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Chapter Text

Once every five millennia, the Celestial Realm was blessed with the birth of an Omega. Omegas throughout time were seen as harbingers of change, as some of the most influential celestials in history were omegas. It was a guaranteed fact that any child they bore would someday grow to be amongst the strongest and most powerful beings in the Celestial realm. Stories said that even the Empress of Precious Moonlight, the mother of the Jade Emperor himself, was an omega.

Their birth into this world was such a rare and special event that every five thousand years when the time drew near, the celestial realm celebrated endlessly, eagerly checking any newborn that was brought into the world for the prophesized Omega. This was a blessed time, as even those in the mortal realm felt the joy of the gods.

It was the Song Dynasty, and it was only a matter of time before this special Omega came to be.

However, time passed, and no Omega arrived. By the time the Song Dynasty ended there was a quiet dread though out the world, many afraid of what this could mean. Speculations ran wild amongst all of heaven’s citizens, ranging from fears that this was a sign of the end of the world to political intrigue and even murder. It grew to be so bad that tempers flared, and fights broke out all over the celestial realm, many demanding that every single home be searched in case someone was hiding the Omega for themselves.

Time passed; the situation escalating and escalating until the Jade Emperor had no choice but to step in and put an end to all the fighting. He conceded to the masses and sent out some of heaven’s finest and most skilled warriors to search far and wide for the Omega.

Unfortunately, they would all return empty handed.

Years and years, and even more years after that went by and still nothing. Eventually, the people moved on, and everyone came to the agreement that there really had been no Omega born this time.

Time would prove that all of them couldn’t be more wrong.

=============

Two Thousand Years Later – Present Day

Sun Wukong woke up suddenly. It wasn’t immediately clear what the cause was, so he sluggishly opened his eyes and lifted his head, listening closely for any sounds that might have disturbed him. All he heard was the distant chatter from his monkey subjects as they rose to greet the new day, and by the tone of their voices, there wasn’t anything happening that would be a cause for alarm. Looking around, everything in his room was exactly as it was when he went to sleep the night before. So, what woke him?

‘Eh, it was probably nothing.’ He thought to himself, yawning and stretching a little before rolling over onto his side and snuggling deeper under his blankets; his tail poking out from underneath the covers to curl up on the bed behind him.

He was just beginning to doze off again when the reason he woke up became very clear in the form of a sharp, stabbing pain shooting straight through his lower abdomen before fading away to a very mild dull ache.

He groaned and hugged his stomach, curling in on himself to try and ease the pain. He should have known. He knew he was due for it any day now.

His heat.

With everything that went down with the Lady Bone Demon, he completely forgot! He didn’t even have any of his supplies ready.

‘Shit! And I’m supposed to meet with MK today to train! What am I supposed to tell him?’ He thought, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon, he wouldn’t be in any state to do anything, especially something as physically taxing as training. But he couldn’t just blow the kid off either. Their relationship was still repairing itself, and he promised himself and MK that he wouldn’t lie to him anymore. It’s taken months, but he was slowly but surely gaining that trust back. He could tell in the way the Kid interacted with him these days: like tentatively leaning against his side while watching TV, or shoulders brushing when they walked next to each other.

MK loved expressing his feelings through physical contact and Wukong never thought that this was something he desperately needed until he almost lost it for good.

Plus, another unexpected and not so unpleasant side effect of making up with MK was that the others of their group were starting to come around as well. Often, they would even join them when MK was just coming over to hang out. Most surprising of all was Macaque showing up on the mountain from time to time, and lately, the two monkeys' interaction have been almost…pleasant. Emphasis on ‘almost’.

Wukong covered his face with his hands, ‘But when I made that promise to MK, I didn’t consider this!’ This, being, his most closely guarded secret, a secret that only he and very few others ever knew. The truth of his real secondary gender.

Back when Wukong was first born from the rock and joined the ascended monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain, he already knew then that he was different from the others. It was obvious. How could it not be? Just his sheer strength and power alone, his ability to accomplish feats that the others couldn’t even imagine doing, even in their wildest dreams!

But there was something else, too.

From the very beginning, the very second, he walked amongst them, the Flower Fruit Mountain Denizens looked upon him as if he was the most precious thing in the world, like some rare and beautiful gemstone. He was lavished with expensive gifts, praise, and endless amounts of attention. He didn’t understand why but he also didn’t care, and he soaked it all up.

At first.

It soon grew old fast, especially when every time he tried to explore the world or even just hike around Flower Fruit Mountain, the elders insisted that he have an escort. They even looked down on him when he started his training to become stronger!

“Someone of your station shouldn’t pursue such things!” They would say. He would argue back, always asking why but any inquiries were swiftly shut down or they changed the subject to try and distract him.

They stifled him and he hated it. So much.

It wasn’t until the following year, almost exactly one year from when he came to the mountain and when he got his first heat, that he finally figured out the truth that they all had been keeping from him.

He was an Omega.

And not just any regular Omega either but a celestial one.

He learned two very important lessons that day: One, his second gender was something that needed to remain hidden if he didn’t want his freedoms to be disturbed in any way. And two, nothing and no one could keep him from accomplishing his goals. The ascended demon monkeys of Flower Fruit Mountain had to learn that one the hard way.

Back to present day and it’s not like he wasn’t going to tell the kid eventually! Just, maybe in a few hundred years or so. But with the sweet smell of ripe peaches with earthy undertones starting to waft off his body, one sniff and it would be obvious to anyone what was going on here. And as much as he liked to play dumb sometimes, MK was not to be underestimated.

He winced when another wave of cramps rolled through his abdomen, and with a reluctant sigh, he threw his covers off and got up out of bed; he had to get working on his nest before he was in no state to do so. It took some time and a lot of hunting around before he had a decent sized pile of pillows and blankets, and he was just about to get to work on building his nest when he heard a sound that he had been both expecting and dreading since he realized he was starting his heat.

“Oh, Monkey King!” MK’s voice called from outside. He wasn’t particularly loud, but his voice reverberated through Wukong’s skull all the same, causing a shiver to run up his spine and his fur to stand on end. In that moment an instinct came over him that he thought he had suppressed long ago. He tried to shake off the haze that was starting to cloud over his mind but before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he was running to his front door and throwing it open.

=====

When MK woke up this morning, never in his wildest dreams would he have thought today was going to be lifechanging. It started as it always did, no cosmic signs from the universe that warned him of the shit storm that he was about to walk into when he left to go train with Monkey King that morning. Maybe the fact that everything had been going so right in his life lately should have clued him in.

The first sign that everything wasn’t quite right was the sight of a large group of monkeys running toward him as he made his way up the mountain road.

“Hey guys! What are you all do – whoa!” He barely had time to react before the lot of them were jumping on him, knocking him down to the ground. It was a little hard to make out what they wanted, with them swarming all over him, but by the way they were tugging at his limbs and clothes, and the worried looks on all their faces, it was obvious that they wanted him to follow them right away. The second sign was the distant sound of a series of loud booms, followed by the earth shaking. The panicked monkey’s urgency kicked up a notch and they practically started dragging him until he carefully pushed them off and got to his feet.

“What’s happening? Is Monkey King in trouble?!” MK didn’t even wait for an answer to his questions before he started sprinting, reaching up to his ear to grab hold of his staff, twirling it expertly before holding it at his side and at the ready.

When he reached the waterfall, there wasn’t any sign that someone had forced their way in but another boom rang through the air, followed closely by another earthquake. So, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he carefully made his way through the waterfall and into the ancient tunnel that led to the large cave where Monkey King kept his house, mentally preparing himself for the worst along the way.

