down the backside of your tanktop by an inch, causing you to hold your breath. He circles the spine, presses too fingers in at either side. He’s surprisingly subdued, but still quite hands-on. It’s not hard to feel that he has experience with examinations like that. In fact, Kai has the touch of a modern day chiropractor. Whatever you should think about that you don’t know yet.

It makes sense he’s in charge of all things physical. And — that the first thing he’ll do is get your wings to grow and work, wherever they may be inside your back right now. Lord knows what kind of reflex or trigger is needed to make them sprout. Mark, in full haste, keeps on checking off boxes on his board and hums, cocks his head every now and then.

Yukhei only seems to care for another area altogether. He holds up your ponytail to take a closer look at the back of your neck. You glare at him for pulling at your hair more than you thought was needed. Taemin volunteers to take up that task instead, with Yukhei going on scanning the nape. His hands are so large and grip at your shoulders, it feels like you’re some kind of prey being handled. Taeyong has no problems reading the discomfort on your face and clears his throat, prompting Yukhei to slack off at least a little.

„It won’t be anything painful,“ Taemin says. „We’re looking for any birth marks to appear.“

„Birth marks?“

„It shows up when other demons or half-breeds are around. It usually gives away who you’re related to. The color and shape show which rank your demon parent had. Not to worry.“

You chant a little thank you, Taemin inside of yourself as a way to keep yourself together and nod.

„Yukhei and Taeyong have large black markings that resemble a lighting shape if you will,“ Mark now speaks up. „Taeyong’s is so noticeable, he always wears his hair past his shoulders. And Yukhei mostly uses a high white collar.“

How fitting. You didn’t expect anything else if you’re honest.

„So I should cover it as well, right?“

„You shouldn’t tie your hair up this way so it can be seen,“ Kai says. „You can be glad it hasn’t alerted anyone yet.“

So… that’s why Yukhei did not seem to be very happy with your ponytail. You’ve been utterly reckless without even knowing. If there was someone who didn’t think it was a tattoo, you could have caused some major issues. But before you can apologize, the president already shakes his head.

„Well. You can keep that silly hairstyle. Because there’s nothing on that neck where there should be something.“

„What?“

„Not one mark. I’ve pressed every spot, there’s nothing. The birth mark should be visible already anyways since we’re here. Our presence activates it.“

Commotion. Yukhei lets go of your neck, Taeyong begins inspecting the area very hectically instead, joined by Kai. Mark seems to be in the most confusion right now and gnaws on his lips.

„But Baekhyun clearly said she has demon descent!“ Taemin interjects. „He sees such things the best!“

„Baekhyun… Little fish only wants her here because he has an eye on her,“ Yukhei grits his teeth, looking like he’s ready to kick the steel chair into a corner. „Swims around and invites anybody he fancies long as they have some decent fangs.“

„Yukhei!“ Taeyong cuts right back.

„I knew something wasn’t right,” Lucas keeps shaking his head, now seeming even more convinced. “Not a drop of demon blood in her.“

„What are you saying!“

Taeyong’s stoic face is turning livid now. You never thought he could turn this angry.

„Stop kidding yourselves. Get the serum, Taeyong. All that jazz we’ve been doing… I’m fucking tired. I told you it wasn’t my idea to invite her.“

Yukhei curses an entire string of very canine-sounding things under his breath and Taemin tries to hold him by the shoulders. The whole room feels like it’s about to explode. Taeyong doesn’t look like he’s ready to comply in the very least. Instead, the butler starts baring his fangs with a defiant snarl. Mark shouts out loud.

„Don’t—!“

„Are you deaf? Get the serum, bloodsucker! We’re not playing around anymore!“

Yukhei begins grabbing Taeyong by the collar. His eyebrows start to become fuller, and his teeth begin to crack, growing rapidly. Taeyong, eyes turning blood-shot, fastens his left hand behind his back. He positions himself to bring forth a powerful fist about to shatter right through Yukhei’s face. Alongside Taemin, you struggle to get up and reach them in an attempt to hold them apart. But before either of them can strike out—

„Wings! Her wings!“

Exclamations from all sides. Everybody turns to Kai. Panicked, he rests his hands just inches over your kidneys. Mark screams, loud enough to make Lucas shift his attention. Meanwhile, Kai gestures everyone back to the table.

„Here! Look here, now!“

Incredulous, Yukhei lets go of Taeyong’s suit and jumps right beside Kai. He pulls up your tank top to expose the lower back completely. Mark drops his board and pen. Yukhei’s hands roam all over the area that Kai mapped out through the fabric. And yes. Now you’re feeling bumps there, too. A painful tear pools at the bottom of your spine. The adrenaline of the situation didn’t make you realize.

„They… they’re unusually low,“ Mark chops his words, eyes wide and crouching behind Yukhei as if petrified.

„That means they’re large,“ Kai puffs out. „Look at the color, too. White, grey. They’re spotted in red. I’ve never seen anything similar. As if they’re bloodied.“

You can’t believe your ears, wind on the table. „Spotted wings?! What’s that about?“

„It’ll be even more visible when they’re spread. They’ve been hiding really fucking well down there,“ Kai says. „It’s very unlike any wings of ours. And I can’t get them out, all we did was locate them now.“

Great. You have special snowflake wings.

„Really?“ you’re pretty much staring like Mark yourself now. Kai affirms.

„It’ll take a trigger event that sprouts them. I don’t know what yet. Too early to say.“

„But what does the color mean, then?“

„Our wings are all some kind of… well, auburn. Neither Satan’s nor Mammon’s children have colorings like this. Only Taemin’s are blue.“

„But that’s regular for elves,“ Taemin adds.

A churning knot of panic seems to grow inside your gut. The fact that Yukhei keeps on groping about your back is starting to tug at your nerves as the cherry on top.

„Why, why are they like that? What is this?“

„Y/N,“ Mark inhales sharply. „Please calm down, we only—“

„And why are you touching me like I’m some kind of science object? Who am I?“ you shout at Kai and Lucas, prompting Taemin to slowly pull away both their wrists from the table. In this moment, you could jump either of them.

„I’ve, I’ve only heard of one case with such wings,“ Mark begins, but ends up choking up a cry. He’s shaking all over, takes his glasses off. „If you… turn her around…“

Yukhei doesn’t have to be told twice.

„So her mark is elsewhere? Isn’t it? She’s from a different family altogether?“

Mark nods.

Lucas swiftly flips you on your back. You can’t even blink and you’re already watching the ceiling with five faces right up close above you.

„Let Taeyong do this,“ Taemin begins to urge Yukhei. „Lucas, you shouldn’t touch her now.“

That you need Taemin’s words for Lucas to hold himself back is starting to bother you. Him just grabbing you by the hips and turning you around felt more than strange. You imagine how in his mind, you’re probably a sizzling steak in a pan that he wants crispy on both sides and you don’t like it. One thing’s for sure: You’re not here for being werewolf dinner. What the hell.

What’s been on your mind even more is that Kai is not even half as annoying despite being so full of protein himself. With his chiropractor hands all over you on top of that. Is it that they’re from different families? Wouldn’t you dislike Taeyong as well then? He’s from the exact same corner of hell, after all. What exactly makes Lucas so pushy to you keeps on preoccupying everything you thought of until now as a bottom line. It’s not like you can ask him directly why he behaves like an asshole.

Three minutes pass. Lucas has stepped back from the table, watching like a hawk. A bit more composed, Mark picks up his pen and clipboard. He still can’t concentrate on writing. Taeyong gently probes each of your legs and ankles, even pulls your shoes and socks off to look at the underside of your feet. Finding nothing, he moves on to survey your wrists by smoothing over them, sending Yukhei an evil eye for grinding his teeth. Looks like someone doesn’t like others touching your soft spots.

Kai watches reactionless, seemingly deliberating. He’s in a different headspace, you can tell. Taemin helps Mark with ticking off boxes on the paper. Taeyong turns your jaw to either direction and slightly upwards to inspect the underside. He glides two fingers over your temples, and also asks you to open your mouth. He counts through your teeth with his digit and moves your upper lip to look at your fangs. Taemin emits a large ‚wow‘ when he does, and Yukhei growls out loud. Kai looks visibly interested, although he still seems to piece something together in his head.

„Extremely durable and angular,“ Taeyong says. „I’ve never seen this shape.”

„Me neither,“ Kai props up his palms on the edge of the table.

„Nobody in any clan I knew had fangs like that. Not even the elders. They’re so sharp… it must be inconvenient often,“ Taeyong requests a measuring tape from Mark who pulls it out of his left suit pocket.

„It is. Shreds every toothbrush,“ you mumble.

Taeyong glides his finger all across your gums above both canines, pressing on the root of each tooth. It seems to get a nerve inside your jaw going, and again your breath becomes shallow. He measures, dictates the unintelligble results to Mark. For some reason, you find whatever he’s doing strangely pleasant. Meanwhile, Lucas has been prowling around the table with a heavy gait. You adapt Taeyong’s method of sending him eye daggers.

„Can you put your story-telling on halt? This isn’t some vampire underground bar at Friday 12 PM,“ Yukhei grunts back at you and Taeyong. „Just say whatever the fuck this means. Shouldn’t you search for the birth mark?“

„Can’t quite tell now,“ Taeyong, sounding rather absent-minded, goes on counting through your teeth each. He’s feeling about like it’s a box of jewelry.

Beside being an obvious difference to what your mostly human high school mates sported — if you could call them that, high school makes everyone inhumane — you never thought your fangs were anything out of the norm. There weren’t many people you could compare them to in your small home town in the first place. You only saw vampires on late night TV at best.

There’s a strange tingle that spreads across your body now. It’s unusual having someone so comfortable with your teeth.

Your first and last boyfriend headed right for the door when it came to kissing. As if stung by a hornet almost, a complete change of mind. Meeting you at a festival he thought the idea of dating a vampire was „pretty sexy!“. He paraded you around at his birthday party two weeks later, you thinking he was actually proud of you rather than only himself.

You later realized that he just wanted to appear like the bravest guy in the world. To gather his guy friends complimenting him on the ‚spicy catch you got there!“. And maybe, you suspected, also making the female guests compete for him with some one-upmanship towards you. If he needed you to attach any value to himself, what value did he have himself to begin with? It still feels like a bad decision because you said yes to someone like him.

He liked the exterior, but doing the actual dating with all that it entails he had seemingly underestimated. It’s not like you expected him to use any tongue or try a blowjob. Why would you? Doing that would always be a stupid idea for both. Did he think you would purposely hurt him? Or did he just leech off everything he could get until he had to be responsible and deal with limits? Crazy vamp is what he last called you, and you never heard from him again. No texts, nothing. Does your pussy have monster teeth, too? Just go back to your cave or wherever you came from.

„If you forgive me saying so. They really are pretty,“ Taemin chimes in, then urging Mark to note something down. You take a moment to realize he means your teeth. Mark seems to have a lot of trouble snapping out of his daze at first himself, but begins to immerse himself in sketching and documenting after a while, ruffling his hair like a mad scientist. Lucas regularly gazes over his shoulder and you can tell he’s one grumpy wolf.

„We can show you how to keep them in shape and do a proper bite on someone who agrees on it. But you probably even tried something along the lines, right,“ Taeyong says, and Kai nods, probably wanting to say the same. It seems to be nothing out of the ordinary going by their expressions. But the question makes you more nervous than you actually want to.

„Honestly, I… didn’t bite anyone so far,“ you shake your head, unable to meet the eyes of anyone at the table. You hate the feeling of shame that kicks in almost by itself.

„Come on folks, that’s the first thing you smell about her,“ Yukhei boldly announces from his wandering spot around the dumbbells.

Way to go. You realize how comments like that are exactly why you’re so nervous. He’s already acting holier-than-thou again.

„I only ordered cheap blood online,“ you try to muster a shrug. Acting indifferent is at least helping you to say literally anything. „All legal but artificial.“

And disgusting, but that’s another story.

„Not hard to tell either,“ Yukhei laughs out. „Takes a blood virgin to down a whole liter of the real deal in five minutes. You were staring at that cup like you’ve gone mad. The difference to cheap blood is quite intense, isn’t it? Wanna see your face if you get a willing neck for the first time. Priceless.“

Something coils up inside of you. Eye daggers aren’t enough at this point, are they.

„Don’t get rude, you dog… Do you like spying on others or what?“

„Come on, come,“ Taemin steps in, ushers Yukhei towards the steel chair. He leans in, speaking in a low tone to the president. „Little more tact and privacy with a novice. Your dad would thoroughly enjoy this.“

„Would enjoy what?“

„Us creating discord in the club without him having to do crook a single hoof.“

You’re starting to think that ‚Vice President‘ means nothing but ‚group counsellor‘. Fine by you, but Yukhei has been rubbing you the wrong way from the very start. That he tried to attack Taeyong and called him names isn’t something you’ll just ignore. You’re growing increasingly more tense. That there doesn’t appear to be a way to take matters into your own hands is even more frustrating.

„I think… there’s a reason you’ve been living a more isolated life than most vampires,“ Kai interrupts your thought as well as the ongoing banter, trying to strike a more rational tone. He returned from his thought process, ruffling the long hair at the nape of his neck.

„Okay—?“

„See. Most half-breeds with the same father will find each other. Almost automatically. Look at Taeyong and Lucas. And all vampires will get picked up by clans, their scouts. But in your case… I think you have been purposely avoided. By both clans and demons.“

„What does that mean now?“

„My theory is, I… I suspect. Your father,“ Mark looks up from his clipboard, „is someone who hasn’t exactly been Satan’s ally.“

„My dad is — some kind of, Lucifer’s enemy?“

„Maybe. It’s likely. So, the clans would use to trust your father lot.“

„Does that make any sense?“ you frown at Mark, who hastily continues. You still don’t get why that has something to do with how you grew up completely uninvolved in clan affairs.

„His affinity for vampires was much higher on top of that, unlike Satan.“

„Get to the point!“ Lucas taps his feet on the concrete.

„I, I think that’s why you were born,” Mark carries on, pushing up his glasses. “He got together with a vampire. But he has been mingling with a lot of arch angels as of recently as well. Your father, I mean.“

„Okay? But how would you know?“

„The reasoning is this,“ Mark reads from the clipboard. It seems like he has been working on some kind of theory. „The clans don’t like the archangel’s power nor their politics. And the angels don’t really like us as a club either. Simply because we’re half-demons and have offsprings of Satan among us. I know that’s, that’s really complicated, so—“

Whoever Mark means in all of this word spill, your father is evidently a huge trainwreck already. Who’s against who now? It’s all so hard to understand.

„That all doesn’t sound very good,“ you grumble. „Are you sure your theory holds true, Mark?“

„It all sounds like he’s pulling that out of thin air,“ Lucas says. „Angels and whatnot. That’s some random bullshit.“

The conscierge looks rather overwhelmed with your question and can’t quite get a word out at first. Taemin encourages him with with a little supportive eyebrow raise.

„What I know is. By the signs your… body has. We have to keep you safe here and build your strengths at all cost. Because something’s going on,“ Mark eventually continues, earning strong approval from Kai.

Then, Mark addresses the president, much more fragile in his voice, but still secure in his judgement. „Lucas. If we give her the serum, Satan could someday get her if he musters up the courage and the helpers. Which I think he will. That won’t end well in any scenario. The club is in danger. Do you understand? Putting her out there is a bad idea and she doesn’t want it either. She wants to be a member and that’s instinctively the right thing at this point. Baekhyun happened to spot her now out of all times with good reason, I think.“

Lucas seems to ponder back and forth now. He props down on the steel chair with crossed legs, palms in the back of his neck. He looks genuinely concerned for the first time. You find yourself starting to nod along to Mark in the meantime. You like when he speaks like this.

„Thank God you’re here then, Y/N,“ Taeyong says. „It’s important you get to know more about yourself. It creates a lot of chaos otherwise. For you the very most, unfortunately. We have to admit that joining the club probably makes it worse. But we can’t know what would have happened if you never found your way here.“

„Yeah, I guess.“

„Your heritage is probably much more… controversial I would say. I hope you don’t take this to heart too much,” he continues. “We’ll still have to find out more. But it’s something else we’re not accustomed to so excuse any crudities.“

You can imagine. If your dad is yet another person having beef with Satan, and there’s even people from heaven involved, things are bound to get icky.

„So, where is my birth mark, then?“, you exhale, voice growing with an acute panic. „Do you know my father’s name or not now?

“Um...“ Mark stares at his own feet.

“Is all of this a fraud? And what can be more controversial than having Lucifer as your dad?“

Taeyong and Mark are looking at each other far too awkwardly not for you to notice. Kai crosses his arms and sighs out.

„Come on, you two are suspecting something. Tell us.“

All attention is now on Taeyong and Mark who are a puddle of sweating embarrassment.

„We have to… Well…“

You feel like a patient about to receive the most embarrassing surgery. Yukhei roams around the table murmuring and fuming.

„What is it now? What are you avoiding?“

„…pull up the shirt to see the birth symbol,“ Mark spouts in one go. „It’s located in the middle of the chest.“

So here’s the reason for all that tiptoeing and stuttering.

„And I thought you’d need my period blood to paint an ancestry sigil or something,“ you roll your eyes right at Mark who looks like he’s sinking into the ground right before you.

„That’s actually what we wanted to do next,“ Yukhei licks his fangs.

Taeyong, as if lightning struck him, immediately kicks him in the back of the knees. Everyone turns their heads. Judging by Yukhei’s awkward, reaching step forward and no signs of retaliation, Taeyong has some serious leg strength going despite being so lithe. You never thought you’d see his butlery composure begin to crumble either.

„Stop making weird jokes. You’re a dog just like she said.“

Taeyong’s tone is so cutting, Mark breathes out as if he was the one getting kicked.

„Technically not wrong.“

„You got what I wanted to say, Lucas.“

„Can’t hear you mumbling through your stupid old fangs, brother. I’m fucking proud of being a dog.“

Yukhei does an even more obnoxious werewolf-brand wink that makes even Kai cringe a little. Taemin looks like he’s slowly dying on the inside.

While they’re all continuing to throw out retorts, you cut the debate short by pulling up your tank top. Must be the courage from getting your teeth praised.

Today’s braless day, but anyways.

Mark immediately starts crouching again, and Kai’s mouth drops wide open. Taeyong collapses right on the floor. Taemin buries his face in his hands.

„It… It is as dramatic as Kai said!“

„What is it now? Can’t you guys handle some breasts or what.“

You look down on yourself. And— soon freeze as you see the large round marking right on your solar plexus. Red as blood and crudely outlined.

„What the fuck is that!“

You get goosebumps. The mark has never been visible before. Whatever work Kai did on your back pressing all sorts of points, it must have activated not only your wings, but also this particular spotting. It appears to be shaped like a medal emblem, depicting a snake and a centaur or whatever creature in bold zigzag shapes.

„The sign of King!“ Mark shudders through his tears. The temperature in the room seems to drop, and the scent of jasmine smells like rotten coal. The sign glows red and large on your chest, and not even Yukhei is looking at your breasts now.

„We’re so fucked, man!“ Kai pulls at his hair. „What are we gonna do!“

„Wait! Wait, what is this!“ you pull at Mark’s suit, urging him to speak on. He can’t properly gather himself the very least.

“I can’t say—”

“Tell me, Mark! What is this sign!“

„Be, Before Lucifer… became the prince of the underworld. It was like this.“

„Like what?“

„There was a King who ruled the 9th circle of hell. For over a million years.“

„Who is that guy? He’s my dad?“

„Yes. He never left. That was, until Satan overthrew him after being cast from heaven. The King purposely decided not to come back and expand his influence elsewhere. He’s now a free-walking spawn of hell. The guy who’s technically… actually the boss. Satan is just tolerated but The King has the actual powers. You can guess… look at how large the mark is.“

„I am the King’s daughter?“

„You are,“ Mark contines. „The daughter of King Belial.“

He can hardly pronounce the name without everybody flinching.

„He’s the original guy in charge,“ Taemin bends to help pick up Taeyong, who’s breaking out in a cold sweat. Whatever is glowing on your chest, it’s something out of the Club’s league and that thought alone drives an equal sweat on your face. Belial, you’ve only heard that name sparsely, somewhere, and you knew hell had kings, but you didn’t know it was a very real tale.

„Satan was expelled from heaven for his pride,“ Kai picks up Mark’s point, but his voice is just as shaky. „So he took on hell and drove out your father after a decade-long war. And, plenty of tricks, dark magic. The King first settled in a radical vampire clan who thought he’d be the ultimate weapon to get back at Satan. And Belial thought he’d had an army now, too. But the arch angels also took interest in the King for that same reason. They wanted to fight Satan, too.“

„Didn’t Mark mention the angels earlier? What’s going on with them?“

„They don’t like vampires, so they lured the King away from the clan to only collaborate only with them.“

„So there’s a triangle going on!“

„Belial hasn’t really retaliated or done anything since then, but we’re thinking that he’s plotting something big together with God,“ Kai continues. „Against anything demonic that they set their eyes on. Not just Satan.“

Your head is spinning. Now God’s involved in this shitshow, too. It just gets worse with every new thing you find out.

„The foe of my enemy is my friend. That type of idiot logic,“ Yukhei says. „And Belial was stupid enough to fuck a trash vampire in the process. And you… are the result that we have to deal with now.“

„As if I can help it! You shut your mouth!“ you jerk up to lash out at Yukhei, but Kai steps in between you. He’s as fast as he is strong, and an impenetrable wall you can run up against all you want. And Kai isn’t foolish, either. He grabs you by the shoulders with extended arms to keep your fangs as far away from him as possible. All Yukhei has to do is step back.

„Stupid— because that got your mom killed,“ Kai says, teeth gritted, but sounding much more sensible than his stance suggests. „You gotta understand. Satan wants to eradicate or silence anyone associated with Belial. To avoid a revenge and losing his position!“

„Then you’re right that he’s a prick…“

„My damn words,“ Yukhei shrugs behind Kai, adjusts his tie. „Now put your tits back and sign Mark’s form, you’re part of Club Daemon without further notice anyways.“

„Wha—“

„Now listen closely madam,“ Yukhei burges past Kai to build himself up above you.

„I’m not gonna say this a second time,“ he throws the blazer at you, and you awkwardly catch it. Kai steps out of the way to let Yukhei step even closer to you. The grit in his eyes is too commanding, untouchable. Mark backs off against a wall, and even Taemin gives up on stopping Lucas. Only Taeyong lingers close behind the president, surveying his every move.

„Since Satan is an illegal worm on the throne and the King prefers to sip ambrosia with God, you happen to be the only legitimate heir. The literal, official ruler of hell. And as we saw, giving you the serum would cause even more trouble. You might even get used against us or yourself. You get me? We have enough trouble and craziness with all this! Do you understand that? From now on: You’re doing exactly as I say.“

„Why are you the one to declare all that now? Yu—“

„No objections. Training starts today.“

————————

„Your wings are so nice,“ Baekhyun smiles, turning twice in his bath tub. The water gently rises, bringing some foam to the corners. If you squint a bit, it actually sparkles. You’re feeling laid-back with the scent of fragrance sticks and candles lingering in the bathroom now. Tangerine, a bit of lemon. A pocket-sized music box strums away on the sink. The melody is foreign to you, but it feels nostalgic and welcoming. There are almost a dozen shell-shaped metal soap holders all around and pointy quartz clusters frame the two mirrors on either side of the room, creating an endless loop of reflections. Yours excluded, which always seems to amuse Ten even if he’s already used to it from Taeyong by now.

A snugly dim lightbulb screwed into a large pink lamp shade right above you spreads some warmth, as does a fluffy carpet underneath you. The vapors of the room become visible as little ascending particles in the light and you wonder how hot the bath water must be. Unlike the chairs in the main hall, the one you currently sit down on cross-legged is meant for comfort solely. A pink and poufy 50s relic, put there specifically for you since it’s Friday.

„Ah…Baekhyun. I forgot you see them for the first time,“ you settle, while he turns again. You find yourself laughing at how cutely Baekhyun spins. That this is the way mermen express their excitement and adoration you learned only last week.

„And, your fangs have grown so big!“ His cheeks are bright and giddy, and his tail glistens from all the soap he tossed around in the water for almost half an hour now.

„I’m on my 50th day of training now.“

„Ooh, that’s so impressive! You’re doing great for sure!“

„I don’t know if I do. But there are some results at least. Kai made me fight Yukhei with bare hands and they came out,“ you wriggle your either wing, and make their tops touch the ceiling. Ever so slightly, you don’t want to break anything around here. Baekhyun’s little bathroom paradise is too carefully assembled to pull any stunts in here, and it’s your Friday night safe haven for long talks and even watching movies on Mark’s tablet. Now, it doesn’t take a lot of stretching to do so in the first place. At this point, wearing your wings out this way is starting to feel natural, even if the way that they shift your balance is still new. They are red-white and stringy, feathery, and spotted just like Kai had predicted.

„He was in his full form, right? You’re really brave you did this.“

„It’s a strange thing sometimes. It’s like I followed an impulse.“ you say, shrugging a little. „I guess — Blame it on instincts.“

You really hoped he would buy that dodge, but it’s a futile try.

„Hey, I mean it. I’m proud of you. Really.“

You push a few hair strands out of your eyes. He’s not going to let you off the hook until you admit it, or maybe it’s only you so fearing to say that, and making it so awkward that he notices.

You don’t want to bare yourself but also don’t want to leave him in the dark about how much his words have been building you up over the last few weeks. It’s almost been two months since you first saw Baekhyun on Mark’s video call, discussing where to relocate the club chronicles after a shelf randomly collapsed. Even a fraction of him on screen made you hold your breath.

Maybe it’s because a whole lot of your ancestors were — although surely snobby and even aristocratic — so bite-first-talk-later and rather reserved folk staying in the shadows that accepting or never doubting flattery is hard for a vampire of your generation. And maybe it’s time you muster up something else than either extreme end of that aristocracy or that terrible shyness.

„Thanks for your compliment,“ you stare at the tips of your fingers that clamp around your knees. „Matters a lot, okay.“

Baekhyun props up his head on the edge of the tub in response and looks at you all blushed. He’s playing with the blue crystal penchant around his neck, and his light purple hair falls into his face in wet little waves until he shakes it. The strands are so thin and plush, they prop up all dry again so fast, as if by magic (which it likely is). His cheeks are so glowing when they’re rosy, you notice every time you see him, but today even more so. To the point where, and you feel it in your gut, your confidence becomes so shaky all over again.

„But don’t praise me too much,“ you say. „It’s only doing what I’m supposed to do and what I’m made up of, I think. It wasn’t that hard.“

„Not as hard as defense against crosses and garlic, isn’t it?“

„Damn right, that was something ese,“ you nod. „But there are much bigger problems.“

„Is there something that preoccupies you as of lately?“

Baekhyun blinks a few times with a falling smile, and you contract in your chair.

„I feel like… It’s so hard to say.“

„I won’t hold anything against you, okay. I just hate seeing you preoccupied night til dawn. That’s not right.“

„It’s…Yukhei is treating me like some kind of tool. Just fostering me because that means a hybrid demon sits on the throne of hell. It feels too much sometimes. Like I have to dance to the beat of his track all the time, you know.“

„I’m sorry. Lucas can be really zealous. I hope he’s not demanding too much from you.“

„Or… training me like a machine. I’m really not a dog’s toy. I don’t think that’s what made my join all this. I don’t have as many problems with my heritage as with the way he takes so much control. It’s… one-sided. And I feel like I should be above that already and just do my thing anyway.“

Baekhyun’s expression sinks even more now, but there’s also something single-minded in it.

„As long as you truly wish to take that position in the 9th circle, you can do as you please,“ he says. „Look at how strong you are. I don’t even have to tell you that. As I know him, Yukhei wants to protect his kind. Including you, that’s why he trains you so hard and wants you to have influence. I know it’s an ironic thing. That you have to be his subordinate now to be his superior in the future. He sees himself as a founding father, so he coaches us. His strict ways are not for everybody.“

„I guess,“ you shrug. It doesn’t sound illogical to you. Having a half-breed in charge of hell would raise the status and safety of Club Daemon immensely, and Yukhei does behave like the club is his child. „I just don’t like it when he uses his position too much without caring about how I want to go about it. I know I’m new to this, but I still have preferences. And the training is for my sake, he’s the one who emphasizes that the most but it feels like it only serves him. Telling him that is like, like— talking against a fucking wall, I don’t know.“

„That doesn’t sound good. I think that you inspired a lot of respect in him. Lucas is afraid of many things.“

„I feel that.“

All too often. When he trains you. At dinner. During any hand-to-hand practice. And especially: On Fridays, where he is tense all day.

„That the pack order is so wired into him doesn’t help. There’s always only superior or subordinate to him, he doesn’t know anything else. The social order of vampires is less defined than that.“

The roles, the hierarchies. You often find Mark talking about it.

„I try to understand it but our ways are so different. I don’t know what it is. Yukhei should know that vampires aren’t responsive to this alpha thing the very best. And I don’t think anyone in Belial’s family for that matter.“

You’ve seriously been wondering how Lucas was donning his big bad wolf attitude. That he was intimidated behind all that jazz would come as no surprise to you. But this type of explanation would be too… simple. Too easy, for all those intricacies, the weirdness of his behavior.

„If you look at it from what he does rather than what he says. He spends a lot of time developing your skills and puts all of his energy into the project,“ Baekhyun’s gaze drops from yours now. „To be honest… I’m jealous of him.“

Now that makes you swallow hard. It implies way too much for you to process right now.

„I don’t, I don’t think he likes me,“ you vehemently shake your head. „Or at least not in a way that feels good to me. And that’s what counts. He’s making me grapple with hell hound holograms and box with Kai until dawn under his supervision. I’d rather be here and discuss with you. It’s really valuable.“

„Ah… thank you.“

Now that you’re on a roll, saying it is easier.

„I’m really glad you were the one who scouted me. I really wish I could be here more often. And, you put a lot of effort into this. You think it’s just talking but it’s important for me.“

The last part you say with a much more subdued tone, but it doesn’t lose its meaning to Baekhyun. That he looks flustered is an understatement. He wriggles his shiny tail and it actually changes its color to light pink, matching his flush.

„You know, it was more of a coincidence. I was counting shells at the beach, I saw you coming out of a pharmacy at the quay. I haven’t told you that, have I?“

Back in May. A very breezy, sunny late afternoon.

„Taemin said something along those lines, but not in detail, no.“

„You had these huge sunglasses on. And so much sun screen. And a big hat. You came out with six packs of iron supplements and cranberry juice in a transparent plastic bag. I couldn’t quite believe it.“

„You really saw it that clearly?“

„Merman eyes can see even in murky water. Kai has trained me to read people at any distance on land.“

„And how did you see that I’m part demon?“

„You had a crop top on.“

What?

„I mean. Come on. That half-vampires like crop tops is clear to me. Taeyong is wearing them all the time. But don’t other people do that as well? Isnt’t that a little—“

Baekhyun starts giggling.

„The sun was hitting your back while you were opening the lock of your bicycle. I could see the wings folded underneath your skin.“

„Oh man,“ you puff out, reclining in your seat. And you thought he was going for a reach. „Okay, I get it. I hope nobody else saw that.“

„It can easily look like some kind of tattoo,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „At least someone who has no idea about demons wouldn’t have realized anything. And it was only visible for a split second since you weren’t standing upright.“

„Okay… that’s good I guess? Just me walking around in a crop top at the bay. Nothing suspicious going on.“

You’re ready to chastize yourself for being so careless, but then again. Arguably, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. And on top of that, it took someone as trained as Baekhyun to discover your sleeping wings showing in a matter of one blink or two.

„It’s likely that your wings only started growing this very year. I really need you to realize. This didn’t happen in twenty years. I was never as fascinated in my entire life, I—“

And by saying that, Baekhyun’s pupils become heart-shaped, and pretty much everything else about him turns bright red. The hair, the tail, the lips.

Oh.

Looks like you’re starting to understand why Baekhyun didn’t just casually mention you to Yukhei to send out an invitation, bar half-breeds being a rare occurance and highly sought for by the club.

„I called Taemin with my shell phone right away so he could inform the club,“ Baekhyun stutters on. „I’m sorry we’ve been observing you that way. Many half-breeds don’t know that they are.“

„You didn’t do it to hurt me,“ you shake your head, gather yourself, and take Baekhyun’s hands in yours. They’re so pretty and slippery. „You don’t have to apologize. It’s been a lucky coincidence.“

He saw you in the right moment and it decided everything.

„I’d not be here without you, that was very needed,“ you add. „Lost and found, you know. I gotta be the one to say thank you.“

Baekhyun firmly squeezes your hands and looks you deeply in the eyes, even more so than before.

„We’re the ones who have to say that,“ he says. „We didn’t have many good prospects before you. Maybe we can have a better chance being half-breeds in the future. Don’t think of yourself as Yukhei’s chess piece. That takes away all your importance. I think he’s trying to tell you that, too.“

„Maybe. But just know that if he’s so invested in me the way you say, I couldn’t reciprocate it.“

You look down, retreat your hands. Baekhyun reaches out of the tub to cup your chin upward very gently.

