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kpophours · 4 years

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Sweet Night (M)

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, camping trip AU / fluff, smut / REQUESTED

➵ warnings: slight cursing, explicit mentions of sex (slight public teasing, orgasm denial, oral: receiving, slight choking)

➵ word count: 6k (lol oops)

a/n: after a few anon requests/inquiries, I decided to write this one shot as the second part to Way to You - you can absolutely read this on its own though.

I’M WALKING ON SUNSHINE, OOOOOOH! I’M WALKING ON-

Your eyes fly open as soon as the song starts blaring from somewhere beside you, and you blindly fumble for the alarm clock, thankfully managing to find the off-switch quite quickly. This very annoying clock was a horrible yet also kinda thoughtful birthday gift from Chan’s roommates, as it’s quite possibly the loudest one on the market, meaning it is able to wake literally anyone. It could probably even wake Dracula from his deep slumber in the depths of his castle somewhere in Romania. And while Chan might not be a vampire, he isn’t one to wake easily either, so this extremely loud alarm clock was the only solution your friends had been able to come up with. Which sadly means you experience something close to a heart attack every morning - or well, at least a few times a week, as you do still spend some nights at the apartment you share with Jisung.

You fall back into the pillows, heart still racing from the sudden noise. Pale sunlight filters through the curtains and into the otherwise dark room. You groan, blinking against the rays of light hitting you straight in the face, and turn around to cuddle into your boyfriend’s broad back. He hums, only half-awake himself, and turns around to wrap both arms around you, leaving a lazy kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere in the house, and you jump. Chan sighs deeply, and murmurs “Hyunjin, probably.” under his breath - it’s no secret that his roommate is a walking disaster. You don’t answer, only pressing a soft kiss on his naked chest. “How’d you sleep?”, he asks, one hand beginning to trace gentle patterns on your bare back. “Like a rock - which was exactly what I needed after my midterms.”, you answer, and he nods. “You more than deserved that, babe. I’m really proud of you, by the way. I’m sure you aced all your exams.”, he says, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words. You look up at him, gently cupping his cheek, and kiss him. He basically melts against you, pulling you even closer towards him, and bites down on your lower lip to slide his tongue into your mouth. Before this can end in a steamy morning make-out session, there’s a knock on Chan’s door. He groans and draws back from you, expression grumpy. “What?”, he then yells, shooting daggers towards his door. “Just wanted to make sure you’re up, we’re supposed to be leaving in an hour!”, Felix answers, sounding way too cheerful so early in the morning. “Ugh, I hate morning people. Just once I want to get up in the morning without having to go through the seven stages of grief first.”, you mumble, your warm breath tickling Chan’s neck and making him giggle and wiggle away from you. “Yeah, we’re up!”, he quickly answers Felix, who shuffles away from the door, before turning towards you again, “Wait, aren’t there only five stages of grief? What are your extra two?” “Denial part two and astral projection.”, you answer, and Chan laughs before giving you a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Breakfast?”, he then asks, and you nod. “Absolutely. I need coffee, and lots of it.”, you agree, and he rolls his eyes. “I swear, by now there’s definitely coffee running through your veins instead of blood.”, Chan mumbles, before jumping out of bed to grab his underwear from the floor. You just chuckle and follow him, but can’t seem to find your bra anywhere. “What the Hell…”, you mumble under your breath, twirling around once in a desperate attempt to locate it. “Uh. Looking for this?”, Chan asks and you follow his gaze. You both burst into loud laughter when you spot your bra happily dangling from the ceiling light. “Well, we had to be very fast yesterday evening. Clothes went flying, and quite literally it seems.”, you say, lips twitching while you stand on your tiptoes to get your bra, and Chan nods in agreement. “Very fast indeed - but we couldn’t let the others begin the movie night without us! We had valid reasons.” He grins and wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to him again, giving you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back again, expression stern. “No time for that, we have to get ready, eat breakfast and you still need to pack some of your stuff before we can leave. And we don’t want to let the others wait, right?” You sigh and pout. “No, we don’t, apparently.”, you just answer, and wiggle into your jeans and turtleneck, finally ready to leave the privacy of Chan’s room and get something to eat.

The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes greets you when you arrive downstairs, and you inhale deeply. Felix is standing in front of the stove, humming a soft tune under his breath while working on making the tower of pancakes beside him even taller. He turns around when you enter the kitchen, giving you his signature sunshine smile. “Morning, Y/N.”, he greets you, “Slept well?” You nod and peek over his shoulder. “Yup. And have I ever told you how much I love you?”, you ask, stealing a piece of pancake directly out of the pan, and Felix tries to swat your hand away before he chuckles. “Shouldn’t you say that to Chan, not to me?”, he replies, and your boyfriend, just entering the kitchen behind you, sighs deeply. “She’s an opportunist, meaning she’ll tell anyone she loves them if it means she gets what she wants, so beware. I actually rarely hear her say it to me.”, Chan says warningly, and you shoot him a dark look. “Oh shut up, that’s so not true. I tell you I love you at least once or twice a day, you needy baby.”, you grumble, and just then, Minho joins the small kitchen party. “Needy baby? You’re not talking about Hyunjin, are you?”, he asks, ruffling his crazy bed hair while filling a mug with coffee, sighing contently when he takes the first sip. You grin and shake your head, before taking a mug out of the cabinet yourself.

Said roommate also enters the kitchen just then, face looking quite puffy. You raise both eyebrows. “Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?”, you ask, and take a sip of coffee to hide your shit-eating grin. Hyunjin throws you a dark glare, and crosses both arms in front of his chest. “No. But I did have a slight mental breakdown after realizing I probably failed my last exam yesterday, so I decided to treat myself to some late-night-ramen, and now I look like this.”, he points at his face, beginning to pout, “God just hates pretty people, he’s clearly punishing me for my dashing looks.” “Or maybe he just doesn’t like narcissists.”, Jeongin offers when he enters the kitchen, shoving Minho out of the way to get to the kitchen cabinet almost overflowing with mugs. You decide it’s finally getting too crowded in the kitchen, and leave it again. You’re absolutely not a morning person, and can’t deal with the boys’ constant bickering without having experienced the positive effect of the caffeine you’re currently consuming.

Seungmin is sitting on one of the sofas, currently scrolling through Instagram and apparently trying to like every cute puppy pic in existence. “Morning.”, you greet him and take a seat beside him, peeking over his shoulder and cooing at an extremely cute baby golden retriever. Seungmin just greets you with a curt nod of his head, not being a morning person either, and keeps scrolling. Minutes later, Felix enters the living room, balancing a giant plate of fresh pancakes in front of him while all the other boys follow him like stray dogs. “What would you guys even do without Felix cooking for you all the time?”, you ask, mouth watering when you inhale the delicious smell. “Starve and die.”, Seungmin deadpans, while Jeongin answers: “We’d have to look at Hyunjin’s ugly bloated face every day because we’d solely live off ramen.” Hyunjin hits the back of his head for that, but the younger boy just shoots him his cheshire cat grin. “I mean, I could cook too, I guess.”, Chan says, frowning, and everyone bursts into loud laughter. “Wow okay, I’ll try not to take this personally…”, your boyfriend grumbles, and sits down at the dining table. You slide onto the chair next to him, and pat his thigh affectionately. “I love you, babe, but you literally didn’t know how to whisk eggs when we wanted to bake cookies last week.”, you say, and Chan sighs. “That’s... sadly fair. But I could learn!”

“No offense, but we actually like our kitchen intact - thanks for your humble offering though. If Felix should die unexpectedly, we might get back to you.”, Minho answers, and before the situation can escalate into a playful bickering battle, Felix yells “SO, WHO WANTS PANCAKES?!”, successfully managing to distract everyone.

One and a half hours later, everyone is packed and ready to go - you’ve planned this little getaway for almost two months now, everyone having finished their first round of exams at this time of year and being able to just relax for a bit. For some reason, the boys had wanted to go camping, and as you, Jisung’s girlfriend Lina and Hyunjin’s girlfriend Marie were clearly outnumbered by the boys, you hadn’t really had the chance to disagree with them. But you honestly don’t even mind, having gone camping lots of times already and just being happy to enjoy some time with your closest friends. Only Changbin won’t be able to join you guys, as he’s currently doing an internship and wasn’t able to request some time off.

Chan is just about to lock the front door to the frat house, when Jeongin zooms past you, yelling for his older roommate to wait. “I forgot something extremely important!”, he explains, almost breathless, and disappears into the house again. “What’s he getting now?”, your boyfriend wonders, and shoots you a questioning gaze. You just shrug, and let your bag fall to the ground, too lazy to hold onto it while waiting for the youngest of your group. A few minutes later, Jeongin comes back, a huge grin on his face and a giant stuffed animal in his arms. Chan blinks a few times, and opens his mouth to say something, but he gets cut off by the younger boy: “You guys can cuddle with each other, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than cuddle with Minho, Felix or Seungmin, whoever I’ll end up sharing a tent with. But I do wanna cuddle with someone, so Mr. Sunshine it is.”, he explains stoically, and you just nod in support. “I totally get that, plus I wouldn’t be too sure that Minho doesn’t just turn into a bat or something like that during the night. He’s at least part demon, we all know that.”, you say, and Jeongin giggles.

You’re truly prepared to give him anything whenever he smiles at you like this, his eyes almost disappearing, teeth almost blindingly bright. While you detain from squishing his cheeks, you do poke the dimple on his left one, being too endeared by him. He swats your hand away, of course he does, but you still bask in the victory of having poked his cheek. One thing to cross off your to-do-list for today.

“Okay, let’s go to the others.”, Chan finally says after locking the house, and without you having to say anything, he takes his and your bag and walks over to where the others are waiting beside the cars. Chivalry is not dead and you’re ready to swoon over your amazing boyfriend. “Okay, we still have to pick up Jisung, Lina and Marie.”, Chan says after he’s put your bags into the trunk of his car, “So, who’s gonna ride in which car?” “Well I obviously want to ride with Marie.”, Hyunjin says, a goofy smile on his face - they have been together for almost a year now, but he’s still very much extremely whipped for her, but luckily, she seems to feel the exact same way -, and Minho murmurs a sarcastic “Shocking, really.” under his breath. “I want Jisung and Lina in our car.”, you quickly say, and Chan gives you a short nod. Of course you’d say that - Jisung is your best friend after all, and you’ve grown quite close to Lina as well. You’re also good friends with Marie, but Jisung just wins this round - not that you’d ever tell that to his face, he’s too cocky as it is, no need to push his ego even more. “Then Minho, you take Hyunjin, Marie, Felix and Seungmin, and I take Y/N, Jisung, Lina and Jeongin, okay?”, Chan suggests, and everyone agrees. Five minutes later, all the bags are safely stored away and everyone has taken their seats. Being Chan’s girlfriend means you get to ride shotgun, something you’re more than thankful for, knowing how crowded the backseat is going to be once you’ve picked up Jisung and Lina. “See you in a bit!”, Felix yells through his open window, and flashes you his extremely cute gummy smile. You wave at him, immediately returning his smile, and successfully ignore Minho’s mock salute and cocky grin while he backs out of his parking spot, almost cutting Chan off.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung and Lina are squished into the backseat with Jeongin, all three having bright smiles on their faces. “Road trip, whoop!”, Jisung yells and gives you a high five, “Happy to have a few days with y’all before we have to face the sad reality of probably having failed most of our exams!” Lina beside him rolls her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, I’m sure most of us will have aced everything.”, she says, and Jisung wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple. “Sorry, but I have literally only one functioning brain cell and I use it to overthink.”, he explains, yelping when she playfully tickles his side. You chuckle at their bickering, and hit play on your road trip playlist - a second later, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody fills the car, all of you immediately beginning to sing along. “LET’S GO!”, Chan yells over the sad attempts of everyone trying to imitate Freddy Mercury, and backs out of the parking lot. You smile and interlace your fingers with his. He cheekily returns your smile, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. Over a year of being with him, but you still swoon over this simple yet sweet gesture. Yes, you’re just that whipped for your boyfriend, and what about it.

It doesn’t take long for you guys to arrive on the interstate, you and Jisung trying to trump each other's impressions of Beyoncé singing Single Ladies (and failing miserably, sorry Queen B). Your belly almost hurts from laughing with your friends, and you can’t wait for the rest of the weekend to begin.

Minho’s car arrives before Chan’s, and of course he’s gloating about it the second you guys join forces again. But you can let him have this small victory, and decide to just ignore him for now, helping Chan get the bags out of his car and to the campsite. It’s quite cold, the air crisp now that the sun is slowly beginning to set again, but you brought lots of blankets and sleeping bags, so you should be fine. And at least the weather means there aren’t any other campers here right now, so you have the whole area, including the washing rooms, to yourselves, which is nice.

Setting up camp takes longer than anticipated, mostly because Jisung somehow manages to crash into his and Lina’s almost finished tent twice, which means they have to start from the very beginning again. She truly has the patience of a saint, simply smacking him over the head rather playfully before picking up the sad remains of their tent to begin the whole building process again. Chan and you, having gone camping lots of times already, are quickest with finishing your tent, so afterwards you offer to help Jisung and Lina with theirs, while Chan does the same for Minho and Jeongin. Marie, an experienced scout, has set up hers and Hyunjin’s tent in record time as well, and takes pity on Felix and Seungmin, quickly building the tent for them. After an hour, your camp has successfully been built, and everyone begins to search for firewood.

Felix decides to make a giant pot of spicy chili sin carne for tonight’s dinner, and as soon as all the plates are filled, your conversations slowly dwindle down, everyone too busy with eating. “Lix, you’re a cooking genius, Gordon Ramsey found jobless.”, Marie says around a mouthful of chili, giving the blonde boy a bright smile and the thumbs up. He waves her compliment aside, blushing profoundly. “Thanks, but it’s honestly not that difficult - you just have to follow the recipe, if you’re too scared to improvise.”, he murmurs, and she throws a small piece of kindling at him. “You should really learn how to take compliments.”, she teases playfully, and he shrugs. “Okay, okay, I’m the best cook ever.”, he says sarcastically, and Minho raises one eyebrow. “Whoa, now don’t get ahead of yourself.”, he replies, and Felix smacks him over the head. “You can’t cook at all, so for once, you should just stay quiet.”, you say, and Minho sighs dramatically. “What can I say… We all have our weaknesses. I, for example, am extremely good-looking and tragically funny.”

You almost choke on your chili because of his audacity, and lift your fork in front of your face, staring through it and at Minho, who just frowns at you. “What are you doing? Why are you looking at me through your fork?”, he asks, obviously confused by your behavior, and you give him a lopsided smile. “I’m pretending you’re in jail, it’s spiritually healing.”, you explain, and Chan beside you bursts into laughter, the others following him quickly. Minho begins to pout and sticks out his tongue at you, always the mature one. “It’s okay if you don’t enjoy my dashing looks and hilarious humor, not everyone has good taste. That’s why you picked Chan over me after all.”, he claims, and you answer by throwing a piece of wood his way, making him squeal and dive for cover. Just then, the flames of your fire flicker and slowly begin to die down. Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin stand up to go get some more firewood, but somehow, the latter one’s shoe gets caught between two logs and with a loud yelp, he tumbles to the ground. “What the Hell is he doing?!”, Chan groans, and Jeongin deadpans “Sadly his best.”, before he begins walking over towards his friend to help him, but Marie is faster, already dragging her boyfriend up from the ground with tears of laughter in her eyes. Hyunjin’s cheeks are red from embarrassment and he murmurs something about nature being out to get him, before he, Marie and the other two boys disappear into the forest to get more firewood.

The rest of the evening is filled with playful banter, soft guitar music from Jisung, and funny childhood stories. Lina soon begins to nod off, her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder while he continues to strum a soft tune on his guitar, humming along. When he notices his girlfriend is about to wander into Morpheus’ realm though, he’s quick to place the guitar back into its bag, and wraps both arms around her. “I think it’s time for us to retire, huh?”, he says, leaving a gentle kiss on Lina’s forehead. She blinks sleepily, and smiles up at him. “It’s pretty safe to assume that at any given moment, I want to go back to sleep - so yes, I agree, time to retire.”, she answers, and Jisung chuckles, before standing up to declare: “Well, we’re off to bed now!” Minho and Seungmin boo immediately, while Jeongin murmurs something like “Old people” under his breath - even though he’s literally only one year younger than most of you guys.

“So, as I’m legally required to kiss my homies goodnight, y’all getting some smooches!”, Jisung says, already walking towards where Hyunjin and Marie are sitting, bodies entangled and breaths mingling. Hyunjin looks up and shoots his friend a murderous look. “I swear, if you kiss me, I’m going to dump you into the river.”, he threatens, but Jisung just grins. “How about you dump your girlfriend instead and run away with me? We’d make such a pretty couple.”, he says, making Hyunjin roll his eyes. “Bro, no offense, but I’d be the pretty one in this relationship, and while everyone can clearly see you already have quite the experience being the ugly one in a relationship” with that, Hyunjin first points at Jisung and then at Lina, who bursts out laughing, “I don’t think I’m ready to hear your constant whining about my face being prettier than yours. So thanks, but no thanks, I’ll stay with Marie.” “Wow, I feel so honored and loved right now, babe.”, Marie says sarcastically, “But does this mean you think you’re the pretty one in this relationship as well?” Hyunjin goes into instant panic mode, quickly reassuring his girlfriend that she’s far prettier than him, while she tries to keep a stern expression on her face, but everyone can clearly see the way her lips twitch. She just loves teasing Hyunjin, and you honestly can’t blame her for that, especially not when it’s just so easy.

“Okay, goodnight, then!”, Lina interrupts their playful bickering, and gives everyone a soft smile, before dragging Jisung towards their tent. Everyone wishes them a good night and sweet dreams as well, and then Seungmin clears his throat. “Time for some ghost stories, don’t you think?”, he says, voice low and grin almost evil when his eyes find Hyunjin, who immediately falls silent. Everyone knows he’s a huge scaredy cat, which is quite funny seeing as his own girlfriend is a big fan of horror movies and stories. Truly a match made in Heaven. Seungmin just raises one eyebrow, expression challenging - but when no one contradicts him, he begins to tell his first ghost story.

It doesn’t take long until Hyunjin is pretty much sitting on Marie’s lap, shooting daggers at his friend while his girlfriend is trying very hard not to laugh at him. You yourself cuddle closer to your own boyfriend, smiling when he presses a soft kiss against your temple. Your eyes rest on the big bonfire, following some sparks drifting into the dark night sky from time to time, and you sigh contently. This, right here, is your happy place - in the midst of your friends, just laughing and joking with them, not a care in the world. Midterms lie behind you, and you’re currently not even thinking about your grades for once, your anxiety at rest. This trip was truly a great idea, maybe even Jisung’s best one so far.

“Okay, wanna hear a really creepy one-”, Seungmin begins, and Hyunjin has finally had enough, standing up and taking Marie’s hand into his. “Well, goodnight!”, he says, a determined expression on his face, and pulls his girlfriend towards their tent. Marie suppresses an amused smile at her boyfriend’s dramatics, and waves at everyone, before following him inside the tent. Seungmin just grins evilly and shrugs. “He’s so soft hearted.”, he then says, and leans back, obviously content with his work. “Okay, maybe it’s three demons, not only two.”, you murmur into Chan’s ear, and he chuckles. You’re always joking about Minho and Hyunjin being demons, as they’re constantly testing your nerves by just being themselves, plus they were definitely the main plotters behind the plan to get you and Chan together - not that you’re complaining about it as their plan had worked pretty perfectly and in your favor. “In the end you’ll probably find that I live with six demons.”, your boyfriend murmurs, and begins to play with your fingers. You shake your head. “Oh no, Felix is definitely an angel, not a demon.”, you disagree, and Chan nods. “Okay, that’s true. The others though… Well, time will tell, I guess.” “Or holy water.” He just laughs and gives you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back. “Later.”, he murmurs against your lips, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you shiver involuntarily. He grins at your reaction, before turning his attention to Seungmin’s new ghost story again.

You on the other hand feel hot and bothered all of the sudden, and decide to tease your boyfriend a bit. So you place your hand on his thigh, not moving it for some time, until you slowly slide it higher, bit by bit. At first, Chan doesn’t seem to notice or care, until you’re getting dangerously close to his crotch. Then, he quickly leans forward so the others can’t see what you’re doing, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”, he asks, voice low, and you smile innocently. “Nothing.”, you answer, and have finally reached your desired destination, slowly beginning to palm his semi over his jeans. “How about you be a good girl and stop?”, he breathes out, but you know he doesn’t actually want you to stop - you know him well enough for that by now. Still, you decide to play along. “Oh, I’ll gladly be your good girl.”, you whisper, and quickly withdraw your hand. He groans at your words and the sudden lack of contact, and locks eyes with you. “Tent. Now.”, he grits out, and stands up, pulling you with him and hugging you from behind so your body hides his erection from the others. “We’re tired too, so goodnight!”, he says in a fake cheerful voice, and you have to hide your shit-eating grin while innocently waving at the others. “Oh you’re in so much trouble now, babe.”, Chan murmurs into your ear while you walk towards your tent, and bites down on your lobe. You feel arousal gather between your legs, stomach jolting at his words. You and Chan have a very playful relationship, full of bantering and loving jokes, and your dynamic in the bedroom isn’t that different - there’s a lot of bickering too, you being a total brat at times, while he’s more on the dominant side, enjoying making you obedient.

As soon as he closes the tent behind you and turns around to watch you with an almost predatory gaze, you know you might have been a bit too forward at the bonfire. But it’s too late to back down now, so you simply raise both eyebrows, a challenging expression on your face. “So you think touching me like that in front of our friends is okay?”, Chan asks, his voice low and dark. You tilt your head to one side. “I mean, you didn’t seem opposed to it, to be honest.”, you answer, and now he’s the one to lift both eyebrows. “I want you out of your clothes, now.”, your boyfriend orders, and for once, you follow his command immediately, knowing this is for your own good this time. So you quickly wiggle out of your jeans and take off your jumper, shivering in the cold night air. Only left in your panties and bra, Chan smirks to himself, before crawling over your body and beginning to kiss you slowly. You gasp into his mouth when one of his warm hands finds your waist, drawing lazy circles against it, before traveling higher to cup your breast over your bra. His thumb rubs over your clothed nipple before pinching it, hard, and you arch your back, breath hitching.

“So, let’s see how quiet you can stay while I eat you out, hm? Remember, the walls of the tent are too thin to mask any noises.”, Chan whispers against your lips, before he suddenly descends down your body. Oh no, you know you’re screwed. He’ll try to make you scream his name, but while you’re quite open about sex and have no problem talking about it with your friends, you definitely don’t need them to hear you during the actual act. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased your boyfriend after all - but it’s too late now, he’s determined. He spreads your legs, and begins to leave soft love bites on the inside of your thighs. You’re trembling already, and it’s not because of the cold alone. Chan always has this effect on you, no matter how often he touches you - you’ll never get used to it. He plays with the hem of your panties, until he finally drags them down your legs, his warm breath hitting your wet core. You begin to squirm, impatient to have him finally touch you where you need him most. He smacks your thigh, the crack resounding through the tent, and you yelp. “Chan.”, you hiss, and he grins cheekily, before suddenly pressing his thumb to your clit, beginning to draw lazy circles against it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you clamp one hand over your mouth to mask any noises.

Chan soon replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking on your clit like his life depends on it while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside your heat. A loud moan tears from your lips and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle your noises but already failing miserably. You feel Chan smirk against you, and then, he slips a third finger inside you, curling them upwards and picking up the pace. You buck your hips against his gentle ministrations, skin feeling too hot and too tight already, goosebumps rising all over your body. It doesn’t take long until you begin to tremble, your high approaching rather quickly, and you’re this close to finally snapping, when Chan draws back from your core, face glistening with your juices, his smirk almost devilish. “I can’t hear you, babe, are you even enjoying this?”, he murmurs, back to drawing lazy patterns on your clit with his thumb. You feel frustration wash over you, and shoot him a dark glare. His grin gets even wider, before he completely withdraws his hand from your heat to suck on his glistening fingers. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather your wits, until Chan slaps your thigh again. “Look at me, baby.”, he says, voice dark, and your eyes snap open again. You begin to pout. “Please.”, you mumble, trying your best to appeal to his softer side, “I’m sorry I was a brat earlier. You know I can’t be loud or the others might hear us.” Your boyfriend just hums, hands ghosting over your thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Too bad, I guess you can’t cum tonight then.” And before you’re able to reply anything, he dives back in-between your folds.

You throw one arm over your mouth, and bite your own soft flesh to suppress any noises. It takes little to no time until you’re close to your orgasm again, but for the second time tonight, Chan draws back in the last possible second. You’re almost ready to cry with frustration now, eyes glistening with unshed tears. When your boyfriend sees this, he softens a bit and leans towards you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “This is what you get for being a brat.”, he murmurs, and you bite down on his lower lip, making him groan into your mouth. “Please.”, you whisper and try your best puppy eyes on him. He just smirks again, finally ridding himself off his shirt, jeans and underwear. When he’s fully naked in front of you, you sigh, eyes raking his beautiful, defined body. Unlike you, Chan actually enjoys going to the gym - and his effort pays off. “Stop drooling.”, he says, sounding way too pleased and cocky in your opinion. So you quickly sit up, and wrap one hand around his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum. Good to see you’re not the only one being affected by this, you think and grin. You begin to slowly jerk him off, spreading the pre-cum over the rest of his cock as lube. He groans, lower lip pulled back between his teeth and eyes almost black with desire. Finally, he’s had enough, and pushes you on your back again, hovering over you. “There’s condoms in the bag behind you.”, he murmurs, leaving gentle kisses on your neck until he finds your sweet spot, beginning to suck on it. You moan almost inaudible, fingers fumbling for said bag to retrieve a condom.

Just seconds later, Chan rolls it over his cock, and then, he aligns himself in front of your wet core, teasingly rubbing your clit before you shoot him a pleading look. He finally sheathes himself into you with one swift motion, and you both moan out loud at the feeling. You quickly cough to cover the noise, making Chan chuckle and press a kiss against your forehead. “You’re okay?”, he asks, and you nod, biting down on his neck and leaving a hickey. He groans and finally begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, immediately hitting that spot. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, needing something to hold onto while he drills into you. Suddenly, he pulls out of you to sit back on his knees, wrapping your legs around his hips, and thrusts back into you at an even deeper angle, simultaneously picking up the pace. One of his hands snakes towards your neck and he wraps his fingers around the base of your throat, using just enough pressure to make breathing harder for you. When his thumb begins to circle your clit again, you close your eyes, clamping one hand over your mouth to mask your almost obscene noises.