The cavern was already in disrepair from the passage of time and past training sessions but now, he spotted definite signs that there was some kind of fight going on. There were large craters all over the walls and the ground, and even some of the pillars that supported the ceiling were toppled over. Even more worried now than he already was, MK quickened his pace, gripping tighter to his staff, readying himself to jump in and help Monkey King with whatever threat he was up against.

What he was expecting was nothing like what he found when he finally made his way out of the dark cave.

There Monkey King was, straddling his opponent, their hands locked and pushing against each other with all their strength, and looking nothing like his usual composed self. If anything, he looked downright feral! Anger fueled energy was radiating from his very being. His clothes and fur were disheveled, and his eyes were glowing…red? His lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing his sharp and intimidating canines. Worst of all, it’s like MK wasn’t even there! Not even acknowledging his presence with a look or a witty quip. The Monkey King had many flaws but being unaware of his surroundings was not one of them. What the heck was going on here!?

It took a moment to notice who Wukong was fighting so fiercely against, and he couldn’t help the double take when he realized who it was. “Wha- Macaque?!”

Teeth gritted and in just as much of a disheveled state, if not more so, was The Six-Eared Macaque. The shadow Demon’s arms were shaking as he tried and failed to get the King off him. He must have heard MK because his head twitched in his direction, as if he wanted to look over at him but couldn’t under the circumstances.

“Gah Kid!” Macaque grunted, wincing when Wukong pushed down harder on him, causing his arms to sink down till his elbows were nearly touching the ground. “Don’t just-ugh! Don’t just stand there! Help get him off me!”

“Uh…right!” Not sure of the situation but not willing to let his mentor rip Macaque to shreds, MK shrunk his staff back into his ear and quickly stepped forward. He grabbed onto the Monkey King’s waist from behind and tapped into his super powered strength to try and pry him off the other monkey. “Monkey King! I don’t get what’s going on here, but you need to calm down!” He grunted when Wukong’s tail smacked into his cheek. Undeterred, he just dug his feet in and held on tighter. He succeeded in giving Macaque a little more breathing room, but his mentor stubbornly refused to release his hands. Worse, now MK had an angry and extremely powerful struggling monkey in his arms. It took all he had not to let go, but he could feel his arms starting to slip. Desperate, he let instincts take over and released his scent to hopefully calm and appease his frenzied mentor. “Calm down! Its me, MK! Please, stop this!”

It must have worked because suddenly it was as if all fight left Wukong’s body. Unprepared for the sudden shift, MK over balanced and fell backwards, but before he could slam into the ground, he felt strong arms wrap around him, a rush of wind through his ears, and then his face was smushed against a warm and furry chest. He felt gentle fingers run through his hair and a soft crooning reached his ears. The arms that held him cradled him even tighter, almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

MK opened his eyes (when did he close them?) and hesitantly looked up at his mentor’s face. Wukong’s eyes, which were once again back to their normal gold color, were looking down on him with such a soft (and dare he say loving?) look that it left him speechless and frozen to the spot. The King curled more of himself around the youth and to MK’s complete and utter shock, he started rubbing the scent glands that were located under his chin all over his head and face, drenching him in his scent.

“Uhhhh…!” He tried to push himself away from the suddenly clingy monkey but stopped when Wukong growled a warning from deep in his chest. Resigning himself to his fate for now, MK settled back down and allowed the other to continue scenting him, cooing gently as he did. The whole thing felt very…intimate.

He’d never mixed scents with anyone before. It was something that he always saw parents doing with their children and MK had mixed feelings about this sudden attention he was receiving from his mentor.

Speaking of scent, MK was starting to notice just how strong his mentor smelled. Like that of damp earth after a rainstorm and over ripe peaches. It was a little overwhelming to his already overwhelmed senses. It rolled over him like a fog, and the child in him wanted nothing more than to sink into this attentive adult’s warm embrace.

However, movement out of the corner of his eye and a pained groan caught his attention and he reluctantly looked away from his mentor to see that Macaque had rolled over and was now pushing himself off the ground into a sitting position. He winced as he carefully inspected the new bruises and cuts that now littered his body. Eyes flashing and lips slightly pulled back to show teeth, he turned toward MK and Wukong, the later seemingly forgotten that he was even there now that all his attention was on MK.

“What the hell, Wukong?!” Macaque climbed to his feet and took a threatening step toward the duo but backed down almost immediately when Wukong turned and glared at him over his shoulder, another growl reverberating through his chest.

“Its okay! Its okaay Monkey King.” MK soothed, once again releasing his scent, since it seemed to work so well the first time, and bringing his mentor’s focus back to him. Monkey King crooned with joy at the attention, his tail swaying happily behind him and his strong scent once again wafting through the air. He pulled MK fully onto his lap and started grooming his hair.

Relieved that he was able to prevent another fight, MK turned back to Macaque. “So. Mind telling me what the heck happened here?! And why is Monkey King acting so crazy?!” He demanded.

Macaque grimaced and he looked to the side, his cheeks pinking a little. “It was just supposed to be a little prank. Pretend to be you, trick the Monkey King, hopefully pissing him off in the process, and make a break for it.” He turned back to face MK, scowling. “But I had nothing to do with… this!”

MK scoffed, “Well you must have done something because I just saw him yesterday and he was his normal, peach loving self-!”

“Hold on-Wait. Stop talking.”

MK’s budding rant cut off, caught off guard by how serious Macaque sounded all-of-a-sudden. “What? What is it?”

The Monkey of shadows didn’t respond right away. Instead, he seemed to be lost in thought as he sniffed deeply at the air and observed the actions of the Monkey King with a keen eye. A complicated mix of emotions ran over his face, ranging from disbelief, anger, and finally settling on a strange mix of wonder and fear. “I can’t believe it…” He said quietly to himself and ran a hand through the fur on his head. MK had to strain his ears to hear what he was saying. “How the hell has this bastard been able to keep this a secret for so long…?”

Confused and a little annoyed at being ignored, MK spoke-up louder, “Huh? What are you talking about? What secret?”

Focusing his eyes back on MK and expression turning neutral, Macaque placed a hand on his hip and gestured with his other hand toward the King. “Don’t you realize what this is? Surely even you can tell what’s going on here.”

Scrunching his brow, MK tilted his head to look at his mentor, who was still busy grooming his hair, and back to Macaque, who was watching him expectantly, waiting for his answer. MK couldn’t give him one, so he just shrugged his shoulders.

Exasperated, Macaque smacked his forehead with an annoyed groan. “Jeez Kid, c’mon!” He gestured once more to his fellow monkey. “The change in scent, the clinginess, the extreme mood swings? I mean seriously, what are they teaching kids in schools these days?”

"Uh firstly,  I never went to school.  And secondly-" It took a second to sink in but when it did, it was like a lightbulb had turned on in MK’s head. Eyes wide, he turned and looked at the Monkey King once more. “Wait a second. You don’t mean-?”

“That’s right. It looks like our dear friend the Monkey King - Great Sage Equal to Heaven himself- is none other than the celestial realm’s long-lost Omega.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Close Quarters

There was silence for all of two seconds, until:

"Wait, what?!" MK shouted, startling Wukong enough to make him pause his ministrations and growl in Macaque’s direction—like he’d decided he was the source of MK’s distress.

MK quickly released more of his scent, sighing in relief when Wukong's attention snapped back to him. As his mentor resumed grooming his hair, MK forced himself to speak more calmly. "Are you serious? You can’t be serious. There’s no way!"