„This whole werewolf-vampire feud thing,“ he starts in a low tone. „You don’t have to buy into it. It’s not good for our club’s unity.“

You cast down your eyes. „I know.“

„If we fall apart, that makes us very vulnerable to the outside. It’s important that you stick together, and… he really likes you.“

„Baekhyun—“

„You have an easier time with Kai, right. If you approach Yukhei the same way, that… could be beneficial to your bonding.“

„Bonding?“

You don’t like where this is going. All of your alarm bells are going off right now. There’s cold sweat starting to stick to your shirt at the back of your spine.

„It’s kind of an unspoken codex,“ Baekhyun sounds much more understated now, his eyes become droopy. „If there is a female half-demon with claims to the 9th circle, a mate from the guild may accompany her. But it has to be someone from the upper rank.“

„What!“

„Yukhei is the highest in our hierarchy... He might become your consort. He said to me he’d be ready to do it.“

„Yukhei as my mate? How do I know nothing about that!“

The shock in your voice makes Baekhyun rolls up in the bathtub and his tail turns into a lifeless green. You’ve never seen him so small.

„Because… because he can’t say he likes you.“

„I beg your pardon?“

„It’s all bound to happen because of his status, and yours, and— As I said, it’s an unspoken law. It doesn’t really matter if he confesses or not.“

„Are you kidding me now?“ you jump off your chair. Your wings knock over a ceramic vase in the bathroom cupboard right above the sink. It comes down splintering. „Why on earth does Yukhei push me around like some political… genetics… preservation tool!“

„It, it is not the intention—“

„I don’t want to mate with Yukhei! Not because he’s the president, not because I need some fitting husband apparently, not because he spends a lot of time with me, not because of his money or because he cares a lot about preserving half-breeds, and especially not just because he likes me.“

„You— You don’t?“

Baekhyun’s eyes are wider than when Mark first saw your spotted wings, well-knowing he was dealing with a more delicate subject of the chronicles. But this was something that would turn the annals of the club upside down entirely.

„We’re not compatible. Not in the least,“ you frown. „Did you assume I did?“

„Of, of course! I mean in your position, who else would come to your mind? It’s such a given from both of your sides, I didn’t… even think about it. Please, I didn’t want to offend you!“

You settle on your chair again, fold in your wings. Cross your legs, lean back. An overbearing feeling of depletion makes your whole body ache.

„You know. That’s the thing with tradition. Nobody thinks about what they actually want. They just follow a program to satisfy some stupid custom. To soothe their ego, their morals, I don’t know what. But that leads them in the opposite of being satisfied. Because it’s against their real wishes. Doing away with quite a few traditions without causing much damage would be entirely possible, wouldn’t it.“

„I think traditions do serve someone,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Many people.“

„In this case, only one person. Hint: tall lycan man who wants to fuck me. And take me as a wife which I didn’t even know until now. And how would I if he’s yelling at me about putting away my tits as if I’m some chunk of trash.“

Baekhyun stutters, decoiling not one inch from his position.

„Didn’t he do that in front of others?“

„Yeah, but why are you asking?“

You can’t help but put some sharpness into that reply. All that mating monkey business is reeking of bullshit.

„Lycans are, well you know it. Really possessive. He wants you for himself, he… he’s affected by your body. Everyone can see that. So, everyone automatically thought he’d just, sooner or later make a move on you, you know. You’ll be exclusive to him.“

„You really think that Yukhei is territorial over my fucking tits.“

„On the outside he was acting grumpy that it was a half-vampire coming to us out of all races. But he sent out Taemin with the club invitation letter in a matter of a day. The fastest he ever wanted to get someone to join was when I scouted Ten as our chauffeur. Ten had all the qualifications and he’s half-harpy, they get on with lycans very well, but Yukhei was deliberating for two weeks.“

You shake your head.

„He sent it out because the club direly needs extra manpower, a new element, whatever, that’s why. He literally said so.“

„Yukhei ordered to send out the invitation only when I told him that you’re a good-looking… woman.“

You’re gasping for air. Can this get any worse? This has got to be a bad joke. It sounds like Yukhei literally wants to own you.

„Is he— that desperate?“

„He’d not mate with any full-lycan or half-human half-lycan, or humans altogether,“ Baekhyun shakes his head. „And how could he, he’s the president and protector of the only demon half-breeds club there is. Anything else would be out of character.“

„So me being in need of a mate because of all this heir thing… serves him well and he’s already planned all of it and treats it as a given in the club. All behind my back.“

You could rip out all your hair at this point. You curse him. This dirty, sneaky, cunning wolf guy.

„From his perspective, it makes sense. Nobody else in his shoes would do it differently. He didn’t mate at all yet. We respect that he will take that only chance because he has the last say, you saw that. If a lycan runs a club, we go by lycan ways.“

All you can do is plant your face on the edge of the bath tub and puff out a deflated noise.

„So I’m the only fuckmeat in sight. To get rid off his virginity.“

Oh God, no. This has got to be a terrible dream, even the club’s chronicles pre-1689 aren’t as tragic.

„Yukhei’s instincts are going crazy since he reached maturity. Kai already mated earlier in his life and takes Beta status. I guess that’s why you get along a little better. But with Yukhei… he’s so depraved, he’s even ready to mate with a half-vampire.“

„I saw how hostile he can get with Taeyong…“

It still pains you. That Yukhei would go at him with full fangs and claws even if Taeyong is so severely marred was a punch in the gut. You don’t doubt Taeyong’s strength, and you saw he was ready to defend himself properly and resolutely. But it showed a lot of true colors and you thought about it for many nights.

„Exactly. That he said he’d be your consort tells you how much he needs somebody. He’s even ready to bury the rivalry and also contests anybody of your race. Taeyong is competition to him.“

„Jealous possessive alpha looking for a trophy,“ you bury your face deeper in the enamel of the tub edge. „Baekhyun. I fucking swear. You’re giving me even more reasons not to get with him. He’s even dragging Taeyong into all of this.“ Taeyong, who made you feel so at home and comfortable with being half-vampire. Who was very open with you and had exactly the integrity and dedication and utter class a club member needed to have. A confident, quiet strength and rolemodelship that you could always look up to.

„So talk about unity,“ you grit on. „And I’m only tolerated to Yukhei. If I’d be a guy, he would’ve sent me an invitation after like 5 years, wouldn’t he? Yukhei cares a lot less about halfbreeds than he pretends. How would I get with this guy if he’s such a mess. Never ever.“

„You actually wouldn’t?“

„Come on! If that’s not clear at this point. No degree of Yukhei wanting me means I want him. Man, what the—! He’s planning my life as if it’s his factory. He’s making chaos out of everything.“

Hell, Yukhei must be more than insecure if he reached that level of entitlement. And you only get to hear it from Baekhyun? He’s not just insecure, but also a coward. Just how much he’s living in his own bubble is hard to fathom.

„But, it’d be an honor for you to be with the president. Is there a reason you don’t like him back?“

„Baekhyun. I don’t give a fuck about his arranged marriage thing. He has no respect. I want someone else.“

„I mean, I… You’re free to choose from the assembly. You’re the Queen of Hell. You can do whatever you want.“

„Apparently not.“

You cock not one, but two brows right at him. Baekhyun seems entirely confused. It’s so strange to you how he doesn’t seem to catch on in the very least. Yukhei really must have threatened the other club members. Nor does he seem to take your role seriously in the very least.

„Is there someone you want to mate with, then?“

„First time someone ever asked.“

You straighten your posture and tap your fingers on your knees. Admittedly, you’ve probably picked that one up from Kai.

„The guild accepts any of your wishes. It’s just a recommendation or a tradition that—“

„Yeah yeah. A dumbass expectation. Disguised as some… guideline. And everyone’s parroting it just because Yukhei is the boss. I don’t like that, okay. I’m not on board with his personal agenda. Because it’s shitty. Full stop. I’ll shove his bonding schtick up his ass until it comes out of his ears.“

„Ah, I, I see. I get it now.“

„Understand, Baekhyun. Rules have to be adapted to the benefit of those they concern. Are we agreeing on that?“

„That’s only logical!“

„So you get that I have someone in mind that I want to have a consort. That person is not Lucas. You see that the benefit would apply here, that, you know, I mate with that other person instead.“

„Sure! Do you need any help with selecting somebody? Wouldn’t Kai be a perfect match? You’re both so strong! Or Taeyong. You have great chemistry! Mark is very impressed by you, too! Haven’t you seen how shy he is?“

You want to sink into the ground on the spot. It just goes on and on. Man, you need a 500-year coffin nap with extra dust and spider webs and no garlic in the radius of ten kilometers.

„Baekhyun, you, you are… God damn…“

You can’t say it. You can’t.

„Always glad to help,“ a bright smile lights up his face once again. His tail turns back to a very familiar turquoise.

And just when he decoils himself to his full size—

It happens.

„Ah! What was that!“

Baekhyun begins to jerk up and winds. You panic. The surface of the bath water colors with red almost right away. He grabs his tail in pain. You dive either hand into the tub to pull up his tail.

„It’s a splinter! It fell inside the tub!“

„From the vase?!“

„Yes, it’s, it’s…“

„Are you okay Y/N? You look different!“

He seems more shocked about that than the fact that he just got pierced.

„It’s…stuck here. I’ll pull this— out and… and. Very carefully, and…“

Your hands work on their own. There’s nothing in your mind that has to direct them. The piece of ceramic is easy to remove from his scales, nor is the cut too severe at all. It’s not even two fingers long. But he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding. It’s unbearable. You mindlessly cast the splinter into the sink and look at your hands, and the water, and his tail.

„Are you really okay? It really doesn’t hurt a lot!“

„Baekhyun,“ you slide forward from your seat and linger at the edge of the tub, facing him. „I can’t take this shit anymore. Please.“

„Oh my god. Your eyes are going red! Should I call for Taeyong? You’re looking really sick!“

„Don’t you understand. How, how are you not seeing it,“ you clutch at the bath curtain, dizzied, and it’s like you’re seeing double. Baekhyun tries to keep you upright in his arms that wrap tightly around you. But your head has lost all its stability, tipping way forward. You’re face-to-face, forehead-to-forehead with him now, a frantic, salivating mess. Your lips feel so swollen and pulsing, it’s hard to keep them pressed together at all.

„I’m… I’m not sick. I’m not. Hush— Listen to me now, Baekhyun. I don’t want anyone else’s blood. You’re the one I wanna mate with. I want yours. And not just a little bit of it.“

Open mouths. You gape at him, he stares right back. You’re already expecting him to call for Kai to drag you into the serum room. So much about Club Daemon.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to blink like he just heard the most incredulous news, pulling away from the embrace. He looks at you in earnesty.

„Why didn’t you just say that right away?“

Baekhyun turns the brightest shade of pink all over yet. „I never thought you’d like me back this way.“

„Really?“

„Of course…“

„God,“ you laugh, „oh God.“

„And who said you can’t drink all you want from me? That’s literally what I was gonna offer—“

You are already shoulder deep leaning into the water with your arms grabbing hold of his tail. Some of the water even gets into your nose and it’s terribly soapy from Baekyun’s shampoo, but saturated with enough blood to knock a tidal wave of adrenaline right through your system.

This is the freshest and warmest you’ve ever had it. It’s feeling like a shark in the water. The lithe red clouds wavering through the tub loosely clinging to your face and lips makes you go weak in the legs. It tastes sweet like actual candy. And it’s so, so… familiar. Being surrounded by all that cherry pink water is better than a coffin nap and no garlic pizza combined. This is way too good. You can be glad your air is running out and the wound begins to close behind scales getting back into order.

„Wow! You can hold your breath for a long time,“ Baekhyun gasps when you surface.

„I didn’t,“ you cough, and take two minutes to gather yourself. But not exactly because of that much water getting inside of you. Rather, the blood is showing its very effect already. „The wound should be fine, um,“ is all you can say, but Baekhyun only smiles in reply.

„Oh? You don’t look full in the very least.“ he swipes his hands over his wet neck and pats it. „Try it here!“

Oh please no, not the patting and the slapping. It brings all the best veins out, oh fucking no. But he continues to do just that. At this rate—

„Can’t guarantee I’m not getting really horny.“

„Huh? If you’re not I’d be worried. Didn’t you say you want to mate with me?“

„Well… yes.“

„I’m just really honored, I need a little moment.“

„You don’t have a problem with me just… vandalizing your neck?“

„Isn’t that what it’s for? It doesn’t suck itself.“

Baekhyun, with the most innocent little expression, continues just as before kneading into the sides of his neck. His long… tan, glistening piece of art neck. You probably look like a starving wet poodle preying for a bone, and then there’s him in the tub, sparkling like a water god with his beautiful cherry hair and droopy brown eyes.

With every smack on the side of his neck, your pants squarely decide to get a little more soaked. Maybe because it sounds like you’re already fucking. Maybe because his neck is bursting with everything a girl needs. It doesn’t suck itself, huh. And your canines are in best shape because you floss them twice a day just like Taeyong said. Uh oh.

„I’m so sorry I… I think I’ll tear you up.“ Why does it have to be so long and throbbing. His smell is turning your brain inside out and back again. „God Baekhyun, you’re tormenting me.“

„Hey, not fair! That’s your job,“ he’s pouting again, and probably begins to realize he’s been doing more prep than most porn stars nowadays because the kneading stops. Without much further ado, Baekhyun squarely beckons you to climb into the tub.

„Are you really ready—“

„Don’t worry, Taemin is great at cleaning the tiles. He actually loves doing that.“

„I want to make this enjoyable to you, Baekhyun, so…“

„I don’t know, you don’t have to please me or anything,“ he shakes his head. „That you like me is already overwhelming enough.“

„A bite is serious business. I still want you to enjoy it like I do.“

„If you want that. Just, just do it harder,“ Baekhyun wriggles himself up, pinker than ever. „If we’re doing it unprotected… I want this properly.“

Finished off with a shy smile. This guy is making you go times more nuts than the first raw blood you had in that chalice. You start to understand what Mark really meant by recently mentioning how Baekhyun’s parents gave him „A certain inclination“. A well nymph and Asmodeus, demon of lust, combining? That could not possibly create anything less than somebody so enticing.

„Baekhyun, always tell me if I should stop, I, I try to rein myself in, okay. You’re too delicious…“

„My veins stop swelling, just bite already,“ he sways his tail, keeps on rubbing into in throat again with his flat palm. „Just don’t worry. You’d have a hard time draining me. You saw my body just heals itself fast.“

„Yeah. Merman thing. Mark said that.“

„You can also fuck me if you want to.“

„Baekhyun, you really don’t have to offer yourself just because my body is going crazy.“

„But I’d really enjoy it. How aroused are you?“

„In all honesty… Bram Stoker novels level horny.“

„I’m not gonna leave you like that.“

And something in his tone tells you that Baekhyun has it all figured out.

As much as your wobbly legs permit it, you get into the tub more or less elegantly. You already want to apologize for mounting him that way, but Baekhyun squarely sits you down on his crotch with his hands on your waist. That his wrist and knuckle veins have gotten the word does not go unmissed by your tunnel vision. All those pulsing underarm serpentines… leading your gaze upwards, and more, and more. Up, up, until you cannot rip your gaze from his puffy little throat. Baekhyun lets out a content little hum and lifts his chin. You really get the full damn view.

„Sorry teeth, I’ll devirginize you. No more blood oranges,“ you babble to yourself, and you can tell your brain just switched off all inhibition. You never thought you’d be slurring your words about what types of emergency fleshlights you use, all in a bath tub with a merman. „About time I pop my cherry boy.“

„Exactly right,“ Baekhyun proudly huffs, and leans back. With his Adam’s apple bulging out his throat even more, you lose all trains of thought and just grab him by either side of his head. You sink your teeth in as far as the power in your jaw can drive them, and going by how his pulse is beating inside your ears, you drilled them in pretty damn hard. Oh fuck. Beginner’s mistake. A huge gush comes out to spritz against the back of your own throat, and you almost pass out from the incredibleness of the taste.

It’s too much at once. You’re hanging by a mere thread. All your body does is follow whatever its instinct dictates. Grabbing Baekhyun by his hair is all you can keep track of, shoving your teeth right up his throat again all dissipates in a blur because your entire mouth is dripping full with him. He’s moaning so loud right now, his neck vibrates along.

„Yes…!“

You don’t want to be a weakling. And, get yourself to swallow for the first time — but then. regret it right away. His blood melting down your esophagus is like a liquid marriage proposal on the Eiffel tower. You don’t know where the noise comes from, but the birds are singing. Once it’s down your stomach and pooling there, you’re already high as fuck. Grinding erraticly all over Baekhyun’s more than steel hard boner that parts upward through the scales of his crotch. He’s really giving you all the best things.

You bury your whole face in his neck. No more neatness. All you do is let your tongue loose and drag your mouth all over his face, and his chin, and his lips, and his jaw, and all of his neck. Every angle, every side, every nook and cranny until your mouth is bursting full with all of his sweet-tasting sweat and pinkish blood that has thinned out with the water dripping from his gills. If it wasn’t diluted, you’d probably forget your own name.

You melt your teeth into his pulsing skin. A vibrant image opens before your inner eye. You’re getting visions of the beach and you as seen through Baekhyun’s eyes. And then— Baekhyun from an outside perspective, swirling through the water the moment after he saw you walk at the quay for the first time. Singing so beautifully, your ears are ringing and you never want to hear anything else.

His blood is all over your lips and chest, your training print shirt. You admit you’re tempted not to ever wash that thing even if Taemin politely asks you to or Yukhei calls it crazy. You want it to be as sullied as a white shirt can possibly get. What must be your eleventh bite in a row gives you a particularly big shot right to the tongue. It’s so much, Baekhyun’s blood starts running out of your nose, only to get back onto your lips that suck up all that candy right away all over again.

Being all drenched in Baekhyun’s nicely bloodied wonder shampoo water and your own horny leaking shit at the same time, your pussy is double wet and way, way too ready to get stuffed up with all that merman dick. You never thought that he would be any larger than your thumb, but you’re mistaken.

„No wonder Yukhei has been keeping you outside the club so often.“

„You can have it as often as you want, eight times a day, I’ll manage to be there, don’t worry.“

It’s so stiff and glides into you so easily, you groan out loud and loose a whole portion of blood from all that open mouth. It sprinkles over Baekhyun’s little nose and lips, and makes his way down to his belly. The scent is turning your brain upside down. You find yourself hooked on his nose, sucking and licking it with your pussy reaching the meaty base of what’s all the way inside you now. All the precum he’s leaking into you is taking its time, but comes down to cream you up when he starts moving. Really smudgy thrusts from below, several big fat fillings from above that you can have your fun gargling on the back of your tongue. Baekhyun knows what makes you happy. You squeeze every bit your can get out of his throat and plunge your teeth inside of him far enough to feel his vocal chords vibrating during his moans. You don’t wanna damage those. So you decide to switch things around a little and slip off his cock. It’s grown a lot inside of you and peaks out the water still brimming. The whole tub gets a taste of soapy foam mixed with Baekhyuns semen and lord knows how much delicious red cherry juice that you’ve been milking out of him. Oh god, you feel like cumming. You turn Baekhyun underneath you so the back of his head comes to face you, and you bow down to violently bury and seesaw your teeth in his nape like a lion shaking a little prey animal. His little helpless moans are so melodic and out of this world, you do notice you forgot your own name. Well, he can tell you afterwards so, no problem. For now, you made him completely yours. You don’t miss how Baekhyun didn’t reach down to get himself a hand but has grown even harder.

Going by how much he’s been begging you to do your carnage on him, and you’re tempted to ask him, you know for a fact Baekhyun would probably fanboy like mad and ooze his cum all over the place if you broke his neck altogether, but you decide that’s probably way too edgy for now. And too much, hello. His body can heal anything in a matter of five minutes, doesn’t mean you have to challenge it with a clean snap during the first time. That’s a schtick for the later fucks, maybe a birthday. Just when you find that what you’re doing with his little nape all between your jaws is way too sick for a novice, a string of tiny „please, please, please!“ noises spurs you to sink in deeper and even work your tongue just like it’s a french kiss.

„Oh woah, ah! Do it, do it more!“ His pleasure screames and demands for roughing him up leave no second for a pause. At this point, you’re just digging in and he’s all the way close to going off like a bomb. Taemin doesn’t just have to clean the tiles alone, there’s gonna be sperm everywhere. Probably even as far as the door, and that one’s all opposite to the bath tub and four meters away.

Now that you’re so snugly penetrating with your fangs pierced in around his spine from either side, you notice how Baekhyun has successfully corrupted you into a sadistic freak. The more blood seeps into your mouth, the lewder your slurping gets, and the tub water has long gone from pink to very crimson like it’s the type of apples Taeyong loves to test his fangs on pretty much daily just for practice. You swallow again, and this time, a wave of Baekhyun’s sexual fantasies crashes down on you.

Looks like since you’re closer to his central nervous system, you’re tapping his entire stream of thoughts. However this works, it’s giving your pussy severe missing-cock-disease. Drinking and swallowing repeatedly makes the visions even more vivid. The images are so vast and animated, you can hardly keep up. His face, buried between your thighs. His tongue, dragged all over your legs. You riding his tail like it’s thighs. A big gush of semen between your breasts. You slobbering blood all over his cock and making good use of its protruding veins. Images of you cumming and screaming his name. Baekhyun screaming even louder because he can. Baekhyun sucking his fingers and you licking his wrists clean. Baekhyun cumming inside you and everything bursting right out because holy shit, that’s a lot.

You want his dick and properly connect to his lips for the first time now, so you ease your teeth out of his nape, much to his protesting. You cave in and give him another bite, and make it brutal so he begins squeaking and gasping that he’ll cum. Now that you have him there, you can venture a second try and turn him around. Because you’re afraid of blowing up the second you sit on his cock again, so you start with his lips.

Kissing Baekhyun is all you expected and even more than that. Even if you’re so saturated with his blood that your taste buds are on fire, you can still clearly taste how sweet he is. Everything about him is so delicious and he’s so cute. All that pleasant taste and the gentleness of his tongue has you riding up and down his cock in less than a minute. Busy like a New York high rise elevator. Gentleman he is, Baekhyun retorting with his own thrusts feels nothing short of whipped cream consistency fucked into you with a headspin-inducing mega girth. Where he mustered that one from, only Neptune knows.

Since the entire water is ripe with his blood, that can’t go without pumping some of it into you. You’ve never found yourself horny all over your period even if the scent does make you tingle, but now, somebody else’s blood squeezed into you? Your legs feel like doing somersaults. You’re probably asking for too much, but you hope your walls soak it all up, his pre-cum included. Hell, if all that mixture shoots up in your womb, you’d probably be on a permanent high for one week. Who would have thought. This giggly little merman has turned you mad and lawless.

It doesn’t take for very long that Baekhyun’s tongue has been wrecking a havoc of pleasure between your fangs and has started bleeding after deliberately giving himself a small little prick with them, you want to get bursting full with his cum now, you can’t wait any longer. You lost your breath so it takes a few seconds until you can verbalize it, but when you do, Baekhyun doesn’t take even half a minute to have you pussy bubbling with a particularly scented load of deliciously fertile semen.

It’s such a huge amount, you have to hold onto his upper arms. Baekhyun breathes like he’s curently swimming a marathon, and has his eyes closed to concentrate on giving you the best to the best. What makes you moan is just how wildly his cock is throbbing and pumping against your cervix, that girl has never seen an avalanche of white stuff like this, she’s so lucky she gets to see this up close. Baekhyun has sunken so deep into his orgasm, he’s starting to mumble some kinds of magic words. Which seem to be directed at keeping his dick hard and keeping the cum flowing just like that.

„Shit, I want that in my mouth,“ you promptly decide, and pull your all-loaded pussy off, causing leakage all over the water. You turn to prop his cock between your lips, and Baekhyun makes it no secret that he won’t hesitate sucking his creampie right out of you. So while you’re busy sliding your tongue up and down all that veiny shaft, Baekhyun glides his nose and chin between your slippery pussy lips. The stimulation of his tongue has you twitching and stuffing his cock even deeper until your mouth is nothing but filled except a few remaining spots.

His cum is all fizzy in your mouth, it’s the most addictive thing. You decide that all that vanilla ice cream needs a juicy strawberry sauce to top it off. You do exactly what Baekhyun’s steamy fantasies displayed to you. That you lock your horny fangs deep inside of Baekhyun’s cock and squeeze him out by the liter for sperm and cherry milk is already having your eye lids flutter because you’re that stoned. Not to mention that you will smell like candy to the lycans and certainly also Taeyong for at least a whole month.

You’re the farmer, he’s the maple tree, and Baekhyun’s blood the runny, sugary syrup. The mix with his semen tastes like you bite right into a large fresh lemon and melon popsicle. and swallowing comes easy once you got into the rhythm of his continuous little bursts. Your stomach is telling you oh babe, I adore you for this. It’s stuffing full a) with the one thing is needs and b) the other thing it loves. All while Baekhyun’s bloody tongue is having a party on your clit and you can’t help but heavily rock your pussy all slapping up against his face.

The friction is unbearable, it makes you sopping wet on top of already being shot up with a ton of cream. Which now faithfully drops right into Baekhyun’s awaiting mouth and his nostrils along the way. He just snorts it up, gathers it on his tongue, then swallows it down like it’s a mild cold. The noise is so disgusting, it’s so sexy. You didn’t know mermen were this hardcore. You bet your fangs Yukhei can’t do that.

Baekhyun keeps on slurping on your creampie like it’s a desert pudding, and puckers his brazen lips to suck your clit between giving it little kisses and licks. The point where you forgot not just your name but your hometown and birth day is already passed, with Baekhyun indulging your pussy like that, you even forgot about planet earth being a thing. His petite „Aw pretty“ and „So tasty“ noises have you clenching up and wildy deepthroating whatever impossible length of his dick is still left.

It’s oozing out too much to deal with at this point, so you just let it flow into the bath water. Your mouth being so slobbery, Baekhyun’s cock pulsing in and out of it causes a wet, hollow noise. It’s strangely satisfying and dirty to hear, you just love it. The blood seeping into your mouth makes you spiral even deeper and resorting to drift off into a wonderworld again, blowing big pink cum bubbles while you’re dreaming of Baekhyun in a groom suit out of nowhere.

Swimming at the edge of a pool, he’s stroking your hair and admiring your skin that seems so completely without any veins. Cut to Baekhyun standing in the kitchen with an apron making pancakes, drizzled with what can’t possibly just normal strawberry sauce. He perfectly balances himself on his tail to stand upright, and you’re wearing a Christmas sweater signed by Christopher Lee and Bela Lugosi.

Image three, Baekhyun massaging your feet with his pretty hands while you watch Nosferatu Reloaded on television. He whispers sweet nothings but they mean everything to you. Image four, a big house with a nice water system inside, and on top of that, a really shapely coffin that smells so dusty and snugly by just looking at it, you’re enamored with no return. Oh my god, there’s a moth plague in that house, too, and the garden grows nightshade!

Swallowing the remaining semen, thick and marshmallow-y as it so savoringly is, you shift back to your senses. Shit, that was a ride. You have a hard time letting go of his cock, but he’s not sustaining it with a spell at this point. Rather, it closes back behind his scales. Probably regenerating, you sucked and performated the shit out of it. Preoccupied, Baekhyun is still busier than ever making your pussy his personal oozing face grave, he’s particularly enjoying the digging part with the tongue. You promise to unearth him once he’s zombiefied, can’t let the poor tiny merguy just drown in there.

To think that he could do all the things you saw makes you furiously thrust back and hear his face smack into you. All of the cum he pumped into you is slathered all over his mouth and makes it all the easier to get all the clit stimulation you want from his bottom lip in particular. That he catches a hang of it and moves right along doesn’t help with your arousal. Your entire lower body is so heated and bustling, any south-Texan bat cave is a joke compared to that.

You hardly catch a direct glimpse of what’s going on, but from the reflection in the tiles you can see that Baekhyun’s hair has changed its color to how it naturally grew according to Mark’s seemingly random chronicle recital on Monday. Baekhyun only ever does it when he’s really serious about something and vulnerable enough. You can tell be picked up the pace and makes sure not one lick will miss.

With that level of determination, Baekhyun is sure to earn your moans and shaky thighs after a mere minute or two. You think that because he’s part demon, his tongue is… a bit longer and pointier and stronger than the average merman’s. It’s simply how the genes tend to mix and your clit very well feels that. The way he’s driving in the tip of the tongue in rapid sequences that resemble Ten’s piano suites, you’re tipped over the edge hard enough to grab at his tail not to slip from the massive tremble that rocks you.

Your orgasm rolls your eyes back to places even ghouls could dream of, and the amount of pleasure is so strong that your hearing and vision sets out for a solid ten seconds. You just scream and moan and scream again, and Baekhyun’s face gets one massive cum shower all over again. He’s not shy to move his mouth and head around like a madman, so your cum ends up being stuck in his hair altogether. Through even more frantic sucking and kissing, he seeks to prolong your high for another fifteen seconds of blissed out grinding against his face. You drank so much blood, you

By now, your face must look so blown up with all that cum and Baekhyun marked up so relentlessly, even if his bite marks have closed by now, Kai must think you switched roles going by your scents.

„Really sorry for my big cock.“

„Your blood… does it cause random hallucinations or something of that sort, can you direct it in any way?“

„It causes prophetic visions in some cases, if you experience it clearly as an image it will come true. Did you see something?“

„Um. Lots of things. Let’s say I… liked what I saw.“

„Actually, don’t tell me. I like being surprised.“

„Doesn’t it take 50 years until the egg fertilizes?“

„47, 48 is usual. Mermen cum is really slow but it’ll get there.“

„Nice. Isn’t the firstborn always a girl?“

„Yep.“

„We’ll name her after the song that’s always on the human radio, what is it again. Janine?“

„Jolene I’m thinking. I think it was that kind of song.“

„Yeah, I like that. And in the meanwhile we have some time, do we.“

„We can just go on like that. What are you thinking?“

„Shit, shit. I’ll suck you dry, Baekhyun, you don’t even know.“

„My blood regenerates the fastest among all half-species. Shouldn’t be a problem.“

„And what will we do about Yukhei’s mating drive?“

„Don’t worry. He’ll smell it.“

You pull the bathtub plug with a heavy heart and begin washing Baekhyun down. The blood doesn’t seem to stick to him very easily, which is as unsurprising as you not getting it off your own body. Even with his whatever pricey merguy body scrub thingy thing that’s normally used to keep gills and scales in shape. Resorting to staying bloodied for the day is nothing you’ll particularly hate, though.

Ten minutes later, you find a very unsettled Yukhei standing at the window of your designated club office, not able to meet your eyes for more than a second. In that expensive black tux, and you… in your bathing robe with blood all over your hair, and just a pair of Baekhyun’s sparkling light blue and silver ‚i ♡ dolphins‘ socks he borrowed you. He can’t wear them anyway, but they were so cute that he ordered them online.

Very much naked underneath all that, and water running down your legs in drops, alongside— something that does not feel like water. You already plan to hop right back into the shower and do the rest of the cleaning. The sex is great, but vampire hygiene is a pain in the ass sometimes. The scent must be killing him. You don’t even have to sit down for the word spill to start.

„Y/N.“

„I told you I don’t like you sneaking in here.“

„After working out. And, you know my senses are always heightened after this…“

„What is it now, hellboy. Just cut to the chase.“

„Please let me talk for a minute. I came walking by in the northern corridor,“ he starts out low once again. „You talked about your wings sprouting and you were being open with him. So—“

„You listened to us!“

He keeps his lips tight, not granting any reply.

„Piece of shit, you! You’re an all-round asshole.“

The water contained in a silver jug on the office table goes right over Yukhei’s head. He doesn’t react, lets you poor it all over him stoically. You hope it’s particularly cold. Since the water is silver-infused, it stings him, but he takes it.

„I can’t switch my nose and ears off, even at such a distance. It… it just reeks, alright. I just heard what was going on without intending. The talk, the— I didn’t know what it would develop into.“

„From start to finish. Am I right?,“ you dig your nails into your palms. „And you didn’t just walk off like you fucking should. So stop blaming your ears or what topics we started out with or whatever! You talk about mating behind my back, you eavesdrop, you invade my office just like this. Do you think that’s gonna make me marry you on the spot?“

All the magical afterglow — ruined. You cast the jug into a random corner and prop down at your desk. Yukhei wipes the wet bangs out of his face and turns from the window to face you now.

„I’ll stop with all this. Okay. I don’t want to treat you like a crusade machine against my dad or just to satisfy me. I’m sorry if I’m like you said. I’m just a stupid voyeur. I really didn’t want to.“

Yeah. Of course.

„If I spied on you? You’d be kicking me out in a hearbeat,“ you cross your arms and leave them in deadlock. „And what, you’ll stop what?“

„Training you for your position and fighting dad’s army.“

„Eh.“

„I know very well that’s Kai’s job and mine.“

„No shit, Yukhei.“

„And that we should defend more and not just plan the attack. You don’t enjoy the training as much as the normal recruit. You said you’d rather be talking with Baekhyun and that you chose him as a mate.“

„You’ll change your program?“

„A lycan will respect a no. We’re determined but not a creep. And my nose works perfectly fine.“

„What?“

„I’ll be realistic, I don’t think I could satisfy you like him.“

Now that sounds very different from all he’s ever said. You turn your chair toward him and stare Yukhei down.

„I’m listening.“

„I’m not stupid, okay.“

„Inaccurate, but go on.“

„You’d… bite me once and either I bleed out if I control myself or go wolf when I don’t. That’s lose-lose.“

„So you got that all of a sudden,“ you murmur. Yukhei just keeps on talking. It’s almost a prepared monologue.