“C-Chan, I’m so c-close.”, you say in between two moans, and he grins, murmuring a “That’s my girl” under his breath before deepening the angle even more. He suddenly pinches your clit once, and that’s all it takes for you to finally tumble over the edge, his name leaving your lips maybe a bit too loud this time. He quickly leans forward to seal your mouth with his, chasing his own high while guiding you through yours. Not long after, he groans and presses his forehead against yours, shuddering a bit while releasing into the condom. He stills inside you, both your breaths mingling, hearts beating fast while you try to come down from your high. Chan smiles, brushing some of your hair out of your face, and gives you a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”, he murmurs, and you return his smile. “Love you more.”, you whisper back, and he chuckles. “Impossible.”

Before you can begin to playfully argue, Minho’s voice cuts through the night “Next time we’ll build the tents far away from each other, y’all are nasty for doing it with us sitting almost right next you.” Both you and Chan freeze, before you burst out laughing. “WE HAVE ZERO REGRETS.”, you yell back, hearing the others groan. “WELL, YOU REALLY SHOULD THOUGH!”, Jisung complains from somewhere to your left, and you hear Lina starting to giggle. You groan and bury your face into Chan’s neck. “They’ll never let us hear the end of this, will they.”, you murmur against his soft skin, and he shakes his head. “Nope.” You sigh and lean back. “Well, it was still worth it.”, you say, and grin up at him. Your boyfriend just smirks and leans down to kiss you again. “Oh, definitely.”

[masterlist] | [requests]

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multiversecarnavep · 3 years

Text

Howard's first appearance in comics is when he is abruptly abducted from his home planet by an unseen force and randomly dropped into the Florida Everglades by the demon-lord Thog the Nether-Spawn. He meets the Man-Thing, who had been attacked by Korrek of Katharta, and the three of them are confronted by warriors of the Congress of Realities.[22] He then meets Dakimh the Enchanter and Dakimh banishes the warriors and transports Howard, Man-Thing, and Korrek to his castle, where they are joined by Jennifer Kale. They then travel to the realm of Therea and destroy Thog the Nether-Spawn. Howard then accidentally falls off the inter-dimensional stepping stones that the group were traveling on[23] and materializes in Cleveland, Ohio, where he battles Garko the Man-Frog.[24] Howard is arrested at this time for disturbing the peace and is mistaken for a mutant during a strip search, but is released because the police fear he has mutant abilities. Howard also briefly encounters and kills a vampiric cow named Bessie the Hellcow.[25]

Howard makes friends with an artists' model named Beverly Switzler and a bizarre series of encounters follow. He battles Pro-Rata, the cosmic accountant, then meets Spider-Man at the end of the battle.[26][27] He battles Turnip-Man and the Kidney Lady,[28] who would become a semi-recurring character over the years,[citation needed] then learns the fictional martial art of "Quack-Fu".[29] Howard then encounters the Winky Man, who is actually the sleepwalking alter-ego of Beverly's artist friend, Paul Same,[30] who would become a series regular and later become the pair's roommate.[citation needed] Howard also briefly becomes a wrestler.[31]

Howard and Beverly hit the road, seeking shelter in a gothic mansion where they battle a girl named Patsy and her giant, animated-to-life gingerbread man.[32][33] They eventually end up in New York City, where Howard is nominated for President of the United States by the All-Night Party[33] and he later battles the Band of the Bland, alongside the Defenders.[34] A doctored-photo scandal leads him to Canada where he defeats a supervillain, the Beaver, who caused the scandal. The Beaver falls to his death in a battle with Howard.[35] Howard then suffers a nervous breakdown and flees Bev and their situation on a bus. Unfortunately, the bus' passengers are all believers in various weird cults, and try to interest Howard in them. His seatmates are Winda Wester and the Kidney Lady, a woman who believes that the soul of a person lives in their kidneys and attempts to stop anything she sees as "anti-kidney health." After the bus crashes, Howard and Winda are sent to a mental institution. There he meets Daimon Hellstrom, and is briefly possessed by Hellstrom's demonic soul, becoming the new Son of Satan.[36] Beverly and Paul manage to get them both back to Cleveland. Later, while on the S. S. Damned, a cruise ship returning from scenic Bagmom, Howard and Beverly are taken captive by Lester Verde. Verde had known Beverly in college and had a crush on her and had assumed the identity of the supervillain Doctor Bong,[37] who illegally marries Beverly against her will and transforms Howard into a human.[38][39]

After escaping back to New York and being restored to his natural form, Howard is hired as a dishwasher by Beverly's uncle, Lee Switzler. Howard is later reunited with Dakihm the Enchanter, the Man-Thing, Korrek and Jennifer Kale, and they all battle the demon Bzzk'Joh. Korrek pilots the ship the Epoch Weasel and drops Howard back off at Cleveland before he and their allies fly away.[40][41] Howard finally meets up with the cruise ship that rescued Paul and Winda from Doctor Bong, and finds that Paul and Winda have befriended socialite Iris Raritan.

Howard is later kidnapped by the Ringmaster and his Circus of Crime. Winda is abandoned by Paul and Iris and Paul is shot and left in a coma.[42][43] After defeating the Circus of Crime, Howard is plagued by pessimistic dreams and goes his way alone, just as he had at the series' beginning.[44]

Writer Bill Mantlo, beginning with issue #30, returned the series to its former status quo, bringing Beverly back into the picture and having her divorce Doctor Bong. Howard's creator Steve Gerber, who left the series after issue #27, originally intended for Beverly and Bong's marriage to be lasting and for Beverly to be written out of the series from that point on. Howard and Beverly's friend Paul, who had ended up in a coma after he had previously been shot by the Ringmaster, awakens from his coma and is released from the hospital. Beverly's uncle Lee brings everyone back to Cleveland and employs Howard as a cab driver, while Paul, back to being a somnambulist after his release from the hospital, becomes Winda's boyfriend. Howard dons a suit of "Iron Duck" armor made by Claude Starkowitz, a man who has delusions of being related to Tony Stark and dreams of being the personal armorer to Iron Man, and battles Doctor Bong in the final issue of the original 70s Howard the Duck series (issue #31).[45][46] Howard later encounters Dracula[47] and even once returns to Duckworld.[48] At the end of the nine-issue magazine series, Howard leaves Beverly (at her request) and is later offered a genetically-constructed female duck mate, whom he does not take to.[49]

On a later occasion, She-Hulk accidentally pulls Howard though a cosmic wormhole along with theoretical physicist Brent Wilcox and they are able to prevent other universes from crowding out Earth-616. During this time, Howard meets a character called the Critic, travels to a dimension known as the Baloneyverse and again battles a group called the Band of the Bland, whom he had previously battled with the Defenders.[50][51][52]

In an encounter with Peter Parker and Ben Reilly (the then-current Spider-Man), Howard gets a rematch with the Circus of Crime and the Circus is defeated. During the fight, Howard and Beverly get stuck in a warehouse full of anthropomorphic ducks, briefly meeting the Savage Dragon and Destroyer Duck. Parker and Reilly leave the warehouse believing that they have the correct versions of Howard and Beverly with them. However, in the Savage Dragon/Destroyer Duck companion story that takes place simultaneously and that was written by Gerber, it is explained that the version of Howard and Beverly that left the warehouse with Parker and Reilly are simply clones taken by mistake and that the real Howard and Beverly actually left the scene with Savage Dragon and Destroyer Duck .[53]

The sorceress Jennifer Kale, in a weekly attempt to return Howard to his home world, inadvertently teleports Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy into her New York apartment. The disoriented dinosaur attempts to eat Howard, but spits him out when shot with John Blaze's hellfire gun. Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy then rampage through the city before being subdued by Ghost Rider (Daniel Ketch). Howard says that he relates to the pair being trapped in a world they never made before wandering off.[54][55]

Heroes RebornEdit

After a brief series of adventures with Generation X,[56] Howard gets a job as a department store Santa Claus, which gets him dragged to the North Pole where the real Santa Claus has sold out to HYDRA.[57] Howard goes through several dimensions, apparently through the power of Man-Thing, who can now talk but does not understand this new, unknown ability, and lands on a version of Duckworld where his parents are essentially Ward and June Cleaver, he has a sister named Princess, and he is regarded as a hero because his activities on Earth-616 were recognized by Duckworld's version of Reed Richards. This origin traces the source of these dimensions to be projections from Franklin's mind. Throughout the course of the adventure, Howard has a romance with Tana Nile, culminating in a kiss, after which he apologizes and tells her of his attachment to Beverly.[58][59][60] When Franklin understands that he has shaped all of these worlds, the group finds themselves back in the Man-Thing's swamp. While Man-Thing becomes a self-appointed guardian to Franklin Richards, Howard goes off on his own and is captured by the Cult of Entropy, who wrap him in swaddling clothes.[61] Although last seen in the swamp, Howard states that he was thrown into baggage and transported on a plane. The cult wants Howard because he has part of the Nexus of All Realities, which shattered during Heroes Reborn, inside of him. Man-Thing then enters Howard's mouth, and Howard vomits him back out with the fragment, but Man-Thing is left desiccated and practically dead.[62] Howard then encounters Namor, who thought he had slain Man-Thing, but Howard explains that he would not be lugging his friend's body around if that were the case. Howard sets the Man-Thing down in the water, and he revives during Howard's conversation with Namor. Once he sees that the Man-Thing is alive and well, he bids Namor farewell and says that he is returning to Cleveland.[63]

Years later, back with Beverly, he undergoes further shapeshifting experiences after an accident at a chemical facility of Doctor Bong's. Beverly is hired by Bong's Globally Branded Content Corporation, which manufactures boy bands from protein vats based on the sexual arousal of a focus group of gay men. Attempting to destroy an escapee whom Beverly has taken in, Bong inadvertently knocks Howard into a vat, which changes him, unstably, into a rat.[64] When Howard later showers, he changes his form multiple times before again permanently returning to the form of the giant rat. Verde then goes to the press and claims that his building was attacked by Osama el-Barka ("Osama the Duck" in Arabic). Howard and Beverly are sent back on the road after the junkyard office where they are living is destroyed by a S.W.A.T. team.[65] Denied admittance to every possible shelter due to lack of funds, the pair and their dog find a sign for the Boarding House of Mystery, but are taken to the police station for questioning and strip searches by Suzy Pazuzu, with whom Beverly had attended high school. One of the officers on the case is the same beat cop who mistook Howard for a mutant many years before. Suzy is the inheritor of the doucheblade, which starts to take her over when she wears an enchanted bracelet. In a skirmish, the bracelet is caught by Howard causing him to be the wielder of the doucheblade. The doucheblade causes its holder to grow enormous bare breasts and armor in a parody of Witchblade, and, possessed by this, Howard kills the male lover of a businessman who works with Verde as he and Verde break into Suzy's house.[66]

Arriving at the Boarding House of Mystery, Howard and Beverly encounter Cain and Abel, the latter with a rock stuck in his head that allows him only moments of lucidity. There, they are granted their every wish, including Howard's return to his true form, and Beverly never being poor again, and meet parodies of John Constantine, Wesley Dodds, the Endless, Spider Jerusalem, and Gerber's own Nevada (called Utah), all characters from DC Comics' Vertigo imprint. The downside to the House is that everyone staying there gets their every wish; so Che Guevara can have his revolution, but someone else can easily slaughter him.[67] One tenant, a writer named Mr. Gommorah (a parody of Spider Jerusalem), later takes Beverly and Howard to be on the Iprah show with the topic "Why Women Give It to Men Who Don't Get It", guest starring Dr. Phlip.

Upon leaving the House of Mystery, Howard is once again transformed into an anthropomorphic mouse. It is revealed that Iprah has been merged with an experiment by the Angel Gabriel called Deuteronomy, intended to replace God, because God has been spending all his time in a bar in Hell since 1938. Deuteronomy is a creature half-id and half-superego, while Iprah is an all-ego promoter of self-indulgent pop psychology. Considering her dangerous, Gabriel sends the cherub Thrasher to resurrect Sigmund Freud, whose cigar blasts out half of Thrasher's brains (being immortal, this just makes him act drunk). Iprah destroys Freud, but Howard blasts her with the cigar, separating her from Deuteronomy. Puffing on the cigar, Howard disintegrates and arrives in Hell.[68] He is eventually freed by Yah, a being who claims to be "God".[69]

Civil WarEdit

Sometime later, Howard attempts to register under the Superhero Registration Act during the superhero Civil War, but learns his socially disrupted life has created so many bureaucratic headaches that the government's official policy is that Howard does not exist. This lack of government oversight delights him: "For the rest of my life, no more parking tickets, or taxes, or jury duty. Heck, I couldn't even vote if I wanted to!" In this story, Howard says he was pressured to give up his cigars.[70]

After he defeats the supervillain M.O.D.O.T.’s (Mobile Organism Designed Only for Talking) scheme to control the public through mass media, his attorney, Jennifer Walters, successfully restores his citizenship, including all relevant responsibilities.[71]

Secret InvasionEdit

Howard the Duck is briefly seen as part of the superpowered army gathered to battle invading Skrull forces.[72] He is seen armed with a pistol and wearing a Skrull's hand around his neck.[73] He is later seen kicking a Skrull during interrogation after the invasion.[74] Brian Michael Bendis has commented when asked of Howard: "That character has shown up in six issues I've done, and I've never typed the words Howard the Duck."[75]

Marvel Zombies 5Edit

Main article: Marvel Zombies 5

In Marvel Zombies 5, Howard the Duck of Earth-616 teams up with Machine Man to travel across the multiverse fighting zombies.[76]

Fear ItselfEdit

During the Fear Itself storyline, Howard forms a team called the Fearsome Four with She-Hulk, Frankenstein's Monster and Nighthawk to stop the Man-Thing when he goes on a rampage in Manhattan, due to the fear and chaos he senses on the citizens. They later discover a plot by Psycho-Man to use the Man-Thing's volatile empathy to create a weapon.[77]

Spider-Man: Back in QuackEdit

Howard and Beverly are brainwashed and forced to work for Save Our Offspring From Indecency (S.O.O.F.I.) as Cynical Duck and Swizzle. They promote S.O.O.F.I. at a public speech held for them by J. Jonah Jameson. Spider-Man later interrupts a S.O.O.F.I. indoctrination at the New York Public Library, and Beverly and the other S.O.O.F.I.s see Spidey as a semi-demonic figure and attack him. Spidey escapes with Howard and breaks his brainwashing when Beverly is threatened. Howard quickly explains S.O.O.F.I.'s goals to Spider-Man. As Spider-Man publicly announces his long-standing support for S.O.O.F.I., Howard confronts Bev as she stands beside the Supreme S.O.O.F.I. Howard is able to break through to Beverly, reminding her of their past together. The Supreme S.O.O.F.I. orders the S.O.O.F.I.s to throw the pair into the special Blanditron at Guantanamo Bay, but Beverly keeps them at bay with a whip. Spidey attacks the S.O.O.F.I.s and unmasks the Supreme S.O.O.F.I., while the others escape through their teleporter. Howard states that he believes S.O.O.F.I. will lay low for a while after such a defeat and he also hopes that the group's Florida Everglades base might lead them to meet up with the Man-Thing.[78]

The Ducky DozenEdit

Because of his experience with zombie-infested worlds and his leadership of Machine Man, Howard is chosen as the leader of, as he dubs them, the Ducky Dozen. The team is composed of him, several Golden Age heroes, Dum-Dum Dugan, and Battlestar, who is also a veteran of a zombie incident. Upon entering Earth-12591, the Ducky Dozen fight hordes of zombie Nazis and Asgardians, but suffer grave losses as the team's members are either killed or zombified during the battle. After successfully accomplishing their mission, Howard, Dugan, Taxi Taylor and Battlestar are the only members to survive and return to Earth-616 along with the Riveter, the only survivor of Earth-12591's resistance team, the Suffragists.[79][80]

Wolverine and the X-MenEdit

Howard later teams up with his friend Doop to battle the Robo-Barbarians in Dimension ZZZ. They beat the horde back with nothing but a broken sword, a rubber chicken with nails in it and a gun that shoots bees.[81]

Original SinEdit

After the death of Uatu the Watcher and the activation of the secrets buried in his eye, Howard discovers that he has the potential to be the most intelligent being in Duckworld. After evading a squirrel while driving, he is thrown flying from his vehicle but uses his intellect to calculate a way to land safely in a nearby dumpster.[82]

Back to New YorkEdit

Howard returns to his business as a private eye, working in the same building as She-Hulk, in Brooklyn. One of his first new clients is Jonathan Richards, who hires Howard to retrieve a necklace stolen by the Black Cat. With the help of Tara Tam, his new friend and assistant, Howard manages to recover the necklace. However, on his way to give it back to Richards, he finds himself kidnapped by the Collector and allied with the Guardians of the Galaxy to escape the villain, who was attempting to add Howard to his collection of rare space objects and entities. Upon returning to Earth, Howard is robbed by May Parker, Spider-Man's aunt, and later re-encounters the Ringmaster, who is revealed to have brainwashed the elderly into committing robberies. After recovering the necklace for a third time, Howard is approached by Richards in the middle of his fight against the Ringmaster and Richards reveals himself to be Talos the Untamed, who reveals that the necklace was part of a marginally powerful item known as the Abundant Glove. With help from Doctor Strange, Howard and Tara locate the final piece of the Abundant Glove, but are unable to put it back together when Talos grabs it and proceeds to use it to wreak havoc on the city. Talos is confronted by numerous heroes while Howard and Tara take cover. Howard is able to point out that Tara, who is revealed to possess shapeshifting powers similar to that of a Skrull, could help him defeat Talos. Tara used her powers to impersonate Skrull Emperor Kl'rt (the Super-Skrull), distracting Talos long enough for Howard to snatch the Abundant Glove from his hand. Talos is later apprehended by the Fantastic Four and everything returns to normal.[83]

Afterwards, with the help of new arrival Gwenpool, Howard prevented HYDRA from infecting the world with a deadly virus.[84] He also has a crossover event with The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl.[85] Howard the Duck is shown to be living in the She-Hulk's apartment building when Patsy Walker moved out.[86]

Civil War IIEdit

During the Civil War II storyline, Howard the Duck is among the building tenants that learn from Patsy Walker what happened to She-Hulk following the fight against Thanos.[87]

War of the RealmsEdit

Howards last name, Duckson, is revealed in War of the Realms: War Scrolls #1.

Young biochemist Dr. Theodore "Ted" Sallis, a native of Omaha, Nebraska,[28] is working in the Everglades as part of Dr. Wilma Calvin's Project: Gladiator team, which includes Dr. Barbara Morse and her fiancé Dr. Paul Allen, and an assistant named Jim. A Dr. Wendell is later cited as being on the staff after Dr. Calvin is shot.[29] The group is attempting to recreate the Super-Soldier Serum that had created Captain America.[30] Web of Spider-Man (vol. 2) #6 revealed that Sallis at one point treated and worked alongside Dr. Curtis Connors shortly after Connors' arm was amputated, driving the research that would eventually transform Connors into the Lizard.

Though warned that the technological terrorist group Advanced Idea Mechanics (A.I.M.) has been operating in the area, Sallis breaches security by bringing with him his lover, Ellen Brandt (referred to here as "Miss Brandt", but later retconned to be his wife). He destroys his notes to his formula, which he has memorized. Later, he is ambushed by two thugs and learns that Brandt has betrayed him. Fleeing with the only sample of his serum, he injects himself with it in hopes of saving himself. However, he crashes his car into the swamp where scientific and, as Man-Thing #1 later explained, magical forces combine to instantly transform him into a slow-moving plant-matter creature with large, solid red eyes.[31] Unable to speak, and with dim memories, he attacks the ambushers and Brandt, burning and scarring part of her face with an acid that he now secretes in the presence of negative emotions. The Man-Thing then wanders away into the swamp.[32]

Sallis' mind was apparently extinguished, although on rare occasions he could briefly return to consciousness within his monstrous form, as in Doctor Strange (vol. 2) #41 (June 1980), The Defenders (vol 1) #98 (August 1981), and Peter Parker: Spider-Man Annual '99, and even to his human form, as in Adventure into Fear #13 (April 1973), Marvel Two-in-One #1 (January 1974), Marvel Comics Presents #164 (October 1994), and Man-Thing (vol. 3) #5 and 7-8 (April 1998, June–July 1998).

Under writer Steve Gerber, the Man-Thing encounters the sorceress Jennifer Kale, with whom he briefly shared a psychic link and who knew his true identity, in a story arc in Fear #11-13 – the final issue of which established that the swamp had mystical properties as the Nexus of Realities. Through an interdimensional portal in Fear #19, he meets Howard the Duck, who becomes stranded in this reality. The Man-Thing became the guardian of the Nexus, and found himself facing demons, ghosts and time-traveling warriors, while continuing to encounter such non-supernatural antagonists as rapacious land developers, fascist vigilantes and common criminals. He formed a bond with young radio DJ Richard Rory and nurse Ruth Hart. Issue #12's "Song-Cry of the Living Dead Man", about an crazed writer named Brian Lazarus, spawned Gerber's posthumously published 2012 sequel, "The Screenplay of the Living Dead Man", in the three-issue miniseries The Infernal Man-Thing.

In Man-Thing (vol. 2) #1-11 (November 1979 – July 1981), writer Chris Claremont introduced himself as a character in the final issue, as Gerber had in the finale of the first series. Additionally, Claremont temporarily became the Man-Thing after being stabbed to death. His and other characters' deaths were later resolved with the intervention of the War Is Hell series lead, John Kowalski, now an aspect of Marvel Comics' manifestation of Death. In Man-Thing (vol. 3) #1-8 (December 1997 – July 1998), Ellen Brandt Sallis returns to the Citrusville area and encounters a little boy, Job Burke, who is actually the Sallises' son, who had been put up for adoption. Following this series, the story continued in Strange Tales (vol. 4) #1-2, and was projected to continue in the unpublished issues #3-4. Summaries based on DeMatteis' unillustrated scripts appear on the K'Ad-mon and Ellen Brandt pages in Appendix to the Handbook of the Marvel Universe.[21][22]

During the "Civil War" storyline, two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents unsuccessfully attempt to register the Man-Thing under the Superhuman Registration Act.[33]

The Man-Thing later appears as a member of the Legion of Monsters alongside Morbius, the Living Vampire, the Werewolf by Night, the Manphibian, and N'Kantu, the Living Mummy.[34] He later gains the ability to speak comprehensibly through the use of the "Universal Language".[35] Phil Coulson subsequently recruits the Man-Thing for his incarnation of the Howling Commandos.[36]

As part of the All-New, All-Different Marvel branding, the Man-Thing appears as a member of S.T.A.K.E.'s Howling Commandos.[37]

During the "Empyre" storyline, Man-Thing falls under the control of the Cotati led by Ventri that were operating in the Savage Land.[38] Doctor Voodoo takes control of Man-Thing to free Matthew and Black Knight. As Matthew and Black Knight fight the Cotati, a Doctor Voodoo-controlled Man-Thing fights the Cotati's control and defeats Ventri.[39] As Doctor Voodoo exits Man-Thing to assist Scarlet Witch after Ka-Zar was stabbed by a Cotati using Black Knight's Ebony Blade, Man-Thing continued the fight against the Cotati. When the Cotati were defeated, Man-Thing takes his leave after being thanked by Black Knight. Ventri claims that what they learned from Man-Thing's energy has been sent to Quoi to fuel the Cotati's invasion.[40]

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volturicangetit · 4 years

Text

A.V- Good idea

Summary: Due to a one night stand with Alec after your sister’s, Bella, wedding you get knocked up. You meet Alec again during a confrontation with the Volturi. Maybe your son can have a father in his life after all.

Request: YES/no Anon: Can you do an Oneshot were the reader is Bellas sister and she meets Alec Volturi at Bellas wedding and they spend the weekend together and when Bella comes back pregnant the reader is pregnant with Alec's baby and during BD 2 Alec finally gets to meet his son and the reader again who is now a vampire and she leaves with Alec to raise their son?

A/N: this is a little different form what I normally write. This is a fem!reader since the reader is pregnant. I didn’t use any femine pronounce but the reader is pregnant so.....

Warnings: birth, mention of blood? pregnant!reader

Wordcount: 3054

Your sister is getting married at the young age of eighteen. You support her fully in her choice, of course. You can see how much she loves Edward and you want her to be happy. But the rumours that Edward knocked her up and that's why they are getting married were bringing out the worse in you. You stand a good couple of feet away from other people as you sip on a glass of champagne you stole from an unattended table. It was your third glass already and you can feel the bubbles getting to your head, though that's the whole point of alcohol. You watch as Bella and Edward happily dance with each other. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of your careless sister.

"Enjoying yourself?" a voice asks. You turn to your left to face a boy. He's about your age, maybe a bit younger. The brown of his eyes is obviously fake but you keep your mouth shut about it. You nod at him. he holds his hand out and you shake it. "I'm Alec. I'm....a cousin of the Cullens," he says. You nod.

"Y/n Swan. Bella's my sister," you say while you point at her. A smile spreads over Alec's face. "You don't look alike," he says. You laugh as you nod. You and your sisters didn't even look like cousins or neighbours. His eyes dart down towards your champagne glass. You hold it up to offer him some but he shakes his head. Apparently fun didn't run in the Cullen family. "You're from Italy, right?" you ask before taking another sip from the bitter bubbles in your glass. Alec nods. He looks around him before pointing at a blond girl talking to Carlisle and Esme.

You follow his finger to look at the girl. She has the same young face as Alec. They look like brother and sister but that's probably only because he pointed it out. "That's Jane. We're twins," he says. You snort at him as you shake your head. "You don't look like twins more like...step-siblings, maybe," you say. Alec playfully swats your arm while he laughs. You two stay talking for what feels like hours. While he stays sober, you down another couple of glasses of champagne. When the night ends, you all gather at the driveway to wave Edward and Bella goodbye for their honeymoon. You're a bit too intoxicated to stand on your own and since Alec has been by your side since you met him, he's the unfortunate soul who has to keep you upright. You have one arm slung over his shoulder while you use the other to wave at your sister. You're head is resting against his shoulder while his arm is wrapped around your middle to keep you standing. You let out uncontrolled giggles and hiccups.

When Edward and Bella have finally driven off to their mystery honeymoon, you say your goodbyes to your parents. They both want to go home since Charlie is tired and Renee has a flight to catch in the morning. You and Alec stay around for a bit. You've moved from the crowded party to sitting on the opposite side of the house on the forest floor. The alcohol has loosened you up and given you a boost of confidence. Somewhere in the night, you had wrapped your arms around Alec. Now you two are sitting propped up against a tree while cuddling and stargazing. While Alec points at different constellations you are showering him with compliments while letting your fingertips trace of your cold skin.