Macaque rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah? Then how would you explain this buffoon’s behavior, huh?" He arched a brow when MK failed to come up with an answer, then gestured toward Wukong—who had started rubbing his chin all over MK’s head again.

MK sputtered, shoving Wukong off despite the irritated growl he got in response. "I—I don’t know! But there has to be some reason other than—than that!"

His eyes suddenly lit up. "Maybe he's been cursed! Yeah, that could be it!" But then his excitement turned to panic, and he gasped. "Oh no! What if he's been poisoned?! Quick, we need to—"

"Kid! Please!" Macaque yelled, cutting off Kid’s babbling before it could go on any longer. He groaned, forced to take another step back as his outburst angered Wukong. The sage nearly rose to his feet, looking ready to attack again—if not for MK keeping him back with a few calming words.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m staying away! Don’t get your robes twisted in a bunch…" Macaque muttered the last part under his breath, rubbing his forehead with a sigh.

"Look, I get that it’s hard to believe—trust me, I’m struggling to wrap my head around it too." He huffed, half his mouth curling into an annoyed sneer. "But the proof’s in the banana pudding, Kid." He jabbed an accusing finger at Wukong. "Like it or not, that idiot over there is an Omega!"

MK bit his lip, turning over everything that had happened so far. He didn’t want to admit that Macaque might be right, but what other explanation was there? He’d never actually been around an Omega in heat before, but from what he’d heard, Wukong was showing some of the typical signs. As for the other symptoms…

Blushing, he quickly shoved those thoughts away. No need to add to his growing list of traumas, thank you very much.

But come on—brash, impulsive, unbelievably powerful Sun Wukong, an Omega? MK tried to picture his mentor fitting the mold of any Omega he'd ever met, but no matter how he looked at it, it just didn’t add up.

Still, he sighed in reluctant agreement. “I guess you’re right…” He glanced up at Macaque, eyes questioning. “But what now?”

“I’d say the first step is getting him inside. It’s not good for an Omega in heat to be outside this long.”

MK tilted his head. “Really? Why?”

Macaque stared at him for a few seconds, as if trying to decide whether he was joking or genuinely that clueless. When it became clear it was the latter, he sighed. “Omegas are, shall we say, fragile during this time. It doesn’t take much to make them sick.” He nodded toward Wukong. “And I’d say His Royal Highness here has just hit his limit.”

“Hm? What are you—oh.”

MK turned to look over his shoulder and felt his stomach drop. Wukong was slumped against his back, his half-lidded eyes glassy and unfocused. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, and—more concerningly—MK could feel the heat radiating off his body in waves.

“Monkey King!” MK exclaimed, quickly pulling himself out of Wukong’s lap. As his mentor started to tip over from the lack of support, MK caught him by the shoulders, barely keeping him upright. “He looks awful! What do we do?!”

“Calm down,” Macaque said. “Let’s get him inside and find a way to cool him down.” Nodding, MK stood up, hefting Wukong’s arm over his shoulder and pulling the ailing king to his feet.

He glanced over at Macaque, only to frown when he noticed the dark-furred monkey hadn’t moved to help. “Uh… aren’t you gonna lend a hand?”

Macaque shifted awkwardly, his expression troubled, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m, uh… not sure that’s such a good idea right now.”

MK blinked, confusion quickly giving way to irritation. “What are you talking about?! Get over here and help me!”

Macaque hesitated a moment longer before reluctantly stepping forward, looking about as comfortable as someone walking into a trap.

As Macaque pulled Wukong’s other arm over his shoulder, he hefted him up with a pinched expression, as if disgusted. MK quickly noticed that he was making a very deliberate effort to breathe through his mouth.

It took MK longer than it should have to realize why. His brain finally registered just how strong Wukong’s scent had become—that rich, earthy aroma mixed with ripe peaches practically oozed off him. At this point, MK wouldn’t be surprised if the entire mountain could smell him.

And with that realization, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Macaque was an Alpha.

And Wukong was an Omega. In heat.

Oh jeez.

MK swallowed hard, forcing a nervous laugh. “Uh, heh… Are you, um, gonna be okay?” His mind was already jumping to every horror story he’d ever heard about Alphas and Omegas in situations like this. If things went south, he was ready to protect his mentor… but against Macaque? Yeah, he wasn’t exactly confident about his odds.

Macaque gave him a long, unreadable look before his expression shifted—first to realization, then to exasperation. Letting out an irritated sigh, he muttered, “Relax, Kid.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been alive for thousands of years. You really think I haven’t learned a little self-control?”

Relief flooded MK, but he did his best to keep it out of his voice. “Just wanted to make sure!”

As they made their way toward Monkey King’s house, MK couldn’t help but keep a wary side-eye on Macaque. Despite his earlier assurances, the dark-furred monkey was definitely struggling. His breathing had grown heavier, and sweat matted the fur around his face, making it clump and stick up in odd places. They had just reached the front door when MK blurted out, “Are you sure you’re okay? You really don’t look so good.”

“Grr, I said I’m fine!” Macaque growled, scowling in frustration. He eyed MK strangely, as if only now realizing something. “Wait… aren’t you an Alpha too? How are you not bothered?”

MK hesitated, frowning as he thought about it. That was weird. With how strong Wukong’s scent was, shouldn’t he be reacting somehow? “I—I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging with the shoulder that wasn’t supporting Wukong. “I guess it just makes me feel… well, safe.”

Macaque stared at him like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Safe.”

MK nodded. “Yeah.”

Macaque scoffed, looking away as he pushed open the door. “Let’s just get the idiot inside already,” he muttered.

They carried the Monkey King to his room, carefully laying him down on his bed. At some point, Wukong’s face had scrunched up in discomfort, and he occasionally let out quiet whimpers under his breath. MK’s chest tightened at the sight—his mentor really did look like he was having a terrible time.

“Stay here. I’ll be back with supplies,” Macaque said curtly before abruptly leaving the room, giving MK no chance to respond.

With a sigh, MK busied himself with making Wukong as comfortable as possible—fluffing the pillow beneath his head and adjusting the blankets beneath him. Once there was nothing more he could do, he perched on the edge of the bed, watching Wukong nervously while his hands fidgeted restlessly in his lap.

‘I wish there was something I could do to help.’ He thought miserably as Wukong let out another soft whimper. Then, suddenly, an idea struck him. ‘Maybe… this?’

Taking Wukong’s hand in his own, MK closed his eyes and released his scent into the room. At first, it barely made a dent against Wukong’s overwhelming presence, but when it finally broke through—the change was instant.

Bit by bit, Wukong’s body relaxed. His breathing steadied, and the tension in his face eased. MK couldn’t stop the huge grin that spread across his face. He’d finally found something—anything—that could help, even if just a little.

But his relief was short-lived. In an instant, the hand he was holding yanked him forward, and before he could react, MK found his face firmly shoved into Wukong’s chest. A pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him in place.

For a moment, MK was too stunned to react. Then, as his lungs started to burn from lack of air, he squirmed, managing to turn his face away just enough to gulp down a few deep breaths.

Once he’d recovered, he tried wiggling again—this time to free himself from Wukong’s hold—but quickly realized it was a lost cause. The arms around him weren’t budging. With a resigned sigh, he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position and rested his head against Wukong’s chest.

As he lay there, his body began to relax against his will. The steady, rhythmic thump of Wukong’s heartbeat beneath his ear was oddly soothing, and with the king’s scent wrapping around him like a warm blanket, that peculiar feeling from earlier returned. A sense of security, of belonging—like he could just sink into this embrace and never leave.

Deep down, he knew it was strange. Not even Pigsy, the one who had raised him since childhood, had ever made him feel this way. But right now? He didn’t care.