„I’m a wolf, okay. I only get it when I smell it.“

„That’s some weird shit but fair enough, Mark says that too.“

„You smell like you had almost nine liters in one go. The whole fucking mansion feels like a butchery just opened. How many times did you bite him, fifty, sixty?“

„As if I’m counting. Do you count down when you drink water? You have it easy, you’re normal when you’re not in the moonlight. I’m vampire all the time.“

„What I try to say is. I don’t boast that much regenerating ability even if I wish I had.“

„And you realize that only now.“

„I came here to be honest. I gravely underestimated Baekhyun. You bit his nape and he really enjoyed it.“

„Well thanks for the information. About my private business…“

Yukhei’s senses must be really sharp to discern all of this. He might have stood in the bathroom in person. And if he knows it, Kai does tenfold if he was anywhere near the house. His senses are time-tested and four times as trained.

„I know that doing a bite like that is a big deal in half-breed… couples.“

„You’d find that inacceptable for me to do on you, wouldn’t you.“

Silence again. You tap your feet. Yukhei ends up nodding.

„To the extrent of how you reacted when I grabbed you by the hair. We’re not much different. Trying to make someone ours. Call me possessive but you’re also territorial. You didn’t just bite his neck tonight.“

„You understand why I said we’re not compatible. then.“

Yukhei remains silent for a while after that.

„The tension between our kinds has a reason.“

„No way. Never thought of that. Totally groundbreaking news.“

„We’d probably kill each other when we fuck. Simply because of what we naturally do. We’re suited for other species. Baekhyun matches you very well with his abilities. I admit that even if it hurts my pride.“

„One man’s trash another man’s pleasure.“

„You’re not trash. You know you’re my MVP here. And Baekhyun is going to please you well himself. He’s not as selfish as I am. He’s 290 years old, he’s very experienced.“

„Your instincts are really dying for a mate, don’t they.“

„Just like you deflate to a literal zombie when you’re not drinking, I can’t go without my pack hierarchy being complete. You go stupid when you sense blood, I go stupid when my senses aren’t challenged and I have to suppress my form. It’s that easy.“

„Now tell me something I don’t know.“

You comb your fingers through your hair. It’s kind of comforting right now. Yukhei comes to sit at your desk now himself, opposite to you.

„I should have left you to your own devices when you picked your spot at the fire place already.“

„What do you mean?“

„We left you seven empty places, right.“

„So that was not a coincidence.“

„We spiked each cup with a blood probe of each member. Enough to emenate a scent, but small enough not to have you figure out which cup belongs to whom. Especially not in a room with so many people was it possible to tell that apart so it worked.“

And of course they put up flowers to further confuse you. It was all planned.

„Did you… you…“

„It was a test. I made it so that if was covert enough and fair to everyone.“

„Fair? What the hell did you do with me!“

„Find out whose blood you like the very most. It was my idea. I wanted to see if I have a chance with you or not.“

„That’s insidious.“

„You picked Baekhyun’s probe right away. And you even drank a second cup. That should’ve answered my question by that point.“

That’s why the blood in the cup was so strangely shimmery. You knew that was familiar when you slept with Baekhyun, but couldn’t connect the dots entirely because there was so much soap in the water.

„And you still kept on talking about mating with me?“

„I didn’t know about your heritage before you came to us.“

„So?“

„That gave me a second chance that I hoped you would reconsider. Because it’s tradition tha—“

You smack Yukhei right across the face with your right backhand.

„Never say that word again.“

„And you said you’re here to tell the truth anyway. It’s a shallow excuse to get with me.“

„I’m not denying that, Y/N.“

„It’s been clear to you who I like since our first words. You’re acting like you can bend me to your wishes. You tested me and knew I wasn’t into you. Why?“

„It’s like when you couldn’t take your eyes off your cup. We’re not far apart with our instincts.

„I never said that’s a lie, Yukhei.“

„You can’t expect me not to get the hots if you’re lying there on the table without your top on. And I already controlled myself. I did my best, alright.“

This man is infuriating. You wish you had more silver water to splash him with.

„Taemin was right, Taeyong should’ve done the examination. Touching me fucked with your virgin head. You’re just hunting some one-sided dream looking for some omega girl that fits into your ideology thing.“

„Well you’re right.“

„Unfortunate.“

„But at the same time at least acknowledge that I realized we wouldn’t fit together. I changed my mind about that prospect okay, I’m trying.“

„That you’d make the worst blood bank ever is already clear.“

„I really wouldn’t.“

„Just know that the next time you’re trying to own me or do your wolf stalking shit. Or try to mess with Baekhyun. I’ll be skinning your hairy back with Taeyong’s 17th-century silver dagger and use you as a mud boots doormat.“

„I’ll control my senses as good as I can.“

„Leave away the last part of the sentence.“

„I’ll control my senses.“

„Ma’am.“

„I’ll control my senses, Ma’am.“

„You’re one desperate little shit. Club president and you need to be trained like a rowdy dog. How old are you again?“

„Last time I checked, 21.“

„Not surprised Kai still calls you a puppy and Ten thinks you’re a giant baby.“

„I say, found your own club if you can’t handle it.“

„That would put it back to square one. The only problem is you being horny for the wrong person, the rest are only consequences.“

„As if I can control what my nose tells me. And you know that the very best.“

„You’re still mad your own test backfired,“ you remember the cups put up in the fireplace room.

„Is it wrong wishing you would’ve chosen my blood?“

„Yes, after I clearly made my pick.“

„Then that’s that.“

„That’s that.“

„So what are we gonna do?“

„You cut your wolfy shit, that’s all. It’s creepy. And don’t annoy Taeyong either. You got me? Just stay in your own lane.“

„If I can.“

„Are you the president or are you not?“

„Fair enough.“

Taeyong rings a bell, and you gather for some tea under the backyard Wisteria. Shrimps are served, and Taeyong even bothered to prepare a minestrone that’s wonderfully dark red. Lucas savagely chews on raw chicken wings, Ten relaxes in a hammock, Mark writes, Taemin knits, and Baekhyun plays in the nearby pool, watching and listening and chatting, upbeat as always.

Kai arrives the very last in his post-jog showering robe, but greets you the very loudest in front of everyone.

„Hey, hey! I heard you waterboarded yourself to get some soapy red juice!“

Some confusion at his word choice, some giggles.

„So that’s been making the roun—“

„Amazing! That’s my girl,“ Kai burst out and pats you on the back so passionately, it feels like a freight train hits you.

„O—okay?“

„That greed is all I ever wanted to bring out in training! Where was that determination when we peeled garlic? I tried every method in the book to get you to that point!“

Awkward silence among the members. Then, some shrugs. Mark seems to be the only one who doesn’t get it. Figures, half-goblins don’t have hyper-developed senses. Thank God, his innocent soul. The club chronicles would be filled with details of you doing all sorts of things in a bath tub because Mark never leaves out anything unless he’s currently dropping a pen out of nervousness. Which doesn’t happen anymore.

„Kai, um… I still don’t think you understand what really motivates a vampire,“ Taeyong scratches his head, with you well-aware that he can smell merman blood across the entire house without even trying himself.

„So, what is it, then?“ Kai puffs himself up, arms crossed. „I’m the fucking trainer of how many species again? I should know best!“

It doesn’t take two seconds for a heated discussion to break out. The Venerable Pyramid of Essential Vampire Needs — which author defined it the most accurately? Which peer-reviewed vampire journals are trustworthy? Which interviewed populace is the most reflective of all vampirekind? Serbia, Romania, Turkey, Russia, Greece, overseas?

Everybody wants to weigh in: Taeyong and Mark at the forefront, with Kai and Lucas saying the exact opposite of what they expertly claim just because. Ten starts trolling them with made-up facts („a vampire’s #1 need is premium cellar dust!“), Taemin unsuccessfully tries to calm everybody down with a theory that considers all perspectives, and the tea gets colder and colder.

In the meantime, you squat down at the pool and muse over Baekhyun’s hair in the wind. You twirl it and tell him he’s gorgeous. He whispers just how good you smell. Why debate about essential vampire needs when it’s all right before your eyes.

Thinking about it. It was all about which relationship was mutual. That’s what the decision had been all about, and yes, it had been crystal clear from the very start. Lucas desperately wanted you, but it was one-sided. Mark was flustered by you, but didn’t make a move, nor did you have feelings for him. Taeyong you loved, but his age and mentor status were incompatible with turning it into a relationship. You understood him, but it was motivated by an admiration — there was a pedestal, which again made it one-sided. Ten was a mystery, it wasn’t clear on either part, and leaving each other guessing was no good sign instead of going about your ways. Kai was a compelling man, but had his piece of cake and aspired to different things. Baekhyun — he loves you and you love him.

A powerful engine revvs in the nearby garage, then, the motor stops. Onto the Wisteria jogs Ten with a huge bag of groceries.

„Hello, hello!“

Everybody greets him and picks their favorite snack from his bag. He really thought of everything. Yukhei and Jongin get a huge pile of meat from the car trunk’s cooling box. As a crowning finale, Ten presents you with the latest newpaper. The front page splayed out on the Wisteria’s main table causes everyone to steer and gasp.

SHOCKING!

SATAN’S HEAVENLY RETURN

Ruling hell too stressful after all?

„Rumor has it the King finally got bored of chatting with God and kicked out Satan from the 9th circle without much further ado.“

„No way!“ you toss and turn the newspaper. Five whopping pages are filled with cover story details.

„So dear horned guy went back to where he came from,“ Ten shrugs, then points at the snapshots all over the newspaper. „I mean look at it. This is all just a big ole jealousy drama.“

Who knows God talked some sense into Lucifer.

„I know that dad was getting envious about the King associating with the arch angels,“ Yukhei says. You start to get why. Satan had the privileges of being an archangel for who knows how long until he reached puberty and rebelled or whatever.

„Doesn’t that mean dad has the throne back now?“ you ask.

„Yup,“ Ten turns to page three, where @king_beli’s instagram feed is filled with selfies of the 9th circle, posing with Sisyphus, and throwing peace signs in a sulphurous-looking throne hall. 666,000 likes after just 6 hours. If that’s not a good sign.

You keep on debating how exactly Satan got kicked out so effortlessly until Taeyong rolls in a little swirly metal wagon after the tea is finished. On top of it: An almost ancient relic that Alexander Graham Bell probably built himself.

„Sir, the Hell Telephone might be a good idea right now.“

„Your turn Y/N,“ Yukhei declines, ushering Taeyong to bring the wagon to your side of the table. You dial and wait roughly half a minute.

„Sorry, I was partying,“ a voice creaks through the old speaker. „How can I help? Isn’t this Club Daemon speaking? Is it who I think it is?“

„Hey dad.“

„It is!“

„Hello. You’ve heard about me, then.“

„Yup yup! That you’re Yukhei’s personal dog trainer is what Kai wrote me on Whatsapp! Did you really pour silver water on him? That’s funny as hell!“

„Oh God.“

„I say that a lot these days as well, man. Sorry, we have some music blasting here by the way!“

„Hey dad, what actually happened with God and Satan?“

„Ah, long ass story. Satan chickened out recently, hell is one hell of a job you know. New job opportunity for me. But you gotta take it easy and have fun.“

„I can tell.“

A spitfire verse of what sounds like Megan Thee Stallion is currently pumping through the telephone. Ten grooves right along in his hammock, smiling way too ominously. You can tell he knows every bar by heart. He’s been listening to the human radio way too much during his errants.

„I’m only stressed because the furniture is terrible.“

„The what?“

„In the years of my absence, horned geezer got a little too creative with the design, you know. I’m more of a romantic.“

„So… you just moved in there just because.“

„You could say that, yeah!“

Confused shrugging among the club members. Belial keeps on babbling and blasting something else at the other end of the line. It must be K-Pop or something like that.

„Talk about romance, I hear you have a mate?“

„Yeah dad, it’s Baekhyun.“

„Oh him? I’ve heard of that guy! The merman!“

„He’s really sweet.“

„Make many cute demon babies alright. That would be so adorable. I’m all ready to cuddle wuddle them. I actually came up with baby name suggestions.“

„Dad!“

„You know, 80 years ago. I met your mom…“

„Dad, I don’t wanna hear your love stories. Rather tell me what happened to mom. What did Satan do?“

„Listen here. That was a stupid rumor Azazel was spreading because he’s a gossip man!“ Belial rages at the other end of the line. „Your mom was 8906, alright. She died of diabetes. You got adopted by humans she found trustworthy and planned to be your caretakers.“

„That was all planned?!“

„You were… a bit too young for hell back then. She wanted to leave you the choice later on in life whether you want to be in a clan or come here, or neither of that. I know being a half-breed isn’t easy. And you should get into all these worlds by your own devices. I learned about all of this only much later you see. I’ve been hanging out in the clouds for some time. It’s pretty chill there. But now I’m happy to hear from you.“

„Yeah.“

„If you got anything you need paid? Rent, marriage, car, diapers? Just ask me when needed.“

„I dunno…“

Looks like your dad is a rather forward thinker indeed. Well, least he thought it through.

„If you need it spontaneously and I’m not available, just force Yukhei to give you some pocket money.“

„I don’t have to force him. He already does that without me even asking.“

„That’s what I call a great president!“

„He literally thinks my bank account is free real estate where he can dump anything. I can’t even manage all that,“ you roll your eyes, with Yukhei grinning his most satisfied smile at the end of the table.

On the more unsatisfied end, Kai is about to jump up and sock him in the chest. You know damn well his salary hasn’t been increasing since Yukhei discovered his unsolicited Sugar Daddy hobby. You can buy Baekhyun some extra cotton candy now, but you’ll have to figure out a way to transfer some pocket money to Kai yourself. Now really, he’s been training the shit out of you.

„Even better! Cheers to him. He’s too straight for his own good sometimes though. Anyways. You can drop by as soon as we cleaned up here. We’ll open the circles of hell completely next month.“

„Okay, that’s good news!“

„Once you get pregnant, make sure you two find a flaming cave apartment on the east side! You really wanna raise your kids here. Hellraiser, get it?“

„The east side is too hot for Baekhyun. His tub water would just evaporate, man.“

„Oh! Then the west side. A nice penthouse with panoramic views on a volcano. You’ll get a baking Pompeii face mask every time you’re stepping out! There’s so much ash raining down, your kid can do snow angels on every pavement. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything.“

In the meantime, the party guests are blasting Caramelldansen in the background and louds clapping numbs your ears.

„Dad…. you realize you have a lot of clown energy, right? Do you even hear me?“

„Talk about clowns, actually,“ the king carries on completely unbothered. „Mammon really wants to see Kai too, I think he’s missing him. He’s calmed down a little after the Corona crisis messed with his bank account.“

Commotion at the table. Kai almost chokes on his cold tea.

„That’s unexpected… I thought he’d never do that.“

„Yeah aw, I know,“ your father says. „Satan has spread a lot of fake news while he was here, you see.“

„We’re glad to be welcome then? That sounds like a good idea to meet up some time. Maybe for a day or two.“

„Strike! I convinced you!“

„Yeah, you did…“

„Few of you saw hell back in the day, right?“

„Yukhei, Kai, I dunno who else, Ten I’m guessing.“

Nods from the hammock. Wouldn’t be strange if Ten was a regular hell driver.

„Oh Ten! Greet Ten from me. His instagram is what I aspire to. Ten is the coolest. Even the ghouls I know don’t have that kind of fashion sense.“

„Will do.“

„And— about aspirations. We’ll be talking about your heir thing when the time is right you see, I know you want to know about all of this.“

You perk up, as do the club members.

„It’s a thing for the future. I’m not hellbent or anything,“ you say, tongue in cheek.

„Hah! You’re funny. I see we’re agreeing on this. You’re very busy with Baekhyun, right. Love is priority. Hell later. This place is a lot to handle anyway.“

„…exactly.“

„I know my daughter and I didn’t even meet her yet!“

Taeyong does a little aw noise in the background and even Yukhei has to smile.

„I’ll probably tell the same stories you do and blast the same music in a couple years, I can see it coming.“

„And that’s when you’re ready for the throne. Remember—“

„Gotta keep it easy and make it fun.“

„You got it. Until then, live a tense life man, that’s also needed.“

„Dad, what the hell!“

„I actually mean it. Leave it to your old man to get this 9th circle popping in the meantime.“

You get the image of your father watching youtube music videos all day and trying to keep up with the latest slang words on twitter.

„Okay, crazy old man.“

„At your service!“

It almost makes you laugh how the old generation of full-breed demons is completely gone wild and the youngsters are the opposite. Well, except the half-lycans, but they’re always living on the edge anyway.

„Can I speak to Mister Lee as well? Is he around?“

„Mark or Taeyong or Taemin? We have a lot of Lees.“

„Um, the butler guy.“

„Taeyong, here it goes. See you dad!“

You pass the hellephone, Taeyong poises himself.

„Hey there, young man!“

„Not that young. 552, Sire.“

„Hilarious, you can’t even get a Styx boat license around here at that age. Anyway. Got some news for you.“

„Yes, Mister?“

„Mammon recently splurged on the latest robo fancy schmancy tech stuff from Japan for no reason. I guessed you would want to try one on.“

„Pardon— Try on what?“

„Oh, a prosthetic exo-skeleton I mean. I heard you had beef with the loopy guy. Just drop by whenever.“

„A prosthetic arm aid?“

„Well yes!“

„That’s… that’s very kind of you.“

„No problem! Is the your Professor X available to speak to as well?“

„Of course, Sire, one moment,“ Taeyong composes himself, but you can tell he’s still processing it.

Everybody is on the edge of their seat.

„Hi down there,“ Lucas takes the speaker and leans back in his seat very laxly. Compared to how defeated he looked in your office, his posture is much more unwound now.

„Hi up there, Lucas what’s good?“

„Doing mighty fine these days. You gave us a good headline.“

„Oh, you’re very welcome Mister President. There’s headlines about me?“

The King sounds genuinely surprised.

„Yeah. You’ll have to add me in Kai’s Whatsapp group or give me your number. I’ll update you on these types of things.“

„Note down 1666 2666 3666, and I have some updates for you as well.“

Mark and Taeyong instantly start scribbling the number into their vest notebooks, meanwhile Lucas swirls the tea in his cup around.

„Shoot.“

He begins drinking it.

„Mister Cerberus’ daughter graduated today. Canine sciences. Lovely girl, calls herself Circe, you know, like the evil witch. Very intelligent person. She’s looking for a job and a mate in the upper world. I told her about the Club’s situation and you know, gossipped a little. She says she’s interested in you.“

Lucas spits out the tea.

„Sorry, what?“

„Hey, do you really think you’re not a man in demand? Anybody who studies werewolves knows about you. And you have free membership spots, or is that information outdated?“

„I-Is she a half-breed?“

„Of course, do you think Mister Cerberus would date another demon? That would make no sense! Hell, wouldn’t that be beastitality or something? Is it that what you call it?“

„Uh… Bestiality I thought, Sir.“

„Anyways. I haven’t seen Cerberus with anyone else but werewolves.“

„Werewolves are the closest genetically to hell hounds, Mister President,“ Mark leans in confidentially to brief Yukhei. „It’s good conduct for them to date.“

„Oh, uh, I get it.“

„So, do you want to meet her or not?“

„We, we have free spots all the way!“

„Great then, I’ll send her up the staircase now. She’ll be there in a minute or so.“

„The stai—!”

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun #superm #super m smut #sub!baekhyun #super m #super m x reader #superm fanfic #club daemon #female reader x super m #super m fanfics #long post #baekhyun x reader #exo #exo smut #sub!exo #sub!superm

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

A Lovely Night: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~4k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, vague description of an anxiety attack, implied heavy restriction (ED), school setting, inner monologue-style anxiety description, food mention, eating, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<>>

...

Logan did not know what to do with himself. The past week had thrown him off his figurative rhythm far more than he could have possibly anticipated.

First, a lead actor who he'd already been trying his best not to look at - with his accursed pretty hair and handsome face and big muscles - decided to attempt to court him? Logan felt mocked. There is no conceivable possibility that such a beautiful - and might he add, quite pompous and bothersome - man would have any sort of real interest in him, romantically or sexually. He shuddered slightly. He really should have taken the apple his roommate had offered him for breakfast that morning, but it was too late now.

And wouldn't you know, just a week later, a - dare he say - equally pretty man with mesmerizing blonde curls and a cheeky smile takes an interest in him at his own school . After years and years of having never been asked out, no one having taken an even remote interest in him, not one second glance, Logan had two men asking after him in the span of a single week. Men who he found atrociously gorgeous, in fact. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses riding up his forehead a bit.

This alone would have been enough. But he just had to go into that little sewing shop for his dear friend Patton's birthday present, and that boy with the purple bangs who stumbled over his words and his feet was completely and undeniably flustered by Logan's presence. Perhaps he was simply experiencing an ego boost from his two previous encounters that week with pretty men, but he felt that the attraction the boy seemed to have for him was unmistakable.

And now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk toward the library, headed off to meet - Janus, if he recalled correctly - for their first study session. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking when he asked to meet Janus again, the very next day no less... perhaps he felt the need to seize the moment while it was present, or however the saying goes. Regardless, while his actions had been quite uncharacteristically spontaneous, he saw no logical purpose in redacting his decision; Janus seemed to be an individual with plentiful intellect, and studying with fellow students had generally proved to be a beneficial tactic in Logan's (albeit minimal) experience and (far less minimal) research. Meeting with Janus, even if it wound up simply being this once, should be no different.

Logan avidly ignored any simmering feelings that he wanted something more than to spend time with Janus just this once.

He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He examined the screen, noting the time - 2:49 PM, he wasn't late for his engagement with Janus just yet - as he checked who was calling. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local. Logan frowned, pressing the answer button.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was kind of panicking.

His boyfriends each happened to meet this super-cute space-nerd guy in the span of a week, and the second they'd talked to him they were all heart-eyes. Not that Virgil was complaining; the guy sounded really cute.

He knew first hand now, that he was in fact super cute . That was the problem.

Virgil's lunch break came and went, most of which he spent gnawing vaguely at a sandwich and staring anxiously at the contact card that had been in Logan's wallet. It simply had his full name and phone number on it, nothing else. He tapped it on the desk in front of him, glancing between the numbers and his own phone, set face-up beside his elbow.

And then his lunch break had ended, and he had several more hours of worrying before he had to convince himself to call Logan.

Something occurred to him, during those hours. Should he tell his boyfriends?

What would he even say? There wasn't much to tell, at least not that warranted calling them before he got home. If he was going to make any calls, there was one he was under obligation to make first. And if he were to seek comfort in them for his obligation, what would they say?

Roman was probably the lesser option; he'd been whining about Logan all week, and now that he knew Janus was meeting with him again today, tensions were especially high. He'd be no help whatsoever, Virgil was sure of it.

And speaking of Janus meeting Logan again today... that also meant no. Calling your boyfriend who was about to see the guy you were nervous to call made the situation all kinds of awkward. No, everything would be easier if he'd simply call him.

So, shaking his shoulders out a bit, he did. He stepped into the break room, grabbed his phone and the contact card, and dialed the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a few seconds too long. He cursed under his breath and looked away as he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. it rang twice, and then a slight static preceded a familiar voice.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was glad he'd drew in a breath to hold when he'd pressed the call button, because he wasn't sure he could recall how to breathe properly.

"Hey, this is Virgil, um, from the knitting supply shop? Uh, you kinda left your wallet here..." Virgil managed to cough, voice not breaking as much as it could have. His chest felt cold and constricted, and he wrapped one arm around himself to fight off the burn of the icy spears stabbing through his lungs.

"Ah, hello Virgil. I am currently on my way to a separate engagement, however it should not take long. At what time would it be acceptable for me to return to your place of business to retrieve my belongings?"

"Oh, uh- I'll be here till four," Virgil stuttered a bit, surprised at how fast Logan jumped to planning mode, as well as realizing he knew the precise nature of the so-called separate engagement Logan was about to attend.

"That is adequate. I will make sufficient efforts to arrive before that time. See you then."

With that, the line disconnected, and Virgil was overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the break room. He glanced at a half-empty box of donuts their manager had brought in yesterday.

He could have said that the shop actually closed at six, and that Logan could get his wallet from Emile, but his train of thought hadn’t been screwed on properly when he’d been speaking, so he could grant himself a little slack- wait, he was mixing his metaphors now...

Suddenly, the door swung open, Emile peeking out from behind it.

"Virgil, could you get back out here? We've got a little rush," and he ducked out, gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

Virgil sighed, shuddering away his anxieties, grabbing a donut hole and popping it into his mouth before heading out to join his colleague.

Janus was sitting at a table set between the rows of shelves, reading pensively beneath a subtle desk lamp where Logan found him. He glanced up and smiled gently when Logan arrived, who set his things down beside a chair opposite from Janus'.

"Apologies, Janus, but I must cut our studying session short in about 45 minutes - i left my wallet at a nearby shop this morning, and must retrieve it before 4pm." Janus' eyes sparked with something Logan couldn't place, and he hid a smirk behind steepled gloved fingers. Logan gulped imperceptibly. "Perhaps we can set up another time to study as well- um, to make up for it, I mean?" He rushed his words out in a short breath, running his fingers through his hair to collect himself. Janus' smirk broadened very slightly, and Logan found himself watching the lines of Janus’ face as they shifted.

"It would be my pleasure." Janus averted his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. “Perhaps we should exchange information, so that I might- so that we can settle on a proper time for another engagement.” Janus reached into his inner coat pocket, producing his phone and tapping away for a moment, before passing it to Logan. He took it carefully, recognizing a blank contact screen, and quickly entering his information into it. He handed the phone back to Janus with a tight smile, and Janus returned it, sliding his phone back into the same pocket before resettling himself in his seat more properly.

Janus set aside his book to pull out a few textbooks for their critical thinking class. "If we are cutting our study session that precisely short, that would provide me with a chance to surprise-" He faltered for a moment, tone changing, though it was so subtle Logan almost thought he'd imagined it - "a friend of mine after his shift. Now, where did your class get to in the lecture today?" He started thumbing through the pages of a particularly thick but small book, holding it by the spine with one hand.

"Ah... Professor Cauley was stopped short on page 461 when he became distracted with his electric pencil sharpener malfunctioning, and class ended a few moments later. He did inform us that the other class had made it to page 465, so if you need me to catch up to you, it should only take me a few minutes." Logan was rifling through the pages of his textbook intently, not noticing Janus' surprised expression.

Janus reached a hand out, cautiously setting his hand on Logan's wrist, just beneath his wristwatch. "Don't fret," he breathed, "it appears we share the same class period. If I recall correctly, Professor Cauley’s face went positively red with rage, and he nearly broke the poor sharpener worse as he tried to unjam it." Janus chuckled shyly through his words as Logan met his eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Fascinating. I wonder how I have not noticed you in class before?” Logan tilted his head very slightly, and noticed something swimming warmly in Janus’ eyes. They were quite a very lovely golden brown, he thought.

Janus shifted, looking down to adjust his own texts, but the smirk that was growing less snarky by the second never left his lips. “It is a rather large class. It can be easy to lose faces in the crowd. I’m not sure I can pick out more than three people with whom I share that class if they were to pass me in the halls. But no matter.” Janus glanced at Logan’s textbook and notes, readying his pencil. “Shall we begin?”

Logan was talking animatedly as he hunched himself over his notes, Janus glancing up to watch his face behind its shield of deep brown bangs intermittently as he scribbled in his own notebook to (at least attempt to) keep up. Janus’ gaze was averted, however, when a repetitive chime sounded from Logan’s phone, sitting face down on the desk just beside his right forearm. He stopped mid-sentence, adjusting his posture and picking his phone up, flipping it over to view the screen. He sighed, deflating slightly, as he tapped the screen once, setting the phone back down.

“My apologies, Janus, but it appears that it is time for me to depart.” Logan stood, a colder, sharper version of himself taking the place of the one that holds a deep passion for learning. The beautiful ice crystal, despite its beauty, is still the twin of the icy shards that cut sharper than knives or spears, Janus thought.

Janus stood swiftly, joining Logan in his gathering of his personal belongings, shoveling his own texts into his own bag. “It is quite alright, I assure you, Logan.” They met eyes as Janus spoke Logan’s name, and Janus could swear he saw a subtle, blotchy pink settle in Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll be headed down Main Street, then. Perhaps-” Logan cleared his throat, glaring down and to the side at nothing in particular as he retried his statement. “I will be expecting to hear from you, Janus.” They walked side by side out the front of the library, stopping just past the doors to say their goodbyes. But Janus had a small realization, and felt the creeping suspicion crawling its way up his sides returning. He resisted the urge to shake or twitch it away, grinding his teeth a bit.

Instead of continuing to suppress his stimming, he cleared his throat, speaking to Logan. "I am headed down Main Street as well. I hope it is not out of- I hope that it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, but...will you allow me to accompany you?" Janus asked, nearly moving to offer his arm to Logan, but deciding quickly that that was far too forward. He settled on spreading an arm out, gesturing to the concrete path before them that led to the sidewalk.

Logan offered a small smile. "That would be adequate, and not inappropriate in the slightest. I, I would enjoy your company.” A beat of silence, and Logan cleared his throat. “Just this way," and Logan set off, at an impressively brisk pace that Janus nearly had a hard time keeping up with, having been caught off guard.

They walked in stride with one another as they made their way down the street. Janus became increasingly suspicious of the scenario the closer they got to the sewing shop. From what he knew of Logan's situation, there was no conflicting evidence that would disqualify the possibility that Logan was headed, in fact, toward Virgil's workplace. Janus held his breath when they turned onto the very same block, watching Logan's body language soften as they did.

Janus took a deep breath, glancing at the sign of the sewing shop a pace or two ahead.

"Logan, there's something I wish to discuss with-"

Janus glanced at the sewing shop's sign once more as they passed, but didn't move to stop before the door until he realized Logan had done so, standing a bit stiff a few paces back.

"This would be the establishment I spoke of," Logan's eyes looked a bit hazed, vaguely pointed towards the door handle. He seemed not to have heard Janus’ beginnings of a confession. Janus’ eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

"Interesting," he breathed quietly, and Logan met his eyes then. "Allow me." Janus reached a gloved hand out to open the door for Logan, bowing slightly as he held it open.

"Much appreciated," Logan commented, stepping through the doorway smoothly.

Virgil was sitting slouched behind the counter, typing random numbers into the cash register out of boredom. He was half considering going to bother Emile, but he was busy doing inventory. And besides, Virgil needed to stay behind the register in case any customers came in. One person behind the counter at all times, that was the rule. He sighed, bringing his hand to his face and tapping on the tip of his nose absentmindedly.

The bell chimed, and Virgil looked up from behind his mop of purple hair. His heart gave a few beats a bit harder than usual, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

There was Logan again. And the whole rest of the world became background noise.

The line of Logan's mouth widened, creating a crease or two on each side. Virgil realized that not only was he staring at Logan's lips, but as well that Logan was smiling. At him.

"Hello, Virgil," He spoke softly.

"Hi," Virgil practically coughed, the scratch in his throat making it borderline painful to speak. "H-how was your, your day?" Virgil asked, pursing his lips as soon as his words had left them.

Logan inhaled, raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes from Virgil's intense brown ones. "It has been satisfactory." The door chimed again behind Logan as it shut, and Virgil suddenly recognized that there was another person in the room. A person whose presence felt immediately familiar...

"Ah, my apologies," Logan stepped to the side slightly, allowing the person to come into full view. There, with a small sheepish smile, stood Janus. "Allow me to introduce-"

"Logan, dear, that won't be necessary," Janus rested a gentle gloved hand on Logan's shoulder, and Virgil couldn't tell if he was about to pass out from gay panic or just regular panic. "We are... quite well acquainted." Janus smiled tenderly to Virgil, and Virgil's whirring brain slowed if only slightly. He was safe.

…but… was he though?

"Oh, is this the friend you spoke of earlier, whom you meant to come and meet? How coincidental, that we were on our way to meet the same person without either of us having any prior knowledge of it." Logan was caught up in his fascination so much that he did not notice Virgil beginning to hyperventilate, knuckles white as he gripped the counter, or the way Janus was watching, practically frozen.

But, as Logan's commentary came to a close, it was as though a flip switched inside Janus’ mind, and he quickly strode around Logan. He stepped quickly behind the counter and over to Virgil, all while nearly whispering little nothings like "oh oh oh," "hush now love," and "come here dear."

Logan's brain took a moment to catch up, and soon he was simply standing there, watching as Virgil clung to Janus' coat rather desperately. Virgil’s body shuddered in silent sobs as Janus wrapped his arms around him, tight and secure. Janus was still whispering to him, but it was inaudible to Logan now.

Logan didn't quite know what to do, and so he just stood there, feeling rather stuck for a long time. At some point, he set his backpack and the gift bag he'd gotten from this very store earlier that day down against the counter on the floor, folding his hands before him. At some point, he registered Janus giving him an apologetic look, which confused him.

And then Janus kissed Virgil on the forehead, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. Logan thought from the way Janus was nodding softly and the way their chests moved together, that they may be doing a breathing exercise. He couldn't focus on much else, so he tried to follow along and copy them as well. 4, 7, 8. 4, 7, 8.