You let your fingers run over his jaw while he's explaining the Orion belt. You turn his head so that he's now looking at you. His eyes stare into yours. You glance down at his lips. You want to, no, have to kiss him. You lay your other hand on his cheek as you pull him towards you, closing the gap between you by pressing your lips against his. You expect him to pull away but instead, he deepens the kiss. His hands roam over your body. You groan into the kiss.

Alec pushes you down slowly so that you're now laying on the forest floor. He hovers over you while continuing to kiss you. One of your hands lays flat on his chest while the other is on the back of his head playing with his hair. You lace your fingers through his soft locks and give them soft thugs, causing pleasure-filled groans to escape from Alec's throat. "Do you want to stop?" Alec asks as he moves to kiss you neck. You shake your head.

"No," you mutter. "Please don't stop.". Alec smiles against your skin as he moves up to place kisses onto your jawline. "And no, I'm not just saying that 'cuz I'm drunk," you say, beating Alec to his question. He lets out a laugh as he starts kissing you on your lips again. You push him lightly and he gets the hint letting you roll you two over so that you're on top. You straddle him while you continue to kiss him. Boy, were you in for a big night.

____ Pregnant. You stare blankly at the paper Carlisle handed you. You already took five tests at home but you wanted to be sure. When you're dealing with a vampire baby you can't be to curtain. You also couldn't go to a normal doctor so you opted to go to Carlisle instead. "I didn't know this was possible," he says softly. You nod at him.

Tears build in your eyes. From happiness. You are pregnant. There is something alive in you. You made life. From fear. There is a vampire baby in you. How is that even possible. Is it going to kill you? From anger. Alec had been ignoring you. You tried calling him but he hasn't answered any of your calls. Sure, it was a one night stand. But that little Dracula got your knocked up. "Can I...Am I going to die?" you ask Carlisle. You look up at him and his non-beating heart breaks at seeing your teary eyes. He lays a comforting hand on your shoulder as he shrugs.

"We don't know. We didn't even know this was possible," he says. Esme rushing into the room causing you and Carlisle to wipe your heads towards her. She has a phone in her hands. "Bella is also pregnant," she whispers. You scoff as you sink back in your seat. You finally let the tears fall from your eyes. They burn as they run down your cheeks. "The Swan's are back at it again," you say. "Getting knocked up by sad vampires.".

_____

It was weird being pregnant at the same time as your sister, though you had completely different views and experiences. Bella's baby was giving her hell. It was draining her. Killing her slowly. While you looked like a normal pregnant woman. Your skin is glowing as your hair is bouncier than normal. Some part in your hopes that it's because your baby is human and not a vampire. But you know that can only be a dream. You tried getting rid of it, or he, or she. Or whatever your child might be. But it was all much more difficult when you're dealing with a potentially immortal child.

You spent most of your time with Rosalie. She is delighted to have one, let alone two, pregnant woman in her life. She has always dreamt of having children of her own. And since Alec is still ghosting you after nine months now, you have talked to Rosalie a lot about how to raise your child. You have decided that if you make it out alive, you would raise your child together with her and Emmett. If not, she and Emmett would take care of your child. Rosalie is running her hands over your belly while discussing plans about a nursery while you hear a scream coming from the other side of the house. "I'll go look, stay here," Rosalie says before running to where the sound came from. Within a second, she's back. Her brows are furrowed as worry is written all over her face. "Bella's in labour," she pants.

You try to get up but Rosalie shakes her head and softly pushes you down. "You can't get up. It'll be too stressful for you and the baby.". You smile at her while you lay a hand on your stomach. "Rose, please. She's my sister," You say. "I want to see what I'm in for as well.". Rosalie nods as she helps you stand up. Your legs are wobbly but you still manage to slowly make your way over to the room Carlisle has prepared for labour. Alice rushes past you and out of the house with Jasper. Esme stops you and Rosalie from entering the room. You can hear your sister's pained yells coming from behind the doors. Esme shakes her head.

"You have to stay out, I'm sorry," she says. You nod. You understood. The Cullens grew very protective over you and Bella and they don't want to put either of your babies at risk. "I'll go get you when the baby is born," Esme promises. You thank her before shuffling back to the living room with Rosalie. You, her and Emmett sit there for hours while watching movies to block out Bella's screams. It hurts you to hear her in so much pain. Finally, after hours, Carlisle walks towards you. Blood covers his hands and part of his shirt. Emmett and Rosalie immediately tense up as the metallic scent of blood spread through the room.

"She didn't make it," Carlisle says. Your heart freezes. You grip the pillow laying next to you so hard you think it might explode. You're sister died. "Edward bit her. She'll change but it's going to take longer than normal.". She died. Your hearing cuts out. Your mind blocks everything out except for one thing. One fact. You're sister died. Silent tears start pouring down your cheeks as your shoulders start to shake. "I'm going to die too," you whisper. Carlisle's shoulders drop. Rosalie makes her way over to you and pulls you in for a hug, being careful with your baby bump. She calms you down as ugly sobs wreck through your body. Your sister died and you're next.

___

Pain. That's all you can feel. White, hot, searing pain that numbs everything else. You grip onto Emmett's hand as contractions wash through your body. You're so focussed on not passing out that you don't hear Carlisle telling you to push. Your body does it naturally though. You want this baby out of you. You want this pain to end.

For eight and a half hours, you've been in labour and now, it's finally over. With one final push, the pain is suddenly gone. The screaming of a baby fills the room. "It's a boy," Carlisle says. A boy. You have a wonderful baby boy. Rosalie immediately grabs ahold of your wrist. She would be the one to change you.

"Wait, I wanna...I wanna see him," you mumble. Carlisle walks over to your side and hands you your son. Thankfully, his eyes are a normal human colour, not red. He looks like his father. Same hair, same nose. You give him a quick kiss.

“Hello, Charlie Alec Swan," you mumble before handing him back to Carlisle. The moment the baby leaves your hands, Rosalie's teeth sink into your skin. The pain of the change combined with the longing pain of birth become too much for your body as you finally pass out.

___

Winter was here. You could feel it by the crispness of the air and the freezing night. It would only be a matter of days before the Volturi would arrive. You treasured every moment you got with your son. He wasn't growing as fast as Renesme was. While she was growing every day, your son was growing like a normal human baby. He hadn't shown any interest in blood either, giving you more and more hope that he was just a normal human baby. But you couldn't be sure until he got older. For now, you just spent all your time with him. He had just taken his first steps and was now crawling and walking all over the place. Luckily, you had two vampires to help you.

You and your son are enjoying some outside time. You're sitting moss-covered floor next to the Cullen's house, where you are now staying. Your dad knew about your pregnancy. You told him it was just the outcome of a one night stand, which was true. He was so happy when he learned that you had named your son after him. It did him good to have a grandson. One that didn't need to be covered up with a whole "adopting-our-cousin" story. Charlie runs over to you while laughing. He's gently holding a snail in his hands as he shows it to you. You look up at the sky when something cold hits your cheek. You soon realize that it's snowflakes. The cold, white flakes dart down from the sky. It's time. The Volturi are coming.

_____

You didn't want to be here. The plan was that you and your son were supposed to stay at home but you thought that it could be a good idea to come along. Since your son wasn't as vampire-like as Renesme is, it could be good to use that fact to convince the Volturi. You all patiently wait for the Volturi to arrive. You hold your son in your arms as you talk to him to keep him entertained. Sure, he could stand on his own, but you want to keep him close, just in case. With a loud whoosh, the Volturi arrives. They are with many more than you are. Aro's eyes dart over all of you, stopping at Bella, Edward and Renesme. He calls them forward and he checks to so if Renesme is human, which she partially is. The three of them walk back to you all. You think it's finally over but then Aro calls out to you.

"I see that Bella isn't the only Swan with child," He says as he points to you. He holds his hand out for you and you immediately understand what he wants. Rosalie goes to stand in front of you protectively but you place a hand on her shoulder and reassure her that it's fine. You walk over to Aro with your son still in your arms. When you reach Aro, you let him grab your hand. He giggles as he looks through your thoughts. "How are you still alive," he asks you as he stares intently at your child.

"We knew what to do for his birth," you say coldly. He giggles as he looks up at you. You nod at him for approval as he reaches out for your child. Charlie cries out in panic and hides his head against your shoulder. You shush him softly. "It's okay, it's okay," you whisper to him. Charlie still shakes his head. Aro retracts his hand. "It's alright, I don't want to upset the young Swan," he says with a disgusting smile. It causes waves of nausea to run through your stomach. "Where's the lucky father?" Aro asks. You quickly look behind him at Alec. He's staring at you and your child. He can see the resemblance between him and Charlie. "Right there," you whisper. Aro clasps his hands together in front of his chest. He takes a step aside.

Alec quickly walks closer to you. He now stands in front of you. " Is he..." he begins. He's too afraid of the answer to finish his sentence. You nod your head. You already know what he was going to ask. "His name is Charlie. Charlie Alec Swan," you say. A smile spreads over Alec's face at the name. He holds his hand out for Charlie. He wraps his small, chubby fingers around Alec's slender ones. A surprised gasp leaves Alec's mouth at the feeling of the child's skin.

"He's warm isn't he?" you say with a proud smile. Alec nods. "I'm sorry," he begins. "If I would've known....I would have helped. I'm such an asshole.". You shake your head. You lay one hand on top of his shoulder while using the other to support your child.

You give him a sympathetic smile. "You aren't an asshole," you say. Alec shakes his head but before he can disagree, you continue talking. "You didn't know. But you still can be a part of his life, if you want to.". Alec nods happily. "It would be an honour. I would be happy if all I could do was change his diapers. I'll do anything.". You laugh as you slap his chest playfully. You wrap your second arm back around your child. You look up at Alec. "Wanna hold him?" you ask. He nods happily as he opens his arms. You carefully hand him your child who immediately cuddles up against Alec. You giggle at the sight. "He likes you.".

Your moment is interrupted by Aro. "A family reunion," he says in a vomit-inducing tone. "Oh, how I love happy endings.", You pull Alec along with you to take a couple of steps away from Aro. You had forgotten about Aro and his vicious ways of keeping his guards at Volterra. You weren't going to leave Forks. You weren't going to leave your dad, your sister or the Cullens. Not even for Alec. Aro sees your defensiveness. "Of course, we'll let Alec stay with you," he quickly adds. "Right, brothers?".

Marcus and Caius both nod. "He needs to be there for the...baby," Caius says. A wash over release comes over you. You wrap your arm around Alec's middle as you look at your son. "Looks like there won't be a fight after all," Aro says. A content smile sits on Alec's lips as he watches his son in his arms. Maybe coming to the 'fight' was a good idea after all.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST (OPEN): @scuzmunkie @thanossexual @prettyinblack231 @kpopgirlbtssvt @cullens-stuff @thanossexual @jelly-fishy-babie @puer-de-infinitate @awesomebooklover17

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Side Effects- Complete

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids (M/F Primary: Y/N x 3racha)

Warnings: Smut, Language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, non-con elements

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Word Count: 13K

Summary: Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working full-time as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K.

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their blood-lust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced.

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rear-view mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

Present

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows.

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly. “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindlessly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness.

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches…

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed.

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

Present

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own.

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung.

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late.

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity:

1 Year Ago

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way.

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project.

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound.

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex.

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting.

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat.

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.

Present

“You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

I blushed, of course, from Mark’s tender compliment. “Thank you,” I managed sheepishly, watching as my boss offered me a cheeky smile before entering his office.

Ever since I left the Miroh Coven, I had been working a part-time position as the Secretary to a wealthy CEO. I didn’t mind my job, enjoying the menial tasks I was usually instructed to obey. It was quite mind-numbing, a worthy distraction when I first started working here hollowing the horrors I had endured from the Miroh Coven. The pay was excellent and I was able to help my roommate afford rent while reliably buying myself luxuries like a new mattress or a fresh wardrobe since my old clothes reminded me too much of the past.

The hours were also minimal, and I often found myself sitting down at my desk only to look up at the clock and realize my day had already concluded. Subsequently, I was able to leave the office on time every day to join the steady stream of afternoon traffic. Afterward, I might stop by a restaurant to pick up something for dinner, or occasionally drive through the downtown marketplace because I enjoyed shopping for fresh produce. It was all quite nice and I enjoyed settling into my new life with a deep sigh of relief.

It had almost been nine months since I last saw any of the boys and other than the unfortunate encounter with Chan’s necklace, I was sure that I would never have to experience anything so unattractive ever again. I was slowly regaining my confidence, joining my roommate several times when she wanted to see a movie or shop at one of the outdoor malls. Everything was starting to work out for me, which meant that I was also starting to comfortably take more risks.

“Please have fun tonight,” my roommate said, practically dragging me along with her as we entered one of her favorite clubs. After much convincing, I had finally given in and allowed my roommate to take me out late at night for drinks and dancing. “This is a nice place,” she said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I nodded my head, looking around the relaxed atmosphere. It was certainly a much tamer club than what I was used to visiting, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Of course, the influence of alcohol had a way of making a person far more willing to lower their defenses. “One glass,” I said, accepting the fruity beverage from the bartender before my roommate and I found a table near the edge of the dance-floor.

“So many handsome faces,” my roommate remarked. “Interested in anyone?”

I scoffed at her question because I seriously doubted that I would willingly jump into a new relationship anytime soon. “Really?”

“Just wondering,” my roommate shrugged, drinking down the remainder of her scotch. “Wanna dance?”

I waved her off, deciding that I was okay with enjoying my drink at our table. My roommate let out a giggle, locking eyes with a suave businessman who looked ready to devour her whole. “I’ll check on you soon,” she promised and I quickly lost her in the mass of bodies occupying the dance floor.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to expect my roommate’s return. Instead, I sipped at my drink while admiring the friendly atmosphere of the bar, neon colors dazzling in my peripheral vision. It reminded me of my younger college days when I was swept away by the illusion of freedom which independent adulthood offered, attending every frat party I could find.

I grinned at the memories, feeling way too old to try anything like that ever again. It was fun once, being so irresponsible, but now it was time to start paying bills and scratch my head when I attempted to do my taxes. Freedom was addicting, and I could see why so many younger people were enamored with the idea of moving away from home and conquering the world.

Wistfully, I must digress because I often lose myself in my thoughts, and I can’t afford a break in concentration. Instead, I sipped tentatively at my drink, watching the moving sea of bodies. I was entirely focused, which allowed me to raise my guard at the approach of an unfamiliar figure.

“Excuse me? Do you have the time?”

I shrugged loosely because it was an innocent request from someone who clearly wasn’t looking for anything ill-intended. On instinct, I reached into my bag to grab my phone. “It’s almost midnight,” I said, thinking that our interaction would be short-lived.

Instead, the man was insistent, a cold hand digging harshly against my shoulder. “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to stay up so late, sweetheart?”

The accent had been disguised, but now I recognized it thick and heavy in my ear. I couldn’t even remember to scream before his hand was enclosed over my mouth, teeth nipping at my jaw. Another body slipped into my roommate’s chair, brows raised as he reached for her discarded glass. “Is there room for some company, Y/N?” Jisung asked, blonde hair hanging low in his eyes.

I shook my head desperately, fresh tears clouding my vision. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” Chan asked with a harsh tone and I was suddenly jerked to the side, a strong hand holding my chin into place.

“What a coincidence, Y/N,” Changbin growled. “We have unfinished business in this little town of yours.”

“You’re coming with us,” Chan said, ignoring the way I fought against him as he practically forced me out of my chair. “Look at me,” he snarled, eyes trained on mine as I started to drift out of consciousness.

I was slowly starting to realize that the implications of being a sire went far beyond just simply turning someone immortal. For example, I knew how cruel Changbin could be, turning violent on a whim, especially if you disobeyed him. He was the one who liked to punish me when he thought I was being bad, dragging out all sorts of special toys to use against my body. Paddles and lashes, whips and spikes, everything Changbin needed was lined perfectly along the walls of the special room he had decorated for himself whenever he wanted to play with someone. He was a sadist in every sense of the word, enjoying the sensation of watching someone suffer for his own pleasure. When he had first brought me into the room, I had immediately protested, close to tears when Changbin had cooed at me and insisted that I would never be forced to do anything outside of my comfort zone. He spoke with a wicked tongue, dark eyes revealing the truth if I had been so willing to look for it, but I eventually allowed him to have his way with me. Tears streaming freely down the side of my face while Changbin’s tongue traced the salty rivulets with a groan.

But Changbin wasn’t the only one with a fiery temper and desire for pain and suffering. His fledgling vampires, Felix and Hyunjin, had decisively taken on his more brutal aspects. Felix lost control whenever I said something to offend him, growling out insults while I tried to avoid his hands. Hyunjin had special permission to use Changbin’s secret room to explore his own masochism, and I had accidentally wandered into one of his sessions at the beginning of our arrangement before things had turned sexual between us. I remember the look of existential terror on the girl’s face that I had foolishly misplaced as pleasure, crying out not in ecstasy but in pain.

On the other hand, Jisung was the manipulative and cunning brother who thought out everything instead of living on a whim according to his pleasures. It was this same trait that I discovered in Minho who also shared Jisung’s tendency to plan out his movements. The only difference between them was that Minho was silent in his execution while Jisung was loud in letting everyone know that he had gotten his way.

Finally, there was Bang Chan, the legal leader of the Miroh Coven. Chan was the last of the brothers to attempt a siring bond because he had never found the right person. I would never know for sure why Seungmin and Jeongin were “the right people,” but Chan doted on them in every sense of the word. He treasured them like they were his possessions, buying them expensive clothes and allowing them leeway when their bloodlust tended to get the best of them. It was up to the sire to teach their fledglings how to properly drink blood from a source, but Chan had decided not to blink an eye when Seungmin or Jeongin accidentally took things a step too far.

Just like Chan, Seungmin and Jeongin were also extremely possessive, especially when they considered something to belong exclusively to them. I can only wish that I had noticed sooner, the way the three of them liked to leave their marks on me in various ways, whether it be through a harsh bite or buying me something nice and insisting that I wear it at all times. Seungmin and Jeongin were also dangerous because there had been times when I felt like I was on death’s door, feeling them drink my blood like they would never stop.

Sadly, I thought I had escaped all of that, so imagine the utter sense of dread crippling my entire body when I woke up to see Chan, Changbin, and Jisung standing over me as they watched me slowly awaken. Chan was the first to react, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he appraised me. “Sweetheart,” he said and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you know how worried we were when you ran away from us like that?”

My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it hard. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, looking every bit as patient as I remembered.

“You hurt people,” I whispered. “And you hurt me too.”

“Hurt you?” Chan huffed, a look of annoyance masking his features. “We protected you and cared for you, sweetheart.”

“You belong to us,” Jisung said, gaze cold as he watched me from afar.

I sniffled, slowly losing my last shred of pride as I tried not to cry in front of these horrible vampires. His words reminded me of the night I left, rushing out into the streets with blood covering my body. “I don’t have to work for you anymore,” I said.

Changbin growled. “The arrangement meant more than that, Y/N.”

“We love you,” Chan said, reaching for my hands and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

I was crying now, triggered by the all-too-familiar words spoken 9 months ago when I entered the Miroh Mansion for the final time.

Eight Months Ago

Jeongin was still young enough to celebrate his birthday, and the rest of the Clan had decided that nothing was too good for their precious youngest member. I remember going shopping with Chan, buying party decorations without any consideration for how much it would cost them. Earlier that week, Jisung and I had visited the bakery to order Jeongin a custom-made birthday cake, including a cheesy message at the bottom to commemorate the occasion. Everyone was in good spirits and I had finally stopped thinking about the bodies in their basement, believing Jisung when he told me that they had been donated to the Miroh Clan to use as a source of fresh blood. “It sometimes happens,” Jisung said. “Whenever there’s an accident and nobody claims the bodies, they send them here for us to use.”

It was an extremely unreasonable explanation but I refused to believe anything else in an attempt to protect myself from the truth. I was determined to move past it, forcing myself to smile at Jisung’s cheesy jokes or Chan’s attempts to make me laugh. I must have been a good actor because they stopped hovering around me at every possible opportunity, watching me like they were waiting for me to bolt out the door and never return.

“Y/N!” Jeongin had said, jumping into my bed to wake me up that morning. “Guess what?” he giggled, adorable face mere inches from my own.

“Hmmm?” I wondered, smirking as he practically beamed with excitement.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeongin said. “I’m supposed to be 40-years-old today!”

“Congratulations,” I snickered, deciding that it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Will you come play with me and Felix?” Jeongin asked. “We can do whatever we want until Chan gets home.”

That’s another thing I had noticed about the fledglings. They never really liked to talk about anyone except for their sired master. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that Jeongin had no idea that Jisung and Changbin even existed. “Okay,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Jeongin allowed me to get ready in peace and quiet, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water scalding my skin as I stood under the faucet for far longer than normal. Afterward, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finding Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin in Minho’s room, arguing over who would join teams. I yawned when I entered, wary of the way Minho was watching me from his bed, legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes followed me all the way to where Felix was holding out my controller.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the younger boys, ignoring Minho completely as I let Jeongin win several times even though I was much better at Street Fighter. “Finally,” Jeongin exclaimed, racing for the door before I could question him.

“Chan’s home,” Minho informed me, holding out a hand which I reluctantly accepted, trying not to react when Minho leaned in to press his lips against my delicate pulse point.

Downstairs, all of the vampires were busy setting up Jeongin’s party. Streamers hung from the overhead banisters and balloons floated mindlessly through the room as Chan hugged Jeongin tightly against his chest. “Were you a good boy today?” he asked the youngest who nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Y/N,” Jisung called my name. “Help me in the kitchen.”

I obeyed immediately, finding Jisung situating candles on top of the cake we had purchased earlier that week. I was struck by the normalcy of the situation, standing next to Jisung as he instructed me to start boiling a pot of water. Apparently, despite their delicate diets, on special occasions, the Vampires could enjoy human food and Jeongin’s favorite was being prepared for him.

It was chaotic in the Mansion as everyone attended to their various responsibilities, amusing little Jeongin who flitted from person to person. Although, more often than not, Jeongin stuck close to Chan’s side, talking to his sire about all the nuances of his day. Chan listened patiently, nodding along as he finished the elaborate ribbon around one of Jeongin’s birthday presents. “Is everyone ready?”

We all stood together in the kitchen, singing for Jeongin who was vibrating from head to toe. He blew out the candles and beamed at the accompanying applause. “Happy birthday, Jeongin,” I said, allowing him to pull me into an impossibly strong grip.

Meanwhile, the other vampires slowly congregated into the living room where Jeongin’s presents were waiting for him. “Y/N,” Chan said, holding me back as Jeongin raced out of the kitchen. “Help me carry these drinks.”

I wrinkled my nose because they were obviously filled with blood. Nonetheless, I obeyed diligently, accepting one of the trays before following Chan into the crowded foyer. “Channie!” Jeongin said, holding up a delicate pocket watch. “It’s so nice!”

Chan smiled warmly at Jeongin, ruffling his hair playfully as he started handing out the glasses. Changbin grabbed me by the hips as I passed in front of him, pulling me into his lap as he took a sip from his glass. “It’s not as good as yours,” he teased, lips scarlet from the liquid.

I chose not to respond to his comment, trying to relax against his body. “Y/N,” Chan said before handing me a glass. I studied it cautiously while I gingerly took the glass from him.

“What is it?”

“Just some wine,” Chan shrugged indifferently and I nodded before trying a sip of the beverage. Almost immediately, I winced at the taste and Changbin chuckled at my obvious aversion.

“It was very expensive,” he lightly chastised me and I tried not to notice the smell as I forced more of the wine down my throat.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to open more of his gifts, expressing his gratitude towards each of his older members as he tried on various pieces of clothing and jewelry. When he finally got to my present, he shot me a mischievous smirk. “Y/N…”

“Open it,” I encouraged him.

Jeongin needed no further encouragement, ripping through the wrapping paper before discovering the portable gaming system tucked neatly in the box it once came in. “For you to practice,” I said, pleased at his grateful expression. It was an older system that once belonged to my brother, but I didn’t have a need for it, and Jeongin talked relentlessly about how cool it would be to play the older versions of the games he loved.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

I was warmed by his genuine reaction, feeling nothing but affection for the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“What a good girl,” Changbin said, tipping my glass back against my lips. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he really cared about how expensive the wine cost. After all, these were the same men who brought new things into the house every day after flashing their shiny credit cards at whichever cashier had the privilege of accommodating their requests. Still, I knew better than to upset Changbin, especially on poor Jeongin’s birthday, so I downed the rest of the nasty drink before placing the glass down on the side table. “Shall we watch a movie?” Jisung asked, eyes glinting rather maniacally as he studied my discarded drink.

“Please!” Jeongin chirped. “Something scary.”

I hated the idea of watching a horror movie, but I couldn’t protest when everyone else was in total agreement for once. Instead, I followed the rest of the boys into the main living room, resisting a sigh when Chan drug me down next to him on the sectional. “Whatever you want, Jeongin,” Jisung said, tossing the younger the remote control.

“Dracula!” Jeongin declared, an amusing pick perhaps if these Vampires were less violent.

But my opinion held no weight and the film began while Felix turned off the lights. Bathed in darkness, I resisted the urge to curl in tighter against Chan as I tried not to think about the film playing on-screen. Everyone else was comfortable, settled in their usual pairs which meant Minho was sitting between Jisung’s legs while Felix and Hyunjin flanked Changbin on either side. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to me and Chan as they watched the television with wide, eager eyes.

I tried to turn off my mind, focusing on a distant spot beyond the edge of the screen. It worked for a while, keeping my mind occupied away from the movie playing in the background. In fact, I might have managed to survive the rest of the evening had it not been for Chan whose lips were suddenly brushing along the length of my neck.

I immediately flinched away. “What are you doing?” I whispered, unrelenting when his hand wrapped around the back of my head to force me into place.

“I’m hungry,” he smirked against my exposed skin, teeth sharp against my delicate flesh.

“Why now?” I said, looking over at the others because there was no way they couldn’t hear the two of us.