His eyelids grew heavy. Maybe just a little nap wouldn’t hurt…

“Aww, well, isn’t this just the sweetest sight?”

MK gasped in surprise and turned to see Macaque standing over them, smirking at the sight of the two snuggled together. MK noted that the dark-furred monkey looked a lot better than when he’d left the room. He was also sporting a new accessory—a clothespin clipped firmly over his nose, clearly to block out Wukong’s scent. And from the way he carried himself, it seemed to be working.

In his hands, he balanced a bowl of water, a glass of water, and a small towel draped over his arm.

Embarrassed—feeling like he’d just been caught doing something wrong—MK immediately tried to push himself away from Wukong. Unfortunately, he had just as much luck as last time.

Blushing, he turned as best he could to face Macaque. “Uh, do you mind giving me a little hand here?”

Macaque watched his struggle with blatant amusement, his smirk widening. “No, I don’t think I will.”

MK gawked. “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

Chuckling, Macaque set the items down on the bedside table. “Exactly what I said, kiddo.” He dipped the towel into the bowl, soaking it thoroughly before wringing out the excess and folding it into a neat rectangle. Then, with deliberate care, he placed it over Wukong’s forehead.

MK groaned. “You can’t just leave me here!” He felt the urge to struggle again but forced himself to stay still as Macaque leaned in, holding the glass of water and gently coaxing Wukong into taking a few sips.

After setting the glass back down, Macaque finally turned his attention back to MK. “Sorry, kid. Looks like you’re stuck.” One hand on his hip, he gestured toward Wukong with a tilt of his chin. “For whatever reason, your presence seems to be relaxing to him.”

MK supposed that was true. Glancing up at his mentor’s face, he was relieved to see that Wukong had actually fallen asleep—really asleep—rather than the pained, semi-conscious state he’d been in before.

Macaque let out a small huff of laughter. “Plus, not gonna lie, Kid—I’m not exactly keen on getting my head chopped off if I try to separate you two.”

MK shot him a deadpan stare, which Macaque shrugged off with an infuriatingly smug smile. With a sigh, MK resigned himself to his fate, shifting to get more comfortable.

The sound of wood scraping against the floor caught his attention, and he turned his head just in time to see Macaque dragging a chair into the room. The dark-furred monkey plopped down into it without ceremony, settling in as if he had no plans to leave anytime soon.

“You’re staying?” MK asked.

“That’s the plan.” Macaque arched a brow. “Unless you think you can handle him on your own?”

MK shook his head so fast it was almost comical. “No, no! Stay! Please and thank you.” He flashed a wide grin.

Macaque nodded in satisfaction and leaned back in his chair with a hum. A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft, steady rhythm of Wukong’s breathing.

MK was just about to let himself drift off again when an inconvenient realization hit him. He hesitated for a moment before turning sheepishly to his companion.

“Uh… Macaque?”

“What?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Macaque sighed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Palace of Bound Souls

Suǒhún Gōng stood like a black crown atop the jagged peaks of the northern mountains, its towering walls half-consumed by the swirling frost that clung to its surface. It was a citadel of iron and stone, forged not merely to withstand time but be resistant to the elements that surround it. Built into the cliffs themselves, the palace loomed over the frozen world below, its darkened steel towers piercing the sky like the fangs of some slumbering beast. Snow and ice collected in the deep crevices of its battlements, the bitter wind howling through its narrow corridors like the wails of lost spirits trapped for all eternity, for which it was named.

The outer walls bristled with sharpened spikes, gleaming faintly under setting sun. Watchtowers rose at precise intervals, each manned by disciplined sentinels clad in armor that reflected the light from the great iron braziers that hung from the stone walls, each burning with bright, yellow flames. Beyond the spiked gates, the lower courtyards stretched wide, where ranks of soldiers drilled in perfect formation. Their movements were rigid, practiced, and efficient—the kind of discipline that did not allow failure. Overseers, clad in long robes embroidered with iron-threaded sigils, stalked between the ranks, their sharp eyes missing nothing.

The Grand Forge lay at the very heart of the fortress, its furnaces never ceasing in their labor. Here, the air was thick with the scent of molten metal and burning coal, the clang of hammers against enchanted steel ringing through the mountain air. The flames that roared within these great kilns were no ordinary fires—they were fed with mystical embers and alchemic coals, hot enough to bend celestial alloys to their master's will. Blacksmiths, their faces smeared with soot, worked tirelessly, crafting weapons, armor, and the chains that had made Suǒhún Gōng infamous.

This was Suǒhún Gōng. A fortress of strength. A palace of ice but wielded fire. A kingdom of forge masters.

And its master, Lian Huan, was a man who would see it all put to use.

Lian Huan sat atop the balcony of his personal quarters, draped in a cloak of snow leopard fur, his long steel gray hair cascading down his back. He cradled a delicate porcelain cup in his hands, filled with amber colored tea, and felt faint warmth seep into his chilled fingers. He brought it to his lips, letting the fragrant steam curl against his face before taking a slow, measured sip. The tea was rich and smooth, its subtle bitterness perfectly balanced by the delicate sweetness that lingered on his tongue. It was a small pleasure, but one he indulged in without guilt.

Beyond the balcony, the world stretched in quiet magnificence. The sky, still dusted with the remnants of day, bloomed with the hues of sunset—oranges and golds blended seamlessly across the clouded sky. The setting sun sent golden rays spilling across the snow-covered peaks, painting the ice in shimmering shades of amber and white. It was a cold, unyielding beauty, sharp as the wind that swept through the mountains, crisp and untainted.

This was his favorite time of day, the last moments before the day gave in to the night. His free time was few and far between, with his endlessly busy schedule but when the chance came, he would always find his way here to this exact spot to watch the sunset.

With an almost lazy motion, he extended his hand holding his now empty cup to the side. Immediately, a servant rushed forward, their hands steady as they refilled it with practiced ease.

Lian Huan did not acknowledge them. He didn’t need to. Strict obedience was expected from all who served him.

A single, firm rap against the wooden door of the terrace chamber, shattered the peaceful silence. Lian Huan wasn’t bothered by the disturbance, however. If anything he was…pleased. He had been waiting for this.

“Enter.”

The door slid open without hesitation, revealing a man clad in black and silver armor, the insignia of Lian Huan’s personal army, a hammer surrounded by flames, emblazoned on his chest plate. He walked forward, and with precise movements, he lowered himself into a deep bow before his master.

“My Lord,” the soldier intoned, his voice measured and respectful. “I have come to deliver my report.”

Without another word, he reached into his cloak and produced a sealed scroll, its wax insignia unbroken, and extended it forward with both hands.

Lian Huan took it, his fingers brushing against the delicate texture of the parchment. For a moment, he simply ran his thumb along the smooth wax, feeling the impressions of the seal. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he cracked it open and unfolded the message.

His pale gray eyes scanned the contents, shifting from line to line with a slow, deliberate pace.

The silence in the room stretched.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth lifted into a satisfied smirk.

“Excellent.”

The soldier remained motionless, awaiting further instruction. Lian Huan allowed himself another sip of tea before lifting his gaze to the man before him.

"You have done well," Lian Huan finally said, setting the scroll aside. "Assemble the troops and have them in position. We wait for the perfect moment to strike."

The man nodded but hesitated before speaking again. "And what of the prisoner being held in the dungeons, my lord?"

Lian Huan exhaled softly, fingers trailing along the rim of his teacup. Ah yes, the prisoner. An unexpected problem but nothing that would get in the way of his plans. If anything, it solidified them. Knowing that he was now powerful enough to keep even him confined brought a satisfied smile to his lips.