Sooner than later, Janus was leading Virgil carefully back out around the counter, both looking slightly worse for wear, but at least Virgil was far calmer. Janus smiled meekly at Logan again, and he still couldn't quite understand what was happening. It appeared that Virgil had had an anxiety attack, but the way Janus had rushed to comfort him so quickly, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do-

"Here you go, Logan," Virgil's voice was a bit scratchy as he reached out his hand, Logan's familiar black leather wallet between his pale fingers. Logan cleared his throat.

"Thank you," He spoke a bit more quietly than he meant to. He suddenly felt his headache flare again in full force, and had to fight not to shake as he reached his hand out to retrieve his wallet from Virgil's hands. He barely succeeded, but Virgil seemed to notice something amiss - he was watching Logan's wary eyes with some mix of suspicion and concern.

Janus, however, had been staring at the floor, and did not notice Logan's onset of fatigue. He sighed, clearing his throat softly. "Logan, I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation. One I tried to give before we’d come in, but regardless." Suddenly Virgil's eyes were on Janus, and far wider than Logan thought possible. Janus just glanced at him, nodding gently, and Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Virgil and I are..."

Janus laced their fingers together, and Logan's vision went blurry, everything around him fading to static fuzz as he tried to remember to breathe. He'd eaten more than enough today for this to be happening, surely? ...Had he eaten today? He couldn’t recall. He could always remember ... He vaguely registered Janus still speaking in the background, but he couldn't care enough to force himself to refocus. He got the jist. He and Virgil were romantically involved, and Janus was interested in nothing more than a friendship with Logan. That was perfectly fine. He didn't mind. He forced away the roiling feeling in his gut and gulped down the sting starting to tingle in his eyes, forcing himself to nod.

"Understood," He blurted, voice a bit raspy. He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. Before he fully exited, he threw over his shoulder, "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." And with that, he was gone.

He made his way down the block briskly, trying to shake the haze that clouded his vision. The only thing he could think to do was go and see Patton. He knew nothing worked magic on his body like a good black coffee.

"Virgil and I are..." Virgil looked down as Janus laced their fingers together, and looked back to Logan, whose face seemed to have gone paler than it normally was, which was quite horrifying to see. Considering Logan was already so white that his skin tone bordered on inhuman, now it was devoid of any pricks of red coloring and looked almost like an empty tinted gray, pronouncing his cheekbones and eye bags even more so. Janus looked between them, continuing after a moment, "...we have been romantically involved for several years now, and even longer with our partner Roman, who you may recall from the community theatre? He's expressed to us that he's quite taken with you, in fact... And I know this may be a lot to spring on you right now, but I thought you deserved to know... it felt wrong to pursue anything with you romantically when we- when you didn't have the facts straight, and even regardless, it's important for you to know that all three of us are-"

"Understood," Logan cut Janus off, nodding. He didn't speak harshly, in fact his voice was quite quiet, but it was curt and forward as Logan always was, and so cut through Janus' words like a frozen blade.

Janus looked at him in awe, and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil gripped his arm before he did. Logan was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t really look at either of them. "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." Janus and Virgil watched as Logan walked out the door and straight down the sidewalk through the shop window.

Emile, who apparently had been standing there for at least a few moments, cleared his throat awkwardly. Janus and Virgil looked at him in unison, matching exasperated looks on their faces.

"U-um, Virgil, I was just gonna check in, see if you've clocked off." Emile wrung his wrists between his fingers awkwardly.

"Um, no not yet," Virgil bit the corner of his lip, muttering a 'sorry' as he stepped past Emile and paced quickly to the back room to clock off. Janus stared blankly at the floor where his boyfriend had just been, eyebrows knit in thought.

"You feeling a-okay there, Janus?" Emile dipped his head a bit to get Janus' attention gently. Janus blinked a few times, engaging with Emile as he re-centered himself in the present moment.

"Yes, Emile, I'm fine, thank you," Janus rubbed his gloved palm with his thumb anxiously. He couldn't think of anything to add, so Emile smiled carefully, nodding and stepping away to resume whatever busywork he needed to attend to.

Virgil was back again shortly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He gave Janus a strange look, some kind of combination of pity and sadness and confusion. At least, that's how it looked to Janus.

"Ready to...?" Virgil gestured vaguely towards the door, leaning into Janus' personal space a bit. Janus offered him his arm, clearing his throat and holding his chin high.

"Yes, love. Let's get home to Roman."

As they walked to the bus stop together, neither had any clue what they’d say to their Prince. He’d be distraught, they were both sure, and significantly more so than he already was, which would be… intense. Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand in his own slightly, and smiled somberly at him sideways.

They’d figure this out. They always did, eventually.

Janus took his time on the bus typing out a message to Logan, Virgil watching from the seat beside him as his head laid on Janus’ shoulder. Janus settled on something simple.

To: Logan L It's Janus. I'd love to meet up to study, or perhaps discuss other things, some time this week. Let me know if Thursday or Friday works better for you.

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the-clari-net · 3 years

Text

A Mother’s Intuition

AO3

Maddie Fenton prides herself on being a woman of science. A woman full of reasoning and logic who has spent her entire career working on showing her credibility by proving that ghosts exist; not only that, but to show the dangers that they hold to the living. After so many years of being mocked and belittled she finally got her big break with that ghost portal. Once ghosts started coming into Amity Park, she knew she had something tangible that would shake the foundations of the scientific community that have been perceived as Law. Everyone would know that there exists a space that these laws don’t apply (in more ways than one). She and Jack would finally get their brilliance recognized, and her children could finally look at their parents with pride knowing that they’re the first to discover and pioneer this new branch of science never before studied by mankind.

With that being said, Maddie was the one who always brought a more realistic approach to the ideas Jack came up with. They made a good team like that, covering each other’s blind spots to the best of their abilities. Maddie was seen as the rational one, less emotionally swayed compared to her jovial and at times overly enthusiastic husband. That’s not a bad thing really, since it keeps Maddie grounded in not becoming too absorbed in observing at a microscopic level and he forces her to step back and relook at her project with new eyes with a wider perspective. This is all to say that Maddie is an observant person. Her profession relies on her ability to analyze and being able to report and reflect on those observations.

All this needs to be mentioned because Maddie has been feeling strange lately. Well, perhaps lately isn’t the right word. This is a feeling that has existed within her for awhile, it’s just become impossible to ignore the longer it stays. This is a blind spot that has grown too large to push aside.

Dread is one way to describe this feeling. Anxiety is another. At its worst peak, paranoia might be more applicable.

Right now Maddie is sitting at her dinner table with her family. It’s a Sunday night, she had ordered pizza earlier in the evening because the radioactive hot dogs are holding yesterday’s leftovers hostage. It’s a normal evening for the Fentons all things considered.

Except for the slightly shaky hands, which is strange for a woman who has skilled precision with a scalpel. Except for the pounding in Maddie’s chest, her pulse has been quickening the longer they’re having dinner, and she’s starting to hear that same pulse pounding behind her ears. Except for the slight chill that never leaves her despite sitting next to her husband who runs so warm he might as well be a personal heater.

There’s the tightening of her chest that leaves her struggling to breathe properly. It feels as if at any moment she may have to start gasping for breath like her sister Alicia used to as a kid before she got an inhaler to treat her asthma.

Ultimately, these are all the signs Maddie feels when she’s scared. It’s been a while since she’s felt true fear that wasn’t outweighed by adrenaline and excitement. She usually can hold her own against any human and she’s smart to never fight a ghost at close range. She can’t remember the last time she had felt helpless enough to fear like this.

As a woman who is a master at martial arts, she’s had a lot of past experience in her training going up against powerful opponents. There were certain opponents (especially in her early years of training) that made her feel like she was prey, that if she lost her focus for a moment, she would be pulverized. This is the same feeling only a thousand times worse.

Maddie has been trying to deny the connections she’s been weaving since the first prick of nervousness first reached her. She was a woman of science, she needed evidence to support her conclusion; correlation does not equal causation. However, her martial arts background has told her to trust your instincts; it’s a survival trait warning of a potential danger. The conflict of these two perspectives have been arguing in her head about the odd common thread with these spikes of anxiety.

These feelings only seem to appear whenever Danny was around.

It was such a silly observation at first, more of an offhand thought. But as time went on, and her nerves were worsening, the thought stayed with her in the back of her mind.

Maddie’s mind tries to be rational about the ordeal, trying to convince herself that these feelings of anxiety could be due to stress, or some effect of the ghost portal. The fact that something primal is screaming at her that her son –the boy who currently has a piece of pepperoni stuck to the side of his lip and is pouting at Jazz—is a threat to her livelihood is what worries her.

Could he be possessed by a ghost? No, that’s ridiculous; his eyes are blue, he can’t be possessed. They look a little brighter than normal. That’s the kitchen lighting, Danny is NOT involved in this.

It feels like it has to be ghost related. This feeling of dread is common with several of the ghosts that have appeared in Amity Park before. She’s noticed that the more powerful ones are more likely to cause this instinctual feeling compared to the little ghost blobs who only cause a shiver to your spine once physical contact is made.

“—right Mom?”, Maddie jumps a bit and looks up to realize that Jazz was looking directly at her. She notices that the pizza box is empty, and the table’s been cleared, except for her own plate. Was she out of it for that long?

“Sorry honey, I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat the question?”. She tried to offer a smile, but she could tell looked more like a grimace. Jack was looking at her worriedly, but he knew better than to push her to talk in front of the kids. Jazz looked back with a soft smile, but her brows were furrowed.

Maddie didn’t look in Danny’s direction.

“I was just saying I should have the leftover slice of pizza for tomorrow instead of Danny because I have seniority rights, right?”

Maddie blinked at Jazz for a moment before recollecting herself and standing up from her seat and moving to the sink to wash the dishes, forcefully ignoring the back of her mind screaming at her to run as far away as she can from here and never look back.

“Now you two, there’s no need to fight like that. Why don’t I just give you both some lunch money for tomorrow and we’ll call it even?” She smiled at Jazz, subtly angling herself so her back wasn’t facing towards Danny and kept him in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t want to think of why she did that.

Later that night, Maddie couldn’t sleep. She managed to convince Jack that she was feeling better after dinner, and now she’s wide awake trying to remember why that fear felt so familiar. She recognized the unease that only comes from being in close contact with a ghost. It’s the same feeling that lingered in her system after having a ghost possess her; there’s a specific rolling in her stomach that comes from it. The feelings she got during dinner tonight felt like a specific ghost, something about it felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When she finally went to sleep, she was restless with dreams of sharp bright blue eyes, looming shadows that suffocated her, and sweet awkward smiles that slowly turned into menacing and haunting grins.

The rest of the week had been a pretty regular one. Jack and Maddie had spent most of the week building some new weapons that could help capture Phantom once and for all. Because of this, they had been eating in their lab. If Maddie felt relief at using her work as a shield to avoid family dinner, that’s her secret to keep.

The week had been quiet with no battles or major ghost sightings until a massive ghost battle broke out between Phantom and another one of the reoccurring ghosts on Friday. Skulker was the name of the ghost if what she had overheard from her sonar dish on the family RV was correct. It was all the way across town. Jack was behind the wheel, and Maddie was checking over the new prototype they had been working on all week that would hopefully weaken a ghost’s powers. They were hoping that Phantom could be their first test subject.

As they were about halfway to the battle, Maddie suddenly got a prickly feeling in her neck. She was well acquainted with that feeling when nearing ghosts, so she dismissed it as usual. But it got worse the closer they reached their destination. Her body slowly began to tense up, more, her breaths were becoming shallower, and her mouth had suddenly run very dry.

No… it can’t be…

There they were in front of Skulker and Phantom and all Maddie could do was tense up in terror and barely stop herself from letting out a whimper. This feels too familiar, he feels like…

Phantom suddenly crashes on top of their windshield, he groans and begins to lift himself off the hood of the RV when for a brief moment, his eyes meet Maddie’s. He sends a sheepish smile and begins to fly up towards Skulker, immediately striking him down with an ectoblast.

Meanwhile, Maddie feels all the blood drain from her face and she feels her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Jack is yelling about that darn ghost damaging his RV, but she can barely focus. She recognized the feeling now. The interaction between the two of them didn’t even last a minute, yet it is staying with her all the same.

The smile Phantom gave reminded her of a black-haired boy who would get caught staying up late looking at his telescope. A boy who would give her that same smile whenever he was confronted about skipping class and missing his assignments. She sees that smile every day in her own home.

It looked so odd, having that smile come from a boy with bright white hair, and eyes that glowed toxic green. The smile was sharper, with incisors that were just short of becoming fangs. But it was still recognizable.

She can no longer deny it, Phantom and Danny are connected. Danny even leaves her with the same sense of terror and fear that only a ghost as powerful as Phantom could do. It feels more potent with Phantom; looking him in the eye for that moment almost made her scream bloody murder.

Jack was never as attuned to the emotional effects that ghosts brought on due to his natural bravery and confidence (she has a theory about his family bloodline having adopted some traits that could block out these senses of fear which leads them to being better ghost hunters). However, even Jack had once mentioned that he felt unnerved by Phantom, which says a lot about the power that child ghost must hold. But to think that powerful monster is somehow connected to her son was a situation she never would have considered. Was he possessed?

When did it happen? Was it around the time that Maddie first began feeling unnerved?

How didn’t you notice? The back of her mind whispered to her. You’re his mother, aren’t you?

The weight of her realization begins to set it. The burden of fearing her son with no tangible reason for doing so. Her own neglect and obliviousness about missing this massive part of her son’s life fills her with guilt. Suddenly the weapon in her hand, ready to be used against Phantom (Danny?) makes her nauseous.

She feels her body beginning to shut down and go into autopilot. Maddie dazedly notices that she and her husband are parked in the middle of a street, in easy range to get blasted or crushed, or incinerated or possessed by these ghosts. She is in no condition to fight.

She feels a little hysterical thinking about her own safety when her son (or some possessed version of him) is out there fighting a ghost after literally crashing into an RV with military grade protection.

“Jack, we should go home”, Maddie hoarsely interrupts her husband’s tangent.

He looks like he was about to protest until he saw his wife’s bloodshot eyes, holding back tears and white as a sheet. Without further prompting, he turned the car around and as soon as the stiffening fear had melted away from Maddie’s shoulders did she finally allow the tears to fall.

#Danny Phantom #maddie fenton #phic #idk man #have fun with ghost vibes

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kiarcheo · 3 years

Text

Meowsunderstandings 2/2

‘We should do this again.’

‘Sleep together?’

Part 1

Can read it all here on Ao3

——————————————–

‘Kitty.’ A groan.

‘Kat.’ Another one.

Two pairs of eyes slam open. ‘You’re not her!’ Twin exclamations immediately follow.

Cathy quickly checks herself. She can’t think of anything worse than sleeping with Anne. Still dressed except for her shoes, thank God. She lets out a sigh of relief. Still not sure what happened though. How did she even end up in bed with Anne? Where is Kat? Actually…Where is she?

‘Good morning.’ Catalina greets them as they drag themselves to the kitchen. One question answered, at least. ‘Care to tell me what happened last night?’

‘We got drunk?’

‘No shit.’ Catalina snorts.

‘Kitty came to pick me up…and I don’t really remember anything else?’

Catalina now turns to Cathy, eyebrow raised. She has not known her for as long as she has known Anne, but she would have not take her for the type to get blackout drunk.

‘Yeah, I just remember Kat showing up and…possibly getting into a car?’

‘Well, both of you fell asleep in the car, so Kat carried you home.’

Cathy doesn’t know if she is more embarrassed or upset that she doesn’t remember it.

‘Where is she?’ Cathy asks. The least she can do is thank the girl.

‘Out for a run.’

‘Ugh.’ Anne groans, from her slumped position on the table.

‘Hey girls!’ Speak of the devil...

‘Ugh.’ This time is more a pained sound than a disgusted one. ‘Loud.’

Kat just lays a kiss on Anne’s head.

‘Where did you sleep? Wasn’t expecting to wake up with her up in my face.’ Anne grumbles.

'Not a pleasant experience for me either.’ Cathy mutters.

‘I get it, Anne’s morning breath is terrible.’

‘Hey!’ Anne protests, pouting even if Kat can’t see her, her back turned as she is pouring herself a glass of juice.

‘She slept with me.’ Catalina explains. ‘You might all be tiny, but three in a bed never end up well.’

‘If you can wait for me to have a shower, I’ll take you home.’ Kat addresses Cathy.

‘I don’t want to be a bother.'

‘Don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all.’

Cathy wishes she wasn’t so hangover so she could enjoy it. Or perhaps that’s better...she is sure that sober!her would freak out at the idea of sharing a ride with Kat, spending time alone with her, in close proximity...too much of an effort for hangover!her, who can just muster gratefulness for not having to brave public transportation to get back home.

---

‘I know you don’t like going out for drinks but-’

‘It’s more than we don’t like what happens when we do.’ Catalina interrupts Jane. ‘What did you have in mind?’

'Ocean?’ Jane proposes.

‘We’re banned.’

‘Anne is banned.’ Catalina precises.

‘As if you weren’t seconds away from smashing a glass on his head too.’

‘What about this one?’ Anna turns her phone around to show them another possible location for their evening.

‘Nope.’

Anna brings up another page.

‘Eeh.’ Anne grimaces.

‘This too?’ Anna is baffled but she shakes it off, persevering in her search. She shows them another one.

‘Yep.’

And another one.

‘Not technically banned but I don’t think we’d be welcome.’

They finally manage to find a place.

‘I’m surprised this one allowed you in.’ Anna remarks as they are sitting down, half-joking and half-serious.

‘It’s new, they just opened.’ Jane comments, having been the one who found it.

‘This explains it.’

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ Anne protests. ‘Not my fault guys can’t understand the word no or how to keep their hands to themselves…and off Kitty.’

Understanding dawns on the others.

‘We’ll make sure not to leave her alone.’ Anna promises.

‘Not going to help. Last time I left her with Lina, and I came back to this guy asking them to prove Kitty is a lesbian by kissing. I decked him. I mean, imagine if my cousin had managed to kiss Lina first, before I ever did.’

‘Because that was the problem?’ Catalina looks unimpressed.

‘And that he was an objectifying, sexist, misogynistic asshole.’ Anne adds.

‘Wait…you’re together?’

‘You’re cousins??’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Yes, we’re cousin. Yes, they are seeing each other. Yes, they are exclusive. No, they haven’t had the talk yet.’ Kat sums it up, trying to clear the confusion evident on their friends’ faces.

‘If you plan to have that talk tonight, please tell me so I’ll make sure to vacate the house.’ she adds, seeing how they are looking at each other. ‘I have no intention to listen to my cousin and my sister slash mom friend getting it on.’

‘You can stay with me.’ Cathy blurts out. ‘I mean, it’s just a room, but-’

‘Trust me anything would be better than…’ she trails off with a grimace. ‘If you don’t mind...’

‘I really don’t.’

‘I bet you don’t.’ Anna mutters, while Jane shushes her.

‘Do you need clothes? Or, you know, to pass by the house to get anything?’ Catalina asks, feeling slightly guilty about effectively kicking her out of her own place for the night.

‘I’m sure she can borrow Cathy’s with no problems.’

‘Are you really talking about height?’ Kat stares at her cousin. ‘Really?’ Anne is even shorter.

‘If the shorts fit…’ Anne shrugs with a shit-eating grin.

If Cathy’s brain short-circuited at the suggestion of Kat wearing her clothes, the actual vision almost kills her, especially as she stretches her arms up, yawning, and a sliver of abs is revealed (Anne was mostly right...they are both pretty short, but Cathy more than Kat).

‘This is really soft and comfy.’

Cathy smiles at her. She sort of chose them on purpose for that exact reason.

‘I can sleep on the floor.’

‘Absolutely not! You’re a guest! I will.’

‘I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.’ Kat counteracts.

They stare at each other, unwilling to relent.

‘We could...share?’ Cathy proposes. ‘If you don’t mind?’

‘You didn’t seem happy to wake up with Anne.’ Kat points out.

‘It was more about the person than the sleeping arrangement.’ Cathy admits, while scooting towards the wall. She pats the empty space on the bed she just freed. ‘Hop in.’

‘Okay.’ Kat sits down. ‘I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’ Kat apologises once she gets under the duvet and lays down. ‘I’m just so used to sleep with her. Or Cata. That I didn’t really think twice about it. Like the fact that you don’t actually know Anne that well.’

‘Honestly I could have slept with the queen and not realise it...or remember it.’ Cathy reassures her. It was not that big of a problem. ‘Just wasn't expecting to wake up to that. Her.’

‘But if at any time you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me.’ Kat’s sleepy voice breaks the silence. ‘It’s been a while, but I used to sleep on the floor a lot, I’m sure I won't have any problems doing it again for one night.’

Cathy has questions, but when she finally musters up the courage and turns to face Kat, the girl has her eyes closed, breath deepened already.

She thought she would have troubles falling asleep, not used to share her bed, and even less with someone she is crushing on, but before she knows it, Cathy is waking up half lying on Kat, the light filtering through the thick curtains announcing it’s morning already.

‘Sorry!’ She immediately rolls off.

‘Don’t worry.’ Kat chuckles. ‘Anne says that I’m a furnace.’ Not that her cousin needs to justify why she loves to cuddle with her. But the older girl tends to run cold, and when she is asleep, she is like a heat-seeking missile. Even when falling asleep on opposite ends of the couch, Kat will wake up with Anne wrapped around her.

Cathy turns on her side, head lying on her arm. ‘You know, I thought that Anne was-’

‘My sister?’ Kat interrupts her. ‘She is more a sister than a cousin. Although...does it make it weird if I also consider Cata like a big sister? Ugh.’ She shakes her head as to physically dispel the gross thought.

---

‘You okay?’ Kat asks emerging from the ensuite bathroom Cathy had chivalrously let her use first.

Cathy is laying on her bed, face down. ‘Uhuh.’ It’s the reply, muffled by the pillow.

‘Really? I don’t think okay people usually try to suffocate themselves with a pillow.’

Cathy flops on her back not so gracefully. I mean, it can’t go any worse, can it?

‘Ever think about embarrassing stuff and just want to scream into your pillow?’

‘All the time.’

‘You? Please!’ Cathy snorts. ‘I can’t imagine you ever doing something embarrassing!’

For once Cathy blesses the lack of filter she seems to have around Kat because the other girl is flushing, a bashful smile on her lips.

‘You can ask Cata or Anne-’ Kat abruptly stops. ‘Wait. On a second thoughts...please don’t!’ No doubts they would be thrilled to share every single awkward moment they had ever witnessed or heard about.

‘Well, I better be going.’ Kat announces once Cathy had her turn in the bathroom.

‘You can stay.’ She blurts out. Nice going, Cathy! Way to sound desperate.

‘Don’t you have to finish that essay?’

‘Right!’ Cathy’s face falls. She does.

‘We should do this again.’

‘Sleep together?’ Back to cursing her lack of filter.

Both are blushing wildly, but Kat recovers first. ‘I meant hanging out just the two of us, but the sleepover was nice too. Give me your phone.’

Cathy hands it to her before turning and looking around the room to make sure Kat isn’t forgetting anything. ‘Call yourself so you have my number too. And call me when you get home.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ Kat teases.

Cathy is munching on a cereal bar while working on her essay when the call arrives…and she promptly chokes because Kat is smiling at her from the screen. Eyes crinkling, bare faced with no make-up, hair up in a messy bun…she is the most gorgeous girl she has ever seen. She has no idea how Kat managed to sneakily take a selfie and set it as contact photo, but she is grateful. And embarrassed when she has to call her back because she was so lost in contemplation of the picture that she didn’t pick up in time.

----

‘Can we talk?’

Cathy looks up at Catalina. Her friend has a serious expression on, but she doesn’t seem angry or sad or upset. Just serious. Cathy can’t think of anything she’d want to speak to her about. ‘Sure?’

Catalina sits down. ‘You don’t like Anne?’

‘What?’ That was not what Cathy expected.

‘I get that she is an acquired taste,’ she is a lot...and usually it takes some time to fully appreciate it. ‘but you’re my friend and I’m dating her, and you like Kat-’

‘What?!’

‘And she absolutely adores her cousin,’ Catalina continues, ‘so if you don’t like her, it might make things a bit complicated.’

‘It’s not that I don’t like– how long have you known I like Kat?’

‘Pretty much since you kept asking “you’re Lina’s Kat??” when you first met her…and almost spilled your tea all over yourself because you were too busy ogling her.’ Catalina grins as Cathy shrinks down in her seat, as if trying to disappear, red faced. ‘But don’t think you’ll get away with avoiding the Anne question.’

Cathy has to decide. What is less embarrassing? Telling her friend that she thought her housemate was an actual cat? Or that she was jealous of her girlfriend because she thought she was dating her crush when instead she was her cousin?

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #parrward #six fanfiction #six the musical fic #six fic #fic: Meowsunderstandings #my ideas #mywork #six writing #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #howard x parr #parr x howard #my six posts #my posts #sixfic

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mihidecet · 4 years

Text

Sbi&CO d&d AU: The Dream Team

Aka: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 29: "A normal day"

Listen the original prompt, from @the-only-gamer-gost 's list, was evidently mc related but I just had to write this. Whops ahah

It's time for you to meet another part of this AU's cast! I do hope you'll enjoy reading this ahahah

George takes a deep breath.

He is in his study: the smell surrounding him is gentle, of old wood and older books, of the flowers he's growing on the windowsill, of the almost empty cup of tea his tutor insisted he drank before practicing - "you can't do magic on an empty stomach, I will not have you pass out like a fresh-faced student with no experience!"

It is quite easy to fall back into his own mind, he's done it so many times ever since he started training, but it is never quite easy to-

A light thump, the sound of a small metallic bead hitting his window, prompts him to open his eyes.

George purses his lips in barely concealed irritation and shakes his head. He has to focus. This is precisely why he wanted to skip breakfast, so that he could start before they arrived to bother him.

He's been meaning to try out a new theory - a new spell - for a while, and it requires him to be at maximum concentration because time is a fickle bitch that does not like being toyed with.

So George closes his eyes again and focuses on the pattern of his breathing. He feels for a moment in complete awareness of every inch of his body, and then he opens his eyes.

In front of him, millions of millions of shimmering particles float, gently, into the air in front of him, as if somebody had decided to hang an infinite amount of pieces of iridescent glass with invisible strings. George could live a thousand years and never get tired of seeing the figments of reality and specks of possibilities that exist in the time dimension.

Raising his hand to touch one of them feels like moving through thick molasses after a day of exercise - his muscles protest, scream at him, and it is such a strenuous act.

But he knows to persist - what's coming is going to be even harder - so after what seems like an eternity, but in reality is no time at all, the tips of his fingers brush against the burning cold of a figment of reality.

A fraction of a second later, George stumbles forward, head ringing as he's thrown out of his own personal pocket in time. In his ears, the sound of another of those damned pebbles against his bloody window.

George lets out a loud curse and stomps to the window, opening it with a gesture of his hand and then immediately raising his arcane shield as another pebble flies right at him - as it had been aimed at his poor window once more.

Filled with a righteous fury, George slams his hands on the windowsill - mindful of his poor and completely innocent Forget-Me-Nots - and leans forward to look down at the recently acquired banes of his existence.

"See, I told you it would work- George! George wanna come train with us?" Calls out the fighter, waving a hand frantically as he elbows his shorter monk friend.

"No! Leave me alone!" George yells back, and instantly closes the window and goes back to his position in the centre of the room.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and-

Another pebble. He is going to murder them.

"What do you want?! I told you I'm busy!"

The fighter spreads his arms open - almost hitting his friend in the face, if said friend hadn't ducked down instantly.

"Oh, come on George! It's gonna be fun!"

"I'm not interested! Now, leave before I start throwing spells your way!"

The monk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin up in defiance.

"As if you could catch me! I bet you can't, and you're scared, and that's why-" a pale green hand is suddenly covering the human's mouth, its owner looking awkwardly up at George with a tentative smile - as if that douche's attempt at riling him up could have worked.

On a completely unrelated note, George has had enough of that conversation.

"You bother me again today and you will regret it." And with that, he closes the window again.

Definitely not hearing the monk's confused "does that mean we can come back tomorrow?". He is just going to ignore it.

The moment he turns back around, he almost has a heart attack.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face, is his mentor.

"Bloody hell, I didn't hear you arriving." George mumbles, moving to grab him a chair as the older wizard chuckles.

"I figured, you were having quite a spat." Scott comments, sitting down on the armchair and nodding towards the window, looking more pleased than he should be.

George gives a scoff, letting himself slump into his chair.

"They are relentless. I don't know what to do anymore." He mopes, but as he should have expected Scott has no pity to share and immediately tackles a new, equally pressing problem.

"Have you found your teammates for the tournament yet?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. About two months ago, George had agreed, after ages of declining invitations and rejecting requests, to take part in the yearly tournament his mentor ideated - agreeing only on the terms that he would be able to choose his own teammates. Which is not that unusual, people can arrive with their friends and form a team. George's main problem? His sadly evident lack of friends - at least, friends that will take part in the tournament.

"Not yet. They're all so … various. And peculiar. I'm-" He halts, hands clasped together and squeezing one another, as if they were stress relievers. Noticing his discomfort, Scott seems to take immediately a step back from his usual flippant persona as his expression softens and his posture relaxes.

"You're free to speak your mind." He reminds him gently, so George takes a small breath and looks away, towards the door, ignoring the awkwardness of his admission.

"I'm worried my purely academic training will make me underperform."

"That is possible. It is also possible that you do well. Has the prospect of failure ever stopped you?" Scott challenges, one eyebrow raising in doubt because this is the thing: Scott chose him as his protégé, he knows what George is capable of. He knows him, how competitive he is, how his pride gets in the way despite how much his self esteem is rather low. But still.

"I never had to fail in front of a crowd."

"I understand. Still, I think it will do you good. You should find people to team with, not many get this opportunity."

"I know! It's just that nobody's stuck out! They all seem like incredibly talented people!" George protests, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back into the chair - sliding down a little, so that his chin presses up against his chest. So now he looks and feels like a child throwing a tantrum. Splendid.

"Well. I think there are at lest two you know by name." Scott notes, smiling with a conspiratory look, and George feels incredibly stupid that he let himself be played like this - did Scott manage to bring the discussion back to the two dumbasses that have been bothering him nonstop for the past couple of weeks?!

Dream and Sapnap- he has no care for them. None at all.

"Shut up." George replies weakly and Scott simply laughs - ever so rude, laughing at his self inflicted misery - before standing up. He circles the desk between them and puts a hand on his head, messing up his hair with a chuckle.

"I have to go, I have matters that await me. But it was nice to see you doing well. I'll wait for the names tonight." Scott's sing-song voice calls as he leaves with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

George lets out a long sigh and resigns himself to morning of meditating and practice.

It was nice to see his mentor again - he's been worried lately, as if on edge. George figures it's the tournament's fault, but one may never be sure.

A couple of days later, Dream wakes to the feeling of a pillow hitting him square in the face. Followed by a ripping noise. Followed by the feeling of stuffing falling on his face.

"Oops-" Sapnap says above him: when Dream opens his eyes, he's holding his pillow, now with a tear in it and stuffing slowly falling on the ground.

"SAP! What the fuck did I tell you about the tusks?!"

After their morning workout routine - which definitely does not entail Dream chasing Sapnap around their room as the shorter man jumps around on the furniture to escape, and absolutely doesn't end with them rolling on the floor as the half orc holds his teammate in a headlock - they have a quick breakfast and then hurry to the Academy.

Today's the day: they will be announcing the teams for this year's tournament, and they both can't wait who they will be fighting with.

The announcement is a strictly participant-only event, and from that point on they will have about a month to train with their new teammates inside the Academy's facilities.

The Academy is a huge building that looks and feels like those castles they talk about in fairytales: sky high towers of iridescent colours, with strands of various shades of purple and orange connecting invisible points in space - and perhaps time too. There are stairs and bridges connecting different sections, and Dream knows, from stories told by Master Calvin, that it is as tall in the sky as it is deep inside the bowels of the Earth. A magnificent display of arcane power and architectural prowess. As one would expect from the creators of this tournament, but still.

The crowd that gathers around the entrance is one of the most varied assortment of adventurers Dream has ever seen, and he knows Sapnap is thinking the same thing because the human's head keeps whipping from side to side as he stares at the people walking by.

Dream shoots, from time to time, a look around. He's not particularly looking for somebody - he is - and he's not going to let the knowledge of who is competing distract him from trying to do his best - debatable.

But still.

All the participants are directed toward the entry, where after a quick scan - to avoid strangers from entering - they manage to get inside the main hall.

Now, Dream and Sapnap have been told, by their respective masters, about the Academy, but nothing can ever quite prepare you for something this grandiose and extravagant as what they are seeing.

One would expect a centennial arcane academy, built by two archmages and hosting the best of the magical world in terms of teachers, students and knowledge, to be a stuffy, old fashioned institution.

One would be quickly proven wrong, as just the entrance hall happens to be a stunning portrait of multiple colours, bright and radiant, with moving paintings of famous arcane masters casting spells side by side with rather sweet drawings of past winners of the tournament hugging each other and holding out their prizes.

When Master Calvin had first suggested he move for a while to the Academy, in order to fully develop his arcane abilities, he had been skeptical: how could he, when Calvin's house had been his home for so long? But now, seeing all this, he thinks that maybe he could come to like this place.