“Just one bite,” Chan said and I rolled my eyes but bared my neck for him, hoping he would be fast about the unexpected ordeal. He was quick to adjust me on his lap, fixing our positions to his liking. Chan’s teeth penetrated my skin gently and I could feel his mouth latch on tightly as he started to drink from me. I tried not to react, glancing away at the other members who were still watching the movie. With the exception of Changbin, who was looking at me with a dangerous smirk that immediately alerted me to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

As the seconds ticked away, I realized that Chan had no intention of stopping and my instincts kicked in as the storm of anxiety registered throughout my slowly weakening body. I jerked away from Chan who must have been caught off-guard, blood spraying into the air around us as the wound had not been properly closed. But my decision proved to be a necessary distraction because Jeongin and Seungmin both immediately reacted to the intense smell, teeth bared as they sought the source of the blood coating the furniture and my clothes. I managed to dodge Jeongin as he jumped at me first, colliding into Chan to send them both falling back into the floor.

With my hand pressed against my neck, I started for the front door, aware of Changbin closing in behind me. But the older boy was unprepared for Seungmin’s attack whose instincts probably insisted that someone was trying to steal his fresh supply of blood. Changbin let out a grunt as he wrestled with a feral Seungmin, receiving help from Felix and Hyunjin who were trying to protect their sire. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I could see Jisung holding back Minho whose sharpened incisors were cutting deeply into the thin skin of his lips. “You belong to us!” Jisung snarled.

“We can be together forever,” Chan said, still distracted by a wild Jeongin whose dark eyes were starting to look very unfamiliar. It was only then that I realized I had been tricked. They had been trying to turn me without my permission. The expensive wine Changbin insisted I drink must have been someone’s blood because when a human died with vampire blood in their system…

I forced those thoughts away, deciding it was far more important to focus on escaping, and the feral vampires provided the perfect distraction. I managed to make it out onto the street, finding my car parked at the sidewalk. I started the ignition, blasting cold air through the vents to keep me conscious as I pulled out onto the main road. Blood was still pouring steadily from my wound when I stopped next to the Emergency room entrance, ignoring a nearby policeman who was clearly displeased that I was blocking the road before I finally succumbed to the darkness with a grateful sigh.

Present

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids yandere #skz yandere #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz minho fanfic #skz chan fanfic #skz changbin fanfic #skz hyunjin #skz jisung fanfic #skz han fanfic #skz felix fanfic #skz seungmin fanfic #Skz jeongin fanfic

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ifellintothestyx · 4 years

Text

I keep thinking about that moment when Akutagawa called Atsushi "stupid".

"Stupid" which could be changed to "Idiot" and then translated to "Baka" in the anime (I'm not sure. For the sake of this post, just think about it).

So, one thought led to another:

In the aftermath of the Dracula virus, the ex-infected Port Mafia members are resting in a large infirmary. It's open for the ADA to enter and leave freely, since the building was damaged in the battle and no one wanted to cover up the huge hole in the wall. Yosano was also needed there to help tend to the wounded and check the conditions of the cured mafiosos, and she refused to do so without a member of the Agency at her side.

Akutagawa was the first to wake, which was surprising since he was turned first. He felt well-rested, like he never had before. He was always pushing himself to the limits after all, just to gain his approval. He did not have time for relaxing activities, and the only reason he slept at all was because his sister was a terrifying force of nature when she was worried.

Gin! Akutagawa immediately sat up, concern for his sister bubbling up. Vague memories of her at his side surfaced, her face contorted unnaturally in a way that sent chills down his spine from just remembering. His sister wasn't supposed to look like that. She looked terrifying at work, but at home, where it was just the two of them, the soft kindness on her face spoke louder than her pretty voice.

He was ready to bolt up from the bed to see her, when a familiar boy stepped into view.

Jinko looked exhausted at first. There were bags under his eyes, and some of the naivety in them that Akutagawa first found revolting was gone. He looked like he'd been through hell. He's starting to look like me.

When their gazes met, the relief that spread across the younger's face surprised him. It was quickly covered up as Jinko walked forward, but he could still see traces of it in the golden hue of his eyes.

"You're awake," Jinko breathed.

"Naturally. What did you expect?" Akutagawa replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jinko looked annoyed at first, then amused, and then he snorted. "I'm-I'm not sure, but, uh, are you–pfft–raising an eyebrow right now?"

Akutagawa immediately activated Rashoumon, the black demonic cloth piercing the ground beside Jinko. To his satisfaction, a brief squeak left Jinko's mouth as he stepped away.

Didn't I give away my coat?

Akutagawa's eyes widened as he reached behind his shoulder to grasp at the familiar leather. He had only just realized the coat was there, the familiar weight of it as natural as... well, not breathing, but maybe the constant ache of his lungs.

Which, now that he thought about it, was gone.

His hand trailed down to his chest, gripping the front of his shirt as he took in the first deep breath of his life without feeling the rattle in his lungs and the strong urge to cough. The feeling was so foreign, so nice, but strange, all the same, and for one bizarre moment, he wished he had his sickness back. Then, he realized he didn't have to die.

He didn't have to die anymore.

He didn't have to leave Gin, and Higuchi, and Tachihara, and Hirotsu-san, and Chuuya-san.

He didn't have to die.

"The Dracula virus, when it revived you, seemed to have fixed your lung problem," Jinko explained as he took a seat next to him. "When Yosano-sensei healed you, the effects stayed."

Akutagawa couldn't speak for a shock-filled minute. When he recovered, he turned to Jinko.

"Where is my sister?" He asked sharply. Funny, how he hadn't noticed the change in his voice before.

He realized that Jinko probably didn't know he had a sister, and opened his mouth to clarify, when Jinko snapped his fingers.

"Oh! Gin-san! Don't worry, she's here. She's just asleep," he said in a reassuring tone. "She and the others are recovering quickly. Yosano-sensei said they might wake up later in the day."

The relief of knowing his sister and his friends are all safe drowned out the strong urge to ask him how he knew Gin was his sister.

They sat in silence for a moment. Akutagawa was never good at small talk, but he could feel the tension hanging between them. The last time they had seen each other, Akutagawa been speaking through the pain in his throat, telling him to save himself. Jinko had reached out to save him, a fruitless act, but the honest concern and fear for his life had left him feeling... somewhat satisfied. Because Jinko was good, and kind, and the light that so many others seemed to rally behind and follow, and it both pleased and scared him somehow that his kindness extended to him.

"You know," Jinko started, "your last words were pretty dramatic."

Akutagawa scowled at him. "What do you mean, dramatic?" He ignored the shakiness of Jinko's voice when he said last words.

"'Idiot. Hurry up and go'," Jinko recited. The words sounded as if they were spoken more than once. Akutagawa decided not to think about the implication behind that.

"Well, you are stupid," Akutagawa said bluntly. Jinko rolled his eyes.

"How many days has it been?" Akutagawa asked.

"Three days since the last fight," Jinko answered. "Unfortunately, Fuck-you—I mean, Fukuchi escaped, but now that the Hunting Dogs are helping us, we might be able to corner him soon."

Discontentment, frustration, and anger rose up within him. That bastard isn't dead yet? And why were those Hunting Dogs helping them?

"To be honest, they aren't so bad," Jinko said. "They were just doing their jobs, after all, and Tecchou-san and Teruko-san were actually pretty nice, if you ignore Teruko-san's ranting about how she'll rip out the tendons of the rest of the Decay of Angels. Jouno-san, though, he apologized once, to both Yosano and Kunikida, then decided he was too good for any of us to speak with him. Only Dazai-san seemed to be the one getting through to him, honestly."

Tecchou? Teruko? Jouno? Who the hell were they?

"Dazai-san is back?" Akutagawa asked, shocked. He decided to ask about the other three later.

"Yes. His charges were mysteriously dropped, and now he's been pestering Jouno-san about the Hunting Dogs' methods for an hour now. Tecchou-san says he's impressed at how Jouno-san managed to keep himself from shooting him." Jinko sighed in a world-weary way.

After a long silence, Jinko spoke up again. "My name is Nakajima Atsushi."

Akutagawa blinked. "You have an actual name?"

Jinko looked irritated. "Of course I have an actual name! Did you really think I was named Jinko at the orphanage?!"

Akutagawa nodded. "Fine. You have a name. But, unless you defeat me in our battle a few months from now, I will refer to you as Jinko."

"Don't."

"Nakajinko Atsushi, then."

"I–No!"

Just then, a hilarious thought crossed Akutagawa's mind.

"Bakajinko Atsushi."

"I'm going to kill you."

"Been there, done that."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakajima atsushi

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seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana · 3 years

Note

Diego and number 28? (for the kisses prompt) 💙

Thanks Wren🥺💙💙. And here we go and I hope it’s good :).

28. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Diego loved MC so much.

So much.

She always managed to push his boundaries, she broke down his walls slowly, and managed to squeeze into his heart. She became the most important person in his life. However, when she became that, worry and fear was another feeling that was put into his heart. He was a vampire, he was stronger than a normal human and could protect himself better, but MC was a human. She wasn't weak, but trouble was following Diego and now it was following her.

She was targeted and he felt like it was all his fault.

He knows he shouldn't blame himself, MC always told him that, but blaming was a habit for him and it was hard to break out of that. Because of the trouble of Dracula and his worry, he decided to take her and escape Havenfall. And he felt his heart drop when he heard that MC thought he was going to abandon her to protect her.

He may have been stupid at times and didn't always know how to handle feelings, but he knew he would never abandon her. His own heart wouldn't be able to handle it. And with that plan, they went to LA, and stayed at a hotel when MC couldn't keep her eyes open in the truck.

MC was worried and panicked when she tried to sleep, but Diego managed to calm her down and help her go to sleep. He always watched her when she slept since he couldn't go to sleep, and he always saw the peace on her face and he knew he wanted to keep her like that. He wanted to keep her safe and happy even when she was awake, so he protected her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, trying to comfort himself by feeling that she's there. She's safe in his arms, she's breathing, she's alive, and she's okay.

When she woke up in the morning and saw Diego looking at her, she gave him a tired smile and looked confused. "What is it?" Her voice was groggy, but still beautiful to him.

He cupped her cheek and watched her lean into his hand with a smile. His heart always pounded faster when she returned his love and trusted him. His hand moved to her chin and his thumb traced her bottom lip. Her lips were always soft and it made him remember their first kiss, the way he wasn't thinking straight. He was only thinking of need and want. It made him feel slightly embarrassed since he thought he should've done it in a better way, but he also wouldn't change a thing.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked with a loving smile. She knew things about him, but his thoughts were almost always a mystery to her. Especially when he gave her that look. That look of love and care.

He came back to the present and smirked at her. "Thinking about you."

MC felt her throat go dry and a blush run across her cheeks. She wasn't used to feeling this love, feeling like this, and his compliments and words always caught her off guard. "What about me?" She said with a teasing tone she managed to speak in.

He stopped tracing her lips and took her bait. They both leaned in at the same time and Diego's lips brushed hers in a gentle way.

But it didn't stay that way.

He pulled away, barely, and smiled. "Our first kiss."

MC's smile went into a smirk at the memory. He was the one who had the power in the first kiss, he was the one that had the need for her, and now it was her turn. She pushed him onto his back and moved to be leaning above him, bracing herself with one hand, and the other rested on his cheek. This time, it was Diego's turn to blush and she leaned in closer to him.

"You had the power the first time, and I think it's my turn to take control."

Without giving him time to respond, she leaned in and didn't give the gentleness he had with her. Her kisses were rough and they knew the morning would be very entertaining.

"Stop at the part where the prompt is mentioned," a part in my brain tells me, BUT NO-

I'm gonna always keep going and I hope this was good! Kissing is hard to write even though I've read it like multiple times and suddenly forget the words to use when writing :').

Here's the ask thing if you want to ask me more or others want to ask me! My ask box is always open😌💙💙.

There's proofreading but sorry if some things are messed up or sound weird!

#my writing #lovestruck #havenfall is for lovers #diego escalona #havenfall is for lovers Diego #UGH why is describing kissing so hard?? Ik what I want in my head??? But???!?!!? Putting it into words??!?!?! Literally impossible for me?!#Anyways I hope you get it and it doesn't sound too weird :(.#And I love Diego and love how much he loves MC😌.#And I believe they ended up in LA? Or was it Chicago? I can't remember exactly where they were when they ran from Dracula but I'm pretty #sure it was LA? Idk but yeah hope you enjoy :).#And I'm always open for multiple asks and some feedback!!#And I don't forget about these I'm just a slow writer-#Always trying to make things perfect😌

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gellavonhamster · 4 years

Text

souvenirs

Dracula (the novel) || Jack Seward/Quincey Morris || very slightly nsfw

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

“I remember stitching up this one,” Jack remarks, tracing a scar on Quincey’s shoulder with a tip of his finger. The scar is already pale but still prominent, uneven, resembling a primitive picture of a lightning bolt. “Colorado, right?”

“Oklahoma,” corrects him Quincey, and chuckles. “A fun day it was, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose so, if you believe that nearly dying is fun… which you probably do.”

“Not always,” Quincey wraps his arm around Jack’s waist and pulls him closer. Both of them are still hot and sweat-soaked; cuddling up to each other ought to be unpleasant. However, it is not. “But look me in the eye and tell me it wasn’t a first-rate adventure.”

Jack remembers that day – the oppressive heat, the sun high in the sky, the gang of bandits attacking the train. There was no one to await help from, so the passengers, among which were also he, Quincey, and Arthur, had to defend themselves and, surprisingly, managed to beat the robbers back with less casualties than one would expect. He remembers the smell of gunpowder and the sounds of battle, the weight of a pistol in his hands, and the quiet sobs of the women and children hiding under the seats. He remembers the realization that there was no other way but to fight – not because it was noble or commendable, but because they needed to survive somehow. He remembers what it is like when panic suddenly gives way to clarity of thought, as if someone else is in control of his body, someone much braver and more confident than he. The panic returned when everything was over, when he stepped on a corpse at the platform, when Quincey stumbled into the carriage with a knife handle sticking out of his shoulder – but during the fight itself his heart was an eye of the storm.

“It certainly was… an interesting experience,” he admits. “An enlightening one. Which I would rather not repeat,” he hastens to add as soon as he notices Quincey’s contented grin. “Scars are not the best kind of souvenirs to bring back from travels.”

“That depends. Such kind of souvenirs surely won’t let you forget those travels,” Quincey definitely is of an opinion that arguing jokingly about various absurd subjects is also fun. In this respect, however, Jack is of the same mind. “And they are splendid illustrations for the stories about those travels, particularly if you want to make one hell of an impression on those listening to you…”

“Well, go on, then. Impress me,” Jack suggests. He is aware that he’s stalling for time, unwilling to break the embrace, get out of bed, and return to his rooms at the asylum, even though he cannot afford not to spend the night there for so many days in a row – in a hospital, anything could happen anytime, and being the head doctor, he ought not to leave it for long. This is what his common sense tells him, yet his soul and body keep getting better and better at ignoring its admonitions. It was much easier to retain prudence when all he had were the thoughts he had grown used to pushing away in shame and tried to play over in his head as rarely as possible. It is more difficult by far to keep his passions in check after having a taste of what he’s longing for – a literal taste as well, the taste of kisses and sweat and seed, the feeling of another’s fingers in his mouth. If he could go back in time and refrain from making this mistake, he would have certainly made it again and again and again. “You cannot use this one, of course.”

“Of course. Hmm…” Quincey takes Jack’s hand in his and guides it down, to his hip. The scar there must be old, a smooth light spot on brown skin. “I was fourteen when someone attempted to rob our ranch. Father and brothers weren’t home then – I don’t remember why, must’ve gone to town, so it was just me, my pregnant mother, and our old maidservant. In other words, it was actually just me against these three bastards.”

“Was that so?”

“You bet it was. Well, what was there to do? Mother and Abigail – the maid – barricaded themselves in the parents’ bedroom with a gun, and I took another gun and went to welcome our dear guests. When I took one down, another one got scared and bolted, but the third one flew into a rage and rushed straight at me. He had a hunting knife…”

“With which he struck right into your old scar?” Jack can’t resist interrupting him.

Quincey blinks at him, puzzled. “My old scar?”

“Why, of course,” Jack says, trying his best to keep a straight face. “I recall that when we visited your family, your mother told Arthur and me how as a child you vexed a cow once, and it butted you in the left hip. With all its strength, so that you still have a mark.”

Quincey stares at him in astonishment, then throws his head back, and bursts into laughter.

“Oh, screw you,” he says, having stopped laughing. “You know me too well.”

“I just remembered this for some reason, that is all. It is strange you did not remember it – you were laughing the loudest as she was telling us that…”

“Damn it, Jack, you told me to impress you! Ain’t easy to impress a man who’s already heard half of what I can boast about and seen the other half with his own eyes.”

“Well, sorry for being harder to surprise than a barmaid in a saloon,” Jack says, and bites his tongue at once. He isn’t sure this is an appropriate joke. As a matter of fact, he still isn’t sure about many things, though to a lesser extent than back when he kissed Quincey for the first time, grabbing him by the shirt collar and feeling like he’s making a step into emptiness.

“Far harder,” Quincey agrees. His eyes are still smiling, so the joke must have been not entirely disastrous. “But that is all right,” he continues, caressing Jack’s back. Perhaps one day Jack will get used to being looked at the way Quincey is looking at him now, but he still isn’t sure about that either. “I like you better.”

#this is like pwp without either p i am sorry #also the silliest thing i've written since that b/b/l crossdressing fic #also i have never been attacked by a cow and the last western i watched must've been hmm. bandidas when i was a kid #jack seward #quincey morris #dracula #bram stoker #talk talk talk #gella talks dracula #my fic #morward

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 3: Hope is up! Alucard is still sad, and Sypha and Trevor are Worried™. Also, some Sypha POV because I love her :’)

Read here or on AO3! Read from the beginning

Adrian watches as magic gathers around Sypha. It is a faint blue glow that makes her eyes spark, that builds and builds and pools at her fingertips. A subtle wave of warmth rushes towards him, touching him.

The scroll is before her, being held aloft by what seem to be invisible strings of air. Her voice is but a soft whisper as she speaks the chant under her breath. It is a fascinating thing, it always has been, to watch her cast, to witness the sheer amount of power that her slender frame is able to hold. Fountains of it. Rivers. Oceans, and it has only grown since the last time he's seen her.

It is more than a little unnerving.

Adrian’s own magic is entirely different to hers. He is familiar with the arcane in some ways; he has studied the philosophy and foundations, but most of the spells the Speaker magicians use are either foreign to him, or he has tried and failed entirely to grasp. It is an innate talent, his father told him once, entirely different to that of vampires. That makes the fact that Sypha now wields that power with ease no less transfixing.

Belmont is lying on the bed, unmoving and oblivious to their presence. Adrian’s mixture helped somewhat in keeping the infection at bay, but his fever has dropped only slightly. It tugs at Adrian, in a way he is entirely loath to admit, to see Belmont in that condition. Weak and frail, when he is usually boisterous and loud, obnoxiously so.

Perhaps, after all, I do still possess a heart, Adrian thinks. If barely.

The shimmering strands of magic that spring forth from Sypha’s fingers twist in the air above her, like silk threads moving through water, before settling over Belmont. The light engulfs him for a quick moment, seeps into every pore; he is radiant now, the bright light that suffuses him taking away some of the pallor of his skin. The spell is gone in an instant, dissolving into thin air and leaving no trace behind it.

The light around Sypha dims too, almost simultaneously, the warmth dissipating. As soon as it does, she closes her eyes, and brings her hand to her temples, swaying lightly. Before he can stop to think, Adrian leaps to her side, catching her by the elbows to steady her.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I… I’m fine,” she says, a touch hoarse. Her eyes are screwed shut, a pained grimace twisting her features. “It seems the spell took more out of me than I thought it would.”

She’s leaning into him now; the sweet, subtle warmth of her body seeping through his clothes. He stands motionless, frozen for a long moment, unsure what to do.

“Yes,” he manages finally. “You did say that healing is not your expertise.” He guides her to the edge of the bed, helps her sit, then takes a safe step away.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” She rubs her temples, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. Her eyes are clear and luminous, a trace of the spell still shining in their depths. Adrian swallows, looks away.

Belmont is still lying perfectly still on the bed. It could be Adrian’s imagination, but he thinks his colour is not quite as pale-grey as it was a few moments before.

Sypha reaches out to place the back of her hand on Belmont’s forehead. “He feels a little cooler now,” she says, and the relief in her voice is palpable. Her hand drifts lower almost immediately, drawing the blanket back, peeling away the fabric of Belmont’s shirt. The bandage that they had placed on the wound only a short while before is already drenched in blood, and Sypha instantly gets to work in removing it. She does so smoothly, carefully, as if she is handling precious glass. Adrian takes a step closer too, watching the gentle movement of her fingers as she undoes the wrappings with a mixture of dread, hope and anticipation. Neither of them knows what they’ll see once the bandage is removed.

Sypha hesitates only for a moment before peeling back the final layer and revealing the wound.

“The infection is gone.” Her fingers hover over the wound for a moment before she withdraws. She looks up at Adrian with a hopeful smile. “It worked.”

“To an extent,” Adrian replies, leaning closer. Most of the infection has disappeared, leaving behind healthy, if still damaged skin and flesh. “It will take a while to heal fully.”

“Yes. Of course. But it will heal like any normal wound would. Right?” She pauses, holding her breath, searching his eyes.

Adrian lets out a slow breath. At that moment, he wishes he could give her a hard and fast answer, and a positive one. He wishes he could reassure her with words, put her mind at ease. The truth of the matter is, though, that injuries like these are unpredictable. Belmont could seem perfectly fine now, then raise a fever high enough to kill him in a few days.

He decides not to tell her that.

“We shall see. You’ll need to keep an eye on him, day and night, at least for a short while.” It isn’t the answer she hoped to hear from him, surely. But it is all he can give, right then.

Sypha takes that with surprising stoicity. She nods, her lips tightening in a line, then turns to Belmont once more.

Adrian takes another, small step back.

“I… shall leave you to it, then,” he tells her. “I suppose you’ll both be needing rest. There is food in the kitchen, should you get hungry.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he is about to say. “You are welcome to stay until… until Belmont has fully recovered. I’ll stay out of your way until then.”

The look she turns to give him is a surprised one. She stands up slowly, blinking at him. “Where are you… will you be around?”

There is surprise in her gaze, and worry. It warms Adrian in a way he does not expect, but he decides not to let the feeling linger. He backs towards the door, hesitating for a moment before opening it. "I wish you luck," he says quietly, and walks out.

Sypha does not see Alucard again for three days.

Three days of tending to Trevor’s injury, pressing cool cloths to his fevered brow, changing him out of shirts damp with sweat, and milling endlessly about the castle when she isn’t doing any of the above. Three nights of light, restless sleep.

She can’t complain, not exactly. The bed is comfortable, the mattress soft and filled with rich down, and the blanket the warmest and least scratchy she’s had on for months —all her life, it seems— with only the faintest smell of must. The tall window of their room is overlooking the expansive forest below and the snowy mountain range beyond, and the large hearth that burns day and night keeps the space comfortably warm. Trevor’s fever drops more every day, and the wound is healing nicely.

She still sees evidence of Alucard’s presence, if not the man himself. There is freshly cooked food whenever she goes to the kitchen; she isn’t quite sure how Alucard manages to cook it without her ever walking in on him doing it, but every time she goes there the smell of baked bread and the welcoming scent of spices she has never smelt before linger in the air. There are trays of sweet or savoury pies, roast game or grilled fish, steamed and buttered vegetables. Had she known that Alucard had such refined tastes, she would never have offered him the over-salted dried jerky and suspiciously moldy cheese they used to find while on the road, and that was often the only food they had.

Along with the food, there is always a pot of thin broth —she assumes it is for Trevor—, as well as strips of crisp white linen to dress and clean his injury, accompanied by a pot of antiseptic ointment that she assumes he makes by himself. The tiny note left next to it with instructions for use is written in Alucard’s elegant, flowy handwriting.

Sypha is touched. The care and concern is evident in everything he does, and she is not the least surprised by the fondness that creeps in, along with her bafflement. The man is an enigma— the more she stays in that place, the more certain she becomes of it, but his thoughtful gestures do not change the fact that he’s stayed away for three days.

She has never felt more lonely.

Dracula’s castle, or rather, Alucard’s castle now, is a frigid, unliving thing. Just walking down its endless dark corridors is enough to make her hair stand on end, but she does it anyway. There are only so many hours she can spend locked up in the room; besides, she and Trevor have made exploring abandoned villages and old manors a bit of a habit while on the road. It has always been a bit of fun on the side, even when it was a necessity. Now, as she passes through room after empty room, the air thick with cobwebs and layers of dust, she has to admit that there are moments that she dreads what she will see if she turns around the wrong corner, if the staked corpses by the front door are anything to go by.

Alucard himself does not seem overly eager to take the bodies down, or even to give the slightest explanation. He doesn’t even seem to have any intention of fixing the damage that the castle sustained during the fight with Dracula and his vampires. The red carpet that lines the floor of the entrance hall is burned in places, completely in tatters in others and drenched in blood in more spots than she can count. One side of the staircase is falling apart, and more than half the stone columns are in not much better condition. The mountains of broken bottles she finds when a wrong left turn accidentally leads her to the wine cellar confirms her suspicion: Alucard isn’t in the least interested in making this place a home.

Haunted. The place feels haunted. Heavy and dark with secrets of ages past.

She can’t quite explain the sadness that wells up inside her to see the place that her friend, their friend, has been living in for the past few months. There’s a terrible coldness that’s hanging over the space like a blanket, muffling the sounds, draining any sort of life, of warmth. It’s as if Dracula never died after all— it’s as if his grief overflowed in the end, escaped the confines of his body and boiled over, seeping into every corner, every crevasse, every inch of the space. It is thick and sticky like tar, and Alucard is trapped in it. It almost feels like, the more she stays there, the more she gets trapped in it, too.

It is only the fourth day, when she discovers the baths on the second —or is it the third floor? She has lost count— that things start to look up a little. A room filled with large, copper tubs, and metal pipes with switches that release cold and hot water. Sypha melts in it and lets it take away the sore from her muscles, scrubs her skin with soap until it’s flushed and raw, stays there until she’s all pruned.

She leans back against the carved bronze headrest in the shape of an ivy vine, and looks out of the small window at the top of the wall that lets a circular sliver of grey-blue sky peek through, and she suddenly realises: she’s almost used to this place. Almost.

Sypha walks back into hers and Trevor’s room thoroughly clean for the first time in what feels like ages, with her damp hair slicked back and combed through, and with the clothes she washed in one of the tubs and then dried off with magic neatly folded under her arm. The fire in the hearth is reduced to embers now, and she kneels before it to feed some more wood in it, when a tired groan comes from the bed.

“Too bright.”