"Nothing for now," he said. "Keep him under constant guard, but keep him comfortable. I want him unharmed, but I need him out of my way for the time being."

The soldier bowed once more. "Understood."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode swiftly from the chamber, his footsteps echoing faintly against the polished stone floors.

Lian Huan remained where he was, letting the silence settle once more. He lifted his teacup to his lips again, savoring the taste, the warmth, the knowledge that soon—very soon—his plan would unfold exactly as intended.

‘Sun Wukong…I hope you’re ready for what's coming.’

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Carried Away

The night was quiet. The kind of deep, suffocating quiet that made the whole world feel smaller, like it had been swallowed up in darkness and left only this—just this room, just this moment.

Macaque sat in a chair beside the bed, watching over the two figures lying there. MK was curled against Wukong’s side, face slack with sleep, one arm draped loosely over the older monkey’s chest. The kid had refused to leave Wukong alone all day, hovering like an overprotective shadow, fussing over him with care.

And Wukong…

Macaque exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on the other monkey’s face. He was still. Too still. It was completely unnatural. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, it almost looked like—

No. He pushed that thought away.

The fever had gone down some, but Wukong was still in only the beginning stages of his heat. Macaque didn't know how long it would last- it was typically different for every Omega- but he knew Wukong wasn't quite out of the woods yet.

His usual golden fur was dulled, his breathing had been too shallow for too long, and Macaque had spent hours forcing water down his throat, keeping him cool, making sure he didn’t slip deeper into whatever state he’d been stuck in.

Macaque sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. What the hell am I even doing here?

He should have left the moment he realized what was going on. Should have let the kid handle His Royal Highness and gone off to mind his own damn business.

It wasn’t his responsibility. Wasn’t his problem.

But… was it?

He tried not to remember that era of his life, but there was a time when he and Wukong had been close. Really close. And not once—not once!—had Wukong ever mentioned that he was—

His jaw clenched, frustration coiling in his gut. How? Why hide it? Especially from—

Especially from him…

Looking back, wasn’t it obvious?

The unexplained absences. His build—leaner than most, even with all that limitless strength. Smaller than Alphas, softer than Betas...

Why didn’t I notice? Why didn’t I question it?

Simple. He’d been fooled. Just like everyone else.

Macaque exhaled sharply, gripping his knee to ground himself. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t here for Wukong—he was just waiting for him to wake up so he could get the answers he needed. Because all of this—every damn bit of it—was too much.

And he wasn’t leaving until he got the truth.

So, here he stayed.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

Macaque leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring hard at the unconscious monkey in front of him. Why won’t you wake up, Wukong? It was starting to bother him in a way he didn’t like.

His ears twitched, and his nose wrinkled slightly at the lingering scent in the air.

It wasn’t as strong as before—thank Buddha for that—enough so that he didn't need to wear that clothespin over his nose any more. But it still had an affect on him. Could still feel it tugging at the edges of his awareness, pressing against instincts he’d long since buried.

His fingers clenched.

That was another thing. How had he never noticed? Wukong’s scent—now that he knew what to look for—it was obvious. An Omega through and through. So how the hell had he masked it for so long?

Was his control really that ironclad? Could he have kept himself in check even when distracted, even under stress? No. Impossible. Macaque refused to believe that, not even for a second. He had to have done something to hide it—but what?

Just more questions to add to his growing list.

Furthermore, that scent had done something to him earlier. Had wrapped around him like a vice, yanking him under before he could fight it off. It had made his pulse spike, had made something deep in his chest tighten, had made him—

Macaque swallowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

He wasn’t thinking about that.

Not about the way his grip had instinctively tightened around Wukong earlier. Not about the way his body had moved on its own, keeping Wukong close before his mind had even registered it. Not about the way his muscles twitched, tense with something he didn’t want to name.

He wasn’t thinking about any of that.

His eyes flicked to the exposed curve of Wukong’s neck, where his scent gland rested. The source of all his damn problems today. His lips pressed into a thin line, his tail flicking sharply in irritation.

He shouldn’t still be feeling like this.

But he was.

And that—that—was dangerous.

With a quiet sigh, Macaque slumped back into his chair, tilting his head back against the wood.

“Stupid monkey,” he muttered, voice barely more than a breath.

Still, he didn’t move from his spot.

And he didn’t stop watching.

--------

Waking up was a slow, hazy process. The first thing he became aware of was the deep, aching exhaustion weighing down his entire body. His skin felt stretched too thin, his muscles sore, and—ugh—everything was just too hot.

Why was he so damn hot?

Wait. He knew this feeling.

For a brief, panicked moment, he wondered if he was trapped inside the Eight Trigrams Furnace again. But no—that wasn’t right. That had been much worse. This? This was familiar, but not that unbearable. He’d felt this way before.

Oh. Oh.

Right. His heat.

Well, in that case…

Back to sleep.

Just as he was about to surrender to unconsciousness again, something caught his attention—a scent. A very familiar scent.

It reminded him of lightning striking the earth, of the heavy stillness before a storm. It was grounding and electrifying all at once. He liked this scent. A lot.

It made something in him stir—a deep, instinctual urge to hold it close and never let go. To protect it. And if anyone so much as looked at this scent the wrong way, he was going to—

Whoa, okay, backtrack! That might have been a bit extreme, even for him.

What was he doing? Oh, right. The scent. Who smelled like that again? Their name was right on the tip of his tongue… Started with an “M”?

M...K?

Yes, that was it. MK.

Wait. MK?

MK?!

Wukong gasped awake, his heart pounding as his blurry vision adjusted to the early morning light. A brief moment of disoriented panic hit him when he couldn’t immediately recognize his surroundings, but he relaxed once he realized he was in his own room.

He tried to sit up—only to be stopped by a weight pressing down on his chest. He instinctively moved to shove it off, but froze the second he looked down.

There, curled up against him, was MK. The kid was tucked into his side, his face peaceful in deep sleep.

Wukong blinked, staring. Huh. Heavy sleeper.

He watched him for a few seconds, his gaze softening, then sighed and collapsed back onto the bed, exhaustion pulling at his limbs.

To say he was confused would be an understatement.

How the heck did I end up in this situation?

For that matter… how long have I been here? And with—

He looked down at the kid still sleeping peacefully against his chest. MK’s face was relaxed, his breathing slow and even.

The reality of the situation crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning out everything else.

MK knew.

There was no way around it. No more pretending, no more hiding. He had spent centuries keeping this secret buried so deep that even he could almost believe it wasn’t true. But now, MK—his student, his successor—knew the truth.

A cold, gnawing fear settled in his gut, wrapping around his ribs like iron bands. What now? Would MK look at him differently? Treat him differently? Hesitate in the way he carried himself around him?

That thought sent a fresh wave of panic through Wukong’s chest, constricting his throat. He had spent his whole life making sure no one ever saw this side of him, and now, it had been laid bare before one of the people who mattered most.

He sucked in a breath, unsteady, and immediately caught MK’s scent. Warm, familiar, grounding. It settled over him like a blanket, dulling the worst of his nerves, if only for a moment.

Then, the memory hit him—of how desperately he had clung to MK earlier, refusing to let go, pressing close like his life depended on it.

A quiet, mortified sound escaped him as he scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. What the hell had come over him? He had lost it. Completely. No composure, no dignity. Just raw instinct overriding every carefully built wall he had spent centuries reinforcing.

Poor kid. He must have been so confused.

There was no escaping it now—MK deserved an explanation. Not his whole life story, maybe, but something. Something to make sense of it all.