At the end of the hall, on an apparently clear glass panel, are displayed the names of each team member.

With all the chatter and cheers and noises of people looking for each other - some are already leaving, having found what and who they were looking for - it's hard to catch the sound of Sapnap's sudden gasp.

It is less hard to notice him gripping his wrist and vigorously point at the glass as he lets out an excited laugh.

Dream follows where he's pointing, and-

"George is with us?!" He exclaims, mostly out of pure disbelief, eyes wide open as he looks back and forth between his friend and the list of names on the board.

"We're so going to win this!" Sapnap answers with an elated smile before bursts out laughing, jumping up and wrapping him in a full body hug - Dream catches him, letting out a small "omf" that is mainly due to the unexpectedness of it all.

"I can't believe it, we got so lucky!" The half-orc comments, his eyes skimming through the names listed on the board - some he recognises, more or less unfortunately, and some he doesn't.

"I know, right?! -" Sapnap comments, leaning back and letting go in order to nod with his head towards the floating glass.

"Now we just have to find out who Eret is, I guess."

#mcyt writingtober #sbi dnd au #dnd au #now sbi&co #dream team au #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #smajor1995

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megabadbunny · 4 years

Text

Of Turns and Tides (Or: One Time The Doctor Was A Giant Arse About Rose's Pregnancy, and Five Times He Wasn't)

Because I don't necessarily think Rose and the metacrisis Doctor would have any children, but if they did, I can't imagine it would go quite the way it's portrayed in The Turning of the Tide. SFW version on FF.net.

Also this fic is dedicated to @davinasgirlfriend, whose patience with me is a blessed fucking virtue. Go read her stuff. She's an absolute doll. <3 <3 <3

***

It’s not like they weren’t careful—Rose has got her shot, after all, and honestly after everything the Cannon put her through, she’s sort of surprised everything still works in there, reproductively-speaking—but it’s just her luck that he would have some sort of Time Lord supersperm in addition to everything else.

“I’m pregnant,” she replies when he asks, in that sometimes-perfunctory way of his, how she’s doing this morning, amidst the bustle of making his tea and his toast and poring over the reports streaming into his mobile. He’s fully dressed (of course he is, bloody morning person) but Rose is still in her pyjamas (if one qualifies one of the Doctor’s tee shirts as her pyjamas, which she does), watching him as he drifts about with his eyes glued to his phone. Rose sits very still, clutching the pregnancy test, has been ever since it cheerfully gave her its diagnosis a few moments prior, and she’s trying not to think about how gross it is, really, that she’s more or less sitting at the kitchen table with a wee-stick in hand, even if it is dry by now. She reminds herself to scrub off extra hard in the bath, give everything in the kitchen a good solid wipedown later.

“How about you?” Rose asks, tapping the test nervously against her thigh.

The Doctor nods. “Good, good,” he says, in a way that very much suggests he is not listening to her even a little bit.

“I went ahead and scheduled an appointment in a couple days, to see how far along things are,” says Rose. “Maybe about seven weeks, going by my period.”

“Mm-hmm, excellent, excellent.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to start having regular checkups and such.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To make sure everything’s going like it should.”

“Well, naturally,” the Doctor replies, staring at his mobile.

“You know. With the pregnancy.”

“Of course.”

“Yep,” Rose says mildly, throwing up her hands. “Not every day you give birth to a lizard, after all. Did I tell you I volunteered for the lizard-mother-surrogate program in Chiswick?”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, it’s been in the works for a few years in this universe, human-lizard surrogacy. Big market for it over here. Mum’s had six. Pete’s in line next. Just lizards, lizards all over the place. Like Biblical-plague levels,” Rose continues, staring at him. “It’ll be toads next. I guess I should have asked which you prefer. Would you rather have a lizard or a toad in the nursery, Doctor?”

“Yes,” says the Doctor.

Sighing in frustration, Rose waits. She waits and watches the Doctor as he pulls the toast from the pan (too hot, he burns his fingers on the first try but it doesn’t stop him trying again anyway) and pours his tea (and promptly forgets about it) and removes the jam from the fridge (and promptly forgets about that as well) and shoves the unbuttered, un-jammed toast between his teeth before grabbing his coat and calling out an absentmindedly muffled “Meet you at the car!” around a mouthful of food as he darts out the front door.

The flat is, as always, very quiet without him in it.

Rose sighs again, but she only has half a moment to feel deflated before a soft squeal lets her know that the front door is opening again, slowly, this time. She looks up to see the Doctor popping back in, pulling the toast out of his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitantly. “You’re what?”

Rose nods. “Pregnant, yeah.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, probably cos it’s true,” Rose replies, holding up the pregnancy test, its reading displayed on the screen for the whole world to see.

“Ah,” says the Doctor. His stare loses focus, fixed on nothing in particular.

Rose waits, forcing herself to be patient. Not to fidget.

“Well, that’s,” says the Doctor, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s. Hmm.”

Rose frowns. “Are you all right?”

“I’m—yes, of course,” the Doctor says, shaking his head and blinking just a little too fast. “Always am. You?”

“I’m a little worried about you, to be honest.”

“Oh, well, no reason to be, everything’s fine,” says the Doctor as he yanks on his coat, struggling to pull his sleeve over a fist wrapped around crumbling toast. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m perfectly all right. Why wouldn’t I be? Everything’s fine. Everything’s dandy. Fantastic. Molto bene—”

Concerned, Rose rises from the table. “Doctor—”

“Only I’m running a tad late, though, so I’ll just—I’ll hail a taxi, shall I, and let you get to HQ on your own time?” says the Doctor, backing away as he shoves the remainders of his toast directly into a coat pocket. “Sounds good to me, practical resolution, useful all around. I’ll see you at work, then, shall I?”

And with that, he takes off running out the door, before Rose can get in another word.

With a great heavy sigh, Rose tosses the pregnancy test in the bin before plonking back down at the table, shoulders slumping. She can’t say she’s surprised by his reactions; it’s all more or less what she expected, or what she would have expected, had she ever anticipated the possibility that things might fare this way. But still. She’d sort of held out hope, in the ten or so minutes since she’d seen that plus flashing across the test screen, that he would be happy. Rose has never felt that deep urgent desire to have children of her own—goodness knows she likes children, and of course she loves Tony, but becoming a mother has just never been an entry on her list of priorities—but now that the very real likelihood of having a child is staring her in the face, Rose finds she’s warming up to the idea quite quickly. The thought of building a family with the Doctor is nice. Rose is surprised by just how nice that thought feels.

It’s less nice to know that he may not feel the same way.

Shaking her head, Rose chides herself. He had a family once before, she knows, and while she may not be privy to many of the details, she’s sharp enough to know he lost them. She can only imagine the sort of scar that would leave, the sort of bone-deep hurt that would haunt a person after something like that. This is probably quite a shock to him, she reasons. He just needs a little bit of time, and space, and support, and then he’ll come around. He always does. Well, he usually does. Well, the jury’s still out on a few items. But she loves him, and he loves her, and that’s what really matters. Right? And in a few moments, Rose will finish washing up and getting ready for work, and when she shows up at UNIT, things may be a little tense and stiff with the Doctor for a little bit, but he’ll relax back into his usual self before either of them knows it. Neither of them can stay awkward or uncomfortable with the other for too long. No reason for this to be any different. But they’ll get to work in their adjacent departments and the Doctor will loosen up and Rose’s nerves will settle and then things will be fine.

Right?

(Except when Rose arrives at UNIT, the Doctor’s not there. No one’s seen him. No one’s heard from him. There’s no sign of him in UNIT at all, not for the rest of the day; texts go unanswered and calls go straight to voicemail. And when Rose returns home that evening, frustrated and bewildered and hurt, the flat is dark and empty, the Doctor nowhere to be seen.

Well. Fuck.)

Despite the low background hum of panic buzzing nonstop at the back of her brain, Rose does a marvelous job of not-vibrating-out-of-her-skin-with-anxiety during the next several days, in which the Doctor deigns to make precisely zero (0) appearances. In fact, she does such a marvelous job, it doesn’t even occur to her to jump when he bursts in on her obstetrician’s appointment without warning.

“Doctor,” Rose says amidst the sounds of Jackie’s indignant “Oi, what do you think you’re doing, barging in like that?” But the Doctor ignores them both, proceeding immediately to the nurse’s clipboard where she left it, flipping through the notes with an intensity that borders on the manic.

Rose knows she should feel relief at seeing the Doctor here, now; he may look a bit pale and wan beneath the fluorescent lights, his scruff a little longer than usual, perhaps a little less kempt, but he’s safe, he’s not injured, he didn’t get himself into some kind of stupid trouble, somehow. (Didn’t run away, didn’t just leave her here. Not that she’d ever entertained such a worry. Except when she did.) But once the tide of anxiety ebbs, Rose realizes what she feels now is mostly anger.

A lot of anger.

“And where the hell have you been, eh?” Jackie demands; in lieu of a reply, the Doctor reaches into his pocket for his spectacles, slipping them on as he pores over the nurse’s paperwork.

Rose stares stonily at the Doctor as Jackie tuts with impatience. “Hey, mister. I asked you a question—”

“Height’s off,” announces the Doctor, procuring a pen so he can write over the nurse’s notes with his own. “Too short by 2.3 millimeters. Weight’s off, too, missing a quarter-kilogram or so, they really should get their scales fixed. And the age listed doesn’t account for the disparity between time rates in your original versus current universes. Incompetent twenty-first century medicine,” he adds under his breath. “Might as well be living in the Stone Age.”

Rose’s jaw clamps so tightly she’s surprised she doesn’t crack any molars. With a huff, Jackie reaches for the clipboard, but the Doctor backs away out of reach without even looking. “Don’t they even test for Hepatitis B surface antigens in this universe?” he scoffs.

“No, cos we haven’t got any of the Hepatitises in this universe, have we?” snaps Jackie. “And none of this is any of your business anyway, not until you apologize to Rose for up and disappearing on her. How long’ve you been gone, now, without so much as a word? Three days? Four? I mean really, how could you do that to her, putting her through the wringer like that? And right after she tells you she’s pregnant, too!”

“Yes, yes, I’m very sorry,” says the Doctor absently with a dismissive wave of his hand, his gaze still fixed on the clipboard in front of him, “but we’ve got more pressing things to attend to, so let’s just go ahead and get this over with, shall we?”

“Get what over with?” asks Jackie, as Rose’s fists clench the examination table beneath her, the pleather squeaking under her fingernails. “No,” Jackie continues, pointing an accusatory finger at the Doctor. “Until you apologize to Rose—and I mean apologize properly, you daft alien twat—the only getting you’re doing is out. So send in the actual physician,” she snarls, and now her finger is jabbing toward the door, “and then get out.”

“No can do,” quips the Doctor as he darts away to rummage about in the room’s cabinet-drawers. “Your so-called actual physician’s gone home for the day—seems someone might have hacked his calendar and reassigned his last patient today to one visiting Dr. James C. Noble, a.k.a, me.”

The Doctor ignores Rose’s eyes widening in alarm and Jackie’s splutter of indignation as he pulls out a stethoscope and drapes it about his neck. “And as you know, your actual physician is booked rather full right now,” he continues, withdrawing a blood-pressure cuff and other assorted equipment. “So if you want your checkup done any time in the next three weeks, here’s your one and only opening.”

Hands balled into fists, Jackie draws a deep breath and opens her mouth to hurl forth what will be, undoubtedly, a scathing stream of insults and outrage in an eruption that would put Mount Vesuvius to shame, but she stops when Rose places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Mum,” says Rose, with a calmness she certainly does not feel. “Would you give the Doctor and me a few moments, please?”

Jackie’s mouth clamps shut as she glances between Rose and the Doctor, lips twisting in disapproval. The Doctor either can’t meet their gazes, or he won’t. Just as well; if eyes could truly shoot daggers, Jackie would be gutting the Doctor right about now.

“Mum,” says Rose again, softly, and Jackie relaxes a little, though she’s still eyeing the Doctor with a healthy amount of disgust.

“All right, sweetheart,” says Jackie with a sniff. “But don’t let him off too easy, yeah? You let someone hurt you like that once, they’ll just keep doing it. And you deserve better than that.”

Her eyes flicker meaningfully toward Rose’s belly. “You both do,” Jackie tells her, and sweeps out of the room with a flounce and a huff.

It’s just Rose and the Doctor in the exam room, now. The quiet is loud enough to suffocate. But the Doctor still won’t look at her.

“Well, now that that’s all out of the way, shall we proceed?” says the Doctor, snapping on a pair of medical gloves as he steps briskly over to Rose. “See if we can pick up on the fetal heartbeat, take a few other readings—”

“No,” says Rose.

“—and check on your vitals,” says the Doctor, ignoring her as he plugs the stethoscope into his ears and presses the bell to her sternum, through her shirt. “Seeing as they are, you know, vital—”

“I said no,” Rose tells him, firmly.

“—and naturally, one must always be prepared for all possibilities, like preeclampsia or fibrinogen deficiency or aortic insufficiency, for example,” the Doctor breezes on as if he didn’t hear her, shifting the stethoscope on her chest, “which reminds me, I should order an echocardiogram, just in case. Of course, there’s always the chance it won’t adequately visualize the ascending aorta—”

“Nothing’s wrong with my heart, Doctor.”

“—but even rudimentary tests are better than no test, though an echocardiogram might not be necessary after all, since the auscultation of the stethoscope combined with my superior auditory capabilities means I can probably detect and diagnose any murmurs without visual aid of any sort. However, the added strain of carrying a pregnancy to term could place undue stress on the host’s cardiac system, so one must diligently keep an eye out for any symptoms of myocardial infarction or peripartum cardiomyopathy developing in the patient’s—”

“No,” Rose shouts, smacking the Doctor’s hand away. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

The Doctor’s face is pinched in discomfort and Rose realizes the smack must have been terribly loud for him, amplified greatly by the stethoscope, but she doesn’t much care right this second. Her blood is rushing in her ears and boiling in her veins and her sinuses are so full of pressure from four-days’-worth of unshed tears (because he ran away, she told him she was pregnant and he ran away, he left her, and even if he came back, it still fucking hurts) that Rose feels like her head is going to burst.

“I’m not some bloody patient,” Rose tells the Doctor, her breathing rough and ragged, “and I’m sure as hell not a fucking host. I’m me. I’m Rose. I’m your partner.” She feels her expression harden. “Or at least I thought I was.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply, the stethoscope-bell still grasped in one hand, the ends still plugged in his ears. His face is carefully blank, now. That just makes Rose even angrier.

“You left,” she tells him. “The second things got a little serious, you left me.”

“I was only gone for ninety-three hours, Rose,” he argues softly.

“Only,” Rose scoffs. “That’s four days I haven’t heard from you, haven’t known if you were dead or alive or hurt or kidnapped or ever coming back—”

“Your faith in me is truly inspiring,” says the Doctor drily, removing the stethoscope so he can drop it on the counter. “Would you have thought any of that about the real Doctor?”

“Don’t you dare,” snaps Rose, springing up from the examination table. “We settled all that ages ago. I know who you are,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest, “and you do too, and you are not going to drudge up a petty old row from two years back just so you can use it like a shield against me. I’m angry with you, properly angry, and I’ve got every right to be. You got that?”

The Doctor’s expression doesn’t change, except that he might purse his lips a little in frustration. “Got it,” he says tonelessly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Blinking furiously in an effort to hold back her tears, Rose draws in a deep, steadying breath. “You need to talk to me. You need to tell me what’s going on. I know you don’t want to, but you’ve got to. That’s part of what being a couple is about. That’s one of the rules. One of the biggest.”

A runaway tear rolls down her cheek and Rose angrily scrapes it off with the heel of her palm. “I might not always understand what you’re going through right away, but I’ll always listen. Cos we’re in this together. Right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice clipped.

“Aren’t we?”

A pause. “Yes.”

Another tear escapes and rolls sluggishly down Rose’s cheek, leaving a cold and sticky trail in its wake. Rose doesn’t wipe it away this time, no matter how much she hates crying in front of others (no matter how much she especially hates crying in front of him). “Look at me, please,” she says, her jaw set, and slowly, the Doctor obeys, his eyes meeting hers properly for the first time in days. Only now does Rose notice the dark circles under his raw and red-rimmed eyes; god, he looks tired.

“I know you’ve probably got complicated feelings about all this,” Rose tells him, forcing the words out no matter how much they want to stick in her throat. “And that’s okay. I’m still sorting out how I feel, myself. But you can’t just run away when something’s bothering you, now. Not anymore.”

The Doctor glances away from her.

“Please just talk to me,” Rose says, willing her voice not to tremble. “Just tell me what’s going through your head. Please.”

Eyes sliding shut, the Doctor just exhales, his breath leaving his lungs with a shake. “I don’t…” he starts to say, and stops. He licks his lips nervously. He falls silent. Rose waits for him to try again.

Decades and centuries pass between them.

“I’m not sure how I feel,” the Doctor confesses quietly. “I want to be excited. I want to want this. But I just—I can’t…”

He swallows. “I’m just so afraid. And that fear is drowning out everything else.”

Rose nods, stepping closer to him. “Okay. What are you afraid of?”

The Doctor barks out a harsh laugh. “Is Everything a comprehensive enough answer for you?”

“What’s bothering you, specifically?”

“Really, I should’ve known better, taken better precautions,” the Doctor mutters, more to himself than her, Rose suspects. “I can’t let my guard down, not for anything, not ever. I promised myself I’d never go through any of this ever again. Never again. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Any of what?” Rose asks patiently.

“Having a family,” the Doctor replies, the words almost choked, like he’s wrenched them out of his chest. “Being a father.”

“You’re afraid of losing your family again.”

“Of course I am,” the Doctor says brokenly. His hands push beneath his specs to rub at his eyes. “Can you really blame me?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“What difference would it make?”

“Because you’re acting like this is something you’ve got to face all on your own, but you don’t,” Rose tells him stubbornly. “I don’t just need you right now, Doctor. You need me, too.”

The Doctor opens his mouth like he might protest, but Rose doesn’t give him a chance. “You said you want to be excited,” Rose tells him. “Just a minute ago, you said you want to want this. If you take the fear away—easier said than done, I know, but bear with me—how do you feel, underneath all that? Be honest, please. What do you feel when you think of me being pregnant? When you think of us having a family?”

“It isn’t exactly us, though, is it?” the Doctor says, pushing a hand through his hair. “It’d be your body doing all the work. I haven’t got any right to tell you what to do with your body.”

“True,” says Rose, as the ghost of a smile threatens to quirk the corner of her mouth. “But you’re not telling me. I’m asking you.”

She pokes his chest again, halfheartedly this time. “Don’t get used to it.”

The Doctor flashes a weak half-smile her way. “I don’t know, Rose,” he says, and the smile fades like it was never there. “Honestly, it shouldn’t even be possible. It never really occurred to me that this might happen, because it isn’t supposed to. It can’t. Time Lords haven’t reproduced like this for eons. The human DNA shouldn’t be enough to override that basic programming, shouldn’t have been enough to render me anything but functionally sterile.”

He sighs, raking his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. If things were different—if we knew more about the embryonic genetic makeup, if I’d read up more on human-Time Lord crossbreeding when I had the chance, if the TARDIS were full-grown and we had access to anything more advanced than twenty-first century medical equipment, if I felt like I could trust the physicians here properly, if the infant-mother mortality rate wasn’t what it is in this day and age—though I suppose at least we’re not in America, can you imagine?—then I might...”

Shaking his head, he grunts in frustration. “But then I start thinking about how defenseless you’ll be, especially in the later months, and as soon as word gets out, who knows what sort of attention that might attract, everything from overeager paparazzi to potential kidnappers to opportunistic extraterrestrials looking to make a quick buck harvesting rare hybrid children—and that doesn’t take into account anything that could happen to either of you after you’ve given birth, there’s just so much out there that could hurt you, our life together is just so hectic and so dangerous and so much, but even removing those factors from the equation there’s still plenty that’s ready and waiting to kill you right in your own home, and—there are just so many confounding factors, Rose, so many unknown variables, literally anything could happen, and I might not be able to stop any of it, not anymore. And that’s just for the stuff I’m not actively screwing up all on my own—”

“Fine, so don’t go swanning off for days on end next time something freaks you out,” Rose bites back. “That’s half the battle right there.”

“Rose, you’re not hearing me—”

“Yes, I am,” Rose retorts. “You’re scared. Of course you are. I’m scared, too. Anyone with half a brain cell is going to be at least a little bit scared over something like this. So you acknowledge that you can’t control everything, make plans where you can, and learn to roll with the punches where you can’t. You don’t fucking desert the person you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

“But I just needed a bit of time, Rose, I never meant—”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant for it to feel like that or not,” Rose snaps back. “That’s how it felt, Doctor. It was like you left me, after telling me you never would again. After you promised. And it hurt.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply to that, just watches her, mouth working like he wants to argue, but the words won’t cooperate. Tears start welling up again in Rose’s eyes, fat and blurry and thick; the Doctor seems to crumple a little at the sight.

“What if I lose you again?” he asks, defeated. “What if something happens, and I lose you both?”

“I don’t know,” Rose tells him honestly. “But we’re safer together, aren’t we? And better together, too.”

At that, something in the Doctor seems to give way. “Yes,” he agrees, his voice hoarse, his face as open and vulnerable as Rose has ever seen it. “I’m sorry,” he adds.

When Rose can’t make any words come out, too busy fighting back tears, whatever resistance remains in the Doctor seems to drain away and he reaches out to pull her close, wrapping his arms around her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, tightening his hug when Rose starts to shake, unable to staunch the flow of tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he says again over the sounds of her sobs, muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, over and over, holding her tight while she cries into his shirt. “I won’t leave again. Ever again. I won’t. We’re in this together. I promise,” the Doctor tells her, holding her close. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Rose clings to him even harder as she cries.

They’re both exhausted by the time they climb into bed later that evening (later, but still early, for them), but that doesn’t stop Rose from turning in the Doctor’s arms to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. It’s a claim that leaves no room for question, and even though Rose knows he wants to—We don’t have to, I’ve been an idiot, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you; she’s heard it all before after a row and she’ll likely hear it all again—the Doctor doesn’t argue. Not this time. This time he meets her kisses in kind, urging her mouth open with his and grabbing her by the chin so he can take bruising control of the kiss.

Relief surges through Rose as he kisses her fiercely, clutching her close. Looks like she’s not the only one who’s starved for comfort tonight.

The Doctor breaks away so he can press a searing-hot kiss to Rose’s jaw, her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Kissing a line down to her navel, the Doctor hooks his fingers in the waistband of her pants and pulls them off, discarding them; a familiar ache swells between Rose’s legs at the sight of him between her thighs, and she slickens at the sensation of his tongue darting out to taste her, but as delicious as that sounds (and as good as it feels, fuck), it isn’t what she wants right now, isn’t what she needs. She urges him back upward so she can feel the reassuring weight of him pressing against her, his cock stiffening between them, his heart hammering against hers.

They don’t always have time to take their clothes off before sex—two years on, and sometimes the need is still so urgent, they’re too impatient to remove anything but the barest essentials—but tonight the Doctor pulls off his boxer briefs and Rose pulls off his tee shirt and they work together to untangle her from her sleep-shirt and it’s such a fucking relief when they slide together, skin-to-skin, Rose’s nipples scraping sharply against his chest, that Rose can’t help but hum in satisfaction. She needs to feel him, needs to feel all of him, her tongue plunging into his mouth as she wraps a hand around his cock and strokes him hard. He pants against her lips and leans his weight to one side so he can slide a hand between them, his fingers plunging slickly inside her as she grinds her clit against the heel of his palm. It’s only a few moments before Rose is urging his cock inside, wrapping her thighs around his waist and arching needfully upward. She doesn’t give either of them time to adjust, but immediately rocks against him, clenching and rutting and clutching at his back as he thrusts into her, swearing under his breath. It doesn’t take long for the climax to start building low in Rose’s belly so she reaches down between them, intent on urging the Doctor along, but he grabs her hand and pins it to the mattress, her fingers gripped tight and slick between his as she comes with a shout and he follows shortly after.

If there’s something a little desperate in his touch tonight, neither of them mentions it.

***

After several days and many many hugs and kisses and apologies and promises and two lush bouquets (picked and purchased by the Doctor, one for Rose (for obvious reasons) and one for Jackie (lest she slap him back into the other universe)), Rose is leaving the obstetrician’s office once again, this time having attended a full and proper appointment (also negotiated by the Doctor, as part of his ongoing penance). But this time, when Rose leaves, she’s armed with a series of diagnostics (all of them proclaiming the absolute normalcy of this pregnancy, no matter how the Doctor scrutinizes them) and a couple of recommendations (to up her iron intake, among other things), and her mother is only glaring at the Doctor the usual amount (which is to say, about 25% of the time). With Jackie in the lead, Rose and the Doctor lingering a few steps behind, Rose isn’t half-tempted to make a joke about the Doctor maintaining minimum safe distance from her mum after the events of the other day, but she knows it’s less about that, and more about how aggressively excited Jackie has allowed herself to become, now that the Doctor’s stopped being a giant prat.

(Excited might be an understatement.)

“Oh, sweetheart. This is all so brilliant. I’m so happy for you,” Jackie squeals over her shoulder at Rose, beaming through sparkling tears that threaten to fall and ruin her makeup. “You’re gonna make such a good mum, I just know it! It’s gonna come to you so natural. Well, I mean, there’s books and things to help out with all of that, and they’re good and all, but it’s about instinct, too, and you’ve got that in spades.

“And I absolutely can’t wait to start buying you things. Are you gonna ask about the sex? No, you don’t care about that,” Jackie says dismissively before either Rose or the Doctor has a chance to reply, which is just as well, as this conversation hasn’t actually involved anyone besides Jackie for some time now. “Oh, I do hope the little one likes girly things, though,” she continues. “Lord knows I love your brother, but he’s a bit rough-and-tumble, isn’t he, and I sort of miss all the ruffles and princess things. Don’t get me wrong, he loves a good princess movie just like you did, got all the dolls and stuff, but he’s not much on the dressing-up, and I would just adore the chance to buy some cute little dresses again, and, oh my goodness, Rose, I just can’t believe it, I’m gonna be a grandmum, you’re gonna have a baby—”

Jackie rounds the corner ahead and Rose is surprised to feel a tug on her hand the second Jackie disappears from sight. It’s the Doctor, of course, pulling her back toward him, but when Rose turns to look at him, a question hovering on her lips, he just pulls her gently forward so he can wrap his arms around her, trapping her in a snug embrace.

Her heart pounds in her chest, but not unpleasantly. Emotion swells in her throat as her arms wind back around him, fists clenching in his shirt. His arms tighten around her, almost uncomfortably so. Rose feels rather than hears his breath leaving him, long and slow and measured and just short of reverent. Like a man in prayer. After a moment, he spreads a hand between them, palm over her belly, like it’s just now occurring to him exactly what’s happening, what they’ve started together here, the sheer enormity of it all. He plants a kiss against her head, burying his face in her hair after. Rose tries to remember if she’s ever seen him act quite so tender as this, before.

The moment is over almost as quickly as it begins; soon enough the Doctor is springing away and tugging Rose along by the hand, propelling the two of them toward Jackie, like nothing just happened. But when Rose squeezes his hand (in comfort or solidarity or reassurance; she’s not sure and she’s not sure it matters anyway), he squeezes back, tightly.

“...and oh, do you remember that little garden dress you had once upon a time, the pink gingham with the roses, and the little white patent shoes?” Jackie is saying now, as she waits for the lift in front of them. “You were a vision, Rose. An absolute vision. All the other mums thought so. You were such a pretty little girl. A pretty baby, too. You know how some babies are ugly but no one talks about it? Sort of look like creepy little Gollum types? Well that weren’t you, to be sure. And just look at you now, you’re already glowing and everything, did you know that?” she asks, glancing back at Rose once again with a smile. “Pregnancy’ll do wonders for your skin. Did for me, anyway. Beverly wasn’t so lucky—d’you remember how she puffed up like a walrus, got the eczema all over? Not you, though. You look like one of them Renaissance paintings. Or like an angel, even!”

“Oh my god, Mum,” Rose laughs. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, someone’s got to say the cheesy things. Lord knows he won’t,” says Jackie, fixing the Doctor with a meaningful stare.

“I’m just waiting for the right moment,” the Doctor replies pleasantly. “As, for instance, the half-second you stop talking long enough to draw breath.”

Jackie flashes a dirty look his way and Rose laughs.

***

Everything is proceeding normally for a standard human pregnancy (almost painfully normally, really, even as the Doctor checks and double-checks and triple-checks everything from Rose’s sodium levels to the babyproof latches he’s already installed on all of the cabinet doors to the ambient temperature in each and every room Rose enters because You’re basically a greenhouse, Rose, a greenhouse growing a person instead of plants, and everyone knows greenhouses have to be kept at the optimum temperature in order to flourish), right up to the first day Rose notices her belly, by way of trying to fasten her trousers over it. They do not, of course, fasten, because see above, re: belly.

“Welp,” she says, slouching into the nursery with a sigh. It really is a lovely nursery, if a bit yellow, but the Doctor has insisted that yellow is the optimum color for budding baby TARDISes and larval humans, and this is a hill Rose is perfectly content to not-die-on. “I’m officially getting fat,” Rose announces.

The Doctor tuts in disapproval but doesn’t look up from his task, carefully pruning wayward growths on the TARDIS coral in front of him. “Three additional kilograms hardly qualifies as getting fat,” he says mildly, “although even if it did, and even if you were, it wouldn’t be cause for concern unless there was a non-pregnancy-related underlying health condition we needed to address.”

“Just the condition of my fat,” Rose replies cheerfully.

The Doctor spares his focus just long enough to roll his eyes, the motion even more comical and exaggerated than usual thanks to his work-goggles. “You’re incubating a whole entire person inside of your person, Rose. That’s bound to put on some extra weight on you, even before you start taking into account things like fluid retention and nutrient stores.”

“Fluid retention and nutrient stores. Way to pique a girl’s appetite,” teases Rose.

“Now that you mention it, I am a bit peckish, myself,” the Doctor admits as he works. “What are you thinking? Takeaway? Pizza? Your mum’s fish pie is in the fridge but I’m not certain that qualifies as food so much as kindling.”

Rose chuckles a little. “You really don’t mind?” she asks, scuffing a bare foot restlessly over the floor.

“Not at all. Getting rid of that pie would be doing the world a favor.”

“No,” Rose laughs, the sound more genuine this time. “Not that.”

“What, then?”

“You know. That I’m gonna get all…”

The Doctor piques an eyebrow in suspicion, and rather than risk another lecture by uttering the word aloud, Rose finishes her sentence in pantomime, outlining a large belly in front of her. He stares at her blankly in response, eyes blinking owlishly behind their protective goggles.

Rose sighs. “I’m gonna get big, Doctor,” she says. “Like a big belly. Maybe really big.”

He nods. “Probably. Your point?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, Rose focuses on her foot instead, tracing invisible patterns over the floor. “Just, you know,” she says softly. “Other blokes haven’t cared for it all that much, when I gain weight.”

“That’s because other blokes are idiots,” the Doctor announces, all smiles and bouncy cheer. “Fortunately you’re not stuck in this with any of them,” he continues, pulling off his goggles. “You’re stuck in this with me. And I happen to have very correct opinions about that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose laughs, something loosening in her shoulders, the release of tension she wasn’t even aware was there.

“Oh, yes,” he says, sauntering over to Rose with his hands shoved lazily in his pockets. “All excellent opinions, each and every one of them. Many of them even backed up by science!”

Rose grins at him. “And when my belly gets so big that I can’t tie my own shoes anymore, or shave my legs?”

“Then we’ll just have to get you shoes that don’t need tying, won’t we? Or I’ll tie them for you. And a hairy leg or two never hurt anyone, but if it would make you feel better, I can always shave your legs.”

“Really?”

He shrugs again. “Really. How hard can it be?”

Shaking her head, her grin broadening until she can’t take it anymore, Rose pushes up on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. The Doctor lets out a happy little hum against her mouth and his hands leave his pockets to grasp her by the hips, his thumbs tracing a path to the front of her waistband, where the zipper-teeth won’t quite meet and the button only barely won’t latch.

“Yeah,” says Rose, glancing downward. “I’m gonna need new trousers soon.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I quite like them like this,” replies the Doctor, pulling the zipper down until the top of her pants peeks out. “It’s like a little preview.”

“Cad,” Rose teases.

“You’re not wrong,” the Doctor says thoughtfully, before looking back up at her, his eyes full of mischief. “I am, for instance, thinking about how much better your trousers would look on the floor.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose asks, a shy smile blossoming across her face. His grin, by contrast, is long and slow and wicked, like a bolt of liquid warmth sent straight between Rose’s thighs.

“Oh, yes,” says the Doctor, and he kisses her.

It’s really a very convincing argument.

***

Roughly twenty weeks in, and really, Rose can put up with most of this nonsense—granted, the dizziness isn’t fun, the headaches aren’t enjoyable either, the ever-swelling belly makes dressing for the day officially A Challenge™, the heartburn is bordering on intolerable, the morning sickness is more of an any-part-of-the-day sickness, and the leg cramps are no walk in the park either (although a walk in the park does at least help a little)—but what she really can’t stand are these intermittent bursts of bloody awful hormones.