Sypha looks back over her shoulder and smiles at Trevor, who is blinking blearily, wincing at the light that’s streaming in through the window. “It’s bright because it’s morning, sleepyhead.” She gets up and walks up to him, sitting at the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shite.” He groans again as he sits up with some effort, pressing his palm to his forehead. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, and he’s still quite pale, but there’s a vitality to his complexion that wasn’t there a couple days ago. “I feel like shite.”

“Do you, now? What a surprise. It’s almost as if you didn’t almost die from a cursed night creature wound.” Sypha rolls her eyes, laughing. “I’ve brought some food. Are you hungry?”

“Bloody ravenous,” he says, eyeing the tray that she brought in that morning. He reaches over to it, when Sypha pushes him back.

“Take it easy. Your wound is still not fully healed.” She stands up to pick up the tray, then sets it carefully in his lap. She ignores his muffled protests that he isn’t an invalid as she props some pillows behind his back and eases him on them, then warms up his soup with a quick fire spell. “There. Now you can eat to your heart’s content.”

Trevor says nothing as he lifts the cover from the bowl of soup and starts gobbling it down, and if that isn’t proof as to how hungry he is, then she doesn’t know what is. “Did you make this? It’s very good. Haven’t had soup like this in…” He frowns in thought as he chews. “I’ve never had soup like this.”

“I didn’t. Alucard did.”

Trevor’s eyes widen in surprise. He glances down at the bowl, his lip curling ever so slightly in disgust, as if he’s just eaten a pile of wriggling worms.

“Relax, it’s not poison,” Sypha says with a laugh. “He’s the one that’s been making food for both of us actually, all this time, though you’ve been too dazed to notice. He’s actually a very good cook.”

“Has he?" He quirks a brow, "Then why was I always the one to cook when we were travelling?”

“Skinning rabbits and roasting them over the fire until they’re all charred on the outside and still a little raw on the inside is not cooking.”

“It’s more than you did,” Trevor mutters, bringing another mouthful of soup to his mouth, his expression of mild disgust disappearing straight away. “I should have known that it was Alucard who made this. If it were you, it would have just been overcooked and over-salted vegetables in tasteless broth.” He huffs a laugh when she smacks him playfully on the shoulder.

“Just finish your meal, Belmont,” she says with a chuckle, leaning back with her palms on the bed. She watches him gulp down the rest of the soup and then attack the bread and cheese on his tray. His recovery is going well, she thinks, with his appetite back in full force, and that is enough to send a wave of warmth coiling through her. She’s missed his bad jokes, his endless groaning and griping, the mess he makes when he eats, leaving crumbs everywhere. The fear of losing him is still not far from her mind.

“So how is our gallant host?” he asks, leaving the tray aside when he’s finished and wiping his lips with a napkin. “Have you two been making friends? Has he tried to woo you into leaving me yet?”

She snorts and shakes her head, but a certain bitterness slithers in. “No… not really. I haven’t exactly seen him since… well, since he helped me find the scroll to heal you.” She did catch a glimpse of him, she thinks, a couple days before. It was only a flash of golden hair, disappearing around the curve of the stairs that led to the upper floors. By the time she had climbed the stairs, he was already gone.

Trevor’s brows furrow in a curious frown. “So he’s left you on your own? All this time?”

She shrugs. “It wasn’t as bad. I’ve been… occupied.”

“Huh.” Trevor lets his gaze sweep around the room, taking in his surroundings. “That’s odd. Even for him.”

Sypha nods, though ‘odd’ is an understatement.

“Any news on the…” He looks past their door, where the front entrance lies half a castle away. She shakes her head, her stomach clenching.

“No. Hasn’t said a word about it.”

His frown deepens. “I don’t like this, Sypha. I don’t like it one bit.”

“I know.” She sighs, gathering her legs up and sitting cross legged beside him. She reaches out, her fingers threading through his as if on their own; his skin is warm and comforting against hers. “I know. I’m not sure what to think of it either. And this whole place is…” She shivers despite herself. “It’s so cold. And empty. Just being here makes me feel... numb.”

She looks up at Trevor, who is looking at her like he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He does have this way of understanding exactly what’s on her mind sometimes that she can’t quite explain. She takes heart from the warmth of his touch, the solidity of his presence. “Still,” she continues, “no matter what’s happened here, no matter what he's done, he helped us. He helped you. Your life would still be in danger if it weren’t for him. You should thank him next time you see him.” She twists her fingers more firmly through Trevor’s, squeezing his hand gently. Her voice trembles only slightly before she speaks. “You would probably have died if it hadn’t been for him. Do you know that?”

“Don’t say that,” Trevor says quietly. “I wouldn’t have died. Not while I still had you by my side.”

“No. No.” Sypha shakes her head stubbornly, her eyes burning. All the worry she has barely suppressed those past few days rises to the surface, choking her. “You didn’t see how you were, Trevor. You were at the brink of death, and Alucard helped me drag you back from it. I could not have done it on my own. I was…” She lets out a tremulous exhale as she looks away. “I was powerless. Before we came here, I was completely powerless. You were dying, and I was on my own, and I didn't know how to help you. I didn’t—”

“Sypha.” Trevor’s voice is soft, his palm, when it cups her cheek and brings her gaze back to him, is softer still. “You aren't powerless. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles, a hint of mischief in the curl of his lip. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, you know.”

He pulls her close, and Sypha lets herself be drawn to him. When he wraps his strong arms around her, a sigh of relief leaves her lips. Home. She is home.

She squeezes her eyes shut and hugs him back. The warmth of his chest, as it presses against hers, puts her heart back in its rightful place, his deep, earthy scent filling her lungs. He is there. He is there, and she will keep him close, for as long as she can. “You’d better not be,” she mutters wryly. "For your own good."

Trevor chuckles, lifting her chin with his thumb. “Duly noted, my lady,” he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against hers in a tender kiss.

It is everything Sypha needs. Her arms link behind his neck, deepening their kiss. He pulls her closer, drawing her flush against him, his palms running up her back. She hums against his lips, threads her fingers through his hair as she holds him tightly. She wants him. Needs him. She-

She gasps when Trevor rolls them both to the side, flipping her on her back on the bed. “Wait— What are you doing? Your injury—”

“Fuck my injury,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss her once more.

She chuckles despite herself. This man. She's missed this man. She's missed him being strong and steady beside her, she's missed the grip of his hands and the softness of his lips. Before she knows it, his hand is slithering under the hem of her robes, and she's lifting the edges of his shirt, tugging, urging him. After so many days drifting through those halls cold and alone, she needs his warmth, she craves his touch.

“Oh, Trevor,” she sighs, leaning into him. “I missed you, I missed you—” His lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck, just as his palm smooths up her leg. Her eyes are half closed as she works the laces of his breeches open, then slips deft fingers past his waistband. A wicked smile widens her lips. “Someone’s missed me too, I think.”

Trevor lets out a sound that’s between a laugh and a moan. “Still worried about my wound?”

Sypha laughs, breathless, as she pushes him on his back and straddles him. “Stop talking, Belmont.”

Later, they both lie sated, wrapped in a tight embrace as they both catch their breaths and their hearts slowly find their natural rhythms. Sypha’s limbs are relaxed and deliciously heavy with sweet, warm weariness. She kisses the top of Trevor’s head before she peels herself from him, rolling on her back beside him. Her eyes are closed when Trevors sinks back into the pillows with a deep sigh. “Oh, that was nice.”

“Hopefully better than beer,” she teases.

“Only slightly.” He chuckles as she swats at his arm, then reaches out and wraps his arm around her shoulders. She presses her cheek to his chest and lets the warmth and calmness of the moment seep into her, listening to the quiet thrum of Trevor’s heartbeats. His breaths are easing now, and his fingers are soft and light when they brush down her arm. She cracks one eye open to glance at the wound at his sides. The bandage is still intact, crisp white, not a speck of blood.

Good. He is better. He will be fine. She lets out a deep sigh and snuggles closer against him.

“I missed this,” Trevor whispers, pressing his lips to the top of her head and taking in a deep breath. “See, if we had some ale just about now, I think it would be my personal heaven. Even with broody half-vampires roaming beyond the door.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sypha snorts. “You and your ale. How do you even enjoy drinking that thing.”

“You’ve taken a liking to it, and don’t you deny it.” She can hear the smirk in his voice without even having to look up.

“I only drink it because most inns don’t serve anything else,” she protests sleepily. “Besides, you drink enough for both of us.”

“Not now, I don’t.”

“Good! There’s one good thing this injury has done for you. Let’s hope it lasts, shall we?”

Trevor groans. Sypha grins.

They stay like this for a long while, in each other’s arms. The only sound is the fire crackling in the hearth and their soft, sleepy breaths. She can feel the tug of sleep just at the edges of her consciousness, and Trevor’s body fits so smoothly against her own. She closes her eyes, preparing to surrender to the pull, but it’s not long before the distinctly cold feeling of unease that has followed her since stepping foot in that place invades her thoughts. For some odd reason, she can’t get a moment’s rest here.

Sypha lets out a sigh and sits up, hugging her knees. Her gaze falls past the clear glass of the window, roams over the wide expanse of trees and snowy mountain peaks, the serpentine twist of the river. She suddenly longs to open the windows wide, to fly away like a bird. Buildings have always suffocated her. She feels more at home now in her and Trevor’s carriage, with its hard wooden floor and the cold wind drifting through every crevasse. Sleeping under the stars or with the canvas roof of a carriage fluttering in the night wind is what she’s used to. She’s only ever had a ceiling above her head when her clan stayed in old or abandoned buildings for short periods of time during their travels, or when she and Trevor stay at inns, occasionally. She doesn’t deny that it has its luxuries, but staying in any one place for long periods of time is foreign to her. Her people never spent too long anywhere, and she’s been accustomed to being lulled to sleep by the soft movement of the carriage, the sound of the horses’ hooves or the crackling of a campfire. People always say that staying in houses made of bricks and stones is safer than living on the road; for Sypha, the presence of her people has always been the only safety she’s needed.

Trevor has become that for her. He and Alucard are her people— or at least, that’s what she believed. She’s not entirely sure what to think, now.

Trevor’s hand caresses her bare back. “What’s wrong?”

She turns to glance at him over her shoulder. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“Alucard.”

Trevor stays silent for a moment, then lets out a soft sigh. His eyes drift towards the door again, towards where the front entrance and the staked bodies lie.

She worries her lip as she studies Trevor’s pensive profile. “It just doesn’t feel like something Alucard would do. He is not like that. Is he?”

“I didn’t think him capable of doing something like it either, no,” Trevor replied thoughtfully. “But a lot can happen in a few months. You and I both know that, better than anyone. Besides…” He pauses for a moment. “He is half a vampire, you know.”

“What of it?” she asks guardedly.

“Vampires are vicious. They’re violent, thirsty for blood. It’s in their nature. Perhaps… perhaps he suddenly decided to get more in touch with that part of him. Who knows?”

Sypha frowns. “I don’t think that’s likely. One does not simply stake people for the fun of it, or to ‘get in touch with their nature’.”

“Dracula did it,” Trevor shrugs. “Alucard is his son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Isn’t that what people say?”

“Yes, but Alucard killed his father,” Sypha retorts stubbornly. “If that doesn’t show a difference of opinion, I don’t know what does.”

“Even more reason to believe that he’s capable of terrible things.”

“That’s hardly fair, and you know it. He did it because he had to, and we helped him. If he’s capable of terrible things, then so are we, but that hardly justifies the bodies by the door.”

“Alright, fine. You have a point.” Trevor sighs, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “What do you think happened, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what it could be that pushed him to do something like that. The very thought scares me.” She glances away and hugs her knees closer to her chest. The unease in her gut, that deep, invasive feeling, is stronger than ever. “I… I worry for him.”

Trevor says nothing for a long moment. His chest rises and falls with his even breaths, and his frown deepens, carving a line between his brows. “Yeah,” he admits quietly after a while. “So do I.”

“You haven’t even seen the state of this place. It’s worse than I thought. It’s… cold and dark like a tomb. And Alucard himself is so cold, so distant… More so than before, and God knows he was near impossible to get through to even then.”

“He’s grieving, Sypha. Grief changes people.”

Her heart clenches at the thought. Of course he’s grieving. To lose one parent to the Church, the other to his own madness, and then have to fight him himself, on top of everything else. She can’t help the shiver that runs through her.

“We shouldn't have left him.” It is a bitter admission, and one that drives that gut-twisting feeling ever deeper, but there is no denying it now. Both she and Trevor were so eager to leave after Dracula was dead, so determined not to linger in any one place for too long, that they did not even stop to think about what it would mean for Alucard to be left alone with that, to face this overwhelming emptiness on his own. It makes her wonder now, whether it is that same emptiness that they were both running away from.

“When I lived with my clan,” she says softly, “when one of us passed away, that was the time when we would stick closer together, more than ever. If a wife, or children, or parents were left behind, we would spend most of the day with them, looking after them, commemorating their loved one with them. They weren’t allowed to do chores or cook for a week. That is how my people deal with mourning.”

Trevor blinks at her. “One whole week of no chores, with people cooking for me and fawning over me? How can I join the Speakers? Do they accept applications?”

The laughter that tumbles from her lips startles her. “You don’t need to join the Speakers, you daft bear,” she chuckles despite herself, leaning against him. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous, smirking at her as if he’s made the cleverest jest in the world. “You almost got killed by a night-creature, and you got pretty much the same treatment.”

Trevor’s arm comes around her shoulders, as if by rote, the vibration of his rich, throaty laugh running through her. He kisses the side of her head, and when he pulls back, his features have grown somber once more.

“Sometimes a man needs to be left alone when grieving,” he says thoughtfully. “You know, to lick his wounds and all that. There are moments when it all gets ugly, and I know for sure I wouldn’t want someone that I care about to see me when in a similar state. Perhaps… perhaps we just came here at a bad time.”

“‘A bad time’?” Sypha lifts a brow, nodding towards the main entrance. “Is that what you would call it?”

Trevor opens his mouth. Closes it. Frowns. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” His fingers drum a gentle beat against her shoulder, where he is holding her. “He was the one who wanted to stay behind. We asked him to come with us, and he didn’t want to.”

“Do you always know exactly what you want? Or what is good for you?”

“I should certainly hope so.”

“No,” Sypha smiles knowingly. “No, you don’t. And I think we both know that.”

“Hey, I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Perfectly good, perfectly wise decisions. Very, very wise and mature— why are you laughing? I’m serious.”

“You don't have a serious bone in your body, Belmont,” Sypha says, still trembling with laughter. She cackles in delight when he starts tickling her, trying to swat his fingers away.

“Are you quite sure about that? Hm? Absolutely sure?” He grins when the sound of her laughing protests fills the room. When she’s flushed and out of breath, he pulls her against him, his arms coming around her in a warm hug. “Alright,” he says. “You know best. What do you think we should do?”

Sypha takes a deep breath to calm her beating heart, and meets his gaze levelly. “I think we should stay.”

“What?” Trevor’s eyes widen. “Stay here? In Dracula’s castle?”

“Why not? It’s not like we have anyplace else to be right now.”

“Sure we do. We have night creatures to hunt, and gold to earn, and—”

“Don’t you think we’ve both had enough of killing night creatures for a while?” She reaches up, pushing a strand of dark brown hair away from his brow. “Alucard needs us,” she says softly.

Trevor blinks at her, evidently ready to protest, but lets out a deep sigh instead. He leans into her touch, gazing at her with warm, blue, trusting eyes. “How can I refuse when you look at me like this, hm?”

She grins, shifting closer to kiss him. His lips part readily under hers, and for the first time since stepping foot in that castle, she feels hope.

If you enjoyed this chapter, I’d love to hear your thoughts! :)

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard x trevor x sypha #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #trephacard #alucard/trevor belmont/sypha belnades #castlevania fanfiction #where blood roses bloom #johaerys writes

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter VIII]

Word count: 5,459

Warnings: none

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

A/N: Not much Dracula in this chapter and I apologise for it! I'm trying to progress the story while keeping it entertaining. Still hope you can enjoy it.

Also, as I was reviewing this I realised not everyone might get a reference I threw in there (you'll know when). If you're curious about what I'm referring to, just watch this clip at the 2:40 mark (do NOT watch it around other people).

____________________________________________________

My gaze crossed with his over the table. He took a knight between two fingers, hovering in the air in thought. The dull light of a cloudy day streamed in at our right, creating shadows on the chessboard and making the pieces look bigger than they actually were. My eyes flickered to the ticking clock next to the chess board and then back to his. He frowned at my smirk. The knight hung ominously over my remaining bishop and I raised an eyebrow.

“I taught you that,” Renfield complained, pointing his knight at me. “It doesn’t work on me.”

The clock chimed, signaling that his time was over. I gave him a toothy grin as he stared in shock at the sequence of zeros on display. With his clock zeroed, mine started counting down from 3 minutes.

“Doesn’t it?” I giggled, plucking the white knight from between his limp fingers and placing on the square it had been before. I pushed a black rook forward across the chessboard very slowly, the prospect of victory swelling inside me and making me outright laugh at the defeat on his face. I knocked the knight I’d just placed with my piece, leaving nothing in between his king and my rook. Renfield pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and swore as I retrieved the downed piece. “Good luck getting out of this. Check.”

I clicked the button on top of my clock to finish my move. Renfield stiffened, shooting me a cold look.

“When did you get so devious?”

“Don’t be a sore loser. You won all the past matches! This loss will be good for you, you’ll learn humility.”

“Funny,” he said, although he didn’t laugh, shifting his calculating eyes back to the chessboard.

Renfield supported an elbow on the table, fingers resting on his temple, like he was conspiring against a prosecution. I blinked, trying to stop the smile that threatened to overcome my mouth. Were it not for the sterile environment and the annoying ambient music, I could’ve thought we were back at work. My phone buzzed on top of the table, attracting both of our gazes.

“Is that Count Dracula?” He inquired, gaze focused on the chessboard again, doing an excellent job of sounding uninterested.

“Of course not, it’s ten in the morning,” I said as I reached for the mobile. “Isn’t he supposed to be in his cof--uh, bed?” I corrected, glancing at the nurse, Margaret, sitting not far from us. She had her head buried in a magazine but every once in a while I would catch her leaning her ear closer.

“He’s got a regular bed, Y/N,” he murmured, rolling his eyes.

I unlocked my phone.

“I know. It was a j--”

“Oh, do you?”

“Are you twelve?” I snapped and Renfield giggled, only reinforcing my suspicion. “Time is flying,” I indicated the chessboard and Renfield stopped laughing. I blew out a breath as I read the text that had made my phone buzz. “Since when is Evelyn getting married?”

“She sent the invites ages ago.”

“She did?” I raised my eyebrows, trying to remember if I’d seen it in my pile of mail back at home. “We work in the same office. Couldn’t she have hand delivered it?” He shot me a look. “I see what you mean. She thinks she’s bloody Posh Spice.”

Renfield’s hand stopped mid-air, on his way to move a rook but changed his mind at the last second, tapping his temple again.

“Who?”

“Oh, you’ll get on my case about Dracula like you’re a schoolgirl but don’t know who Posh Spice is?”

Nurse Margaret snickered, raising her magazine to conceal her affected grin, only confirming my suspicion that she could hear snippets of our conversation.

“The Beckham girl, of course I know,” Renfield glanced at Margaret, furrowing his brow. “I was very absorbed in my game and wasn’t listening,” he uttered the last bit louder, staring directly at the nurse. Her face became as red as a tomato. She skittered up from the couch she’d been sitting on, moving swiftly towards the nurse station on the other side of the room. Once she was out of earshot, Renfield said, “Is Evelyn asking you to RSVP?”

“Do I have to?” I grimaced. “The wedding isn’t even in London. I don’t like her and I have to travel all the way to Berkeley?”

“You know you have to.”

“Maybe I’ll get the flu. An aneurysm, if I’m lucky!”

“Her surname is on our calling card, Y/N.”

“Damn it.”

Renfield just looked at me and I slumped down on my chair. It didn’t matter if I was winning at chess when I was absolutely being defeated in this subject. I couldn’t not go to Evelyn Seymour’s wedding, the only remaining direct descendant of Edward Seymour, one of our firm’s original founders in 1821. Her surname was first in line when talking about the most prestigious law firm in London, followed by Sterling and May. From birth, she had a seat reserved for her at the firm, her birthright if I wanted to get poetic about it. Although her surname didn’t instantly grant her power over the entire business, she treated everyone like it did and that was precisely why I didn’t like her. My arrogance was an easily dispensed front but Evelyn’s owed hers to bad parenting, if I had to guess.

“I can’t go, obviously. I imagine all the other partners will be there, except me,” Renfield sighed and set the piece he had on his fingers to the side. He leaned forward, peering at me over his spectacles. “It’s only proper that you go to represent me,” he lifted a hand before I could protest. “Yes, you. Y/N, you’re my sole pupil I’ve taken in 30 years at that firm and only because the other partners forced me to,” he scoffed. “I was less than happy with this at the beginning, as you well know, but it’s the one thing I can be proud of in my many years of practise. As I’ve been told by many people, I’m uncaring, rude and outright despicable at times. I struggle to find many redeeming qualities in myself, although you seem to pick them out effortlessly. Somehow, under my tutelage you’ve grown to be a brilliant lawyer and, while all credit can’t be mine, I believe I’ve had a finger at shaping you into the person you’re today, which is infinitely better than me,” he cleared his throat and removed his spectacles, suddenly interested in cleaning its lenses on his shirt. “Regardless of what’s come between us, I will have nobody else representing me at that wretched woman’s wedding. It will serve her well, too, for spurning you for so many years. Let’s not spare her our spite, shall we? Do try and sneak a picture of her face at the wedding party when you sit at the partners’ table. It will do wonders for my recovery.”

I used my ring fingers to tap the inner corners of my eyes, containing the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Damn you,” I sniveled and laughed.

“Yes, well. I had to say something to convince you to go. Did it work?”

That, that was the Frank Renfield I knew. He had to still be in there, whole. His eyes were just blue, without a trace of otherness behind them as he spoke, and I grappled onto that to remain firm on my quest against Count Dracula, no matter how unlikely the odds against me.

“Of course it bloody worked. Will you try to kill me again if I give you a hug?”

He put his spectacles on, summoning a serious expression although his eyes were still welled up.

“Let me win this match and I’ll do it. No promises if I lose.”

“Do your best, then,” I smiled, gesturing to the board.

He averted his gaze to each of our pieces, analysing their positions. I left him to his devices while I typed a text back to Evelyn.

“Do you have a dress in mind?”

“Um,” I made, scrolling the screen up to check when the ceremony began. A twilight wedding should be pretty. It wasn’t the easiest time of day to choose a dress befitting of it, though. Not too fancy and not too simple wasn’t something one usually found in London’s evening wear stores. “I might have to go and get one.”

“Wear purple. It’s Evelyn’s favourite colour and she’ll be wearing white on her wedding day. Imagine her face--”

“Christ, you’re a teenage girl. How have I never noticed it before?”

“I’d been reading celebrity magazines before you brought me my books. They got to me. I’m still not over their effects, it seems,” he shuddered.

I chuckled and sent the text to Evelyn, confirming I would be there.

“Purple it is then. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it. I’ll see if Diana wants to go with me, I’ll make her wear purple, too.”

I put my phone aside just in time to see Renfield’s next move.

“I heard that Evelyn’s fiancée is rich but not the most fetching gent. If you really want to send her into fits, take Count Dracula as your plus one. Checkmate.”

My mouth fell open as I watched him replace my king with a pawn. A pawn, of all things. I glanced between the chessboard and Renfield’s conceited grin, trying to find out how on Earth he managed to pull that off. Had I not taken that pawn into account?

“Sneaky bastard,” I said, stunned. “I wanted a win!”

“Better luck next time, I guess. At least you get a hug as a consolation prize.”

I looked at him, shaking my head.

“I’ll take it but what I’ll not take is Count Dracula to the wedding, no matter how much I want to annoy Evelyn.”

Renfield leaned back on his chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table.

“You’re still resisting him?”

“Please, don’t sound surprised,” I frowned. “You know I don’t take well to being underestimated.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t offend you like that,” he gave me a smile which disappeared a second later. “Frankly, I’m more surprised that he hasn’t just taken you for himself,” his voice grew thicker as he spoke.

“He won’t do that unless I give him consent.”

“And you think he won’t break that deal of yours if he grows tired of waiting?” he tilted his head like a bug.

I narrowed my eyes. His eyes had lost the bright shine that I was so used to seeing, especially when we were in court, and acquired a dreary gleam that immediately sent a shiver through me. I could only suppose that my refusal to take Count Dracula as my plus one was what set him off. From now on, I presumed that whatever I told him would be reported to his “master” so I had to choose my words with diligence.

“I’d like to think he respects me enough to keep to our deal.”

Renfield chortled, a sound so unnatural to him that I almost doubted it came out of his throat.

“I do wonder,” he started between a few more laughs, “how is it that you manage to resist him. I thought it virtually impossible.”

“There’s a disconnect, I think, between mind and body for whatever concerns Count Dracula. My body responds in one way,” my mouth went dry as I thought about his mouth on my neck and I shook my head, “but I’m still quite capable of seeing what he is.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t have to explain it to you, do I? You told me that you have love for him,” I said and he nodded, “if that’s so, you love everything in him, even the worst parts. People love the whole while acknowledging the bad and choose to ignore it. So you know that he’s a manipulative monster who has killed hundreds, perhaps thousands of people simply for the fun of it and--” I interrupted myself before I got carried away by my bitterness.

I shut my eyes, taking a moment to allow the rising wave of emotion to settle. The tightening on my throat told me there was more than bitterness but I wouldn’t trouble myself with exploring what that meant. Not now in front of Renfield.

“Y/N,” Renfield said my name with such gentleness that my eyes shot open and when I stared at him, I was met with the dark blue eyes I had grown accustomed to. He had leaned forward, an open hand extended to me over the table. I put my hand in his without a second thought. “I understand that it’s hard but do yourself a favour and surrender. Surrender with arms wide open or he’ll hurt you and those around you. Listen to me. He will. He might shower you with what you think is affection and perhaps you’ll find yourself falling for him,” he squeezed my hand in his when I started shaking my head in denial, “but at some point he’ll become impatient if you keep stalling and he’ll do it. There is no way out.”

“I know,” my voice didn’t come out, so I tried again, “I know.”

People were supposed to have choices. And while I didn’t want to be hurt more than I already was, I had to try. I had to be free of Count Dracula. If what Renfield said was true, how could I possibly be with someone who was just as willing to care for me as he was to hurt me?