With a resigned sigh, Wukong reached out, resting a hand on MK’s shoulder, intent on waking him.

But then he really looked at him.

Peaceful. Completely at ease, soft breaths barely audible in the quiet room.

Wukong hesitated.

He should wake him up.

…But did it have to be right now?

…Maybe later. It would be a shame to disturb him now. No sense in wasting perfectly good sleep—

His thoughts screeched to a halt as movement near the door caught his eye. Instinct kicked in, snapping him to high alert.

A dark figure stood in the doorway.

His eyes widened in recognition before a low, warning growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“What the hell are you doing here, Macaque?!” His own voice startled him—rough, almost feral. And worse than that was the instinct rising within him.

Protect. Protect. PROTECT.

Macaque had just stepped into the room, but at Wukong’s sudden aggression, he hesitated, taking a cautious step back.

“Whoa, easy there, Monkey King,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s great to see you back to your usual pleasant self, but could you maybe cool it a little?”

“Cool it?! Don’t tell me to cool it, you—!”

“I think you’re smothering the kid.”

Wukong froze.

Macaque pointed downward.

Wukong followed his gaze and—oh.

At some point, he had moved without realizing it. He was now sitting directly on top of MK’s back, pinning him facedown into the mattress.

MK, who was now definitely awake, was squirming beneath him, muffled noises of protest escaping as he struggled to breathe.

Wukong quickly scrambled off MK, embarrassment creeping up his face as the teenager shot upright with a loud gasp for air.

“Uh… sorry about that, Kid. Not really sure what came over me,” he said, laughing nervously as he scratched the back of his head.

He barely had a second to process before MK was right there, his face mere inches away, words spilling out at lightning speed.

“Monkey King, you’re awake! Oh, thank Buddha, I thought you were a goner! Wait—you’re immortal, of course you can’t die! How are you feeling? You’re up, so are you better? Macaque said you were fragile—”

‘Wait. Fragile?’

Wukong’s eyes flicked up over MK’s head to where Macaque still stood by the door. He shot him a glare.

Macaque, the absolute menace, just smirked in return.

Wukong’s tail twitched in irritation.

“-You look like you still need rest. Maybe you should lay back down—”

“Kid.” Wukong interrupted, placing a firm hand on MK’s face and pushing him back slightly. “I appreciate the concern, but look—I’m doing great!”

To prove his point, he sprang to his feet on the bed, bouncing a little for emphasis.

“See? Not a problem!”

“Uh, Monkey King… I don’t think that’s such a good—”

MK’s voice faded into the background as a loud ringing filled Wukong’s ears. The room lurched sideways.

Weird, he thought distantly as his limbs suddenly felt like jelly. He barely had a second to register what was happening before the floor rushed up to meet him—

Only to find himself caught in a pair of sturdy arms.

Time seemed to stand still as Wukong’s eyes fluttered open—when did he close them?—only to find another pair of eyes inches from his own.

Macaque was holding him. One arm supported his back, the other hooked beneath his legs. Wukong was so stunned by the unexpected position that it didn’t even occur to him to move.

A shiver—not entirely unpleasant—ran down his spine at the prolonged eye contact. Macaque must have noticed, because his eyes widened slightly. His grip tightened.

And then—Wukong smelled it.

Macaque’s scent.

It was subtle, barely noticeable under normal circumstances. But with his heightened senses, it hit him all at once.

It reminded him of standing in an open field beneath a cool, moonlit sky—a soft breeze, gentle and calm, yet carrying the potential to turn into a whirlwind if pushed too far.

Something inside him stirred.

Almost against his will, his gaze drifted downward—to the junction where Macaque’s neck met his shoulder. Right where his scent gland was.

Right where Wukong knew his own scent would cling if he got too close.

Wukong swallowed.

“Um…”

He should have kept his mouth shut.

The moment shattered in an instant. Macaque’s expression twisted into a scowl.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you idiot?!” he snapped. “Are you trying to break your own fool neck?!”

Wukong bristled. “I had everything completely under control. Obviously.” He scoffed, crossing his arms as his tail flicked irritably beneath him. “Who even asked you, huh?”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he drawled, voice thick with sarcasm. “‘Completely under control.’” He mocked. “And I take it nearly passing out and cracking your head open was all part of the plan?”

Wukong growled. “Why you—!”

“Has anyone ever told you two that you fight like an old married couple?”

Both monkeys snapped their heads toward MK, who sat off to the side with an eyebrow raised and an entirely too amused expression.

They blinked. Looked at each other.

That was when Wukong realized—Macaque was still holding him.

His face heated. He cleared his throat. “Uh. You can… put me down now.”

Macaque scoffed, cheeks darkening as he looked away—before unceremoniously dropping Wukong onto the bed.

“Hey, watch it!” Wukong yelped, rubbing his poor tail—he’d landed right on it. He pouted slightly, more out of indignation than real pain.

“Just shut up and get back in bed,” Macaque grumbled, snatching up an empty glass from the bedside table before practically storming out of the room.

Wukong watched him go in silence, but his mind was racing. What the heck was that?! His face burned at the memory of Macaque’s arms around him, and he hated even more that something in him missed his scent.

Stupid heat…

Also, that's just great! Now Macaque knows! Why not just tell everyone at this point?! Really, just scream it out for all to hear—

“Monkey King.”

Wukong turned at the sound of MK’s voice, meeting the teen’s deeply concerned expression.

“How are you feeling?” MK asked. Before Wukong could brush him off, he held up a hand. “The truth, please.”

Wukong glanced away, unable to meet that imploring gaze. He sighed, resigned.

“Honestly? Like complete crap.” His shoulders sagged as his exhaustion truly hit him. His body burned, his muscles trembled just from sitting upright. The idea of going back to sleep sounded way too good right now.

Yeah, maybe pulling that little stunt earlier wasn’t his best idea. Not that he’d ever admit it.

As if reading his mind, MK took his hand with a small, reassuring smile and gently guided him back down on the bed. He reached over him and fluffed the pillow under his head and the reached for the covers and pulled them up and over him, before tucking them in around his sides. Wukong blinked, huh this was new.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of him like this. Not during a heat.

Especially not during a heat…

He watched as MK wrung out a towel, folded it, and laid it on his forehead. It was a little too wet still, he felt water dribbling down into his fur, but he had to admit it felt nice on his heated skin.

He couldn't help but feel touched by the gesture.

Is this what having a family is like?

The thought sent a pang through his heart—something wistful, something guilty. He pushed it aside, just like he always did when his thoughts swung that way, and reached out and grabbed the arm nearest him when MK went to pull away.

“MK, I…”

MK reached over and took Wukong’s hand in both of his and gave it a little squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Monkey King. We’ll talk later after you get more rest, okay?”

Wukong looked away, feeling suddenly shy. “Will you still be here, you know, later…?” He asked tentatively.

MK’s smile softened. “Of course.”

With that, MK turned and headed toward the door.

And Wukong reacted at the sight—just not outwardly.

Internally, something clenched tight in his chest. His instincts sent a sharp spike of unease surging through him like a warning siren. No. No, he can’t leave. Not yet.

He wasn’t ready.

The thought hit him so suddenly, so forcefully, that it made his stomach churn. When had this become such a problem? He had spent centuries alone, had prided himself on being independent, untouchable, unshakable.

So why did the idea of MK walking out that door leave him feeling like the floor was crumbling beneath him?

He wanted to tell him to stay. Wanted to grab onto his wrist, his sleeve, something, and keep him here just a little longer. The words clawed at the back of his throat, desperate to be spoken.