“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asks in alarm the moment she steps through the front door, sniffling and snuffling and trying to hide her tears and her gross blotchy face from the Doctor and doing it very, very badly. “Rose? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles as she shucks her boots, fully aware of how pathetic she sounds, and hating herself for it.

“Are you sure?” asks the Doctor, his face pinched in concern.

“Yes,” she grumbles, but the Doctor doesn’t seem convinced.

“Are you, though?” he presses, following her as she slumps her way into the kitchen, lowering herself into a dining-room chair. “You’ve been crying. That indicates distress. You’re not hurt, are you? You’re not injured? You’re not sick?”

“I’m fine,” Rose mutters again.

“Are you certain? How’s your temperature? When did you last eat? What did you last eat? You didn’t ingest any deli meat or sushi or come into contact with any cat litter or anything else potentially carrying toxoplasmosis? Are you experiencing any unusual aches or pains? Fluctuations in heartrate? Changes in vaginal discharge—?”

“I said I’m fine!” Rose snaps at him.

The Doctor’s eyes widen, but he stops talking, stops fretting. “Right, you did,” he says quietly, scratching the back of his neck. He steps back and away, his face carefully blank. “Sorry.”

Guilt crashes into Rose like a freight train and just like that, the tears start welling up in her eyes again. “No, I’m sorry,” she says, lower lip trembling, voice watery. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry. I just…” she tries to say, and cuts herself off with a sniffle. “I just…”

The Doctor watches her from a safe distance. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just—god, it’s just stupid stuff, but it’s like my brain is going absolutely mad over it,” Rose blurts out. “Just stuff like, they were working on the lift, so I had to use the stairs, and I spilled my tea on the way back down, spilled it all over my shirt—” and she gestures at the front of her blouse, which is indeed no longer pale pink, but now light brown with the ghosts of teastains past— “and that was right before we had that big meeting with Ripley’s team and the French delegates, and I didn’t have anything else to change into, so I had to go in to this big important meeting looking like a total nightmare, and the meeting went on for so fucking long, it was hours, I had to get up to wee like five times.”

She absentmindedly rubs her growing belly-bump, trying to calm herself. “I really liked this shirt,” she continues, sniffling. “One of the only maternity shirts that doesn’t just look like a horrid flowery muumuu. S’like, you get pregnant, and you’re not allowed to try to look pretty any more. You’ve served your purpose, you’re not a woman anymore, now you’re just a whale on a one-way-train to Frumpy Town. Not like I care what other people think but I still want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see, you know? And god, the taxi smelled so badly of smoke I thought I was going to vomit. That sort of thing never used to bother me, but so many smells do, these days. And I’m a puffy horrid mess, and my hair’s doing funny things, and everything aches, and I know nothing’s wrong, not really, but sometimes it’s like there’s this high-pitched squeal in my head screaming that everything’s bad and awful and scary all the time but I can’t take my anxiety meds anymore cos of the pregnancy—and—and—”

She can feel her face crumpling with effort, straining not to burst into the world’s ugliest wettest snottiest tears right now. “—and I just remembered I ate the last of the raspberry lollies last night,” she says plaintively, her mouth twisting in abject misery. “So we’re out.”

“No, we’re not.”

Rose hiccups, thumbing tears off her cheeks. “What?” she asks thickly.

“We’re not out,” says the Doctor, gesturing to the fridge. “I picked some up on my way home.”

Blinking rapidly, Rose bites her lower lip, hardly daring to hope. “Really?”

“Yeah. I thought you might like a lolly or two after dinner, so I made a stop.” He walks over to the refrigerator, pulls open the freezer door, and plucks out a lolly, extending it her way. “D’you want one now?”

Now Rose’s eyes are filling with tears for a completely different reason, her vision growing suddenly blurry and wet as she fights back the pressure with a sob. Through the haze, she can just barely make out the worry spreading across the Doctor’s face.

“Rose?” he asks, panicked, like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong.

“I love you,” bursts out of Rose’s mouth. She launches herself out of the chair and toward the Doctor, snatching the lolly out of his hand and ripping off its plastic wrapping so she can take a huge bite. And oh—

Oh.

Oh god, it’s good.

The scent of sweet raspberry hits her nostrils, first, with an ice-cold bite that predicts the joys to come. She bites into the treat and her eyes shutter at the delicious tartness of the juices, the cold of the ice, the satisfying crunch-slush of it all. Sweet and tart and cold all sing a delightful harmony in her mouth, washing away the dregs of the unhappy world outside, soothing her aches and pains, painting her mind with calm. Another bite floods her veins with sugary pleasure and cool relief in equal turns, and Rose chokes back tears of pure, unfettered joy.

“I love you so much,” she sobs.

“Just to be clear,” says the Doctor, a small smile spreading wryly over his face. “Are you talking to the lolly right now, or me?”

“Yes,” says Rose, before taking another bite.

***

She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen his eyes grow so comically wide before.

“No,” he chokes out amidst the sirens wailing all around them, waving smoke out of his eyes as he heaves himself up from the debris-strewn floor. “Rose, you shouldn’t have—”

“What?” Rose shoots back, hoisting the giant gun high on her hip. “Come to save your skinny arse?”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself for me!” the Doctor snaps. “Especially right now!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have surrendered yourself to hostile forces, so I guess neither of us got what we wanted, huh?”

The Doctor glares at her. “I did what I had to! You, on the other hand—”

“Look, can we argue about all this later?” Rose interrupts, rolling her eyes. She gestures to the door behind her (rather, the “door” she just forcefully improvised thanks to a blast from her giant gun). “My back’s starting to hurt,” she complains.

“Which is precisely why you should have stayed put!” the Doctor retorts, anxiously running his hands through his hair. “I told you this would happen, Rose. I told you people would come after you and the baby—!”

“So what, you decide to offer yourself up instead? Without even talking to me about it?”

“Yes!” he shouts, glaring as he stands over her. “I will do whatever I have to if it keeps you safe, and I don’t require your approval and I sure as hell don’t require your permission! Do you underst—”

An explosion rocks the ship, knocking the Doctor flat against the wall behind him. Her belly big and heavy as it is, Rose’s low center of gravity keeps her pretty well-grounded; she doesn’t budge.

“Right,” she says, as nonchalantly as she can while the ship burns and shakes all around them, “d’you want to keep arguing, or would you maybe like to escape the burning spaceship with your very, very pregnant girlfriend?”

He’s still glaring at her, but there’s a smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth now. “Fine,” he says grudgingly, pushing off the wall. “But only because you’re very compelling at eight months pregnant, with a giant weapon.”

Rose laughs, swiveling the gun out of the way so she can plant a hard kiss against the Doctor’s lips. He tastes like soot and dirt and sweat and god, she’s so glad he’s all right. That he’s going to be safe, soon. With her.

“I love you too,” she says, and she grabs his hand, and they run.

***

It isn’t like they show it in the movies—or it isn’t quite like that, rather. It takes so much longer, and it’s so much messier, and it’s loud and then quiet and frantic and then calm and there’s sweat and blood and pain but there’s elation, too, even before the nurses place the baby in her arms. It’s all compounded when Rose looks down, seeing her child for the first time, all red in the cheeks, ten little coiled fingers and ten little pruny toes and eyes screwed shut and mouth crying out against the harsh light and sound of this strange new world. Rose holds the wailing baby close and her heart swells so much she’s almost surprised her ribcage isn’t cracked from the force of it.

Tutting through her happy tears, Jackie rubs the baby’s back, murmuring words of reassurance, much like she has been throughout the last several hours. Not for the first time, Rose is immensely grateful for her mother’s attention and support. Jackie was surprisingly calm throughout the entire ordeal. She’s surprisingly soft, now, in a way Rose isn’t sure she’s ever seen her before. Being a grandmother suits her, Rose thinks.

Slowly, the baby quiets and relaxes, heavy and solid against Rose’s chest. She smiles. It’s almost too much to bear, all the love that fills her at the sight of this child. She wonders if the Doctor will feel the same way.

(She is not upset that he’s late. He’s been doing so much better about all this sort of thing these last few months; he wouldn’t miss this without a good reason. It’s simply a matter of when he arrives, she tells herself. When. Not if.)

Rose has half-started dozing off when she finally hears his voice.

“Where is she?” his voice echoes loudly in the hall outside. “Is she all right? Did I miss it? Did—”

The door swings open and there stands the Doctor, mouth open and hair mussed and clothes totally disheveled. Rose watches as he frantically takes it all in—the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed with a tiny new baby slumbering heavily in her arms.

“You’re here,” Rose says, smiling, her voice dreamy and soft.

The Doctor’s mouth closes and his throat constricts, Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. His eyes flicker up to Rose’s, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, she can see it written across his face as plain as day—but he doesn’t seem able to push the words out. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, nervous and unsure.

Next to the bed, Jackie pats Rose’s hand. “I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?” she says, kissing Rose’s forehead before she rises. On her way out the door, she stops long enough to give the Doctor a quick hug, pecking him on the cheek for good measure afterward. “Congratulations, dad,” she says, her voice fond.

The Doctor can’t seem to respond, can’t even seem to move, his feet glued to their spot on the floor for several long seconds after Jackie leaves. His gaze lingers on the baby, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing, somehow, or maybe he just can’t believe it.

“Come on in,” Rose teases. “Stay a while.”

Shaking himself, the Doctor starts. “Rose, I’m so sorry,” he rushes. “I had to deal with these people, these bloody water pirates, and they had all these warships and I met this robot worm and he knew who I was somehow and I got dropped in the ocean and I lost my mobile and I had to steal a boat and I might’ve shot a pirate in the foot and—”

“Doctor?” says Rose, patiently.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about it later?”

“Of course.” He grimaces. “Rose, I really am sorry.”

“I know.” She smiles. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not, though. I should have been here.”

Her heart breaks for him a little. “You should have been out saving the world,” Rose tells him gently.

He looks very much like he doesn’t believe her.

“You didn’t miss much, anyway,” Rose adds. “Just the gross stuff. I actually don’t mind you missing that bit, don’t much fancy you seeing me bleeding everywhere or pooing the bed.”

“Are you all right?” the Doctor asks, pushing a hand anxiously through his hair, which only serves to muss it even further.

Rose nods. “They gave me drugs for the pain. I think it’s the loveliest I’ve ever felt.”

The Doctor laughs humorlessly. “But overall, you’re all right?”

“Yeah, Doctor. I’m fine. I’m gonna be sore for a while. But I’m okay. Really.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. And—”

The Doctor swallows hard, his gaze flickering between Rose and the baby. “And, the child...?”

“Also fine. Would probably like to be called something besides the child, though.”

Relaxing a little, the Doctor laughs again and the sound has a little more warmth this time. “I seem to recall that I generated a good deal of names, only for each of them to be shot down,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s got to be something people can pronounce. Human people,” Rose adds before the Doctor can interject. “From Earth. In this century.”

“Cassiopeia’s a perfectly pronounceable name!”

“It’s a mouthful,” Rose laughs.

“And it lends itself very well to diminutives. Cassie, Cass, Cas,” the Doctor continues, counting off a finger for each. “Peia. Cassio.”

“Whatever. Just shut up and get over here, yeah?”

The Doctor smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and he bridges the distance between them, dipping down so he can frame Rose’s face in his hands and pull her in for a kiss. It’s only a little desperate, his hold on her, the slight tremor in his hands; Rose answers by pouring as much love and reassurance into the kiss as she possibly can.

She’s surprised to realize she’s shaking just a little, herself.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks the kiss, one hand cradling the back of her head, his forehead pressed to hers. “I really am sorry,” he says softly.

Nodding, Rose thinks that this would be a good time to reassure him again, let him know he’s forgiven, that what really matters is he’s here now, and he keeps being here. That she knows he needs her, and that’s all right. She needs him, too.

“Hold me?” she says instead, her voice small.

Wordlessly, the Doctor shifts back, lowering the siderail of the bed. Rose expects him to simply lean over the side for a little half-cuddle and is pleasantly surprised when he toes off his shoes and clambers into the bed with her instead, propping himself up on one arm so he can snuggle up against her side, pressing fully against her. The weight of him next to her is comforting, soothing any residual uncertainty or anxiety that might have been lurking in the corners of her mind, and Rose nestles into him gratefully, relishing his solid warmth. She watches him as he reaches out, almost hesitantly, to touch the baby sleeping on her chest, safe and snug between them both.

He gently strokes the baby’s head, his face alight with a quiet wonder, not unlike the expression he wears when stepping onto the surface of a new planet for the first time, Rose thinks. But his gaze is so much tenderer than she ever saw it, any of those times. Soft and open and a little afraid but still so, so full of wonder and awe.

God, she loves him so much.

“You almost forget how small they are,” the Doctor says softly, reaching down to one of the baby’s hands, inspecting five little tight-coiled fingers. “Can you believe all the potential packed inside that tiny little body?”

“It’s pretty incredible,” Rose agrees.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was blinking tears out of his eyes as he turns to bury his face in her hair. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice thick.

Happy contentedness fills Rose’s head like a candyfloss-cloud. “You’re not so bad, yourself,” she says sleepily, and the Doctor chuckles, wiping his eyes.

He loops his arm around her and the baby both, holding them close. He’s unusually quiet as he watches the baby sleep, and Rose wonders if his thoughts are anything to match. Maybe he’s cataloguing everything about their child, about the downy-soft head and warm red cheeks and little button nose, filing every detail away in that massive memory of his, his mind already racing with revelations about the past, how they’ll inform plans and ideas for the future. Or maybe he’s just allowing himself to be present, for once, in the here and the now, with Rose and the baby, no ghosts or worries or unspoken nightmares haunting him for just a handful of moments. Maybe he’s allowing himself these rare few minutes of quiet calm, before the world starts spinning again.

“How long are you gonna stay with us?” Rose murmurs sleepily, and the Doctor’s hold on her tightens.

“Forever,” he says.

******

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featherwriter · 3 years

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CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of extended torture and medical experimentation, as well as an implied, non-permanent suicide of a Guardian. If the rest of the fic has not prepared you for the kind of dark content in this story, this chapter is probably the heaviest point.

<< Read from the beginning! >>

The torture began in earnest the next day. Sylvanni had initially believed the extent of her 'service' to House Kings would be gladiatorial entertainment in their arena and the harvesting of her Light, but Erxaris, it seemed, had crueler plans for her. The Fallen were so terribly curious about her kind and now they finally had a Guardian on hand to satiate that curiosity.

The room they took her to was simple, with walls of smooth concrete and a long since shattered window which had been replaced by an energy barrier. The only real feature was a simple iron ring in the floor to chain her down. There was no slack in her restraints, forcing her to hold an awkward kneeling position with her arms behind her. Then it began.

The objective was simple; they wanted to know what it took to kill her.

They started with their own weapons first. Shock daggers, then lances, then swords. She was cut, stabbed, and sliced in all variety of ways, until they found something lethal. Sometimes it was blessedly quick, such as the time a lance found her heart on the first thrust. Others were agonizingly slow, as her healing factor—weak though it was—continued to try to mend her, keeping her clinging to life through wounds which would kill a non-Guardian.

Her main tormentor was a burly Captain, but Erxaris watched over everything, with the canister trapping Sylvanni's Ghost in stasis clutched in her lower arms. Whenever Sylvanni died, her Ghost would be released to resurrect her, and then Sylvanni would give him up again. At first, they'd tried to communicate in those brief moments before she had to turn him over, but every time they did, it got a little harder to let go.

Eventually Sylvanni had to turn that side of herself off. She couldn't bear to acknowledge him at all, couldn't think of him as hers. The motions of letting Erxaris trap him once more became rote, empty, meaningless. At least, she told herself, he couldn't see or feel anything in the stasis. He didn't have to watch what they did to her, just fix her in the aftermath.

Erxaris and the Captain tried every method of wounding her with their Fallen melee weapons, even 'docking' her arms a few times, a punishment Sylvanni assumed was meant to be humiliating. After one such time, Erxaris held up a hand, curiously watching as Sylvanni's meager healing tried to seal over the amputation.

When the wounds healed new skin over a stump, the Judgment Vandal frowned. "Doesn't grow back? Such… pitiful things, your kind. Without Machine, is nothing."

They moved on to firearms: shock rifles with their lazily homing bolts, wire rifles with quick precision, a Captain’s shrapnel launcher. They even brought in that accursed Servitor in and watched it blast her from close range. She was shot in the limbs, in the chest, in the head, from the front, back, and sides. Every way they could think of to destroy her, they did.

Then they tried more. They sealed the room and watched from the other side of their barrier as they pulled the air from the room and watched her try to suffocate. That one—agonizingly—didn’t even work, her scraps of Light managing to keep her clinging to life even as her lungs burned for oxygen, but Erxaris and her hateful assistant watched Sylvanni gasp and writhe in the airless chamber for the better part of an hour before giving up on that one. At full Light strength, she’d routinely run missions in the vacuum of space with only mild discomfort, but down here with so little, it was cripplingly tortuous.

The Fallen picked up what alien technology they had on hand to try as well. They flushed the room with Hive Witch’s poison, though how they’d managed to distill that, she couldn’t fathom. They had a few Vex weapons on hand, a few severed Goblin and Hobgoblin arms grafted to external power sources to make them fire. Cabal slug rifles, no doubt scavenged from a firebase somewhere. The Fallen were nothing if not thieves and scavengers at heart.

The torments were endless but Sylvanni said very little through it all. At the start, it was pure determination which held her tongue. She was a Guardian with centuries of battle to her name; she was no stranger to pain and death. She could muster the will to force her way through this without giving her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. Or so she had believed.

The relentlessness of the torture was something far beyond the violence of battle, however. When connected to her Ghost, her deaths were always quick, sparing her painful ends more often than not. The deaths she received at Erxaris’ command were anything but. The agonies were ever-changing and endless, broken only by the dark, blank stretches of disconnected death. There was nothing she could do, there was no end in sight, no escape from the hell. Dying was only a temporary reprieve, for they always brought her back to suffer again.

Her stoic resolve could only endure so long, but rather than breaking down, begging for mercy, crying, pleading, Sylvanni found her mind drifting instead. It started with that mental break of her Ghost. She couldn’t think of him as himself, couldn’t acknowledge what he really was to her. What she handed back after each rez was only an object, a thing, meaningless to her. It had to be, because if it wasn’t, she’d never be able to give him back, and then they both would die.

Then she began to disconnect from herself. Each time she resurrected, she felt a little further, her mind gently drifting further and further from the reality of her situation. It was reminiscent of being tethered during a spacewalk, drifting in the abyss of space, floating further and further from her anchor. What would happen if that tether was severed, when the tether was herself?

After all, could pain truly be considered pain when it was simply a constant state of being? There was no end to it, it was just the way things were now. Her nerves kept firing those signals, kept screaming at her to do something to stop this, but there was nothing to be done, and so her mind stopped listening. These things could happen to her body, but she consciously observed herself as though on the other side of thick glass, until it was almost as though she felt nothing at all.

Just as her Ghost was only a thing, an object, so too was she a thing herself.

Time was meaningless: there was no way to tell how long between her deaths and resurrections anyway and the monotony of pains simply blurred together. It wasn’t as though there was anything which required her attention. They weren’t torturing her for information, making demands, or asking questions of her. They didn’t care about making her talk. They just wanted to see how she might be killed and enjoy the satisfaction of tearing her apart again and again.

At some point, Erxaris’ torture assistant was replaced by a team of King Splicers. These, unlike those of the House of Devils, hadn’t endowed themselves with SIVA augmentations, but they were interested in biological information. Her anatomy, alien to them, was a secret they wished to unravel, and they opened her up, a live dissection. They poked and prodded and rummaged about her body until they’d cut or stabbed something they shouldn’t have, collapsed a lung or compromised an organ, and then they wrote that down and started again.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Sylvanni just drifted through it all, mind so very distant from the endless horror, barely making a sound. She was increasingly certain nothing would ever matter again. Time was meaningless, not even the barest circadian hint in this bleak, crumbling ruin, and she had no way to tell how long they left her dead each time before bringing her back. It might have been days; it might have been months. They never offered her food or water anymore, as they’d realized they didn’t need to. Just pain, in endless, infinite, multitudinous, myriad forms.

If there was one relief, it was that the Servitor didn’t come to drain her again. The constant wounds were such a drain on what meager Light she could get, there were no reserves for the Kings to siphon off.

After one resurrection, back in the smooth stone room, she was left alone, still chained to the floor. They brought her back from death, took her Ghost away, and simply abandoned her. As time passed, heartbeat after heartbeat, that drifty, floaty little piece of her at the edge of her distant mind could have laughed. Were they hoping to study the effects of isolation, glean some psychological insight? She simply sat, staring at nothing, absently noting as her body slipped physically closer to dehydration, until she was lying down, back to fluttering on the edge of life, burning through those sad little wisps of Light within her to stave off death. This one, she decided emotionlessly, was at least not as bad as the endless suffocation had been.

In that fragile limbo, she found herself thinking of Osiris of all people. It had been centuries now, she realized, since the last time she’d seen him, but she’d once been new to immortality, foolishly enamored with her Vanguard Commander and the dangerous ideas that would lead to his eventual exile.

Dangerous ideas that were… not entirely unlike this. He’d encouraged thanatonauts, who thought they could glean secret wisdom or insight from death. Warlocks who intentionally lingered on the edges of death, or flung themselves into its depths repeatedly. Perhaps one of them could have found this torture useful. After all, it was practically what those kinds did to themselves anyway.

She drifted in the haze of memories, of imaginings, of dreams and nonsense. Maybe visions like these were what thanatonauts sought, or maybe it was all just the hallucinations of a mind and body pushed far beyond their breaking points. If there was thanatonautic wisdom among it all, she couldn’t summon the mental effort to try to remember any of it. She couldn’t really believe any of it mattered.

Somewhere in that fugue state, something must have killed her again, because at some point, she was brought back to life yet again, no longer alone. Erxaris stood in the chamber, lower arms crossed over her Judgement-green tabard, upper arms holding the stasis capsule. Her only weapon was a shock dagger at her waist, but the power Erxaris held within House Kings wasn’t truly martial anyway.

By rote, Sylvanni held out her Ghost, offering him back once again. Had Sylvanni been herself, she might have noticed how he still turned to look back at her, every time he was taken, she might have recognized the mix of pity and fear in the tilt of his corners before the capsule froze him again.

But she didn’t register any of that. She couldn’t. She was adrift, and the Ghost was just a shape, just a thing to hand back as part of the routine.

Erxaris clicked the container shut with a small click, then handed it back to someone waiting outside the chamber for safekeeping. When she turned back, she tipped her head as she regarded the blank-faced Warlock standing before her. “Wish tests to stop?”

Sylvanni didn’t answer. A part of her couldn’t really believe that there would be an end to the pain they put her through. She just stared straight forward, unmoving, waiting until the suffering started again.

Erxaris chittered a laugh. “Stoic, it becomes. Answer, Machine thief. Opportunity not to be offered twice.”

“What.” Sylvanni forced the word out, her own voice a foreign rasp to her ears. “Do you. Want.”

“Fealty.”

The word was so surprising, so out of place, it shocked some part of her back to enough awareness to look up, meeting the Vandal’s four eyes with her two.

“Renounce Machine-right. Your Tra-vel-er.” The drawn-out emphasis of each syllable couldn’t be anything other than mocking. “Swear to House Kings. Loyal donor of ether.”

In the distant drifting, a piece of Sylvanni could hardly see the point in answering, couldn’t muster the will to care about what happened to her. A smaller, desperate, animal part of her, the shreds of her self-preservation, begged for a respite, willing to give Erxaris anything she demanded if it would mean an end to the suffering.

Neither of these were capable of a real decision, neither were capable of true survival. The Void, as ever, held her salvation. What Light she held was faint, but within it she found that calm stillness, the centering of self she needed. A singularity around which to gather herself once again for just a moment, long enough to think.

House Kings wished to make their Guardian prisoner a Guardian slave instead? There could be opportunity in that, she realized. So be it. If she was going to find a chance to escape and retrieve her Ghost in truth, it wouldn’t be done in these passing, powerless moments of life between endless, captive deaths. She didn’t expect they’d be sloppy in this, but it only took one moment of lapse for this to work.

As for the oath, the renunciation? Meaningless. She didn’t think Erxaris was foolish to believe endless, repeatedly lethal torture had inspired anything resembling loyalty within her for her captors, but that wasn’t what this was really about. They both knew that. It was about the power of forcing a Guardian through the shame of saying such a thing. But what did Sylvanni care about shame, after what she’d been through? Whatever dignity she’d thought she had was long gone in the eyes of these Fallen, and she wouldn’t have let something as worthless as pride keep her from seizing a possible advantage, anyway.

She was, for just a moment, cold clarity once again, the void’s resonant reassurance within her. The decision made. Sylvanni let out a long breath, then forced the words out. “I… accept.”

Erxaris drew herself up, a sense of triumph clear even in her alien posture. “Renounce.”

Sylvanni fixed her eyes on the floor and swore the lie. “I renounce the Traveler, and my right to its gifts.” Even saying it felt like poison, but she’d endured far worse toxins recently.

“Swear,” Erxaris said, punctuated with anticipatory clicking. “Swear loyalty to House Kings, its great and regal Kell. Swear your stolen ether to the service of your House.”

“I swear… loyalty to House Kings and its Kell. I swear my Light to its service.”

The rebreather hissed as Erxaris drew in a full draught of ether, her lower hands clasping together. “You will be lowest of House, beneath dregs, beneath shanks. Silveks, Kings Slave.”

The butchered eliksnization of her name felt like a final insult, but Sylvanni gave no reaction, no response. From this point forward, she followed orders, nothing more. This void-drift she’d cultivated could serve her in this as well, she thought. These Fallen would surely seek further ways to humiliate her, new ways to hurt her, but now she would feel nothing of it, give them no satisfaction of a reaction from her.

The shock dagger clanged to the ground between the bowed Awoken and the looming Vandal, sliding into Sylvanni’s still-lowered gaze. Sylvanni didn’t reach for it, though she had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next.

“Prove loyalty,” Erxaris hissed cruelly. “Your Kell demands more than Machine-ether. Demands blood. Demands life, Silveks. Then, oath accepted.”

Sylvanni slowly reached forward, picking up the small dagger. For the barest moment, she considered turning on Erxaris, but as satisfying as the idea might have been, the other Fallen outside this room would surely turn out in force to put her down permanently. In the end, there really wasn’t much of a choice. At least when she was the one holding the knife she was able to make it quick.

After all, what was one more death after everything?

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#Destiny fanfiction #Destiny the game #Destiny #Destiny Warlock #Uldren Sov #Recompense #My fanfic #Sylvanni Duv #A Crow's Rescue #boy it sure has been like several years since this fic updated huh #i don't even know if it's worth it to post these on tumblr tbh #i might end up just switching to AO3 completely #there's a longer authors note on AO3 about my plans for this fic moving forward #but the short answer is i want to finish #and hopefully the next update will not take YEARS again #fingers crossed #thank you all for bearing with me #those of you who've stuck around

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duxhess-kryzewan · 4 years

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since Mandalorians seem to be very passionate people maybe something with dance lesson, like a tango? it may be very innocent, even awkward or just the total opposite

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Obi-Wan."

He crosses his arms in frustration, a rather unbecoming look for an up and coming Jedi he realizes, but he can't bring himself to care. He was not doing it.

"It's custom in Mandalorian nobility," Qui-Gon says, "And it would be rude not to neglect the Duchess when she has only just returned to her home."

Obi-Wan sighs, "Then why don't you do it?"

Qui-Gon laughs, "Because I'm much to old to be escorting such a young lady, and I think she'll be more comfortable with someone her age. Besides, you two have developed a friendship over the last year, I think she would be better suited with you on her arm."

There's something to his tone when the word 'friendship' that makes him uncomfortable. He didn't know if he would consider their connection a friendship, per say. More of a complicated series of arguments peppered with moments of intimate connections. He cared her - deeply, he would add - but he never was quite sure what they were. There was a code he vowed to uphold, after all, and there was a planet she was destined to take control of.

"I don't know if friendship is what you would classify it as," he says, "We quarrel an awful lot."

His master smiles knowingly at him, "As friends often do. Now off you go, you don't want to keep the Duchess waiting."

With a sigh, he finally concedes to his masters orders, "Fine."

He swears Qui-Gon winks at him when he leaves. _____

They had spent so much time on the run and away from her palace that he had almost forgotten how she looked when in her noble attire. Gowns were not very practical when running from gangs of bounty hunters.

"Obi-Wan." She greets with a polite smile.

"Your grace." He bows slightly, more out of formality than anything. She was, after all, now truly in charge.

"I appreciate you doing this for me," she says, "I understand this is rather out of your element, but with the celebrations here in light of our new era of peace I only found it fitting that you and Qui-Gon be in attendance. You are after all the only reason I lived."

"Of course, we are more than happy to help in your quest for peace on Mandalore; it's my greatest hope that your peaceful ways will help Mandalore prosper."

Something in her eyes soften, "It means the world to me, Obi-Wan. I owe much to you and Master Qui-Gon. It was his idea after all. For you to escort me, I mean."

He freezes. Qui-Gon had set all this up? Was he trying to get him expelled from the order? His master certainly had little to no regard for the rules, but this was extreme even for him.

Instead of dwelling on it, he switches the topic, "I regret to inform you that dancing is not a skill they teach at the temple. You may want to reconsider your decision."

Satine chuckles, "Nonsense, I'm sure you'll be fine, and there's certainly no other person I would rather have at my side to get me through such an event. I presume your lack of dancing abilities is why Qui-Gon suggested you practice with me."

Oh yes, he and his Master were most definitely going to have words.

"I'll follow your lead, then."

Her smile is warm and inviting and it spreads a sensation through him that he still couldn't figure out despite being around her for a better part of a year.

She takes his hand in her own (bless her for leading, because he certainly wasn't going to make the first move) and tugs him to the center of the empty room.

"Ballroom dancing is passionate, but not as complicated as one might think." She explains, "Just follow my lead."

When she tugs at his free hand and places it on her hip he's certain he had begun blushing profusely, though she (thank force) hadn't mentioned it.

A hand drapes on his shoulder and she steps closer to him, the space between them dwindling to barely nothing and he's certain that she can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Just follow my lead," she instructs with a smile, as if he was going to do anything but.

She steps backwards, prompting him to move forward with her and within seconds his feet bump hers and he fumbles some.

"I'm rather horrid at this." He notes, hoping the joking nature of his comment will mask his embarrassment.

"Just relax," She says with a laugh, "You had told me about the various fighting styles within the Jedi, right? Think of it as if you're learning a new form."

He snorts, "I won't be fighting anyone with a tango anytime soon, Satine."

She lets out another laugh, "You never know, Obi-Wan, perhaps one day this will save your life."

He can't but laugh too.

"Again?" She asks.

He nods, and once again she begins to move backwards, each step she takes precise and measured and he begins to think of every form he's learned since he was a youngling. Perhaps she brought up a good point; movement in all forms required patience and precision.

"See," she says, "You're getting the hang of it."

Plus, having control of his breathing was certainly helping him mask just how nervous he was holding her that close. No longer were they hidden away deep in the forests or shrouded in the cover of darkness. Now they were in the middle of Mandalores palace surrounded by her subjects. The time have together was quickly draining away.

She leans in, close enough to whisper in his ear, "You know there's no one around right now, you can actually hold me if you wish."

He about passes out then and there; rarely is she so brash about their relationship. More so than him, of course, but even her comments are made with some restraint.

But he does as she instructs and slides his hand from her hip bone to wrap completely around her waist, tugging her just a bit closer than she already was.

"Dip me." She instructs.

He blinks, "I beg your pardon."

She laughs, "Dip me, it's part of the dance. Honestly, Obi-Wan, have you never seen anyone dance before?"

Truthfully he hadn't really. Dancing was never something people did at the temple, and he can't recall a time on his various journeys to other planets that he'd seen anyone do so either.

But he does what she asks despite his trepidation, gently tipping her backwards. Not too far, because the underlying fear that he'd drop her was nagging at the back of his head, but just enough that she would be satisfied.

"See? Nothing to fear. You're going to have to twirl me too, just so you know."

Twirl. Right. That was something he could do; much less of a chance of dropping her.

Her gown flares out when he spins her. It's slow, nothing extravagant but just enough to truly accentuate the craftmanship her personal tailors put into her dress.

He catches her before she can make a final full turn and pulls her towards him, her back pressing against his chest and both his arms coming to loop around her waist.

She laughs, "Feeling bold, are we?"

The sound of her laughter sends another shockwave of adoration through him and - since he was feeling a bit bold, as she put it - he presses a chaste kiss to the exposed skin of her neck.

"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me." He teases, nipping his teeth against the same spot on her neck.

She sighs contentedly and drops her head backwards against his shoulder, "You leave in two days time, don't you?"

In an instant he feels the warmth from her touch rush out of him. Instead, a chill replaces it. He was leaving soon, and it hadn't quite dawned on him yet that this truly might be one of the last times they're alone. Soon they would be forced to go back to their separate lives. That is, unless she asked him to stay.

And he would. If that's what she had wanted from him, he would stay with her.

"I do."

"Hmm," she hums, "Then I suppose we should make this count."

She pulls from his grasp only to turn herself around and take his hand once more. If it were anyone else, he would have objected to dancing for even longer. But Satine wasn't just anyone.