My phone rang. Recognising Zoe’s number, I grabbed it and stood up. My hand and Renfield’s were still joined and I used it as leverage to bring him into a hug, forcing him to stand up. He stiffened for a second but then his arms went around me, patting my back awkwardly. His heart beat steadily and I smiled into the hug.

“See you later,” I said as I stepped back, holding tightly to his forearms. “I’ve got to run to lunch with a friend.”

“It’s still early.”

“It’s on the other side of London,” I lied. “You’re doing better. Keep doing whatever it is they have you doing here.”

“Not like I have a choice,” he said.

I almost asked him if he even wanted a choice since he was a willing slave but decided against it by giving him a smile and leaving.

________________________________________________

“News?” Zoe asked me as she organised vials inside her briefcase.

I rolled down my sleeve and let my hair down now that we were done doing ‘business’. I settled myself on a more comfortable position which wasn’t difficult since Zoe’s car was the epitome of comfort.

“He came by,” I said, putting on my courtroom face. Zoe whipped her head around towards me, frowning. “Out of nowhere. It’s not like I could have told him to hold on and call you.”

“Where did he take you?”

“We stayed in and watched telly.”

“Watched telly? That’s it?” She questioned, closing her briefcase and letting it slide to her feet, near the car’s pedals. I shrugged. “You swear?”

Her disapproving tone reminded me of my mother’s and I scowled.

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

“You have every reason to lie to me. Last time we met, you told me there was a bond between you two. Had I known this in the first place, I would--”

“Would what? Waste a perfectly good opportunity to capture Dracula because of a damned bond that’s not even my fault?” I raised my eyebrows at her and she pressed her lips in a fine line. “I’m not on his side. Or yours, for that matter. I could care less about the importance of your research, Zoe. I haven’t questioned the Jonathan Harker Foundation, have I? It’s shady business but it’s not my business. All I want is to be out of danger.” A tiny part of me questioned where would be the fun in that and I pushed it aside. That had to be the bond making its presence known. “We watched films together. Period.”

I stared at Zoe, waiting for her to chew on that.

There was no need for her to know about what happened halfway through Interview with the Vampire. Or about him carrying me to bed. After my encounter with Renfield, I wanted to forget how lovely it felt, sleeping on the Count’s arms. Dracula hadn’t done that for anyone’s benefit except his. I had to understand that.

“I don’t know if what I’m about to say will make you happy, considering-- nevermind,” Zoe shook her head. “With the samples you’ve been giving me, I’m close to synthesizing a pill that can possibly block his access to a person’s memories.”

“Possibly?”

“We’re still in initial stages of trials but it’s not like we can be certain of anything without the Count in our custody. However, I’m almost sure this pill will definitely work on you since it's being manufactured based on your genetic data.”

“Possibly and almost won’t keep him from killing me if he is able to read my memories.”

“We’re working on it, Y/N,” Zoe bit out. “One of the side effects, however, is short term memory loss. It only lasts for as long as the pill’s in effect but I’m doing my best to mitigate it.”

“What are the other side effects?”

“Heartburn, headache and mild paranoia, usually specific to loud sounds. So far that’s what we’ve got from our human subjects. None of those symptoms last very long either,” she paused, examining me. “Does Count Dracula trust you?”

“I don’t think he trusts anyone. I think he regards me… differently… than he does other people.”

“Why do you think that?”

I thought about the haunting sorrow I’d seen in Count Dracula’s eyes when he spoke about his late wife and how he immediately shut down after that. I doubted he had told many people about her.

“I just do,” I shrugged. “How long until you can give me this pill?”

“A month, if nothing goes wrong. You’d be willing to use it?”

“Can you get it ready in two weeks?”

“Two weeks! Why?”

I took a deep breath for what I was about to say.

“There’ll be a wedding, up in Berkeley. It’ll be in Berkeley Castle--”

“Huge place.”

“Exactly. I’ll take Count Dracula as my plus one. Everyone will be focused on the party and there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to capture him--”

“We haven’t planned anything, Y/N,” Zoe interrupted, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s too soon. No, no. Absolutely not. We’ll get killed, not to say about the possible collateral damage with the guests. No.”

“We won’t get many chances like this,” the words stumbled out of my mouth in my hurry to get them out before I regretted this. “Berkeley is our best bet. Dracula will be distracted. I’ll do my very best to guarantee it. I’ll even pull a Sharon Stone if I have to. Just, please.”

“Y/N, no. I told you. It took months of planning until we could move on him and get him out of the sea. This has to be rehearsed. We would need a team of people infiltrated at the wedding, a deep knowledge of the property, not to mention contingencies set in place… It’s too much work for only two weeks.”

“I don’t care!” I slapped my thigh in frustration. “I’ll be hanging on his arm all night. If he senses something is off, I’ll know and we drop the plan. We’ve got to try.”

Zoe frowned at me.

“Why are you suddenly so desperate?”

I straightened on my seat and cleared my throat.

“He’ll grow bored of me, eventually,” I said, remembering Renfield’s sudden sympathy. “There’s no way we can know when, so I’d like to be rid of him sooner rather than later. If we wait too long I might be having this same conversation with you in a few months except I’ll have fangs on my mouth. Or not at all, in which case I’ll be six feet under.”

If I was to take everything Renfield said into account, it scared me. However, I was more frightened at the idea of losing control over the bond. Losing control over myself. From day one, sordid ideas about Count Dracula drinking my blood had pestered me. Whenever I was around him I found myself captivated by him, almost beyond reasoning. Like I always had an unseen force pushing me towards him and consuming me with nothing except raw craving. Never in my entire life had I felt such forceful desire and it terrified me. The leash, as Count Dracula had put it so well at the museum, could break at any second and I wasn’t ready for it to happen yet.

“Get your phone,” Zoe said at last.

“What for?”

“To see if we can find clear pictures of Berkeley Castle’s grounds and decide on a possible course of action,” Zoe said matter-of-factly as she secured her hair on a ponytail.

The turmoil inside me calmed down, for the most part.

“So we’re doing it?”

“Only, and only if I can have this pill done by then. If not, I’m calling it off.”

I flashed her a smile as I pulled my phone from my back pocket.

“I’ll take that.”

“Were you serious when you said that about Sharon Stone? About the Basic Instinct thing?” Zoe made a face but there was nothing in her eyes if not amusement.

“God, no,” I said and she raised an eyebrow. “Last resort thing only, if it comes to that.”

Zoe laughed, shaking her head to the sides at me.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Me, too.”

As our laughter died down, we dove into every website we could find that had pictures of Berkeley Castle. We struck gold when the property’s floor plan and aerial view simply popped up during our Google search. According to Berkeley Castle’s own website, wedding ceremonies usually took place in the Great Hall or outside on the gardens. The reception was almost always hosted inside the castle.

Zoe’s phone ringing momentarily interrupted us. Gaze still focused on my phone’s screen, she answered her own without checking who the caller was.

“Hello?” Zoe stiffened at once, listening to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. “Jack. Jack. Jack, calm down, I can’t understand you,” the voice grew loud enough for me to make out the words “friends”, “Foundation” and “suicide”. I remained focused on my phone, scrolling through pictures, like I hadn’t heard anything. “No, I didn’t know. Where are you? Okay, stay there. I’m on my way and then we’ll talk.”

After more reassurances, Zoe ended the call and looked at me.

“Go. We can do this some other time,” I told her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Well, no. No. One of my students at the Foundation,” she gestured to her phone, “needs me. An emergency. I have to go. Now, actually.”

She would’ve made a terrible lawyer. Terrible voice pitch when she lied and with the way she babbled, she would be eaten alive in a courtroom. I would’ve wiped the floor with her. From what I could tell, this was the first time I had caught her in a lie and I wondered why now. I could ascribe it to the dodginess surrounding anything to do with the Foundation but my intuition told me there was more to it.

Prying would probably result in more lies.

“Of course,” I said, flashing her a brief smile, “I understand. Call me when you can.”

______________________________________________________________

My ears buzzed inside the lift as I tried to keep my courtroom face on. I couldn’t wait to get home and sit in silence to cleanse my head from an entire day listening to office gossip.

“I’ve got this lovely dress,” Mallory was saying, “It’s this really beautiful champagne colour--”

“Isn’t that the one you wore to Jamie’s wedding?” Sarah asked.

“You can’t wear a dress you already wore before,” said Chelsea with a sneer.

Mallory furrowed her brows, looking anxious.

“I remember the dress,” I intervened in Mallory’s defense. “It’s very pretty. You shouldn’t keep it hidden in your wardrobe, Mal. Wear it. I’m sure nobody will be rude enough to ask you about it,” I looked pointedly at Sarah.

“No,” Mallory countered and both women stared at her. “It’s another one. I happen to like the colour, is that a crime?” she asked indignantly. Sarah shrugged. Mallory eyed me, “Do you know what you’re wearing, Y/N?”

I’d gone shopping two days earlier with Diana during my lunch break. She’d pouted when I said I couldn’t take her as my plus one but immediately dropped the act in favour of a smile upon hearing the name Count Dracula come out of my mouth.

“The Count? The one that gave you the hickey?” she’d whispered the last part during dinner at her house on Sunday.

“The very same,” I’d replied. Little did she know the extent of that hickey.

“Dating royalty, Y/N--”

“Drop it, Di. Will you do me the honours of going dress hunting with me? It must be purple.”

“Purple?”

“Evelyn’s favourite colour.”

“Oh, you’re evil!” She’d laughed. “We’ll find the perfect dress. You’ll look so gorgeous that he’ll faint when he sees you.”

Diana’s excitement over my love affairs had made me wonder if I was so much of a lost cause that any person remotely interested in me should be celebrated with buying an evening dress. On Wednesday, we’d browsed half the stores in Strand before Diana convinced me to hop on the tube towards Belgravia with the promise of gorgeous boutiques in which I would definitely find a dress to my liking. Diana got to flex her marketing muscles to persuade me into getting the one I liked the most, despite the steep price. She’d taken the dress home with her so I wouldn’t have to return to the office with it.

“L/N?” Mallory touched my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry. I zoned out thinking about all the dresses in my wardrobe,” I blinked at her. “I’m not sure what to wear yet.”

“You should make up your mind quickly, then,” Sarah said in her usual brisk manner. “We’re one week away from Evie’s wedding.”

Evie, right, like they were friends. Of all the women, Mallory was the only one who could call herself Evelyn’s friend and, sadly, between her, Sarah and Chelsea, she was the one I most got along with. Mal and I had started our internships at around the same time and we’d suffered through college together, too. We barely talked now that she’d gotten close to Evelyn. I’d stopped being Y/N to her and became simply L/N.

The lift finally opened and we spilled out. Freedom! I thought, tightening my pace towards the lobby and putting as much distance between me and my colleagues. Through the exit doors, I could see the last rays of sunshine reflecting on the glass plated buildings that seemed to be a requirement at Canary Wharf.

“We’re renting an Airbnb together in Berkeley,” Mallory said, catching up with me. “Me and the girls. It’ll be cheaper that way.”

“Okay…”

“There’s a spare bedroom,” she continued, swiping her baby blonde hair that had fallen on her face in her effort to keep up with me.

“Oh,” I blinked, stopping abruptly in front of the exit. Mallory nearly tripped over me. “You’re inviting me to stay with you guys?”

“Yeah,” she paused. “I know you aren’t fond of them but you can ignore what they say. It’s what I do half the time I’m with them.”

“Then, why do you spend so much time with them?”

“Trying to climb the ladder, professionally speaking,” she shrugged. “All of you guys were trained by one of the firm’s partners except me. All my efforts go unnoticed because of it.”

“Mal, you could’ve just kept talking to me if that’s what you wanted,” I frowned. “Renfield would--”

“Not a chance. Renfield doesn’t like anybody at the office except you.”

I acquiesced with a shrug. I loved the man but he wasn’t the nicest person to people.

“I’ll think about the Airbnb,” I told Mallory.

Me in a house full of girls when I had a vampire on my heels? Big no. But after years of distance from one of my best friends, I wasn’t going to simply dismiss her because I didn’t like the people she socialised with.

“You still like going to Camden for drinks? Peace offering?”

“Peace offering,” I grinned.

Mallory laced her arm with mine and led the way out. I frowned up at the sky, searching the rays of sun I’d seen moments ago but all I found was cloud upon cloud upon cloud. Hearing the rushing pair of high heels towards us made me cringe and stop on the sidewalk.

“Girls!” Shouted Chelsea. “Did we hear something about drinks?”

“I’ll get rid of them,” Mallory whispered to me in an exasperated tone before putting on a blinding smile and turning to face Chelsea and Sarah.

As Mallory tried to talk them out of it, a sleek black BMW slid to a stop in front of me. I had little more than two seconds to take in the tinted windows, dark enough to make me wonder if they were inside the legal limits, before the passenger's window started going down. The voices behind me quieted as the driver leaned across the seat. He had sunglasses on but I’d recognise that face anywhere. I bent forward, leaning on the car’s door.

“You had to get the flashiest car available, didn’t you?”

“Oh, dear, no,” Dracula drawled. “The flashiest one was yellow. Black suits me better.”

“Um, Y/N… Who’s that?” Chelsea’s flirty tone made me roll my eyes.

“An impertinent client,” I said without turning to look at her.

“Is that what I am?”

“Amongst other things that shouldn’t be spoken out loud,” I muttered.

“Your client?” asked Sarah. “L/N, are you breaking the code of ethics?”

“Renfield’s client,” I corrected, glancing briefly at Sarah.

When I looked back at Dracula, he was grinning.

“Hello, ladies,” he waved at them, eliciting giggles. If I hadn’t known them for years, I wouldn’t have guessed they were adult women considering their behaviour. “Is that jealousy I see?” he said in a low voice.

“You wish,” I retorted. In a whisper, I said, “It’s still daylight. Aren’t you going to burst into flames?”

“I might if you don’t get in the car.”

“Tempting. I’ll just stay here.”

“Stay, then. The sun will set in precisely seven minutes and when it does, I’ll get out of this car.”

“And do what?”

“Right now, throwing you over my shoulder seems appropriate.”

My knees quivered at that thought. I had to learn to stop baiting him into conversations like these. At some point, he would carry out his threats and I would probably enjoy it, which wasn’t ideal if I wanted to come out of this breathing.

“Um, Y/N?” Mallory’s voice was a gift sent from heaven to make me look away from the Count. “Do you want to postpone our drinks or--”

“Oh, drinks? Where are we going?”

“There’s no we--” I glared at him.

He smiled innocently, surprising me that he was actually able to.

“Camden, I hear,” Sarah chimed in.

“Lovely Camden! Why don’t I give you ladies a ride?”

“I’m okay with that,” Sarah said, followed by Chelsea’s nod.

I already had a flimsy hold over my own libido, I wouldn’t attempt trying to control Chelsea’s and Sarah’s too. As much as I didn’t like them, I wouldn’t wish Count Dracula on them. With that in mind, I flung open the BMW’s door and threw myself in.

“Maybe some other time, girls. He’s mine,” I announced, already regretting my choice of words. Turning to Mallory, I said in an apologetic tone, “Lunch tomorrow so we can catch up?”

She grinned at me, glancing briefly at Count Dracula, who was most definitely staring at the back of my head.

“Sure,” she affirmed with a wink. “Bye.”

I was still waving at her when Dracula accelerated, leaving his parking spot. I stared out the window without registering where we were headed, waiting. Tension grew until I began feeling smothered.

“What’s that about me being yours?”

I shut my eyes and threw my head back against my seat.

“Just… shut up.”

I know it's a bit mean that I ended the chapter there but I didn't have any time left to write. I'll try posting chapter 9 earlier next week (wednesday or thursday, maybe) to make it up to everyone.

Taglist: @rheabalaur @festering-queen @feralstare @girlonfireice @deborahlazaroff @thorin-smokin-shield @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @dreamer2381 @apocalypsenowish @a-dorky-book-keeper

#dracula fanfic #dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dracula bbc fanfic #claes bang #claes bang fanfic #dracula netflix #dracula x reader #vampire fanfic #bbc dracula #distorted lullabies

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glam-apollo · 4 years

Text

Title: Mr. Yellow Dies

Fandom: Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Summary: When Jane Oliver approaches Dirk Gently's Holistic Agency about a murder she thinks might have happened years ago without any clues, evidence, or even a victim, the agency quickly agrees to take the case. Dirk, Farah, and Todd find themselves at the Oliver family's Halloween party while investigating and have to participate in the family's Halloween tradition: the murder mystery party game. Will solving this fictional murder help them uncover anything about the real crime they're investigating, or is just a distraction from the actual case? And who died, anyways?

Written for the Halloween @dghdabigbang! @browneyes-asiandragon made some lovely artwork accompanying the story so please go check it out! It’s really amazing!

I’ve included the fic on here but you can also read it on ao3 if preferred.

Mr. Yellow Dies

Knock! Knock! Knockity-Knock!

There was a pause before the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from inside the house. The front door creaked open. The man opening the front door was tall, well-built, with dark hair that flopped nicely over his forehead. He smiled at the trio that stood on his doorstep but his eyes betrayed confusion. "Can I help you? You seem a bit old for trick or treating."

Todd Brotzman looked at the man standing next to him out of the corner of his eyes. What were the three of them doing there? They certainly were an odd trio--Holmes, Watson, and a Care Bear, all a good fifteen years too old to be ringing doorbells asking for candy. What was his plan? He'd been vague as ever on the way over, assuring Todd that it was a party, a party for the case, and everyone loved parties, now, didn't they? So come along!

The whole ordeal had started with a simple statement. “I’ve been invited to a party twice,” Dirk Gently announced to his friends proudly in their agency’s office. “And, as much as I’d like to think this shows I’ve come far in my social standing, I’m afraid there will be no possible way for me to attend this party twice at the same time.”

"Two invites?" Farah Black said. “You got two invites to the Olivers' Halloween party?”

“Indeed I did, Farah!” Dirk said.

Todd set down the files he had been sifting thru. “How’d you manage that?”

“My natural charms and talents, of course,” Dirk said, pretending to be offended. “Geez, Todd.”

"What’s the plan, then? I don’t want to sit around, waiting for a report of two party-crashers getting shot." Farah pursed her lip. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Todd said. “I’ll stay back.”

"Au, contraire!" Dirk said. "Farah will be accepting my invitation from Jane. I will be going with my invite from Lenny. And Todd will be going as my date."

"Right, okay," Farah shrugged.

"What?" Todd said.

That had been five days ago. Since then it had been a flurry of finding costumes, Dirk obsessively dragging Todd and Farah into any Halloween themed store he could find, arguing he hardly ever went to parties, much less costume parties, so they should indulge him. Todd secretly thought that it was very likely Dirk had a long streak of elaborate costume parties from his days back in England, but he held his tongue. Seeing Dirk delighted by styrofoam coffins and confused by slutty fireman costumes was worth keeping his own suspicions withheld.

In the end, Dirk had somehow managed to convince Todd that a Sherlock-Watson duo costume was a good idea. “You see,” he pointed out, “no one would suspect actual detectives to dress as detectives for Halloween! That would be absurd.” Todd agreed that, yes, it would be absurd. Dirk bought him a bowler hat anyways.

Farah had been quietly indecisive about her costume all month. Todd hadn’t been sure what she’d go as--she’d shown interest in a variety of things, from a champion scuba diver she said was a childhood hero to the main character of the action novels she’d been obsessively reading during downtime in the office. In the end, she ended up with a Care Bears onesie Tina had lent her after, from what Todd understood, a very long phone call about how stressful Halloween was and a subsequent long drive to Bergsberg on the 30th.

Back at the front door, Dirk smiled at the man questioning them. The man was quite handsome, with a square jaw and tough cheekbones. Almost too classically handsome, Todd thought to himself. But it worked with his costume--some variation on Dracula--which became apparent when he opened his mouth and showed off his tiny fangs.

"Max Oliver?" Dirk asked confidently.

"Yes," the man said, eyebrows raised, fangs revealed in the O his mouth formed. "And you are?"

"Dirk Gently," he said, pushing the front of his deerstalker cap out of his face. "I was invited by Lenny. This is my date, Todd, and this is the lovely Farah Black, who was invited by Jane."

"I've never seen any of you before in my life," Max admitted. "I didn't know guests could invite guests, either."

"It would be a bit awkward to send Todd home now, wouldn't it?" Dirk said pointedly.

"Dirk," Todd groaned.

"No, I mean, I didn't realize Lenny could invite guests," Max said, shaking his head. "Although, I suppose he's never really been one to follow our family's ideals."

"Is that so!" Dirk said, giving his friends a pointed look.

Max nodded. "It isn't my place, of course, but I consider him an outsider to our family." Max stared up and down at the three of them, as if to make a point that they were even more outsiders than Lenny. After a beat, he sighed and opened the door for them. "You might as well come in. I’ll at least give Mother the final call on you three."

Dirk smiled and gave his companions a thumbs up before walking into the house after Max. Todd and Farah followed, Todd already regretting his itchy costume, Farah already regretting her lack of weaponry.

Max led them into a lounge where five other people sat around in couches and chairs, chatting quietly to themselves. Todd only recognized one of them--Jane Oliver, their client. She was the reason they were here in the first place, the reason the case had been opened. She was small both in size and presence, the youngest of the three Oliver siblings, still in her teens. She was wearing a mostly plain, long red dress, which Todd assumed must be some sort of Princess--Princess Bride? Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? He hadn't the slightest clue.

Jane was sitting next to an older woman, presumably her mother, the infamous Cordelia Oliver. Cordelia was the owner of the local community theater and a force to be reckoned with. She had lost some of her dazzle with the passing of her husband, Jules. Jules Oliver had been her partner in the theater, her partner in their home, her partner on the stage. Losing him meant she had lost love. Yet none of her fierceness faded; if anything, it grew into a strong and steady resentment towards the world and life itself.

Dirk smiled at two men sitting on the couch opposite Cordelia and Jane. "Lenny! Daniel!" he said. Daniel Oliver was the middle child of the family. College-aged and somewhat unmotivated, he was a stand out in his family of determined extroverts. His boyfriend, Lenny Anderson, seemed to represent everything the rest of the family couldn't stand about Daniel and worse. His lazy nature, lack of care for anything, inability to make and hold commitments annoyed the Olivers on the best of days. Lenny couldn’t keep a job, stay on a major, anything. At least he made Daniel happy.

Max flocked to a woman standing alone by the bookshelf. Adrianna Waye. She was the star in most of the local theater productions and Max's fiancé. She was gorgeous, elegant, and, by all accounts, extremely unpleasant to be around. Cordelia loved her.

Farah and Dirk had been doing most of the research on the family, while Todd had been going back and tracing old case files, trying to find a crime or a missing person or an unsolved murder that would otherwise connect with the case. He hadn't found anything, not anything they could confirm at least. Todd reflected on how this had all started. Jane Oliver had stumbled into the agency one day, clutching a yellowed composition notebook and trembling a bit, explaining that she had seen a crime, a murder, as a child. She had blacked it out and forgotten it until now, but going back through her diaries, she had found her recounting of the crime. It was dark, she explained, so she couldn't really tell them who or what. She thought it was a man--or maybe a boy. It was someone with a small build, and they were attacking another person brutally. She couldn't remember what happened after that, just terror, sheer terror.

They had a murder to solve. With no evidence of the murder having actually happened besides a child's diary. No suspects, no victims, nothing. Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency gladly took the case.

The crime had taken place in the backyard of this family property, Halloween ten years ago, when Jane was only six. At least, she said, according to her diary. Her memories of that Halloween were all jumbled--something about her family, lots of yelling, some sort of dispute. And the crime, the attack that she could only remember that she forgot.

"Max?" Cordelia asked. "Who are our other new guests?"

"I don't know, Mother," Max answered evenly. "Why don't you ask Lenny? Or Jane?"

Cordelia narrowed her eyes and focused her gaze on Lenny. "Leonard?"

"Geezy, m'am," Lenny sighed. "I invited Dirk here as a plus one."

"You're already a plus one!" she shrieked. "And what about these other two?"

"Todd is my plus-one!" Dirk chirped.

"A plus one can't invite another plus one who invites his own plus one!"

"Ah," Dirk said quickly, "but wouldn't me having invited my own plus one make us our own set of guests?"

"Daniel, do you know these men?" Cordelia demanded.

"A bit," Daniel said without looking up from his phone.

"And what about this woman? Who the hell is she?"

"Ah," Jane said softly. "Mother, I invited her." After Dirk had determined who was accepting what invitation, they had reached out to Jane to tell her about Farah, not wanting there to be any mix up. They had decided on a brief backstory and that was that.

"Who is she?" Cordelia demanded.

"She's a school tutor. She tutors me and some of my friends in the library," Jane answered evenly. Todd wondered if they should at all be concerned about what ease and grace their client was able to lie through their teeth. But really, he thought, that was what they were all doing. They had no reason to be at that party.

Cordelia Oliver knew that.

She was a queen surveying her kingdom, and she was not pleased with what she saw. Todd felt himself holding his breath, ready to be kicked out at any second. To his surprise, she sighed, deciding this battle was not worth fighting today. "Fine," she said. "You can stay. You're lucky the party kit I bought comes with extra characters."

"Party Kit?" Todd said, feeling any ounce of relief of not being kicked out dissipate.

The Olivers had a tradition, a tradition that went back for at least the last eight years, maybe more. They would every Halloween have a murder mystery themed party. They would purchase a "party kit," either from an online retailer, or, some years when they felt particularly excited, commissioned from a friend. The kit would give each guest at the party a character and a few clues. In the course of three rounds they would develop their characters, discover and investigate a "murder," and have the murderer finally revealed in the third and final round. It was truly perfect for a family of actors, though as the kids grew up and her husband passed away, it was something Cordelia clung onto more than anyone else. The schitick was getting old. But she wouldn't let go.

Cordelia started passing out envelopes with character names on them. "You all know how the game goes," she said, a stage voice taking over, complete with pause for dramatic effect. "Tonight, one of us will die. Tonight, one of us will kill. Tonight, we will all solve a murder." Jane looked white as a sheet hearing her mother's words and looked to Dirk. Dirk smiled back at her reassuredly.

"We have a few extra guests tonight," Cordelia continued, handing an envelope to Adrianna and another one to Max. "Let us hope they survive the night."

"God, Mother," Daniel said, continuing to focus on Candy Crush rather than the manila envelope he'd been slipped. "There's no need to be so melodramatic."

Cordelia paused and looked at him with stony eyes. "Tonight," she said, "we are all actors. Whether we like it or not." Lenny smiled at his boyfriend encouragingly, reminding him it wouldn't be too bad. Daniel glared back at him. He knew this tradition far too well and was not pleased to put on a performance for his mother’s sake.