But instead, he forced himself to stay still. To keep his face neutral. To pretend like the thought of being left alone again wasn’t making his skin itch and his heart hammer a little too fast.

He was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, dammit. He was stronger than this!

And, most importantly, he was MK’s mentor. If he so much as hinted that he didn’t want to be left alone, MK would worry. And the kid didn’t need that.

So he swallowed down the lump in his throat and kept silent.

And then, MK was gone, the door shutting behind him with a quiet ‘click’. With a regretful sigh, Wukong turned on his side, back to the door, and curled into himself, his tail wrapping around his legs.

His squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the sting behind them. Sleep came soon after.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Unspoken Truths

MK shut the door softly behind him, letting out a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair.

That had felt... off.

He had figured Monkey King would want his privacy now that he was back to his right mind. But maybe… maybe he should have stayed?

No, he was just overthinking things—again. For all he knew, Monkey King was already sound asleep.

He definitely wasn’t standing there listening at the door to make sure. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay, maybe just a quick peek—

Before he could act on that thought, the sound of a small commotion—followed by some very creative cursing—echoed from the kitchen. He hesitated, casting one last glance at the closed door before deciding to check in on the other resident in the house. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and made his way toward the house’s small kitchen.

He entered to find Macaque standing over the remains of a shattered glass, water spilled across the floor. The dark-furred monkey surveyed the mess with a furrowed brow, rubbing his temples in clear frustration.

“Whoa, dude. You doing okay there, bud?”

Macaque’s glare snapped up to him, and MK offered a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, kid. Just peachy.”

MK eyed the mess before hesitantly asking, “Do you… want some help—?”

Macaque held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “No, it’s fine. I got it.” He sighed, a heavy sound from deep in his chest. “Just point me toward the dustpan and towels.”

MK gestured toward the cupboard under the sink, watching as Macaque retrieved the dustpan and got to work sweeping up the shards. MK remained quiet, observing as Macaque focused on the task—but something about him seemed distant. His eyes were on the glass, but MK could tell his mind was somewhere else entirely.

MK almost asked why Macaque didn’t just teleport the mess away with his shadow magic but had a strong feeling the dark-furred monkey wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion right now.

Macaque worked quickly, sweeping up the shards and dumping them into the trash and sopping up the water with dish towels he had found in a drawer. When finished, he tossed the towels into the sink and without a word, he turned to the cupboards and began rifling through them.

His frustration grew more obvious the longer he searched. “Seriously? Why would someone only have one glass?!” he muttered darkly to himself before giving up and grabbing a mug from another cupboard. He filled it with water at the sink, his free hand tapping irregular patterns against the counter the entire time.

MK had quietly taken a seat at the small kitchen table, watching Macaque with a quirked eyebrow.

Something was definitely off.

He observed the way Macaque moved, the restless energy in his tapping fingers, the slight tension in his shoulders. Piecing everything together, MK came to a conclusion.

“Are you… nervous about something?”

Macaque’s movements stilled abruptly. “What are you talking about now, kid?” He waved a hand in what was meant to be a casual gesture, though MK didn’t miss the faint tremor in his fingers. “What would I possibly have to be nervous about?”

MK tapped his chin. “Hmm, not sure. But it’s definitely something.” He caught Macaque watching him warily from the corner of his eye and knew he was onto something.

Squinting, he studied Macaque more closely. Then, something clicked. “Wait a second.” He pointed a finger at Macaque’s nose. “You’re not wearing that clothespin anymore!”

Macaque set the mug onto the counter, took a step forward, and lightly swatted MK’s hand away. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to point?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Nope, and don’t change the subject.” MK leaned forward, expression sharp with curiosity. “I thought you had to wear that because you hated Monkey King’s scent?”

Macaque shot him a baffled look. “What? What would give you that idea?”

MK groaned in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the look of absolute disgust on your face yesterday when you were helping me carry him inside?”

Now Macaque just looked embarrassed, quickly turning away—but not before MK caught the telltale flush creeping up his cheeks. “Well, you’re wrong because I don’t hate it,” he muttered.

MK blinked at him, momentarily baffled. If he doesn’t hate it, then does that mea—oh. Ooooh. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Ah, gotcha. I get it now.”

Macaque’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you on about? Don’t go getting any crazy ideas, Kid,” he warned, his voice edged with a growl.

MK raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t worry. You don’t have to explain a thing! I completely understand.”

Judging by the way Macaque’s eye twitched, he was starting to get annoyed—but that only made it more fun. MK could practically see his patience unraveling by the second.

“Stop playing coy already and just spit it out!” Macaque snapped, exasperation bleeding into his tone.

Okay, MK thought with a mischievous glint in his eyes. But you brought this on yourself~!

Grinning, he pressed his hands to his cheeks, puffing them up dramatically. “You liiiike him~!”

The reaction was instant. Macaque bristled like a startled cat, tail shooting straight up, fur standing on end, and eyes wide with shock. “What?!”

“You heard me! I know the signs.” MK crossed his arms, nodding confidently. He saw it practically every day at home—heck, Pigsy and Mr. Tang were so obvious. Whenever they were close enough to smell the other’s scent, they would get nervous too. Clumsy. Easily embarrassed. Just like how Macaque was acting now. The thought made him snicker.

“Listen, you've got the wrong idea here—”

“Oh? Do I?”

“YES!” Macaque’s voice erupted, his fist slamming down onto the kitchen counter with enough force to crack the tile beneath his hand.

MK’s grin vanished instantly. He knew when he’d pushed someone too far.

Macaque’s chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths, his fur slowly settling back into place. His tail, however, still lashed behind him in agitation. Once he’d gathered himself, he exhaled sharply and dropped into the chair across from MK, arms crossed.

MK studied him for a moment before softening his tone. “Talk to me. What’s really bothering you?”

Macaque averted his gaze, hesitating. “…It’s complicated.”

MK hummed thoughtfully. “Of course it is. It wouldn’t be bothering you this much if it wasn’t.” He reached forward, resting a hand on Macaque’s shoulder. The monkey flinched slightly, looking at him in surprise.

“But what are friends for if not to help with the complicated stuff?”

Macaque held his gaze, searching. After a moment, he gently brushed MK’s hand away, the corners of his lips curling into the smallest of smiles.

“Friends, huh?” he murmured, almost to himself.

MK answered anyway, a huge smile on his face. “That’s right! Like it or not you’re part of MK’s Official Friend Club now! Membership is nonnegotiable.”

Macaque shot him an amused look, but the smile quickly faded, his eyes growing distant again.

He exhaled heavily. “You weren’t wrong before,” he admitted slowly. “I do like Wukong’s scent, but…”

When he trailed off, MK leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. “...But?”

Macaque let out a frustrated breath, his hands clenching into fists as he stared down at them, his gaze hard. “But any feelings it may or may not bring out in me mean nothing. I can’t—no, I refuse—to acknowledge them.”

His shoulders slumped, his fingers unfurling as his expression softened. “We’ve both hurt each other in ways that can’t be forgiven. There’s too much bad blood between us now. Time, or… damn hormones, aren’t going to change that.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

Macaque’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” MK stood, planting his hands firmly on the table as he leaned in. “Deny it all you want, but you obviously still care—at least a little! Otherwise, you wouldn’t have helped us save Monkey King from the Lady Bone Demon all those months ago.”

Macaque scoffed. “That was because of dire circumstances. That crazy hag needed to be stopped, and we needed Wukong if we had any chance of winning.”

MK didn’t back down. “And what about now?”