"As you wish, dear."

So he humors her, twirling her around as many times as she wished (and only managing to stumble twice) for as long as she wanted. It wasn't much, but it was all that he could give her.

Unbeknownst to him, Qui-Gon had watched through the cracked doorway, smiling at them.

#obitine #obi wan x satine #obitine fluff #obitine fanfiction

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mrs-han · 4 years

Text

Say You Won’t Let Go

@juminweek2019

Day One: Birthday

Three years had passed. You sat by the window of your lake house and watched as the sun set over the fickle water while rubbing at your bare ring finger.

October fifth. Three years ago today, you and Jumin decided that it was best to be separated. Disconnected. Divorced.

You purposely slept in late on this particular day. If you couldn't sleep, you would somehow lull yourself to sleep with the use of sleeping pills, even a hefty capful of ZzzQuil. The later you rose, the better it was for your sanity.

You secured your robe and pressed yourself against the window ledge. Abruptly, your thoughts began to race - precisely what you were afraid of.

There were several benefits to no longer being married to Jumin Han. There weren't any more cameras following you. You didn't need to carry a black umbrella with you. Sweatpants and baggy t-shirts ruled your closet and dressers since you didn't need to worry about dressing up for any more special occasions. You didn't even need to bother waking up early in the morning to match Jumin's caliber. Now, you were your own woman.

Day by day, you were getting used to the cold, empty sensation of a wedding ring missing from your finger. You figured you would be used to it by now, but there was no use in rushing anything. Not only that, but you were also getting used to the cold, empty feeling of an unoccupied bed. You were happy... in the best sense of the word.

But one thought tortured you. There was a reason why you couldn't stand that day in particular. October fifth was Jumin's birthday.

A nice cup of tea would settle you. You grabbed a mug from your kitchen cupboard and placed your hands squarely against the counter. An unsettling feeling churned in your stomach - that's right. You hadn't eaten yet.

Opening the refrigerator, you immediately spotted a case of strawberries... and you froze.

~~~

"Do you have the strawberries, darling?"

"I sure do!" Placing the packaging on the marble countertop, you secured your apron around your waist and did the same with Jumin's. "Can we include chocolate chips this time?"

"We can do whatever you want, my love."

"You can't say that! It's your birthday! Not mine!"

~~~

With trembling hands, you pushed the case off to the side. Food could wait - fresh air sounded like a much better idea. A walk around the water, perhaps, would clear your mind.

Throwing your cardigan over yourself, you took a step outside, expecting the churning in your stomach to fade away.

It didn't.

Ballet shoes sinking into the soft soil, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. The wind embraced you lovingly, and as you wrapped your arms around yourself...

~~~

"It's chilly today, isn't it?" You rubbed at your arms and blushed as Jumin secured his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"I told you to put on your sweater," Jumin chuckled. "My birthday has the honor of being at the beginning of fall, so naturally. You need to cover your butt. Quite literally."

"Why should I have to worry about bringing a sweater or a jacket when I have you to cover my butt for me?" You teased innocently.

"Because. I may not always be by your side, as difficult as that is for me to admit," Jumin frowned. "As much as I want to protect you, it may not always work in my favor."

You grabbed his hand, blew into it, and rubbed vigorously. "Impossible. Minus business trips? You'll be by my side for the rest of our lives. In that span of forever, you can protect me, and I can protect you."

~~~

... You felt a tear roll down your cheek. The churning in your stomach intensified, but you had lost your appetite. Perhaps the insatiable feeling would go away if you...

No. That was a bad idea.

The idea of calling or texting any of the RFA members suddenly became a tempting idea. As guilty as you would feel about contacting any of them to get your mind off of your ex-husband, their shenanigans would at least have you focused on something - or someone - else.

Digging your phone from your pocket, you unlocked the messenger and felt a chill run down your spine.

Jumin was online.

Before you could respond to any of the members' greetings, you signed off and stuffed your phone back in your pocket. The last thing you needed was awkward feelings or confused sentiments.

No, the last thing you needed was to risk having to say anything to Jumin.

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to keep yourself from crying again.

~~~

"Jumin!" You charged towards him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. "You came home early!"

"I couldn't stand being away from you, especially not today." Jumin smiled broadly and held you with one arm, setting a bag on the floor. "I truly can't stand being away from you, my blessing."

"It's like we're the same person," you blushed, nuzzling your nose against his lips. "Come to the kitchen, let me show you what your cake looks like so far!"

~~~

You went from craving his gaze to escaping it every chance you could.

The churning in your stomach intensified, and only then did you understand what that sensation meant.

You missed Jumin.

But what were you supposed to do? He wouldn't want to see you, considering you avoided him every chance you could get. He would give your space because he was that much of a gentleman.

A migraine forming on the back of your head and your stomach stirring made you pace slowly through the house. There was no harm in texting him a happy birthday. Sure, it would be the first time you spoke to him after a year of deliberation. Still, an innocent 'happy birthday' wouldn't cause anyone any harm.

You dug your phone from your pocket again and hovered your thumb over past messages you had sent him. Messages you were too stubborn to delete.

'Happy Birthday, Jumin."

Your fingers flew over the keyboard and your eyes danced around those three words. Before your courage could abandon you, you pushed send and tossed your phone onto the couch, too afraid to see what he would say in return. If you heard your phone vibrate, you would do your best to ignore the message. At least you had done your good deed of the day.

Setting yourself back by the window, you closed your eyes.

~~~

"I love you so much."

"And I, you." Jumin brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. You were so lucky to have such a gracious man in your life, you knew that better than anyone. You reached over and stroked his cheek, reveling over the fact that he was yours. Yes, this stunning man was yours.

"Promise me that, no matter what happens? We'll always love each other, dear heart." His eyes met with yours - butterflies slammed against your stomach like they were desperate to reach out and embrace him as well.

"You are my first and only love, Jumin." Hooking your pinky finger around his, you beamed at him like a child on Christmas morning. "No matter what happens... you will always belong to me, and I will always belong to you."

~~~

Pressing your hand to your chest and hugging your waist, you knew all too well. You were still in love with him. But there were no do-overs, there was no going back.

You wanted to go back to sleep.

Throwing your cardigan over the couch, you were too drained to notice a notification light your phone up.

Jumin Han: "Thank you, MC."

#jumin week 2020 #juminweek2020 #mystic messenger #jumin han #mein schatz #you made me feel as though ~ i was enough ~

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severusthehalfbloodprince · 3 years

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SEVERUS SNAPE: LIFE | DEATH | REBIRTH

Personality: Cold, calculating, precise, sarcastic, ambitious, bitter, & passionate.

Occupation: Potioneer & Assistant to Professor Slughorn at Hogwarts.

Headcanons:

One of Severus Snape’s favorite reads in his pastime is The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli. For Severus, there is a lot to be learned and gained from the Machiavellian way of thinking. Not only to see how people get power, but ‘show the cards’ to the people for a better understanding. Gain power without fear of betrayal.

Severus has never been one to keep up with grooming or really any self-care. There was never enough money for properly matched clothes growing up, so Severus stuck with robes and keeping them washed as often as possible. However, he was often teased for his greasy hair and bad teeth. Since school, Lucius has been immersing him into Pureblood society, forcing him to do some well-needed maintenance. Now, he keeps new robes washed often and his hair is a little less greasy; overall, looking much less unkempt. In fact, he goes for the robes that suit his line of work, without embellishments or fluttery sleeves that would get in the way of his potions. Usually, his color of choice is black paired with white. Although now, again immersed in Pureblood society, he does wear dark blues and greens (even browns) since black is the color of mourning - something he will wear for the rest of his life after the events of Godric’s Hollow.

With war coming, Severus always wants to be prepared. Thus, he carries, not only his wand, but a couple of vials of both blood replenishers and dittany on his person at all times. There are spots in the cuffs of his robes and cape as well.

Family Background: As an only child, born to a cold household, Severus does not dwell on his family life and wants very little to do with them. In fact, the only thing he has ever kept from his father is his last name. His parents were: a witch, Eileen Prince, and a Muggle man named Tobias Snape. An awkward boy with a raw gift for talent – often hidden in scribbles betwixt the pages in his journals. Severus never liked being at home, trying to outrun the hate, fear, shouting, mistrust, and overall broken nature. It was what made him stay out hours on end, and eventually, meet Lily Evans. From there, she became his family. From then on, it became a world of possibilities, hope, kindness, and…magic. It both made him eager to start Hogwarts school with her; but dread is they were going to be sorted into different house; see their friendship, and Snape’s first glimmer of good in the world, dwindle.

Biography Before 1979: Severus Snape was raised in the Muggle Dwelling of Spinner’s End – close to the Evans family home. His parents were: a witch, Eileen Prince, and a Muggle man named Tobias Snape. Growing up, Severus was an awkward boy with little-to-no social skills; however, he managed to befriend his neighbor Lily Evans. While she was Muggle-born, Severus had taken a liking to her because of Lily’s rare, genuine talent for magic just as he had at a young age. Plus, both were ‘freaks’ in her sister Petunia’s eyes. It made a friendship from a common ‘enemy’, or at least someone that was a bully, thus bonded together. Petunia was harsh to Severus – making fun of his mismatched clothes and scrawny figure. The young red-haired girl helped Severus forget her unkind sister, sometimes defending him, but always making him feel uplifted by their conversations. And magic, of course. With Lily being his only friend, Severus often stayed with her for hours at a time, trying to avoid the neglect and abusive life awaiting at home. And…since the pair were so close, the young boy yearned for the dream that both he and Lily would be sorted into the same house once they were at Hogwarts.

Although, this very idea was shot down by other bullies.

On the Hogwarts Express, other upcoming students had shared their space and fought over which house was better. From that very moment, Severus never forgot James Potter or Sirius Black – and their mutual disdain for one another grew even more over the years.

At the beginning of school, even with being sorted into different houses, Lily and Severus remained close friends. Severus had always been in love with Lily, but his interest in the Dark Arts kept her from returning his feelings. Ironically, he thought that if he were successful in those endeavors, it would grab her attention. The only thing the Evans girl could really do, was try and give subtle hints she didn’t want him down that path – and continued to be his friend.

While he believed it was unrequited love, the pair often made jokes, playfully flirted, day-dreamed, studied, and brushed off Potter’s ‘achievements’ as just a ‘crave for attention’ from the young Seeker. It was their sort of “small revenge” to poke fun at Potter since Lily had, softly, confessed that she once hated him when they were younger from how the Gryffindor boy used to bully her and Severus. Although, the Gryffindor had still been a bully to him all the while. The pair thought James was arrogant and the actions of trying to ‘woo’ Lily were trivial. It wasn’t until one day when Lily tried to stand up for the Slytherin that their friendship took a turn for the worst. As usual, James and his horde of Gryffindors used one of Severus’ own spells against him, levitating him upside-down to reveal his underwear to a vast number of students, including Lily. While she, like many times in their childhood, came to his defense, it only made the situation worse. In his rage, Severus lashed out at James to recover his lost dignity. Subsequently, Severus inadvertently called Lily a Mudblood. She refused to forgive him for it, even after his repeated apologies. This is Severus’ worst memory. Their friendship then plummeted. He was left without his best friend and love…leaving nothing but disdain towards the Gryffindor boys.

Yet, that fateful night, when James ‘saved his life’ from a changed Remus, Severus’ loathing practically manifested into its own creature. He thought the Gryffindor boy only did it to protect his friend and prevent expulsion, when really, Severus knew James was trying to keep Lily from (actually) hating him. If James had let her once-close friend die or be bitten from a werewolf, Severus knew Lily would never forgive her housemate. The Slytherin grew bitter at the advances James put toward the girl he loved and a bit jealous since she stopped brushing them off so easily. The Gryffindor boy claimed his immaturity had dissipated, (though the Severus knew better) and Lily began to date him. Snape’s jealousy, rage, and resentment were to the point he’d never thought possible.

From that night on, Severus did all he could to learn more about the Dark Arts after being sworn to secrecy about his classmate by Dumbledore. The least he could do was gain the trust and respect of his own housemates. Perhaps, eventually, use his own spells against his bullies. Yet, he felt empty…having lost his only true friend…his first and only love…The influence of Slytherin had never taken more of a toll on him, shaping him into what he wanted to be after graduation. The Dark Arts completely fascinated him; as well as potions; having made commentary on his old textbook. Once Severus had become friends with his housemates, they showed him the world of Purebloods and, eventually, their cause. It was alluring…captivating…seductive.

Biography After 1979:

Soon after joining Pureblood Society, there was an immense pressure for Severus to join Lord Voldemort’s ranks after seeing the sheer passion and raw skill he had for the dark arts. In fact, many hid that Severus was a Half-Blood, calling his by the surname ‘Prince’ …all so that the young Slytherin could gain an audience with The Dark Lord and make his way into their ‘inner circle’ of The Death Eaters. Yet, there was a price. Many prices. Including the fact that he needed to gain their leader’s trust. It just so happened that, in early 1980, Severus saw Sybil Trelawney meet with Dumbledore for an interview as the next Divination professor and eavesdropped. He had not expected that it would be about The Dark Lord himself – or his demise. Unfortunately, he was thrown out and missed the ending of Sybil’s prophecy, arguably, the most important piece of it.

To gain Voldemort’s trust, he reported back what he heard. However, his heat plummeted to his stomach once his lord interpreted the target to be James and Lily Potter’s son. While it was dangerous to ask Voldemort for anything, Severus knew he had to try, and begged him to spare Lily – his childhood friend (and love; although, he would never admit such words to anyone in Voldemort’s ranks, much less The Dark Lord himself). Doubting Voldemort would keep to his word, Severus went to Dumbledore as well, asking him to do all that he could to keep Lily alive. Scolded by Dumbledore for such a selfish request, Severus amended his request by asking him to hide all of the Potter family in exchange to serve as the Headmaster’s spy in the Death Eaters. Desperate, Severus agreed.

Yet, on eve Hallowe'en in 1981, Voldemort arrived at Godric’s Hollow and murdered both James and Lily Potter. Saved by his mother’s love, Harry Potter survived, and Voldemort was killed. As the news of their deaths broke out, more violence was claimed by his comrades, while others shouted that the war had ended, carrying Daily Prophets with “The Boy Who Lived” as their headlines flooded the Wizarding World. After, Severus questioned Dumbledore relentlessly – claiming repeatedly that he would keep them safe. In that same breadth, The Headmaster said that they had put their faith in the wrong person – much like Severus had – and told him to protect Harry to honor Lily.

Replacing Professor Slughorn, Snape withdrew from the Death Eaters and Voldemort’s followers, and began teaching Potions at Hogwarts in 1981. Initially, he had wanted the position for Defense Against The Dark Arts, but Dumbledore refused, aware that Voldemort had put a jinx on the job, and rejected his application multiple times. Over the years, he led Slytherin House into success, flourishing as a young, ambitious professor, and guided them to many victories on and off the Qudditch pitch (much to McGonagall’s irritation at her once-student-now-colleague-and-even-friend). Although, that seemed to change its tune once Harry Potter and his class began at Hogwarts. Even so, Severus still kept his promise, protecting Harry Potter through the years.

Distrusted for his past as a Death Eater by those on Albus Dumbledore’s side, and hated by other Death Eaters for living as Dumbledore’s stooge for ten years, Snape continued living on to complete Dumbledore’s plan to protect Harry and defeat Voldemort. As a professor, Snape was a stickler for discipline, with little patience for foolishness, yet extremely effective in his job and well respected by the other professors. He treated Harry Potter with maximal coldness – never missing an opportunity to cause him trouble (as any variation from this would have cast suspicion on him in Voldemort’s eyes). However, in reality, he protected Harry on numerous occasions. While Severus was happy enough to cause the boy, who resembled his father (Snape’s hated rival from school days), humiliation and trouble, but never any actual harm or danger as he was still Lily’s son. He also had to avoid becoming too aware of Voldemort’s plans, so as to avoid being held responsible for allowing Harry and his friends to foil them.

Severus handled all this brilliantly – every action causing no mistrust on the part of Voldemort. During the 1991-1992 school year, he tried to prevent Quirrell from getting the Stone. In 1992-93 term, he tried to make sure Harry wouldn’t be expelled, though never treated him kindly. 1993-94 term, Snape brewed the Wolfsbane potion for Remus, though he suspected him of helping his old friend Sirius Black, and an attempt to apprehend the former, but the trio stopped him. Even so, Severus stood between the students and Remus, shielding them no matter the cost. Yet, nothing goes without consequence. Towards the end of the year, Snape revealed Lupin was a werewolf. Then, in 1995, when Voldemort returned, he was sent on a secret mission by Dumbledore to rejoin the Death Eaters and spy on the Dark Lord. When Harry began having visions, Snape was to teach him Occlumency, though their contempt made this fail. In July 1996, Dumbledore was cursed by one of Voldemort’s horcruxes. Gifted in dark arts, Severus was able to slow the dark magic, but knew The Headmaster-turned friend, would die from the enchantment. Dumbledore, of course, knew that Voldemort had tasked Draco Malfoy with killing him, but pleaded with Severus to kill him instead; gain the Dark Lord’s trust completely. Albus also invited Severus for an evening visit in his office, revealing the truth of Voldemort’s demise. When Snape learned that Harry had to die, he showed outrage and, ultimately, even after all these years, Severus still loved Lily – revealing his Patronus to be a doe. After making an unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy, and during the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, Snape kept his word and killed Dumbledore himself, tricking both Harry Potter and the Death Eaters. Shortly after, Severus fled the school, rejoining their ranks as Voldemort’s most trusted follower.

After killing Albus Dumbledore and fleeing the school, Snape once more rejoined the ranks of the Death Eaters. In the summer of 1997, Snape informed Lord Voldemort that Harry was to depart from his relatives’ house four days before his birthday. On Dumbledore’s orders, Snape told the Death Eaters the correct date so as to continue Voldemort’s trust in him. Snape then fed Mundungus Fletcher the idea of using seven decoys of Harry Potter during his movement to a place of safety so that when the Death Eaters arrived, they would not know who the real one was. In order to be consistent in his own role as a Death Eater, Snape confunded Fletcher so that he would not remember who told him. Because of Severus’ information, when the Order of the Phoenix moved Harry from Privet Drive they were ambushed by Death Eaters, and the Battle of the Seven Potters ensued. During the battle, Snape accidentally sliced George Weasley’s ear off with Sectumsempra while aiming at another Death Eater. Shortly after the battle, Severus visited 12 Grimmauld Place where, in Sirius Black’ bedroom, he found Lily Potter’s letter. Snape had cut off the letter and took the page, which contained Lily’s signature and love. He also cut off the picture of Potter family and took the page, which contained Lily, for himself.

In 1997, Severus returned and was named Headmaster of Hogwarts. All the while, he helped guide Harry Potter to Gryffindor’s sword and fooling the ones who protected The Dark Lord’s most precious items and secrets – the horcruxes. Without giving away his true allegiance, Severus did everything in his power to help the Potter boy so that good could triumph. Severus knew the consequences, and yet he did so willingly…somewhere, no matter how far hidden, having to come to care for the boy. Later, he was summoned to the Shrieking Shack, with Voldemort having believed him to be the master of the Elder Wand after being the one to kill Dumbledore. In order to gain the upper hand and have his wand work for him, Voldemort reasoned that Severus had to die. Nagini bit Snape and injected him with poisonous venom. Snape released a cloud of memories and told Harry, who had watched from a hidden spot, to take them, then died…looking into the eyes that reminded him of someone familiar; an old friend…

#bio #hc #development #catching up before plot begins #life death rebirth

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teffyjeffy · 4 years

Text

Fabric Tears (Part 1)

SKIP TO PART 2

SKIP TO PART 3

NEXT CHAPTER (Coming Soon to the Mystery Shack!)

ONCE UPON A TIME...

TABLE OF CONTENTS

It was a quiet night in Gravity Falls.

...okay, no it wasn't.

Owls were hooting, bats were shrieking, cults were chanting, the usual stuff.

Most of the townsfolk on the other hand were sound asleep, oblivious to the eerie noises surrounding them outside their living spaces. They took no notice of the gnomes scrounging for food. Of the black cats hissing a warning. Of the wind howling at the moon.

Because of this obliviousness, nobody noticed the pitter patter of a lone critter stumbling down the road, malnourished and shivering from the snow that stuck to it like soot. The critter scuffled down the streets blindly, letting out small ragged huffs of air. Eventually the critter had no strength left. It crawled its way to the nearest shelter it could find. Luck was on its side apparently, as there was a giant spot up ahead. It had lights that could keep the creature warm, and an overhead structure to keep it sheltered. But food... it needed food...

The animal's blurry senses could not pick up any source of food, so it moped along, hoping to at least find a good place to rest.

Then... it saw something in the distance... a large structure, lights shining all around it, inside and out. The obscured figure rushed over to find a way inside. But it's depleted strength made it impossible to find a way in. Feeling sleep overcome themself quickly, the creature huddled over to the softest thing it could feel, and huddled up against it for warmth. Oh... there was food too... it managed to get a few nibbles in before drifting to sleep

It would resume its hunt for other food tomorrow night...

GravityTale

Everybody at the Mystery Shack was dead.

Figuratively, of course.

The Mystery Shack was finally ready to open to the public. But as the last slab of wood was hammered into the ceiling of the gift shop, and the last exhibit burnt in the Tim incident was finally replaced, the whole crew came to a realization.

After all of that work, the last thing anybody wanted to do was spend the day dealing with the mad rush that always comes with the reopening of a popular store.

"All in favor of not opening the shack today, say aye," announced Wendy from her usual spot in the gift shop.

"Aye," replied human and monster alike, except for Sans, who was out cold.

And so that was that. Today was immediately established as a take-it-easy day.

It appeared that Mabel missed the memo.

"What do you mean 'No?'" she griped at Dipper, who was refusing to get out of bed to play with her.

"I mean the phrase that is usually uttered in order to express disagreement, disapproval, and a whole lot of other words that start with 'dis-' that I am way too tired to recite right now," mumbled Dipper in his bed. "And violently shaking my bed is not going to help you change my mind. So cut it out."

Mabel paced around the room, her hands up in exasperation. "It's a sunny winter wonderland outside, and you're telling me I'm the only one eager to get out there and enjoy it?!"

"That's precisely what I'm telling you," Dipper groaned in his pillow. "With all the stress of fixing the shack, and nothing around to fuel me but coffee and Pitt Cola that I'm tired of drinking, I feel like I'm at Death's door. Like, Death has a welcome mat out for me and everything. Maybe he's even making tea."

"Not with your current attitude he wouldn't," grumbled Mabel. "He'd just give you more coffee and Pitt Cola."

"Then let me sleep! The more you keep me awake, the more cranky I'll get from it!" argued Dipper.

But Mabel was quick to shoot back. "If I let you fall asleep now, you're just gonna wake up in the middle of the night while I'm asleep! That's no fun, Dipper! Stop being such a Mr. No-Fun!"

Dipper simply grumbled back at her. "Just drop it Mabel. I'm tired. I'm only getting out of this bed if a future-me teleports in here and demands that I do so."

A second went by. Two seconds. Three seconds. No time machines materialized in the kids' bedroom.

"I rest my case," said Dipper, before pulling the covers over his head. Any further attempts to get him out of bed were futile.

Mabel frowned. "The next time we have a snowball fight, your team is going to get an automatic penalty."

But Dipper was already fast asleep.

Mabel huffed, opening the door to exit the bedroom.

WHAM!

Only to collide right into Frisk.

The collision sent both kids to the ground, landing on their bottoms somewhat painfully.

"Owwwwww," Mabel muttered, before looking up and seeing who it was. "Oh! Hey Frisk!"

"Hi Mabel," greeted Frisk, rubbing their forehead as they stood back up with Mabel's help. "Sorry about that. I should have knocked..."

"Don't worry about it~! I've collided with Dipper's forehead so many times in my life, I barely feel a thing now!" she said while beaming with pride.

"That's... good I suppose," said Frisk with a gentle chuckle of embarrassment.

"So watcha up to?" asked Mabel, causing Frisk to stumble a second, still not used to how quickly Mabel could change subjects.

"I'm um... pretending to look for my dress-up cowboy lasso," said Frisk, looking back with a hint of annoyance towards the stars that lead down to the first floor. "Dad insists it must be somewhere in this shack, but I am almost certain that it was gone before my family and I entered the Mystery Shack for the first time."

"Huh," said Mabel, putting a hand to her chin and looking upwards at nothing. "Perhaps some gnomes snatched it while you weren't looking?"

"That seems very possible, albeit unlikely," said Frisk, ending the topic by tilting their head to see Dipper's slumbering figure and asking, "He still isn't up?"

"Nope," growled Mabel. "He's insistent that he won't change his mind later, either. Ugh, and I had a bunch of winter activities planned for today!"

"Well that's a shame," said Frisk. "But then again, when it came to maintaining order in the shack for the past couple of days, Dipper did do the most work out of all of us."

"Like what?" asked Mabel.

"Well..."

"Papyrus, what are you doing?! Spaghetti is not meant to be baked at that temperature! Grunkle Stan, where do we keep the fire extinguisher again?!"

"No Mettaton, I cannot listen to your historical life of glamour right now, I need to put out another fire in the museum! Now hand over the hose, and stop pouring it all over yourself! And while we're on the subject, how come you don't rust or short circuit by doing that?!"

"Undyne! It's a washing machine! It's not going to hurt you or anyone else, so just put the spear away! Wwwwwwhoawhoawhoa WHOA HEY DON'T AIM IT AT ME!!!"

"Napstablook, I appreciate it, but I don't think that you are capable of helping me move this piece of furniture. No no no don't cry! I wasn't trying to bring you down, I mean you're LITERALLY incapable of- oh! H-hey Mettaton! Hoo boy... you look like you're ready to kill me..."

"Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh I guess you're right," concluded Mabel.

"I really am sorry that my family can be a handful sometimes," said Frisk somewhat embarrassed.

"Nawwwwww it's alright! It's a lot of fun!" said Mabel, patting Frisk on the back.

"I am pleased you feel that way, but I have a feeling that Dipper would disagree with you," said Frisk in a joking manner.

"Well that's because he would rather suffer from his lack of energy instead of taking some time to drink some Mabel Juice. If he did, he would never complain about being too tired ever again!" countered Mabel, speaking as if she was a superhero addressing a nation.

Frisk laughed. "You know, you keep bringing that drink up. But for a drink that you're always talking about, I don't believe I have had a chance to try it."

Stars twinkled in Mabel's eyes. "Well then let's put a stop to that! TO THE KITCHEN!"

Before Frisk could agree or disagree, Mabel was pulling them down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Mabel pulled out a seat for Frisk, who calmly sat down. After that, Mabel darted for the fridge and cupboards, snatching an unidentifiable liquid, some ice cubes, and a whole lot of sugar. She didn't bother to shut any of the cupboards as she went over to grab a couple of measuring pitchers and measure out more sugar than actual liquid. After that, Mabel poured the sugar and juice into a giant mixing bowl and rushed off to hunt down the other ingredients. All the while, Mabel was eagerly explaining the process to Frisk.

It was during this excited chatter that Frisk observed Mabel open another cupboard and take out a box of... crayons?

"Ummmmmm," said Frisk.

"No interrupting!" hollered Mabel in an off-key sing songy voice, dumping the (yep, those were definitely) crayons into the mixture. "Never disrupt Master Juice Mixer Mabel when she is guiding her newest pupil through the process!"

"I um..." Frisk paused for a second before pushing through "I l-like my drinks without crayons. I er... I don't like the way they taste."

Mabel paused. After an awkward amount of time passed, she looked down at the now-empty box of crayons that was floating at the top of her brew. Her gaze eventually trailed down further, to spot the aforementioned crayons that had sunk to the bottom of the bowl. Frisk still did not know what made Mabel tick, but their guess was that Mabel would simply tell them that the recipe calls for food coloring. As such, Frisk was ready to give her some alternative solutions. Such as using normal food coloring.

So it was a little surprising for Frisk to see Mabel's smile become a concerned frown.

"...was I responsible for this?" asked Mabel.

"...I believe you were," replied Frisk awkwardly.

"That's.... pfft, yeah, those crayons are not supposed to be in there. Heh wow, how did I manage get so sidetracked...?" concluded Mabel, dumping the bowl and starting over, her face a little more pink than before.

Well that was... weird. Now the mood of the whole room felt... extremely awkward. It was the same uncomfortable atmosphere that Frisk experienced when they forgot to get hot dogs for Dipper and Monster Kid, during the Bike Romp Race...

Frisk concluded that desperate measures were necessary in order to bring the mood back into a state of normalcy.

It was time to unleash... the puns.

"It's fine Mabel. I'm sure the fruit juice will come out just fine, as long as you concentrate on doing your best~"

Mabel had to halt the process of making the drink just so she could keep a straight face. This sudden pun-attack could not go unpunished, of course. So she retaliated. Hard.

"Ha!" said Mabel, standing up in a pompous stance, her left hand on her hip and her right hand open and hovering a few centimetres in front of her mouth in mock laughter. "A stranger waltzes in and has the gall to coach me on how I concoct my signature drink? You clearly are not one of my staff! You mean to overthrow me! I Vitamin-C right through your pathetic scheme~!"

Frisk snorted. "Why no, what ever gave you that idea~? I beg of you to take a step back and recon-Cider my intentions!"

"How dare you!" reprimanded Mabel, giggles no longer able to be withheld. "I will hear no more from you! Cease this attack, or face Juicetice!"

"Okay! I sugarrender! I sugarrender!" hollered Frisk, holding their hands up in a mock-yielding before flopping down on the table in a fit of laughter, while Mabel was sprawled on the floor cackling.

"That's another swift and powerful victory for me!" said Mabel when she finally regained composure. "Just wait till I tell Undyne!"

"She'll be quite impressed, I'm sure," said Frisk, playfully. "Careful though, she might challenge you to a fight if you boast too much."

After a few minutes, the questionable drink was ready for serving. Mabel grabbed a few translucent mugs and poured out the Mabel Juice, allowing her own glass to have just a little more of the drink than Frisk's. Frisk thanked Mabel as she gave them their drink, despite how uneasy Frisk felt about the whole situation.

"You ready to give your body a giant wake up call?" said Mabel excitedly.

"No time like the present..." said Frisk nervously.

Frisk took a decent sip of the concoction while Mabel downed hers in just a couple of gulps.

"SO!!!" barked Mabel, slamming her fists on the table and almost spilling the startled Frisk's drink. "What do ya think? It's good, right?"

The lack of crayons definitely helped, thought Frisk.

"Very energizing," spoke Frisk.

Frisk felt that their answer was peasant enough, so they grew a little concerned when Mabel's response was with a slightly slacked jaw accompanied by absolute silence.

"M-Mabel? You oka-?"

"eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" screamed Mabel, leaping out of her seat and running around the kitchen. "FRISK LIKES MY DRINK!!! FRISK LIKES MY DRIIIIIIIINK!!!"

Frisk couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle before them. "I guess so!"

At that point, Stan decided to step in.

"Alright ya trouble makers, I'm gonna have to confiscate these for the time being," said Stanley, carefully yanking the drinks out of the kids' hands and returning them to the mixing bowl, which he put in the fridge. "You're gonna have to wait till tomorrow to finish the rest."

"Awwwwww why?" pouted Mabel.

"Because as we all have established, today is a take-it-easy day," explained Stan, before calling outside. "Right Soos?"

"That's right, Mr. Pines!" answered Soos with a thumbs up. "All dudes within the Mystery Shack are being subjected to a 24 hour stress free environment with no exceptions. I cannot stress this enough. Oh wait, heh, guess that defeats the purpose. Wow, this is harder than I thought..."

"You see?" said Stan, returning his focus to the kids. "You gotta understand, we've all had a giant string of eventful days. New faces, bedding arrangements, the Mystery Shack getting destroyed again, me training for a bike competition and winning it- you folks seeing the pattern here yet?" A single nod from both children was all the man needed. "We've all been running on adrenaline for a good long while now, and we're starting to feel the aftermath of it. So just this once, you're going to have to lower the energy, Mabel. Or at least the volume of it."

"C'monnnnnnnnnnn" guffawed Mabel, one hand giving a wrist flick while the other hand rested on Frisk's shoulder. "It's not like there's other folks here that are as anti-Mabel-Energy as Dipper is today."

It wasn't like she was lying. She saw energetic faces all around the place. Papyrus was as attentive as always, sitting in one of the four living room chairs (since Soos had finally gotten around to adding more seats to the shack from the storage room to accommodate for the monsters) and he seemed to be... knitting. Asgore didn't appear to be exhausted either; the only sigh he gave was one of contentment as he sat on the back porch couch and took in the scent of pine covered in snow. Napstablook was never capable of falling asleep, and as he fazed into the living room, he seemed to have a face that suggested that he felt lucky that ghosts never feel tired. Mettaton had just replenished his battery, so he could be heard loudly singing from the basement. Sans was snoring in the attic, but it's not like Mabel had to worry about waking him up. Stanford was studying in his lab, and it was located deep enough underground that no chaos on the surface floor could distract him, not unless the chaos was catastrophic. So honestly, where was the harm?

Stan shook his head with a slight frown. "I dunno about that, sweet cheeks," he said with a grumble, pointing to the gift shop.