"Great!" Dirk said, happily accepting his envelope. "So, how does the game work exactly?"

"There are three rounds," Max said, walking away from the wall to behind the sofa his mother sat at. "Round one, we all open our envelope and look at our character and the clues we are given. We mingle as the characters, deciding whether or not we want to share our clues with the others."

"Round two!" Cordelia jut in. "Someone will have instructions telling them they will 'die.' After their 'death' occurs we will have another round in which to mingle and see if we can discover which of us might've had the motive to 'kill.'"

"I feel as though we've grown out of this, mother," Daniel said. "It's just glorified Mafia. When will you give it up already?"

"I find it very fun, Daniel," Cordelia snapped. "It's the least you could do for your poor mother."

Daniel sighed.

"And what about the third round?" Farah asked lightly.

"Third round, we open this envelope," Cordelia said, holding up an envelope that. Unlike the manila ones she had handed out, was a deep red. "It has the answers in it. Then we will find out who was right and who was wrong and who was the killer."

"What a dreadful and yet surprisingly delightful game!" Dirk enthused. Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him.

"Quite," she said. "Now, let the games begin."

Everyone began opening their envelopes. Todd ripped the top off of his, wondering how this was in any way going to help them solve the case. Had Dirk known they were going to play this game? He gave Farah a look, who seemed just as lost as him. She shrugged and went back to reviewing the papers from in her envelope.

Todd reviewed his envelope. He was playing as a character called “Mr. Red,” an older gentleman who was a banker. The only clues he was given was that he suspected Mr. Yellow, one of his bank’s employees, of fraud, and that his character saw Madame Orange and Mrs. Indigo discussing something in hushed voices on his way home from work one day. Todd grimaced. They were really about to play live-action Clue.

"Todd." Todd jumped up in surprise as Dirk slipped up next to him. "You know I'm not one for a classical approach," Dirk said, keeping his voice hushed, "but I must admit this situation compels oneself to do some very non-holistic detecting."

"Wouldn't the fact that the situation has arisen at all make it holistic?" Todd pointed out.

"Ah! Great assisting, Todd, or should I say," Dirk looked down at Todd's papers and then back up at him with a pleasant smile, "Mr. Red."

"You're excited for this, aren't you?"

"Quite! But seriously, Todd. Please consider trying to use this as an opportunity to ask key questions that seem like they're about the game but are actually about our investigation."

"Dirk, we still barely have any idea of what we're investigating," Todd sighed.

"Having time set aside to mingle and interrogate should help then!" he replied before disappearing into the room.

"Let round one," announced Cordelia Oliver, "begin!"

Todd sighed, feeling out of his depth. He looked around the room, seeing that people had already begun to talk quietly and exchange clues amongst themselves. The one person left by themselves besides Todd at this point was Daniel Oliver.

Todd sat down next to him. "Sherlock abandoned you, ey, Watson?" Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow but looking otherwise completely disinterested in the appearance of a new person in his vicinity.

Todd laughed nervously. "Dirk? Ah. Well. He's playing the game, same as all of us." He swallowed. "So... what's your character?"

"Mr. Maroon," Daniel said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"I'm Mr. Red," Todd said.

"Practically the same names," Daniel complained. "I know there aren't that many colors in the rainbow, but they could've come up with a better theme. Colors? Mysteries? Incredibly overdone, if you ask me."

"You'd know better than myself," Todd said.

Daniel snorted. "I know far too well. Do you want my clues?"

"Sure," Todd said. "Are you just supposed to give them to people like that?"

"Not if you want the game to be harder," Daniel said. "But I'd rather this be done as quickly as possible. So my character doesn't trust Mr. Yellow or Mrs. Grey."

"I also suspect Mr. Yellow," Todd admitted.

"And it's supposed to be a mystery." Daniel shook his head.

"You've done a lot of these, then?" Todd said.

"Every year. Since what feels like forever. Mother has gotten persistently more annoying about it since Dad died." Daniel looked resentful. "She can't let go of it."

"That must be hard for your family," Todd said.

"Maybe for them," Daniel replied evenly. "I'm glad he's dead."

“Oh.” Todd said. "You don't feel like you're one of them, then?"

"No. I don't want to act. I don't want to be the center of attention. All of them are hardworking attention whores. I truly feel like this tradition is the pinnacle of that. It makes me feel sick."

Todd felt his stomach curl in an uncomfortable way. "You should be careful," he said.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "What, are you going to impart some wise-wisdom on me? I don't care. I don't even know you."

"You're right," Todd said, trying to ignore the feeling that he needed to get Daniel off of the track he was on, lest he fall into the same self-destructive hole of lies that Todd did when he was his age.

"I'm sure you think I'm ungrateful and selfish. But they're cruel to me. And they don't like Lenny either."

"No?"

"No. They hate him even more than me. If I'm a black sheep, he's an entirely different animal to them."

"Five more minutes of round one!" Cordelia shouted from across the room.

Todd stood up from the couch awkwardly. "I should talk to some more people," he said. "Nice to see you, Mr. Maroon."

Daniel rolled his eyes.

Todd wandered around the room, trying to find someone else to talk to, and eventually ended up tapping the shoulder of Adriana Waye, who had been standing by herself in the corner of the room. She flinched and then turned around, her bright green eyes first looking a bit surprised and then totally disengaged.

"I'm Ms. Grey," she said. "I'm Madame Orange’s maid, working for her and her daughter, Mrs. Indigo, and her son-in-law, Mr. Yellow. And you?"

"I'm Mr. Red," he replied. "Uh... I'm a banker."

"The bank owner?" she said quickly. "The man who owns the bank Mr. Yellow works at?"

"I think so," he said.

"Hmm," she said, and Todd got a very distinct feeling that she did not like him at all, although he could not tell if the impression came from her acting or real judgement she was imparting on him.

"I, uh... I think Mr. Yellow is committing bank fraud," Todd said lamely, looking at his notes.

"Would you kill him if he was?" she said, her blue eyes hard and intense.

"What?" Todd said, shrinking back.

"In the game,” she said, her gaze softening slightly. “Obviously.”

"Oh," Todd said. "Wouldn't it be strange for me to suspect myself? I mean, wouldn't that kind of defeat the point?" He paused. "And we don't know Mr. Yellow is going to be the one to die, yet!"

Adrianna looked across the room at Max. "Mr. Yellow is certainly going to be the one to die," she said. "You’ll see."

"How do you know?"

"It's the way these games always work," she said. "God, who invited you again? Have you really never done this before?" Todd shook his head and Adrianna looked exasperated. "Cordelia should've kicked you out."

Todd didn't have a good argument for that. He coughed nervously, feeling weirdly squeamish looking at her dark grey eyes. "So what are your clues?"

She looked absolutely done with him. "You cannot ask me for my clues as yourself. You need to discuss the situation with Ms. Grey as Mr. Red."

"I guess I misunderstood," he said. "You really enjoy the acting part of this, huh?"

"It's a good thing I do," she said. "I'm our theater's biggest star for a reason."

"Cordelia likes you a lot, then?"

Adrianna shrugged. "She likes me. And she loves Max. And Max loves me. It all works out."

"One minute left!" Cordelia shouted.

Adrianna looked irritated. "I really spent some of my time talking with you, huh?" she said, stalking off before Todd could answer.

Todd slouched, taking a deep breath, looking around the room before making eye contact with Farah and meeting her across the room. "I'm Dr. Violet," Farah explained. "I’m Madame Orange’s physician. And you?"

"Mr. Red," he said. "They seem like an awfully happy family, don't they?"

"Mr. Yellow and Mrs. Indigo? Or the Olivers?"

"The latter. Although the former might be true, too, I'm having a hard time keeping up."

She nodded. "Fictionally and factually miserable in both cases. I have a good feeling about our case, though."

"Yeah?"

"I was talking to Jane. She's sweet, you know? And I think we're very close to cracking the case."

"She didn't do it, though. Right?"

"Oh--no. No. But I think someone here did."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel incredibly comfortable being a party crasher here."

"That's the end of round one!" Cordelia shouted.

Dirk noticed Farah and Todd talking together and walked over to them enthusiastically. "Well!" he announced. "I'm not sure what I just learned, but I definitely learned something, which will definitely help solve one, if not two, cases! It's true one has a bit more importance to it, but I'd like to think that in solving our fictional case we'll solve--"

Dirk was cut off by a loud scream from across the room. Max Oliver let out another large cry, holding his hand to his chest, before having his knees buckle underneath him, falling down on his knees, letting out a final sob before collapsing on the floor.

"Oh my god," Farah said.

Cordelia walked over to where her son lay sprawled across the floor and then looked up across the others in the room. "A murder," she said. "Has been committed. Mr. Yellow is dead." Adrianna gave Todd a pointed looking from across the room, her hazel eyes piercing. Todd looked away.

"How ghastly," Dirk said with some enthusiasm. "What a wonderful performance."

Max sat up from his place on the floor and beamed. "Thank you," he said, fangs sticking out.

"Now, for round two," Cordelia announced. "Max will not be able to participate. You must talk amongst yourselves and try to discover which one of you is the killer. We will have ten minutes. Let round two... begin!"

"Alright," Todd said. "I suppose we should get back to mingling..." He looked over to see Dirk's eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. "Dirk?"

"Todd," he said quietly. "Farah. I have the strangest feeling the case of Mr. Yellow is much more tied to our case than we'd thought."

"How so?" Farah asked.

"I'm not quite sure," he said. "Let us try and discover who killed Mr. Yellow. And perhaps that will reveal it to us."

The three nodded and scattered across the room.

Todd found himself in the unfortunate position of being under the immediate scrutiny of Cordelia Oliver.

"I," she announced, "am Madame Orange. I'm afraid we've never had the chance of meeting before."

"Mr. Red," he said shortly. "Banker, Mr. Yellow's boss, I think."

"Ah, yes," she said, face sorrow clouding his face. "My son-in-law’s employer. Isn’t it tragic what has happened to Mr. Yellow?"

Actors, Todd thought, are insane.

"Right," Todd said. "Erm, do you have any idea who... killed him?"

His willingness to play along seemed to please Cordelia. She raised an eyebrow playfully. "I have some idea," she said. "He had a few enemies. I heard," she leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, "he owed some people money. Would you know anything about that? As the banker?"

"Oh," Todd said, trying to remember if he did. "Uh, no. I don't think I knew that. Although I..." he paused, grabbing his notes and looking them over. "I suspected him of committing some sort of fraud."

"Hmm!" she said. "Fraud at the bank isn't a good look for you. Do you think that could stir yourself to kill?"

"Uh--no?" Todd frowned. "I guess I don't know. Am I supposed to defend myself?"

Cordelia seemed disappointed at his breaking character. "It's up to you," she said tightly. "But if you've killed someone, we'll find out in the end, when we open the envelope with the answers to the case."

"Oh," he said. "Well--I guess I don't think Mr. Red, er, me, did it." He paused a beat. "And... why didn't you do it?" he asked, knowing giving Cordelia an excuse to talk should lighten her up.

"Mr. Yellow was my daughter Indigo’s husband! I loved him as if he were my own son. I wouldn’t lay a hand on him unless he did something to hurt my daughter.”

"But what if he did?” Todd pointed out. He looked at his notes. “I saw you discussing something with Mrs. Indigo the day before his death. That doesn’t look particularly good for you, Madame Orange."

"You don't look unsuspicious yourself, Mr. Red. Although I don't think you killed Mr. Yellow."

"No?"

"No. You don't have it in you."

Cordelia turned on her heel and went away to talk to someone else, and Todd felt weirdly stung by her harsh assessment of his fictional banker self.

He wandered across the room, trying to find someone to talk to. He walked past Max and Adrianna who were talking in hushed tones in a language that didn't sound familiar to him. He decided not to interrupt them and turned around, nearly running into Jane Oliver.

"Oh dear," she said. "I am very sorry, Mr. Todd."

"It's okay!" he reassured her. "And tonight, I'm Mr. Red."

She nodded. "I'm Mrs. Indigo." She sighed. "I'm Mr. Yellow's wife, apparently. A bit awkward, I think, for several reasons."

Todd smiled. "Fair enough. I am--or was?--his employer at the bank. I suspected him of fraud. Would you know anything about that?"

"The only way Mr. Yellow was ever a fraud or a phoney was in real life, Mr. Red," she sighed, playing into her character lightly. "I do believe he was having the most awful affair with Mrs. Grey."

"I suppose that made your character--you, I mean--pretty upset."

"Yes." She sighed. "I think it's likely I did it. Or--Mr.s Grey’s husband, Mr. Maroon."

"It's kind of funny suspecting yourself."

"I think it makes the most sense," she said evenly, then in a lower voice, "thank you, by the way. Dirk said you and Farah have been invaluable in helping with..." She looked around. "...with a case."

Had he been helpful? Had any of them been helpful? Todd felt as though he was getting nowhere, stuck in a sludge of clues and names and characters and confusing bits in the middle. He wasn't sure he had done anything effective to help Jane Oliver. He thought about denying her claim, telling her to take it back, telling her that her impression wasn't true. But he swallowed it in his throat. Be nice, Todd.

"You're welcome," he said. "We're trying our best. To solve..." he paused, and added, feeling kind of silly, "...Mr. Yellow's murder." That made the girl laugh, which pleased him.

"Speaking of Dirk," Adrianna said, "here comes Mr. Green." Dirk approached the two of them, grinning brightly.

"Todd! Jane!" he addressed them both with enthusiasm. "I've got half a mind that this is going somewhere!"

"I sure hope so," Todd said.

"I'm glad you think that," Jane said with her shy smile. "I think I'm going to go try to talk to Adrianna." She made a face. "Tell me what you find, later?" she asked Dirk.

"Of course," he promised, waving at her as she made her way across the room. "Todd!" he turned to Todd, his deerstalker hat flopping in front of his eyes. He pushed up the rim. "I think I've found out my motive for killing Mr. Yellow!"

"That's great, Dirk, but.... what? Do you think your character killed him?"

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "I'm Mr. Green, by the way, if I hadn't mentioned it to you. And I don't think it's awfully likely I am the killer, but I love my brother Mr. Maroon a lot, and his wife Mrs. Grey cheated on him with her employer Mr. Yellow!" Dirk sounded enthralled. "The way this game is played is absolutely fascinating, wouldn't you say? I think we should definitely buy one of these for the office during holidays."

"Dirk," Todd said, "there are three of us who work in the office. And... Mona sometimes. I don't think that's enough people."

Dirk frowned. "I guess not."

"Do you have any idea who actually killed Mr. Yellow? Or... about the other thing?"

"No," Dirk admitted. "Well, maybe. There's so many different threads in this game. And it's not exactly... how I do detecting. I think you or Farah would have a better idea, quite honestly. I’ve had a very fun time getting into character and developing Mr. Green, though. I wasn't given much, so I gave him a new profession! I've decided he works for the secret--"

"Dirk," Todd cut him off. "We need to focus. Right?"

Dirk looked a bit put out. "Can't hurt to have a bit of fun, too."

Todd backtracked. "Sure, of course, but I think we're running out of time to investigate--"

"End of round three!" Cordelia announced loudly. The chattering continued. "End! Of round three!" she holler. This time, a hush fell across the room.

"Everyone," she said, her voice commanding the space, "let's gather round in a circle and discuss our theories of who killed Mr. Yellow." She stood behind where Max sat on the couch and put her hands on his shoulders protectively. The party goers made their way to the couches and chairs situated in a nice circle around the coffee table. Once everyone had settled down, Cordelia smiled, although she continued to stand behind Max instead of sitting in the circle herself.

"If someone can say who killed Mr. Yellow and why, with certain accuracy, they win the game." Cordelia held up a bright magenta envelope. "Once everyone has given their input, we'll open the envelope and see who was really the killer. If you are accused of being the murderer, you may defend yourself if you think someone else has done it. Now who would like to start?"

Todd felt Dirk beside him tense in excitement. He wondered if this did have any connection to the case they were here to solve, or if it was a red herring, a detour that would eventually lead them somewhere completely different in order to actually solve the case.

"I'll start," said Adrianna. "I think Mrs. Indigo did it."

Jane frowned. “My character? I guess I don’t think it’s entirely impossible I did…”

“You found out Mr. Yellow was hiding some things from you,” Adrianna said. “Including his affair… with me, Mrs. Grey. So you killed him.”

“Jane?” Cordelia asked. “Do you have someone else you think could’ve done it?”

“I think Mr. Maroon would’ve had half a motive, for the same reason as I.”

“Leave me out of it,” Daniel groaned. “I think it was… uh…” He looked around the room, seemingly trying to pick someone else to become the scrutiny of the conversation. “Madame Orange. She found out Yellow cheated on her daughter.” He shrugged. “She’d be as mad as anyone else.”

Cordelia pursed her lips. “That’s assuming I even knew about the affair. Perhaps I didn't even know until he died! How would you know?”

“Everyone wanted to kill Mr. Yellow,” Dirk muttered to Todd.

“Madame Orange was angry after her check up with Dr. Violet before the murder happened,” Farah pointed out. “Although she didn’t say why. It could’ve been about the affair.”

“Everyone wanted to kill Mr. Yellow!” Dirk said again, sounding surprised. Todd looked at him and he grinned back.

“I was upset because my gardener, Mr. Turquoise, had quit in a huff.”

“You fired me!” Lenny butted in. Todd realized he’d barely spoken to half of the people playing the game, feeling suddenly like he’d shown up for a test he hadn’t studied for. “And I certainly didn’t kill Mr. Yellow!”

“Alright,” said Cordelia. “But I deny that I did. I still find Mr. Maroon awfully suspicious.”

Daniel glowered at his mother. “If you won’t admit it, I’ll accuse someone else. Like….” He looked around the room. “...my brother. Mr. Green.”

Dirk smiled. “It could have been me,” he said. “I love my brother, Mr. Maroon. I found out Mr. Yellow was having an affair with his wife. And I felt this was an affront to my family. But I think we are focused much too narrowly on the what and the why. In fact,” he said. “I think we are far too focused on this game.”

“Too focused on the game?” Lenny said. “Isn’t that the point of the final round?”

“The point of the final round,” Dirk said confidently, “is to find out who killed Mr. Yellow and Max Oliver.”

“Oh,” Todd said softly. Dirk had solved it.

“I am Mr. Yellow,” Max said.

"Exactly! So the question we have to answer," Dirk continued, "is who killed Max Oliver. I, of course, have my own theories, but I would like to share last. Mrs. Cordelia. I still find you a bit suspect. Why don't you tell us again why you aren't the killer?"

Cordelia stiffened in offense. "Why am I not the killer? You must be kidding me! I just went over this. I wouldn’t hurt my own son!"

"Ah, but perhaps Max wasn't the child you wanted. And neither was Daniel. And neither was Jane. You wanted a child who was a star, Mrs. Oliver. And you knew you'd never get that if you didn't intervene yourself."

Adrianna narrowed her eyes. "He knows this is a game, right? We aren’t our characters."

Dirk's eyes lit up. "Ah! And Adrianna Waye. What an interesting piece of this puzzle you are."

Adrianna shifted uncomfortably. "Don’t even bother accusing me of killing him. I was the one who was having an affair with him. I was one of his only allies. It wouldn’t make sense."

"No, you're right," Dirk agreed. "It wouldn’t make sense. Besides that, a lady such as yourself seems unlikely to get her hands dirty with murder." He paused. "She'd make someone else do it."

Adrianna turned to Max and laughed. "What is he talking about? This isn't connected to the game at all."

"You know what it's about--"

"Ah!" Farah cut in. "I have a theory. Did Lenny's character actually do it? Mr. Turquoise was Madame Orange’s gardener, so maybe he saw something at the house, like the affair. Blackmail gone wrong type situation."

Dirk nodded. "Lenny seems a bit suspicious, doesn't he?" He looped around the living room, ending behind Lenny's chair. "Lenny, what do you have to say to that?"

"I don't know,” Lenny said. “I don't think my character ever actually interacted Max, though, did he?"

"Exactly," Dirk said. "Lenny is too much of an outsider. He might not like Max, but there was no reason he would want to kill him. He wasn't even present at the crime scene. Now, Daniel, however..."

"Wouldn't it be my luck to pick the character who's the killer three years in a row?" Daniel sulked, shooting his mother a look.

"Of course Daniel could have been jealous of Max. Jealous of how his mother adored him and doted on him. But... that doesn't explain why he would kill him." Dirk turned to Jane. "Do you understand what I'm getting at, Miss Jane?"

Jane's eyes widened. "But I still don't understand! Who--who did I see die on that night?"

“Who did you see die on what night?” Cordelia turned to her daughter, her eyes narrowed. “Jane, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Sorry, mother,” Jane whispered softly. “But yes. Ten years ago, I saw a murder.” Dirk gave Farah a small nod and Farah quietly moved to block the one door that led out of the study. Todd moved towards the window, having a strong feeling that any possible exit was soon going to quickly need to be blocked. Jane continued, “These people have been trying to help me solve the murder, mother. But… But I don’t know who did it, or who even died…” She trailed off, looking small and lost in her big velvet chair.

“You’re detectives?” Cordelia demanded.

"Indeed,” Dirk said. “Quite a good disguise, right? Now, Jane, the person you saw being murdered on that night was your brother, Max."

"But that's absurd!" Cordelia burst out. "Max is right here!" Max stood behind his mother, his expression stony.

"That," Dirk pointed to Max, "is certainly someone going by the name Max and living his life as if he were Max Oliver. But that is not your biological son, Max Oliver. He was killed on this day, ten years ago, in your back garden."

"Don't be absurd," Max cut in, his voice cold and stiff. "You've been talking nonsense all night."

"Have you ever," Dirk said, "met an actor who was so incredible that sometimes you didn't even know they were acting?" Todd got the very distinct feeling Dirk was thinking of Mona. "I have. And I will tell you this much. When someone who is talented enough chooses to not be found, they won't be."

"You're crazy," Max said. "You have no proof."

"Alright," Dirk said. "Maybe I'm wrong. Then answer me this. How come you and Adrianna talk in a language no one has ever heard when you think you're alone?"

"What?"

“Oh!” Todd cut in. "And is that why Adrianna’s eye color shifts so dramatically? I wasn’t imagining that?"

"People's eye color can shift--"

"Not from light blue to deep brown they can't,” Dirk said, nodding at Todd.

Max snorted. "Just because you're dressed as a detective doesn't mean you can say whatever you'd like and expect it to go over."

"Alright," Dirk said. "Let me read from this journal," Dirk said, reaching into his trenchcoat and pulling out a copy of Jane's diary that they had photocopied and brought along. Todd hadn't realized Dirk’s intentions in bringing the copy along--but he wasn’t sure Dirk had known until this exact moment, either.

"’October 31st, 2008,’" Dirk read aloud. "’Dear Diary, Today I saw something very frightening. It was during the Halloween party, I went out in the back garden to get a bit of fresh air and because everyone was very loud. When I was out there, I thought I heard someone screaming. I thought maybe it was one of my brothers, and so I ran. I saw a figure in the dark standing over someone else, but when I got to where I saw their silhouettes across the garden, they were gone. I saw something I thought could've been blood or beer or water but it was too dark to see. I'll go and see if it's still there tomorrow. I don't know what I saw. I went inside and told mama and papa about it. Papa joked that I'd seen a ghost on Halloween. I don't know. Love, Jane.’"

"I know who Jane saw that night," said Dirk. He pointed at Max. "She saw you. And she saw her brother, Max."

"I am her brother Max," Max replied evenly.

"Oh please," Dirk said. "Will you give that up already? You may live as Maxwell Oliver but you were at least not born that way. You weren't born in this town, or, quite frankly, even this planet."

"What're you going to do about it?" Adrianna said, rising to her feet.

"Adrianna," Max snapped. "Sit down."

"I'm going to..." Dirk said confidently, and then stopped. "Well, I hadn't really thought of that."

“It’s true,” Jane said softly. Cordelia had stepped away from Max and was now standing behind her daughter. She placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder, looking tense. Jane looked up at Cordelia. “It’s true, mother. It was Max I saw on that night. It must’ve been…”

Max frowned. “Are you really going to believe this, Mother? Believe all this slander about your favorite son?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been so good to you… an absolute star, in fact. Don’t tell me you believe some sort of alien-murder plot thought up by a stranger over the word of your own son?”

Cordelia Oliver's eyes clouded over. "I'm not sure, Max."

"I cannot believe this," Max said. Adrianna fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably. "Do you know everything I've given for this family? Everything me and Adrianna have given for you, Mother?"

"What are you?" Dirk asked curiously. "You must be something quite interesting. And..." He paused, his nose bunched up. "...and either undetectable or fifteen years new to this planet."

"We were undetectable," Adrianna said.

"Adrianna!" Max barked. "Will you shut up?"

"Oh, give it up, Max," she said irritably. "He's caught us in our game. Might as well admit it." She turned to Dirk. "You wouldn't really believe it if we were from a different planet."

"I certainly would," he said. "I've come across a fair few extraterrestrials in my time. I don't suppose you communicate through music on your planet?"

"What?" she snapped. "No. Don't be stupid. You were right, we communicate in our own language. And these weren't our original forms." Max glared at her, his lips pursed in determined silence. "But there's no way for you to prove that, you know? That's the best thing about what we are."

"Oh god," Cordelia said, holding her hand over her mouth.

"And what is that?" Dirk asked.

"Can't pronounce it in your language. In fact, you numbskulls hardly have the language to describe it. Leech? Reincarnate? Phoenix?" Adrianna seemed almost pleased by this, as if the fact that she was somewhat undefinable was a final act of rebellion against whatever separated her from them. "The point is," she said, "we take on different forms over our lives. We essentially could live forever--as long as we kill before our vessel dies. When that happens, we take on the form of whatever we last killed."

"Woah," Dirk said.

"What happens to the body?" Farah said, eyeing Max and Adrianna nervously while still guarding the door.

"We become the body," Adrianna said as though it were obvious. "The last vessel we occupied turns to dust once we leave it for good, once there's no use for it anymore."

"And you killed Max and took his body," Jane said softly, looking Max straight in the eyes. Max frowned and looked away.

"What--what now?" Daniel asked nervously, looking between Max and Adrianna. The room was filled with a tense air.

Max sighed, breaking the silence. "This is truly awful," he said, his tone almost bored, "I never wanted it to come to this, and I am very sorry. I did love you, Mother," he said to Cordelia. "Unfortunately..." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling something small and metallic out, "...the two of us will have to kill all of you now that you've discovered our secret."