Frisk followed Stan's gaze and scanned the gift shop as well. They then turned back to look at Mabel, their face emanating concern. "He's right, Mabel."

Now Mabel was curious. She peered over to the gift shop to see what kind of fuss was happening over there.

What she found were Toriel and Wendy, who appeared to be having a normal conversation. But Mabel was a dowsing rod when it came to cheerfulness. And boy oh boy were Toriel and Wendy devoid of it.

Toriel seemed especially distant. She still greeted anybody who passed by with a cordial "Hello," and she always gave nods and similar minuscule movements in response to whatever Wendy was talking about. But the Goat Mom's usual cheer and open personality was disturbingly lacking today.

Wendy, while not looking as troubled as Toriel seemed to be, appeared miserably drained. Her complexion was paler than usual, her hair wasn't as brushed, and the bags under her eyes looked heavier than... heavy stuff.

"Whoa," managed Mabel, looking back to Stan and Frisk.

"So yeah," said Stan, "Let's try to keep the noise down, eh kiddos? For their sake if not my own?" He added, ruffling Mabel's hair.

"Of course, Mr. Stanley," said Frisk with a nod of understanding, before adding a little more quietly, "Are Mabel and I still allowed to play?"

"Huh," said Stan with a huff. "Looks like someone's trying to find a loophole in my instructions."

Frisk blanched slightly. "Well sir I-"

"I like your style, kid. We'll make a shady businessperson out of you yet!" declared Stanley, hefting Frisk up to give them a noogie. Frisk, having grown accustomed to Undyne's noogies, found Stan's to actually be ticklish.

"Sure, go on and play! Knock yourselves out!" said Stan, setting a softly laughing Frisk back down in their seat. "This is considered a 'me day' after all!"

"Can it really be called a 'me day' when all of us are expected to relax today?" asked Mabel slyly. "Sounds more like an 'everyone day' to me!"

"Mabel, sweetie, I already have my snot nosed smart-alec of a brother criticizing me on my grammar. I don't need my bubbly grand niece chastising me on my word choices. Besides, calling it an 'everyone day' makes you sound like Karl Marx. And we all know what that lead to."

"I dunnooooo," said Mabel, looking off to the side and giving a comical shrug, which gave Frisk a small chuckle. "'Mabel Marx' has a nice ring to it~!"

"Yeah well so does 'Stanley Stalin,' but you don't see me changing my name to that, do ya?" countered Stanley.

"Good point," said Mabel with a nod, before walking up to Frisk, gripping their arm, and pulling them out of their seat. "Welp, I'mma go play with Frisk now! C'mon Frisk! Let's see what Undyne and Alphys are doing! I wanna tell them about my drink!"

"O-okay!" said Frisk, slightly startled but not putting up a fight as they were guided away from the kitchen. "S-see you later, Mr. Stanley!"

"Play nice now!" said Stanley. "Oh, and hey! It'd be best if you left my brother alone for the time being, alright?! He’s trying to coax some info out of that weirdo Tim, and I have a feeling it isn’t going so well! The runt chucked a globe at me just for startling him!"

"Got it!" Mabel hollered, while Frisk simply gave the man an 'OK' sign. Then they both darted off.

Under his breath, Stanley muttered, "That man really needs to cool his jets sometimes..."

"Is This Action Of Globe Throwing A Habit Of Yours?" asked the metal head of Tim. "If It Is, I Must Urge You To Drop This Habit As It Is Unhealthy To Maintaining Strong Relationships To Friends and Family."

"Argh!" groaned Stanford, pounding his hands on the desk in front of him and darting his head to glare at the talking scrap metal. "No, it is not a habit, and if you would stop freaking out every time I say 'proph-' ... I mean, every time I say that word, I may not feel so inclined to throw things! So why can't you just cooperate?!"

"Sir, This Is No Mere Bug That I Can Just Erase. It Is Elusive As Much As It Is Exclusive. But If It Makes You Feel Better, I Am Able To Bring Up Other Methods Of Destruction Without Being Overpowered By The Error That You Identify As 'Insanity.'"

"That's not going to help me much, Tim. But I suppose it gives you credibility. Alright fine, go ahead," said Stanford, tapping his foot impatiently.

"As You Wish," said Tim. "Storms. Solar Explosion. Volcanoes. Tidal Waves. War. Meteors-"

"Okay that's enough," said Stanford, holding up a finger to halt Tim's explanation. "You made your point."

"Perhaps We Should Save This Conversation For Another Time. Maybe Then, I Will Have Figured How To Delete This Malicious Program. Perhaps With A Proper Wipe Of My Memory Banks, I May-"

"No no no hold on. Your memory of this pro-... omen is important. I just need to find away to coax it out of you without triggering the bug."

Stanford took a long deep breath. "Now then. Let's start from the top again. A couple weeks back, my grand nephew presented me with this black journal that he found. At the end of the first page, it appears to speak of what seems like a proph- let me rephrase that-"

"Stop Thinking About Not Saying 'Prophecy.'"

"Tim, I'm not a helpless buffoon. I can keep myself from saying- wait, how come you have no problem saying 'prophecy?!' Oh shoot-"

"THE ANOMALY WILL DOOM ALL." shrieked Tim, eyes glowing red while sirens blared throughout the lab. "IF THE DOOR STAYS LOCKED, ALL IS LOST! LOST!! LOOOOOOOOSSSSST!!!"

"Sigh... Nice going, Stanford..." cussed the scientist to himself, reaching for his ray gun once again to shut the screaming contraption up.

Mabel was just finishing up explaining her drink, with Frisk alongside her, to Undyne and Alphys in the museum when the shack quivered for a second.

"Whoa, did you feel that Alphys?" said Undyne, standing up straight "Something caused the floor to violently rumble. Another attack? Would people get mad if I said I wanted that to happen?"

"Th-they probably wouldn't get mad at you Undyne," responded Alphys, having also felt the rumble. "B-but I reeeeaally hope we aren't getting attacked again. Stanley would s-surely make us leave if the shack were to be destroyed a second time. Especially after we had j-just finished fixing it."

"No worries, ladies!" chirped Mabel, "It's probably Grunkle Ford. Grunkle Stan said that he's been toying with Tim's head and that the results were leaving him um..."

"Frustrated?" tried Frisk.

"Yeah, frustrated!" said a smiling Mabel. "Grunkle Ford tends to get a little explosive-happy when he's frustrated. But only while working in his lab."

"Why is he trying to get information from the head of a murderous AI? Doesn't that sound a little counterproductive?" questioned Undyne with slight exasperation.

"Y-yes, it is quite improbable that Tim will be willing or able to t-tell us anything," said Alphys, her hands marginally fidgeting. "B-but unfortunately, Tim is the only lead we have to find out if this a-anomaly is simply a glitch in the AI's system or is actually a real-life threat."

"Hm. You have a fair point there babe," said Undyne, satisfied with Alphys's answer. "Well, if that anomaly exists, it better stop existing reeeeaaal soon, or it's gonna have to say hello to my fists! And then it'll immediately have to say goodbye to my fists! BECAUSE I WILL KILL IT! WITH MY FISTS! NNNNNNNGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"U-undyne, please lower your voice," said Alphys in nervous hushed tones. "Some of our friends are trying to n-nap."

"Pfft. Lower my voice? You know I can't just do that," said Undyne, folding her arms almost in a grumpy pout.

Mabel looked to Frisk. "I connect with this woman on a spiritual level."

Alphys fidgeted with her hands. "W-w-well then how about we go outside for a walk? O-or a run if you prefer? That way you can shout all you want without bothering anybody in the shack?" suggested Alphys, her own cheeks beginning to turn pink.

Frisk caught this and smirked at Undyne. "Undyne, I believe you are being asked out on a date~"

"M-maybe," timidly admitted Alphys, looking down to the ground, smiling despite her embarrassment.

Undyne blushed as well, her normally huge toothy grin shrinking down to a tiny nervous smile, almost cat-like. "No fair Alphys, you know I can't say no when it comes to going on a date with you..."

Alphys shyly chuckled. "It's my ultimate t-trap card."

"Oooh, maybe we'll encounter the anomaly while we're outside!" said Undyne to Alphys, the former's fists clenching in excitement. "And then you can watch me bash its skull in!"

"I fear for the survival of the anomaly's skull," said Frisk, making Mabel giggle.

"W-well if we stumble across it, I'll leave it to you, Undyne" said Alphys, a smile on her face.

"Shall we?" said Undyne, extending her hand with a grin.

"S-sure," said Alphys, taking Undyne's hand bashfully.

Without warning, Undyne flung Alphys onto her shoulders, and they charged out of the exhibit room and out the front door.

"Are they always like this?" asked Mabel to Frisk. "Please tell me the answer is yes."

"The answer is yes," confirmed Frisk, their classic stoic expression never leaving them.

"I have no idea if you are being sincere or just parroting what I said," said Mabel bluntly.

"And thus, I have created the one mystery that shall never ever be solved by either of the Pines Twins," said Frisk, a tiny smirk showing on their face.

"If Dipper was here, he would smack you for that remark," teased Mabel.

"He can try~" said Frisk, the smirk becoming a smile.

Papyrus had just finished putting his knitting needles and scarf away in the small lamp cabinet next to him in order to take a quick break, when he noticed a very peculiar occurrence happening right in front of him.

Toriel had unplugged the television from the wall and was getting ready to pick it up from the floor.

"UM, QUEEN TORIEL?" said Papyrus, cocking his head. "MIGHT I ASK WHAT YOU ARE DOING?"

"What I am doing is none of your concern. And please stop calling me 'Queen' Toriel," said Toriel, in a very harsh, un-Toriel-like tone.

"THE WEIGHT OF THAT TELEVISION SEEMS TO BE AGGRAVATING YOU, MISS TORIEL," incorrectly deduced Papyrus. "NOT TO FEAR, FOR I AM TRAINED IN THE ARTS OF LIFTING TV'S! GENTLY SETTING THEM DOWN, ON THE OTHER HAND, TENDS TO BE MESSY. BECAUSE MY ARMS FALL OFF."

Toriel's took in a very strained inhale of breath, before she released her tension with a deep sigh. "I do not need any help lifting this television, thank you Papyrus. But if you would be so kind as to not look into this matter any further, I would greatly appreciate it."

"OF COURSE, MADAM!" bellowed Papyrus with a hearty salute. The salute then slowly descended as Papyrus's face expressed confusion. "UM... WHAT MATTER ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT?"

"Nothing Papyrus, nothing," said Toriel with a half hearted chuckle as she resumed carrying the heavy television out of the living room.

Mabel and Frisk tiptoed through the gift shop, not wanting to bother a cranky Wendy who was venting to Napstabook. The ghost was, to his credit, listening very attentively.

"Then Undyne says that I should look them all in the eye and yell 'If any of you have a problem with that, I'll suplex you into a mountain!' Which, I mean, I appreciate her willing to help, but nothing she ever suggests to me is a good idea when put into practice. It's frustrating, you know?"

"I'm sorry to hear that................" mumbled Napstablook sincerely. "I would offer you my own advice, but I'm sure you'll only find it worse than Undyne's...................."

"Napstablook, you absolute sugarcube, all I need is your listening ear right now."

"I technically don't have ears......................"

As soon as Mabel had both of her feet on the living room carpet, she bounded right up to the still-confused Papyrus.

"Hey there Pappy Man!" said Mabel, using her inside voice but vigorously waving hello to make up for it.

"HM?" said Papyrus, Mabel's greeting shaking him out of his stupor. "OH! GREETINGS, MABEL! HAVE YOU ALSO COME TO TAKE A PIECE OF FURNITURE? IF SO, I WILL GLADLY HELP YOU CARRY IT!"

It took a second for the baffled Mabel to realize the TV was missing. "Huh. I was wondering why this room seemed a little roomier than usual..."

"We do not require any furniture, thank you Papyrus," said Frisk, having caught up to Mabel. "May we ask who it was that took the television?"

"I WOULD LOVE TO!" exclaimed Papyrus. "HOWEVER, I WAS ASKED TO NOT LOOK ANY FURTHER INTO THE MATTER!"

"Oh..." said Frisk, hiding their disappointment. "And... who asked you to not do that? Is it somebody we know?"

"OH YES, IT IS SOMEONE YOU KNOW VERY WELL!" said Papyrus with a single solid nod.

"So, not a burglar then?" said Mabel, almost bummed out that there wouldn't be an opportunity to chase a robber down the streets of Gravity Falls. On her list of things to do when she was the only energetic person in the room, chasing a robber was number four. Numbers three, two, and one were classified.

"CORRECT, HUMAN MABEL! MISS TORIEL IS MANY THINGS, BUT A BURGLAR IS NOT ONE OF THOSE THINGS," said Papyrus proudly, before realizing his mistake two seconds later. "NYOO HOO HOO!!! I PROMISED HER I WOULD NOT LOOK FURTHER INTO THE MATTER, BUT I CANNOT HELP IT! WHAT IS SHE PLANNING TO USE THE TELEVISION FOR?!"

"Mother took the TV?" said Frisk, perplexed by the answer inadvertently given to them by Papyrus. "But why would-"

Frisk's eyebrows rose up in sudden understanding, and they went uncomfortably silent for a few seconds, much to the curiosity of Mabel, and Papyrus to a lesser extent.

"Thank you Papyrus. I appreciate your honesty," said Frisk, ending the subject before anybody could say anything. Just as quickly, Frisk started up a new conversation, having now noticed the knitting needles poking out of the lamp cabinet. "Papyrus, are you knitting something?"

Papyrus beamed, all too eager to talk about what he was currently working on. He opened the lamp cabinet to bring the needles and scarf out and showcase them to the two kids. "INDEED I AM, HUMAN! MISS TORIEL HAD BROUGHT THE IDEA UP TO ME AFTER TASTING MY LATEST (AND DARE I SAY GREATEST) SPAGHETTI DISH! I'M SUPPOSING SHE BELIEVED THAT I HAD ACHIEVED THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF CULINARY PERFECTION, BECAUSE SHE WAS VERY INSISTENT THAT I PERHAPS MOVE ON TO A NEW HOBBY!"

The kids were pretty certain that Toriel's reasons for doing this were different than from what Papyrus believed them to be.

"SO I DECIDED THAT IF I HAD MASTERED SPAGHETTI AS AN EDIBLE DISH, PERHAPS I COULD MASTER THE ART OF SPAGHETTI THROUGH A DIFFERENT CREATIVE OUTLET!"

Frisk and Mabel realized that the primary colors of the scarf that Papyrus was knitting were faded orange and vibrant red.

"You're making a scarf that looks like spaghetti?!" asked Mabel, her eyes brimming with total awe.

"YOU GOT IT!" said Papyrus excitedly. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL REVOLUTIONIZE THE FASHION INDUSTRY WITH MY AMAZING SPAGHETTI SCARF!!!"

"Ooh! OOH!" said a bouncing Mabel, a super awesome amazing idea spawning in her head. "Can you knit Teddy bears?! Do you charge for them? What do you require? I'll give you the money from my Brother's secret stash! I'll give you every single one of my friendship wristbands! I'll give you the schematics for the Human Sized Hamster Ball." pleaded Mabel, getting right up to Papyrus's ear-socket to intensely whisper the last part.

"OF COURSE I CAN KNIT TEDDY BEARS, LITTLE MABEL! UNFORTUNATELY I HAVE YET TO MAKE ONE THAT IS RECOGNIZED AS A TEDDY BEAR BY EVERYBODY ELSE. THEY USUALLY MISTAKE THEM FOR OTHER OBJECTS. LIKE A PILE OF LEAVES, FOR EXAMPLE. OR A SMASHED CAKE. OR TRAMPLED FLOWERS. SANS ONCE MISTOOK ONE OF MY KNITTED TEDDY BEARS FOR THIS VERY PECULIAR RESIDUE THAT SPAWNS WHEN A HUMAN 'DRINKS' TOO MUCH... BUT HE ASSURED ME THAT HIS EYES WERE STILL BLURRY FROM JUST WAKING UP AND THAT HE WAS CERTAIN THAT IT WOULD LOOK A LOT BETTER IF HE WAS FULLY AWAKE. WHICH IS WEIRD BECAUSE HE MOST CERTAINLY HAS NO EYES... WHICH LEADS ME TO BELIEVE THAT HE WAS LYING TO ME... WHY WOULD HE FEEL THE NEED TO LIE ABOUT HIS OPINION OF ONE'S ART? ISN'T ART SUPPOSED TO BE OPEN TO THE VIEWER'S INTERPRETATION? THAT'S WHAT UNDYNE TOLD ME ONCE, AFTER SHE HAD ALMOST SET ONE OF FRISK'S DRAWINGS ON FIRE BECAUSE THEY MADE HER FACE LOOK SILLY..."

"Did Undyne really try to do that?" asked Mabel to Frisk, in surprise.

"She did try," confirmed Frisk, with a stoic-faced nod. "She failed though. She left my drawing alone. She used to tell me it was because she wanted to come up with a better punishment for the drawing. But quite recently, she admitted that she caught a glimpse of how upset I was and decided not to go through with torching the drawing I made."

"Can I see the drawing?" asked Mabel sweetly.

"No," answered Frisk, maintaining their emotionless expression flawlessly. "Undyne's face is too weird. You may develop the urge to light my drawing on fire."

"Nawwwwwwww, no I wouldn't!" said Mabel, jokingly rolling her eyes as she smiled brightly. "I'd put it in my scrapbook!"

"I cannot risk it," said Frisk, clearly joking.

"You cannot hide from Mabel Piiiiiines! No secret is safe from herrrrrrrr! She knows all, and whatever she doesn't know about, she leaaarrrnnns aboooooouuuuut!" said Mabel, moaning and wiggling her outstretched hands like a cliche ghost from any old Saturday morning cartoon.

"That sounds like a massive invasion of privacy," pointed out Frisk.

"No secret is saaaaaaaaafffeeeeee~!" wailed Mabel, completely ignoring Frisk.

"ACTUALLY, WHILE WE ARE STILL ON THE TOPIC OF TEDDY BEARS," chirped up Papyrus, "I BELIEVE THAT THE LAST TIME I SAW KING ASGORE, HE WAS HOLDING WHAT LOOKED LIKE A TEDDY BEAR IN HIS HANDS. HE DIDN'T LOOK TOO EXCITED ABOUT IT THOUGH... PERHAPS HE HAS FORGOTTEN WHAT A TEDDY BEAR LOOKS LIKE?"

"Well then perhaps we shall visit him next?" Frisk asked Mabel.

"Well duh! Of course we are!" said the very excited Mabel, taking Frisk's arm. "Have fun with the knitting, Papyrus!"

"WILL DO!" hollered Papyrus, waving enthusiastically as Mabel and Frisk made their way to the back porch to meet up with Asgore.

Asgore wouldn't say that the object in his hands disturbed him, but he would not say that it didn't unsettle him either.

The Teddy bear that he currently hand in his hands had seen better days. Its dark plum fur was damp from snow and crusty from dirt. There was also a substantial amount of stuffing that was missing from it, but no matter how hard Asgore investigated, he could not find a single tear in the stuffed animal's stitching.

"Strange..." muttered Asgore, for perhaps the fifth time since discovering the stuffed toy curled up next to the tattered couch.

Did it belong to Mabel? Asgore wanted to say yes, but then again, Mabel was a girl who treated stuffed animals like her own children, surely she would not let a Teddy bear become so void of stuffing. And she had a knack for keeping track of her items. If this bear belonged to her, it never would have ended up abandoned outside in the first place...

Maybe the lack of stuffing meant it belonged to Undyne? No, of course not, don't be silly Asgore. Undyne was ferocious, yes, but she is not one to use her own stuffed animal for training practice. And if she did, the Teddy bear would be in tatters...

Maybe Frisk? No, once again. Of the many toys that they had brought up to the surface after their journey in the underground, a Teddy bear was never in Frisk's box. And besides, Frisk is as kind to stuffed animals as Mabel is.

Asgore continued to list off possible owners of the strange toy, and all of them resulted in a no. He was so preoccupied with figuring out this mystery that he never saw Mabel sneaking up on him to scare him. Or so she thought.

Instead, Asgore startled her by jerking his head in her direction, a joyful smile on his face.

"Why howdy Mabel! Trying to give this old soul a scare, are you? I apologize, it will take more than that to catch me by surprise."

"Awwwwww man! Why do you have to be so cool, Goat Dad?!" complimented a pouting Mabel.

Asgore responded with a boisterous laugh, reaching out to scratch Mabel's head with a big warm fluffy paw. "I don't know if I see myself as 'cool'. Just 'prepared.'"

"What are you doing out here, Dad?" asked Frisk, joining Mabel. "I find you sitting on this couch more often than I find you inside. Aren't you cold?"

"Not at all, child!" laughed Asgore. "Winter on the surface is a wonderland compared to the underground. As for what I am currently doing out here..."

Then Asgore held up the malnourished looking Teddy bear for the children to see.

"I found this small toy nestled up next to the couch. I have no idea where it came from or who it may belong to. Would either of you have an idea?"

Frisk took the stuffed animal to inspect it more thoroughly. As they did so, a frown slowly developed on their face.

"There's something about this bear that I don't like..." commented Frisk.

Mabel peaked behind Frisk's shoulders, since Frisk appeared to be too focused on the item to hand it over to her. As she inspected it, her expression turned quizzical.

"It's probably because this poor Teddy is absolutely filthy!" remarked Mabel. "He needs a bath, pronto!"

"Well yes, but that's not what I meant-" Frisk attempted to interject, but the blink of an eye, the Teddy bear was gone from their hands and into Mabel's hands.

"Just look at the poor guy!” said Mabel. “He looks miserable!"

"Are you sure that it's the dirt that's making the Teddy bear look miserable, and not the facial thread itself?" replied Frisk after a few seconds of silence.

They weren't far off. Looking at the toy's face, the stitches and threads definitely gave the Teddy bear a forlorn expression.

"Okay so maybe the designer of this bear hated their job and wanted to let the whole world know," said Mabel, rolling her eyes. "But a clean bear is a happy bear, even if their stitched face does not reflect it!"

"Let her wash the bear Frisk," kindly advised Asgore. "It's best that we have it nice and clean in case its owner shows up to the shack looking for it."

Frisk pouted for a second before conceding with a nod of their head. "Yes Dad."

"Very good," beamed Asgore. He ended the issue by patting Frisk on the head, which managed to coax a smile out of the young ambassador.

"Great! Meet you at the laundry room!" squealed Mabel, darting back inside the house with bear in hand, not feeling the need to drag Frisk with her this time.

This gave Frisk a chance to get up on the couch and sit next to their father. They looked up at him, their stoic expression showing a hint of concern.

"Um... Dad? Mother hasn’t been looking too well..."

"I know, Frisk," said Asgore, his voice low and somber. "As much as it hurts though, we need to leave her be. It's what she wants."

"But is she like this every year? Isn’t that unhealthy for her?" asked Frisk with growing concern.

Asgore gave a long sigh, sinking into the couch despite his sitting position remaining rigid. "That is probably the case, my child. But you know how bad I am at making the right call when it comes to those who are in distress.”

Frisk looked down, not knowing how to reply to that. Instead, they slumped off of the couch, walking over to the back door leading back inside the shack. They turned to Asgore, looking ready to say one last thing, but debating whether or not it will have any effect. Finally, they spoke.

"Then I will."

And they opened the door and walked back inside.

The king let out a downtrodden sigh, unaware of the miniature hole in the side of the couch that appeared to have been bitten into recently.

"And those are the steps involved!" finished Mabel.

"My my! Such a complex system~! Even though I'm sure I could come up with a much better one~ Alas, you beat me to the punch~ I envy you, little Mabel~! " Mabel had decided to chat with Mettaton, who was in his EX model, while waiting for the loud drying machine to finish drying off the Teddy bear. The discussion had started with Mabel's plans for fixing the Teddy bear, and eventually evolved into discussing an interesting monster from the Underground, named Woshua.

"So wait," said Mabel, "The reason you guys didn't have washing machines in the underground was because you had somebody who was basically their own washing machine? That's wild!"

"Indeed!" confirmed the charming robot. "He was not a fan of it though. At first, the poor fellow was very cross with being one of the very few sources of cleanliness in the underground. And even though they loved to clean, and eventually grew used to their new role in the underground, it was only a matter of time before they began to grow tired of it. Burnout is never to be taken lightly, darling. Remember that~"

"Oh believe me, I'm aware," said Mabel with a wearied huff of laughter. "I've been trying to teach my brother that lesson for the last five years. Actually, for the last forever."

"Oh yes~ The boy gags at the mere thought of taking a break," chuckled Mettaton, before deciding to change the subject. "So, you said that Asgore found this beaten up stuffed toy next to the couch outside? And nobody has seen it prior to today? Sounds like the perfect premise for a B-list horror flick~"

"You mean a flick where the animation is stop-motion and the monsters are made of clay?"

"Well I wouldn't stoop to such shallow effects if I was directing that kind of movie. But yes~"

"Would I be the leading costume designer?!"

"You would splatter bright and loud colors on every single costume, for every single lead and ensemble member, and completely ruin the common color palette of horror movies," said Mettaton. "Of course you would be my leading costume designer~" he added with a smile of delight.

Just then, the dryer emitted a small *ding!* and the machine grew silent.

"Allow me~" said Mettaton, extending his arms to fetch the toy from the dryer without ever having to shift from where he was standing, eyes closed and a glamorous smirk donning his face, like he just finished juggling ten knives flawlessly.

Mabel giggled, rolling her eyes in a teasing manner, and took the bear from the proud robot's hand. "If I could be as glamorous as you are, I don't think my body would be able to handle it. My spirit would break free from this physical vessel and ascend to Glamour Heaven."

"Of course it would! Which is why I, a ghost in the vessel of a robot, am the only one capable of reaching such heights! Although... doing so would mean losing contact with my friends and family, so... I'm going to hold off on that for a while."

"Awwww that's really sweet of you to think of them!" said Mabel, squeezing her bear and swinging it from side to side while keeping it close to her chest.

"Thank you Mabel," said Mettaton, giving the young girl the most genuine smile she had ever seen from him.

Mabel beamed back, and lifted the bear to give it a proper look now that it had been cleaned.

Except for the sullen expression that remained on the toy's face, the bear looked much better. Its fur was radiant and smooth, and its cute beady eyes almost shined. The bear was still somewhat raggedy due to its lack of stuffing, but Mabel decided that she would address that on a later date. Knitting was one thing, but sewing a bear back up was a different beast. A beast she could easily vanquish, but the only weapon in her current arsenal that could slay the beast with was the Mystery Shack's old sewing machine. And that thing was loud. And given the typical luck of the twins, it was probably haunted too.

"I hope this new companion of yours does not spark envy from your pet pig," joked Mettaton, bringing Mabel back to reality.

"Naaah, Waddles is very understanding! Besides, he's lately been very occupied by playing around with Frisk's dog."

"Frisk doesn't own a dog though..."

Suddenly the door for the washing machine burst open, revealing a pig and a Samoyed dog, both sopping wet and smiling. They leaped out of the device, shook themselves clean, yipped and oinked with supposed satisfaction, and trotted out of the laundry room.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mettaton in understanding. "That dog!"

"Yeah, that's the fluff-ruff that I was talking about!" said Mabel, not appearing to be phased by the fact that both the puppy and Waddles managed to get inside an active washing machine and survive. She did know however that there was no collar around the puppy's neck.

"Yeah, he's a curious fellow," admitted Mettaton. "I don't think anybody I know has ownership of that particular puppy. Actually, he has this look in his eyes, like he believes he owns us."

"What, you think we are dealing with a possible puppy dog uprising?!" said Mabel, seeming more excited by the idea than intimidated by it.

"That would be headline-worthy indeed~ Don't let your guard down, my little maple leaf~" joked Mettaton, using the nickname that he had established for Mabel.

"Oh stop," replied Mabel, playfully elbowing Mettaton's leg, since that was as high as her elbow could reach.

"I should probably get going," continued Mabel. "Don't wish to keep you from your singing! Sounds great by the way! The next time I host a karaoke night, remind me to invite you!"

"No need to invite me! I am more than happy to crash your party~" proudly proclaimed Mettaton, which Mabel guessed was his way of expressing gratitude for being invited. "Now run along, darling~!"

When Frisk found Mabel again, it was in the parlor room. She was in a rocking chair, rocking back and forth excitedly, her arms extended forward and wiggling the bear in her hands.

"And I’m gonna call you Mr. SnuggleLots, and you'll be the honorary guest at my next tea party, and I'll introduce you to Waddles, ooh, OOH! And also I'm gonna find a way to get more stuffing for you so you can be all plushy again!! GO ME!!!"

"Hello again, Mabel," greeted Frisk.

"Frisk!" exclaimed an excited Mabel, her face lighting up when she saw them. She sprung out of the rocking chair, shoving the Teddy bear into Frisk's field of vision so it was the only thing that they could see. "Look at this sparkling clean little cub! Isn't he the cuuuuuuutest thing ever!?"

"I admit that he looks a little better now that he is clean," admitted Frisk, "but I'm still unnerved by how abandoned he looks."

"One step at a time, Frisko," soothed Mabel, patting Frisk on their shoulder. "I am going to put Mr. SnuggleLots through Mabel's Rehabiliteddy Program™!"

"Mabel's Rehabiliteddy Program™?" repeated Frisk, subconsciously surprised by their own curiosity. "What is that?"

"A list of steps I've made for abandoned Teddy bears that I find. I would have told you about this earlier if you joined me in the laundry room, but it's okay; I'm telling you now!"

"So what are the daily steps?"

"Day one is washing the bear. Day two is feeding the bear. Day three is a tea party for the bear. For Mr. SnuggleLots, I may need to add a fourth day for emergency surgery to take care of his unsatisfactory level of stuffing."

"Or to locate the owner of the bear," responded Frisk.

Hearing that, a thought crossed Mabel's mind.

"Yeah, but, here's the thing," said Mabel, beginning to lightly pace in a circle, "What if this bear has no owner?"

"What gave you that idea, Mabel?" asked Frisk, tilting their head and raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Mettaton and I encountered the white dog again. You know, the one that I saw in the cave full of ice crystals? Ooo that reminds me I still want to make a charm necklace with the crystal that you gave me BUT ANYWAY-! That dog? He had no owner!"

"So you believe we are dealing with a stray Teddy bear?" deduced Frisk, having followed Mabel's line of thinking after deciding that explaining the difference between stuffed animals and pets to her would be futile.

"I'm not saying we are," corrected Mabel, lightly poking Frisk in the center of their chest. "But I'm saying we could be."

"I see," said Frisk.

"So, if need be, day five will be dedicated to finding a home for this little tyke if we can't locate his original owner!" concluded Mabel, squishing the bear one more time before setting it down on the rocking chair. It said in a sitting position for a few seconds before the insufficient amount of stuffing caused it to slump over. "Day four will definitely be for stuffing him up again though."

"That sounds like a plan," concurred Frisk. "I have one more question though."

"Ask away!" said Mabel, folding her arms and taking a proud stance.

"Is there any downside to doing more than one step on the same day?" proposed Frisk.

"Not really..." said Mabel, beginning to gently pace in a circle as she contemplated Frisk's question. "It depends on how the bear is feeling. I can just tell from the fur and the face if they wish to speed up the process or not. But for Mr. SnuggleLots..." she glances to the slouched form of the thin bear, "I believe taking our time is crucial. As much as I don't wish to spread it out, it is better in the long run. Malnourished creatures can easily get sick if you try to take care of them all at once."

"You learned that from Dipper, didn't you?" said Frisk with a knowing smirk.

Mabel blushed slightly. "Yeah..." she admitted, "...but I'm the one who puts his knowledge to good use!" she added, regaining her honor.

"Well that's good," said Frisk, the smirk becoming a smile. Then they walked over to the bear and picked it up. "We should probably get this guy to our bedroom."

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly. Frisk and Mabel enjoyed dinner with the rest of the crew, though Dipper was absent, and Sans as well, strangely. All the while, Mr. SnuggleLots was sitting pretty and piper atop the nightstand that separated Dipper's bed from Mabel's. When Frisk and Mabel returned to the bedroom, Dipper was still fast asleep.

"Wanna draw a mustache on him???" asked Mabel with a devilish grin.

"It's best we don't test him," said Frisk, before adding with a sly smirk "Another time perhaps~"

Mabel giggled once more before stifling a yawn. "Goodnight Frisk."

"Goodnight Mabel," replied Frisk, sleeping into their sleeping bag.

Then the lights went off.

Just as Mabel suspected, the middle of the night had Dipper suddenly turning in his bed. But it wasn't because of how royally messed up his atomic clock was.

It was in fact because his face was being blasted with hot air that smelled like dog breath.

“mmmmf… mmmno… no I don’t need anymore candy… mm? chocolate taffy? Mmmmmy favorrriiiite…"

Then there was an audible "huff" and Dipper was wide awake.

"Wha...?"

And there, atop of Dipper's chest, face hovering over his...

Was a plum furred, hungry bear. One that was very much alive. And Drooling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

PART 2

SKIP TO PART 3

NEXT CHAPTER (Coming Soon to the Mystery Shack!)

ONCE UPON A TIME...

TABLE OF CONTENTS

#gravitytale #gravity falls #undertale #underfalls #surprise!#I forgot I used to post these to tumblr in parts #and I definitely thought this was enough for a part one #hope you enjoyed!

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