Max Oliver had a gun. The room broke out into hectic noise. Cordelia screamed, Daniel let out a large stream of profanities, Todd started to argue with Max, and Dirk shouted something about everyone needing to talk this out, please, and not have so much killing all the time. Everyone was on their feet in a few seconds. Todd and Farah exchanged a look, guarding the door and window respectively, not sure if they should run or stand their guard. The only person who remained sitting was Max Oliver.

"No one move!" he barked. "Shut up!" And he was pointing the gun, and the room quickly fell silent. "You see," he said. "You all have made this so hard for me and my dear EtTew0si." He stood up from where he sat and went to the bookshelf, grabbing a candlestick. He handed it to Adrianna who smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"Now who's first?" Max said, sounding almost bored. Todd gave a sideways glance to Farah and mouthed the word "gun." She shook her head, mouthing back a long sentence. He had forgotten he couldn't read lips.

"Oh Jane," Max said. "Why not you? This whole dilemma is your fault, now, isn't it?"

"It's not my fault," Jane said, trembling but holding her voice steady. "None of this would've happened if you hadn't hurt Max."

Max pursed his lips, ignoring her comment. "Come here, and we'll make this quick and painless," he said.

"No," she said, holding her ground.

Adrianna shoved her forward from behind, pushing her with the end of the candlestick. "Do what he says!" she said.

Jane opened her mouth to make a retort but decided against it. She looked back at the other people in the room, staring hopelessly.

"My dear sister," Max said, pointing the gun at her head. Adrianna stayed behind her, holding the candlestick up. "I am sorry it had to come to this."

"No, you're not," she said, tears forming in her eyes.

"You're right," he laughed. "I'm not."

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. Farah leapt up from her place by the door to in front of Max, grabbing Jane out of the line of fire as Max pulled the trigger. Adrianna, not realizing what had happened before it was too late, didn't dodge and instead was hit squarely in the head with the bullet Max had fired. Adrianna barely had a second to let out a cry of pain before her body turned to dust, drifting down to the floor, lifeless. Max whirled around, still holding his gun, pointing it at Farah and Jane where they sat on the floor.

"You think you're real smart, huh?" he demanded. "What--"

A bang fired in the room.

Max stopped talking.

Max stopped breathing.

Max fell over onto the floor, fading into a pile of dust.

Across the room, Cordelia Oliver held up her pearl handled pocket purse pistol, smoke still drifting off the tip of the weapon, tears streaking her face.

The next week, Jane Oliver visited Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective agency. She knocked lightly before walking into the office. "Hello!" she said.

"Jane Oliver!" Dirk said, his entire face lighting up. He jumped up from his desk. "How are you doing?"

She smiled sadly. "This whole ordeal has been a lot for my family... but I think we are better for it. We've all been trying to understand, of course. But it's brought us closer too."

"I'm glad to hear that," Farah smiled, looking up from her desk. "Thank you for visiting, Jane."

Jane nodded. "I’m to give you these." She passed two envelopes to Dirk.

He looked at her, confused. "What?"

"For the case," she said softly.

"Ms. Jane, I was under the distinct impression that we were not taking payment from you," he said. He passed the envelopes back to her. "In fact, I insist on it. I don't want to take money from you."

She laughed. "It's not from me. It's from my mother. She's going through a lot, as we all are, but she's extremely grateful to you guys." She shrugged. "She didn't actually tell me what was in those. Just to deliver it to you three."

"Well, thank you," Dirk said, surprised, taking the envelopes back from her.

"Yes!" she said. "And thank you guys... for everything. The truth is hard, but I'm glad I know it. And..." she turned to Farah, "thank you for saving my life."

Farah smiled awkwardly. "I mean, yes. Of course. That is... yes. You're welcome."

She beamed at them. "I'll be sure to recommend you guys, although I don't know how many other sixteen year olds have use of a detective agency."

Dirk smiled. "Thank you Jane."

She nodded once more. "Goodbye!" They waved and wished her well and then she was on her way.

"I wonder what Cordelia sent," Todd said.

"Let us see!" Dirk said. “This first envelope is addressed to ‘Dirk Gently & Co.’ Fancy!” He tore the envelope open, pulling it out and looking it over. His eyes widened.

"What?" Farah said.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I don't think we'll have to worry about agency finances for a while," Dirk said, eyes wide. He passed Farah the check from inside the card.

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh-kay!” she said. “Well. We should definitely send a thank you note.”

“She wrote a note, too,” Dirk said. He read aloud, “‘Dear Dirk and Company, I never did like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. However, the three of you I found quite tolerable. To think I would’ve lived with and loved an imposter my whole life if not for your agency. Much thanks. Sincerely, Cordelia Oliver.’”

“I guess she’s got a heart under her mean exterior after all,” Todd said.

“‘P.S.,’” Dirk read. “‘I am assuming you will be quiet about the disappearance of my ‘son’ Max. I hope this check more than manages that.’”

“Oh,” Todd said, and Farah laughed.

“Well!” Dirk said, setting down the card. He smiled at his two friends. “I think that’s another case solved with arguable efficiency.”

“What’s the other envelope?” asked Todd.

“I don’t know…” Dirk looked at it. “She wrote something on the front... ‘I couldn’t be bothered to open this after what happened. but I thought one of you care want to know more than I. Sincerely, Cordelia.’”

“Oh!” Farah said. “It’s the envelope from the game--the one that has the killer in it.”

“I didn’t even realize we never revealed the fake killer,” Todd said.

“I did,” said Farah. “Open it?”

Dirk nodded, pushing a pencil thru the top, ungracefully breaking the seal. He popped the envelope open and looked inside before pulling out a tiny slip of paper.

“Oh God,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Of bloody course it had to be.”

Farah raised her eyebrows and he passed her the paper. She looked at it and frowned. “Crazy coincidence, that’s all.”

“Let me see that,” Todd grabbed the paper.

“Farah, nothing ever ends up being mere ‘coincidence’ with me,” Dirk said pointedly. “Ever.”

“Alright, that’s weird,” Todd said, tossing the paper back onto the desk in front of Dirk. The three of them started at the paper for a moment, saying nothing.

“I say we break early for lunch,” Farah broke the silence. “My treat.”

“Avoidance,” Todd said. “I like it.”

“Burgers?” Dirk chimed in. “I love it.”

The three of them stood up and cleared out of the office, turning off the lights and locking the doors to the office. In the now quiet office lay the small slip of tangerine paper on a desk. It read, in plain cursive, Madame Orange is the killer.

End

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #case fic #dghda #dghda halloween mini bang 2020 #fanfiction #dirk gently fanfiction #my art

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seehowsupplethespineis · 5 years

Text

Some Crazy 19th Century Literary Characters Live Together And It Goes About As Well As One Would Think

(Hullo! Yes, it has been awhile since anything has been posted here, and I’m breaking that hiatus with this bit of utter nonsense! Drawing Entity and I had a roleplay recently with classic literary characters who are a bit sketchy, so I decided to take that concept and turn it into a story. Is it to be taken seriously? Nope. This is just me poking fun at some characters that I love in a “what if” scenario. It’s all meant to be humorous and ridiculous.)

(Characters include Van Helsing from Dracula, Moreau from The Island of Doctor Moreau, Griffin from The Invisible Man, Frankenstein from Frankenstein, Gray from The Picture of Dorian Gray, Jekyll and Hyde from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Moriarty from one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, and Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment.)

(Note: I know all the characters come from different decades, so this is broadly set somewhere in the mid-1800s. They’re all about as old as they are in their stories. Also, when you see “<...>,” that means they’re speaking in Russian, since Raskolnikov is Russian.)

(Warnings: Blood, violence, weapons, mentioned mauling, gore, hangover, mentions of drinking, generally apathetic characters, brief mention of depressive behavior)

Morning light managed to escape the neverending grey of the mist outside. It shone through the dew speckled window and shined a light on Abraham Van Helsing, who’d been awake for the past three hours or so reading science article after science article. Some of them were new, some of them he’d read but needed a refresher on. Van Helsing wasn’t one to sleep in when there was reading to be done or work to complete (work usually meant preparing for his next escapade into the cemetery, or simply going to teach at the local university).

Glancing at the clock on the wall, the old man saw the time to be half past 7.00, which meant breakfast would be served shortly. Folding up his magazine, he slowly slid out of bed, stretching cramped muscles. Becoming increasingly old meant that he was wiser with each day, so he supposed it was only fair his body maintain balance by withering away. It didn’t make the ache in his back any less irritating, though.

Van Helsing got himself washed up and dressed, then proceeded to the door. He noticed the doorknob shone more than usual. With a sigh, he withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and turned the handle with it wrapped around his hand. We really must confront Moriarty about this.

As he stepped out onto the landing, Van Helsing heard soft footsteps immediately stop. Turning, he caught sight of a squat, hairy man with roguish features paused in front of the door to Jekyll’s quarters. The man looked at him, then at the door, then back again.

Van Helsing gestured impatiently, “Oh, go on then. Don’t make Jekyll late for breakfast.”

The short man grinned, tipped his top hat, then proceeded quietly into Jekyll’s room. Van Helsing cast his gaze up to the ceiling as he moved to the staircase. Hyde had been late to return, which meant he’d probably gotten up to his ears in trouble, which meant an angry mob banging on their door sometime this morning, which meant Van Helsing had to hurry and eat so he could calm the troubled citizens.

Quickening his pace, he reached the ground floor and strode purposefully to the dining hall, hoping their cook had finished preparing the meal. They’d gone through several cooks this month, either because the last one quit or disappeared without a trace in the middle of the night. It was always the same story, and sometimes Van Helsing was glad he didn’t know the exact end.

Griffin was the only one at the table when Van Helsing arrived. He could tell by the floating robes at the far end, as well as the floating newspaper.

“Good morning, Dr Griffin.”

A “harumph” was the only response.

“Did you sleep well?”

“No.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Van Helsing settled himself at the head of the table, folding his hands in his lap, “Any exciting news today?”

“Just the usual political drivel.” The paper began folding itself in mid-air then went sliding across the table. Van Helsing caught it and examined the newsprint for himself. As always, he scanned the pages for any mentions of unusual happenings, like a missing corpse or reports of a blood-sucking creature. He found none but knew that hardly meant there were no vampires in the area.

The door opened just then to admit a young man with dark hair and a wary expression.

“Good morning, Rodion Romanovich.”

Raskolnikov gave Van Helsing a tight nod then seated himself beside the older man, hunching over in his seat.

“How did you sleep?” Van Helsing asked.

The young man considered how to respond for a few seconds before alighting on the proper words, speaking with a thick Russian accent, “I slept well.”

“Perfect!” Van Helsing beamed. Raskolnikov seemed pleased with himself.

“Good morning, housemates!” The door was thrown open and Dorian Gray sauntered in, flashing everyone a dazzling smile with perfect teeth. Raskolnikov shrank in his seat and Van Helsing was sure he heard Griffin sigh.

Gray collapsed neatly into a chair, throwing his legs up on the seat beside him, “I trust you all had a good night. I can say that I did.”

“I’ll bet,” Griffin huffed, “I saw you drinking in the common room when I went up to bed at midnight.”

“Oh, I was just having a bit of fun. You all can be such downers and sometimes spirits are the only way to lift my spirits.”

“How are you not hungover?”

“I didn’t have that much.”

“Didn’t- You and Hyde nearly finished our entire supply!”

“Mr Hyde was with you?” Van Helsing spoke up.

“He was for about an hour, then he said he had ‘business elsewhere’ and jumped out the window. Strange fellow.”

Van Helsing nodded gloomily. A drunk Hyde running amok in England was not good.

“I think we should be prepared for another mob, then.” he said as someone else came into the room.

“Another mob?” Dr Moreau paused in the entryway, “But I covered my tracks!”

Van Helsing looked up, “Beg pardon?”

Moreau frowned, “Are we talking about me?”

“We were not.”

“Oh, well then, I guess I’m safe.” The vivisectionist quietly took his place beside Griffin. Van Helsing considered questioning him but decided against it; there was an unspoken policy of don’t-ask-about-my-illegal-activities-and-I-won’t-ask-about-yours in this house.

James Moriarty was the next to arrive. His serpentine like gaze raked over his housemates as he stood by the door and fixed on Van Helsing.

Van Helsing waved, “Yes, professor, I am still alive. Try harder next time.”

Moriarty came to sit next to Gray, “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re speaking of.”

“Poison on the doorknob? Really?” Van Helsing continued, “How childish.”

“I can assure you, my fellow professor, that if I wished you dead, I’d go about it in a more clever way.” Moriarty sniffed, “Poison is far beneath me.”

Van Helsing rolled his eyes, “Well, if it wasn’t you, then who?”

“Perhaps it was one of those vampires you’re always going on about.”

“Nonsense! I’ve vampire-proofed this house. No creature of the night is coming in here.”

“My mistake.” Moriarty sighed. He turned in his seat, “Where is that cook? Breakfast should have been on the table five minutes ago.”

“He’s new here.” Van Helsing said in the cook’s defense, “Give him time. It can’t be easy catering to... people like us.”

“You mean mad people.” Gray translated, “It’s alright, you can say it. We all know you people are crazy.”

“ ‘You people’ not including yourself, I presume.” Griffin grumbled.

Gray grinned at him, “You presume correctly.”

Raskolnikov frowned at all of them and leaned over to Van Helsing, “<What are they talking about?>”

Van Helsing folded up his newspaper, “<We are just wondering where the cook is.>”

“<Has another one disappeared?>”

“<I hope not.>”

The doors were once again pushed open and a timid young man trudged in. His appearance was quite professional, though Van Helsing noted his hair was not properly combed back and his hands fidgeting and nervous. His skin was an unnatural pallor and his expression quite haggard.

“Sorry I’m late.” Dr Jekyll slowly sat beside Raskolnikov, nearly toppling out of his seat. He shaded his eyes against the lamp light “I slept in.”

Everyone exchanged an almost imperceptible glance at that, but no one said anything out loud. Jekyll still hadn’t quite grasped that everyone here was well aware of his “secret.” Van Helsing figured he should let him know sometime, though he couldn’t pretend seeing the doctor flustered as he struggled for alibis wasn’t amusing.

“How are you today, Doctor? You seem… off.” Van Helsing said politely.

Jekyll’s restless gaze snapped up to the older man, “Oh, no, just… slept… wrong.”

“I see...” Hyde must have left him with a serious hangover; his excuses were usually a lot better put together than that.

The table lapsed into silence, broken only by Gray’s humming and the crinkling of paper as Moriarty read the news.

It was Moreau who spoke next, “Where’s Frankenstein?”

Everyone glanced around, having not noticed their housemate wasn’t there.

Moriarty sighed, “He’s probably sulking in his room again.”

“Who wants to go get him this time?” Griffin asked.

When no one was quick to volunteer, Van Helsing took up the initiative, “I’ll fetch him.”

He left the others to their tense silence and marched up the stairs to Victor Frankenstein’s bedroom. The poor man always seemed to get up late and go to bed early, unless he was seized by some fit of scientific passion, though he inevitably dissolved into sobs afterwards. The young scientist always seemed to feel guilty about something.

The old man reached his door and knocked firmly, “Mr Frankenstein? Are you alright?”

There was no response.

He knocked again, “We’re all gathered for breakfast! We would appreciate it if you joined us!”

Still nothing.

Van Helsing huffed in annoyance, “Mr Frankenstein, you have stayed locked up in your room since yesterday morning, and, as far as I know, have not eaten anything since. Now come out of there and have a meal with us.”

There was a long pause, then Van Helsing heard bolts slowly slide back behind the door until it was open enough for a ragged face to peek out.

“Good morning.” Van Helsing said.

Frankenstein gave a long sigh, “I don’t deserve a good morning.”

“Well, I think you do.” the professor slowly pushed the door open wider, “Are you ready to come down?”

“If I have to be.” Frankenstein stepped out into the hallway, blinking against the light from one of the windows. Van Helsing noticed he hadn’t changed since yesterday morning, and probably hadn’t changed since the morning before that.

The two of them walked back downstairs together and into the dining room.

Everyone was gone.

“Hello?” Van Helsing called, a cold feeling of dread creeping upon him, “Dr Moreau? Mr Gray? Rodion Romanovich?”

“In here!” someone called from the side door leading into the kitchen. Van Helsing exchanged a glance with Frankenstein and they rushed to join the others.

All the residents were gathered in a circle around Griffin, who was crouched over a still form on the ground. Van Helsing immediately recognized it as the cook they’d hired not a week ago, despite the blood coating the victim from head to toe and his torn features.

Griffin lifted the cook’s arm by an un-marred section of skin then let it flop to the ground. He cleared his throat, “This man is dead.” he declared.

“Obviously, Sherlock.” Gray said.

“What did I say about using that name?” Moriarty groused.

“How did this happen?” Van Helsing demanded.

Raskolnikov was suddenly very alert, “<It wasn’t me!>”

Moriarty shook his head, “This wasn’t done by a man. This is the work of a wild animal…”

Everyone grew quiet, then slowly turned to Moreau, who was trying to sneak unnoticed out of the room. He paused as he realized they’d caught him.

He sighed, “Alright, in my defense, I was sure that lion was human enough.”

“It’s a lion, idiot!” Griffin exclaimed, “Human doesn’t factor in!”

“I was making progress! He even started speaking!”

“Did he say he was hungry?” Gray asked.

Moreau glared at him, “He wasn’t that intelligent!”

“Yet you let him run amok!” Griffin yelled, sleeves waving in agitation.

“I kept him locked in the closet!”

“Oh, so that’s where you’re supposed to keep a man-eating lion?!”

“He broke out of his cage! Where was I supposed to put him?”

“Um, guys,” Jekyll’s voice was quiet and only Van Helsing seemed to hear him, “Where’d the lion go?”

Bang!

Everyone jumped as the front doors shook from the force of a mass of people throwing themselves against it.

Oh, the mob. Van Helsing had nearly forgotten to expect them.

“Everybody be quiet!” he shouted. The authority in his voice served to silence the bickering scientists, “We’ve got another angry mob outside and a lion on the loose! Now is not the time to argue among ourselves!”

He paused, formulating a plan, “Moreau, you, Frankenstein, and Moriarty find that lion and kill it if necessary. Gray and Jekyll, you come with me to handle the mob. Griffin, Rodion Romanovich, since no one can either see or understand you, keep yourselves locked in one of your bedrooms and stay together.”

“Fine by me!” Griffin had already grabbed Raskolnikov’s sleeve and was racing out of the room with the confused Russian in tow.

“Why must I stay here and handle Moreau’s mess?” Moriarty asked with a sniff.

“Because you’re the smartest of all of us.” Van Helsing said slyly, “You’ll slay that lion easily with that clever head of yours.”

Moriarty nodded, conceding that he was in fact the smartest. Moreau looked distraught.

“Don’t kill it! I’ve been working on him for months!”

“It’s either him or us, pal,” Gray shouted over his shoulder as he sauntered out the door, “And I’m too pretty to die.”

Van Helsing followed the retreating socialite, Jekyll lurching after them.

There were about 30 citizens gathered outside from what Van Helsing could see as he peeked out the window, each armed with all manner of crude weaponry, including brooms and shovels. Bracing himself, Van Helsing pushed open the door, making the crowd fall back.

“What’s all this about?” he asked, trying to appear friendly.

“You know very well what it’s about!” a woman cried, “There’s been a murder in the village, and Mr Hyde is to blame!”

Jekyll gave a quiet “eep” behind Van Helsing. The professor turned to see the doctor’s pale face, deducing that Hyde probably did commit this crime. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But perhaps… “How was the victim killed?” he asked.

“He was beaten by his own cane until his head caved in!”

No, that was Hyde alright. Part of him hoped it might have been the lion or some other crazy person.

“I saw him from my bedroom window!” a man shouted from the back, “He was coming from the murder scene!”

“Lots of people probably came from the general direction in which the crime was committed,” Gray said with an easy smile, “That doesn’t necessarily have to mean they did it.”

The townspeople seemed taken aback, not from Gray’s words, but from his dashing smile. It always seemed to stun anyone subjected to it, at least anyone who didn’t know Gray well enough to see he was an awful person.

Van Helsing seized their advantage, “Exactly! You cannot convict a man with such flimsy evidence. As far as I can tell, no one actually witnessed the murder, so no one can testify. Hyde was simply minding his own business on the city streets, as he is wont to do.”

“B-But…” Gray’s smile intensified and the protester shut up.

Van Helsing slowly stepped back into the house, leaving Gray to further calm the mob. He was good at that. Jekyll had remained partially indoors during the whole interaction and leaped back into the safety of the parlor.

“Now that that’s settled,” Van Helsing began, “I suppose we should help-”

“AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!”

Van Helsing and Jekyll jumped in fright at the scream emanating from upstairs.

“Who was that?” Jekyll shouted in alarm, clasping his hands to his ears. From the dining room, Moreau, Frankenstein, and Moriarty came pouring out.

“Egad, the lion must be up there!” Moriarty cried.

“THE LION’S UP HERE!” Griffin’s panicked scream confirmed Moriarty’s suspicion, “HELP US!!!”

“I’ll get a sedative!” Moreau rushed to his room.

“Forget the sedative! We have to put it down!” Frankenstein seemed seized by a fit of determination. He’d grabbed one of the kitchen knives and brandished it as he followed Moreau up the stairs, “You will never kill again, monster!!!”

Gray poked his head inside as he heard all the shouting, “What the heck is going on in here? You’re ruining my progress with this crowd!”

“The lion’s going to eat us!” Jekyll screamed and started running for the backdoor, face-planting into it first before managing to throw it open. Moriarty glanced from him to Van Helsing, then followed the retreating doctor.

“What?!” Gray looked to Van Helsing for guidance.

“Just keep them calm!” Van Helsing instructed and sprinted toward the staircase, “We’ll handle this!”

Taking the stairs two at a time, Van Helsing made his way up to the second level. He’d barely made it halfway before he was gasping for air, his old legs wobbling like jelly. Sprinting had been a bad plan.

“No!” Moreau had a loaded syringe in hand and was chasing after Frankenstein, who was already to Griffin’s bedroom door, “Don’t kill him!”

Frankenstein kicked the door open as Van Helsing made it all the way up, putting on a burst of speed.

The lion was, indeed, very human-like. While it still hunched over, it remained upright, its digitigrade legs trembling with the effort. Its face was feline yet something in the shape of the jaw and the arch of the forehead and nose gave it a human air, an altogether grotesque combination. It had hands with long fingers ending in sharp claws but still no thumb. The torso was thin, crooked slightly to make it stay standing. The tail stuck out so it could keep its balance.

Griffin and Raskolnikov were backed into a corner, the invisible man with a chair leveled at the beast. He turned as the others rushed in.

“Took you long enough!”

Raskolnikov was saying something in Russian too fast for Van Helsing to translate. All he could catch was “ax,” before the young man was darting out of the room, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the lion.

“Get back, monster!” Frankenstein was leaping forward, knife poised to drive into the creature’s chest. The lion growled and sank awkwardly down onto four legs in order to leap at its new prey.

“No!” Frankenstein was tackled by a flying Moreau and they landed in a heap on the floor. The vivisectionist struggled to his feet as he held Frankenstein down.

“It’s alright!” he said to his creation, “We can talk about this! Just stand up and come with me. Four legs bad, remember?”

The lion growled, crouching lower, “Do not… want… two legs. Want… kill… you!”

It pounced on Moreau and Frankenstein who screamed in terror as Griffin and Van Helsing both yelled in alarm.

Then the creature fell dead on the floor.

Raskolnikov had managed to bolt past Van Helsing and driven an ax into its head, killing it in an instant. Blood spattered the young Russian’s clothes and dripped onto Moreau’s pants.

The doctor stared in silent horror for a few seconds then shoved his creation off him and staggered to his feet, syringe falling from slack hands. Frankenstein followed suit, still gripping the knife like he was afraid the lion was only faking death.

Griffin set his chair down and stepped forward, “Good job, kid! Another moment and we’d all have been dead!”

Van Helsing released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, “Yes, fortunate you found that ax in time.”

Raskolnikov didn’t seem to hear them, his gaze fixated on the blood soaking into his pants and socks. He let the ax fall from his grip, where it slowly slid from the gaping wound in the lion’s head and fell to the ground with a thud. Van Helsing frowned as he noticed the Russian had used the back side of the ax instead of the frontal blade. Then he watched as Raskolnikov reeled out of the room and into the hallway, disappearing around the corner.

Griffin shrugged, “Must not like the sight of blood.”

“I didn’t want it dead.” Moreau said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to him, “If I could only have reached it…”

“Well, you didn’t, though I can’t say I’m not disappointed it didn’t manage to eat you.” Griffin glared, “Now get this carcass out of my room.”

Van Helsing was too tired to get caught up in another argument and trudged back to the stairs. Frankenstein was soon beside him, fingering the kitchen knife.

“You might want to put that back.” Van Helsing pointed out.

The younger man started at his voice, “Oh, yeah, I guess so…”

“It was very brave of you to confront the lion as you did.” Van Helsing added.

Frankenstein’s jaw clenched and his gaze had a far away quality to it, “If only I had before…”

He turned swiftly and disappeared back into his room before Van Helsing could ask what that meant. Sighing, the old man walked slowly back to the ground level.

“It’s safe to come in!” he called.

Gray opened the front door and came inside, the mob apparently having left, “Is it dead?”

“Yes, Rodion Romanovich killed him.”

Gray sighed in relief, “Good! Tell that vivisectionist to cut out those experiments or we’ll all be mauled to death.”

“I’ll encourage him to work on herbivorous specimens instead.”

“Great.” Gray grabbed his coat from the hanger beside the door, “Well, I’ve got a date at the theater. See you!”

The door made a resounding thud as it closed, just as the back door opened and Jekyll and Moriarty peeked inside.

“You said it’s dead?” Jekyll asked.

“Yes.”

The doctor stepped inside, Moriarty right behind him.

“I’m, uh, off to my room then.” Jekyll said. He had a pained look on his face, as if trying to hold something back. Van Helsing gestured for him to head back upstairs, realizing his other half was about to rear his head as a result of all the excitement. The doctor hurried up the stairs as fast as his flimsy legs would allow.

Moriarty nodded to Van Helsing, “I’ll be in the library should you need me.”

“We could have used you when handling the lion.” Van Helsing said a tad testily.

The criminal mastermind quirked an eyebrow, “I am not in the business of slaying brutes, professor. If you need someone to do your dirty work, I suggest you enlist another’s help. Good day.”

He marched off with all the rigid pomp he could muster, which was quite a lot. Van Helsing sighed, knowing, as master of the house, he should probably help Griffin and Moreau with the dead lion. He slowly marched back upstairs.

And I thought battling Dracula would be the most excitement I’d get in my life...

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