Macaque opened his mouth to argue—hesitated—then shut it again, his expression flickering with something unreadable.

MK saw the hesitation and pressed on. “You stuck by his side this entire time. You helped keep him stable, made sure he drank. Heck, just now I watched you catch him before he could fall off the bed! And don’t think I didn’t notice you making sure he got comfortable—cooling him down when he was burning up. You could’ve just let me handle it, but you didn’t.” MK folded his arms, giving Macaque a pointed look. “That has to mean something.”

Macaque scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It means I needed answers,” he shot back. “I wasn’t about to let Wukong—” He cut himself off, expression twitching like he’d said too much. He exhaled sharply, arms tightening around himself. “I only stuck around because I wanted to know why he never said anything. That’s it.”

MK gave him a knowing look. “Really? That’s all?”

“Yes,” Macaque said firmly.

MK arched a brow. “Then why not just come back after his heat was over?” He gestured vaguely around them. “Nobody asked you to stay, Macaque. You could’ve left, avoided all of this, and gotten your answers later. But you didn’t. You made the choice to stay, to help, to make sure Monkey King got through this safely.” MK leaned in, eyes sharp. “You can keep telling yourself it doesn’t mean anything, and that you refuse to care, but actions speak louder than words.”

Macaque opened his mouth, but for once, no words came out. His tail flicked behind him and MK could see the conflict in his eyes.

“Like I said,” MK finished, sitting back, voice softer now. “You care. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Macaque didn’t answer, but the unreadable expression faded from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something… thoughtful.

Just when MK thought he was finally getting somewhere, a loud crash from the bedroom shattered the moment. Both of them shot to their feet.

“What was that?!” MK blurted, eyes wide.

Macaque didn’t waste a second. He bolted out of the kitchen, MK hot on his heels. Reaching the bedroom door first, Macaque practically yanked it off its hinges as he threw it open. “Wukong!” he yelled.

Before MK could register what was happening, his instincts screamed at him to move! He barely dodged in time as Wukong lunged, tackling Macaque clean off his feet. The two tumbled past him in a chaotic blur, rolling straight into the living room.

“Great, not this again!” Macaque grunted, struggling beneath a thrashing Wukong, who had clearly lost his mind again.

“Oh no!” MK gasped, ready to jump in—only to pause in confusion when something changed.

Wukong suddenly stilled. His aggressive movements ceased, his body going rigid. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air, his glowing red eyes narrowing in focus. Slowly, his gaze dropped to Macaque, who had also frozen, confusion etched across his face.

Then, in a quick movement, Wukong leaned in.

MK gaped, heat rushing to his face as he watched Wukong press his body a little too close to Macaque, buried his nose against the side of his neck and inhaled deeply. Again. And again. Like he couldn’t get enough of the other monkey’s scent. Not only that, his hands traveled to the other monkey’s robes, pawing at them as if he was trying to get to the skin underneath…

Macaque went stiff as a board, fur bristling so violently he practically doubled in size. “MK!” he yelped, pure panic flashing across his face.

MK snapped out of his shock, flustered and a little embarrassed . “Right! Sorry!”

He rushed forward, shoving Wukong and knocking him completely off Macaque, quickly wedging himself between them.

“Calm down, Monkey King!” MK urged, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.

For a second, Wukong looked angry by the shove—but the moment his eyes landed on MK, his entire demeanor shifted. The red glow in his eyes faded, replaced by their normal golden color. A wide, delighted grin spread across his face, and before MK could react, he was scooped up into a tight embrace.

MK sighed in relief, feeling the tension drain from his body and he let himself be snuggled by Wukong like he was a giant teddy bear. The monkey cooed softly, rubbing his face all over his head, covering him with his scent just like he had yesterday.

"What. The hell. Wukong?!" Macaque growled as he pushed himself to his feet, face flushed a deep red. He rubbed aggressively at the spot where Wukong had shoved his nose into, as if trying to scrub the sensation away. Then, he took an angry step forward, gesturing wildly at the other monkey. "What the hell happened?!"

MK threw up his hands helplessly. "I have no idea! He was completely back to normal just a little while ago!"

Macaque narrowed his eyes at Wukong, then suddenly paused, his expression twisting in discomfort. Without a word, he held up a hand in a silent ‘hold that thought’ gesture before digging into his pocket and retrieving his clothespin. He clipped it back onto his nose in one swift motion.

MK sniffed the air, and realized—that scent was back. Ripe peaches and freshly churned earth, thick and filling the room.

Macaque acted like the pause hadn’t happened, continuing the conversation as if they hadn’t just stopped. "Well, something changed. He’s acting like a crazy feral again."

MK frowned in thought, his mind working through the possibilities. Then, like a light bulb flicking on, realization struck him. "Do you think it’s because of me?"

Macaque arched a brow. "What?"

MK hurried to explain. "Yesterday, you said my scent seemed to calm him down. So... do you think he became like this again because I left him alone?"

For some reason the thought made him feel a little guilty.

Macaque studied Wukong for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That... seems to be the case." He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "But don’t you think that’s kind of weird?"

MK blinked. "Huh? How do you mean?"

Macaque hesitated before finally meeting MK’s gaze. "What I mean is... the only things that can have a calming effect on an Omega like that are close family members or..." He trailed off, eyeing MK strangely. "...their children."

MK’s breath hitched. His eyes widened. "Wait. Are you saying..."

Macaque stayed silent, giving him a tense look.

"...That Monkey King sees me as a close family member?! Aww, that’s so sweet!"

Macaque opened his mouth, ready to argue, but hesitated. His expression shifted, a storm of emotions flickering across his face as his gaze darted between MK and Wukong. Finally, with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Sure, Kid. That must be it."

MK didn’t say it out loud, but he knew exactly what Macaque was trying to imply before.

But that was impossible.

There was no way Wukong could be his father.

...Right?

"Ugh. Where am I?"

MK looked up just in time to see Wukong shake his head, bringing a hand to his temple. He blinked a few times, as if trying to clear his vision, before glancing down at MK. His eyes widened as he took in their close proximity, and with a startled gasp, he quickly let go. "Kid!"

Unfortunately, letting go wasn’t the best idea. The moment Wukong tried to shift his weight, his balance gave out, and he sank to his knees. MK barely managed to catch him around the chest, easing his descent.

A strained expression crossed Wukong’s face as he brought a hand to his head. "What happened? Last thing I remember is going to sleep." He winced, cracking one eye open while the other remained squeezed shut. "How did I end up out here?"

MK glanced toward Macaque, hoping for some backup, but the dark-furred monkey was deliberately avoiding their gaze. He clearly had no intention of contributing to the conversation.

MK sighed and turned back to Wukong, rubbing the back of his neck. "You kinda… went crazy again."

Wukong’s eyes widened before he groaned, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Ah jeez, Kid. Sorry about that. I have no idea why that keeps happening."

MK studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but Wukong just looked genuinely ashamed—and a little confused. If he was hiding something, he was doing a damn good job of it.

Deciding to let it go for now, MK stood up and offered a hand to his mentor. "C’mon. Let’s get you back to bed. You didn’t pass out this time, so that’s good, but hopefully running around didn’t make your fever worse again."

As he pulled Wukong to his shaky feet and started leading him back to the bedroom, Macaque’s voice cut through the room.

"Wait."

Both MK and Wukong turned to face him. Macaque stood stiffly, his expression unreadable, but there was an unmistakable weight in his gaze.

Then, his tone left no room for argument. "I think we’ve waited long enough. It’s time we talked."

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Red Ties

Lian Huan sat patiently on his padded silk seat, positioned strategically on a raised platform so that, whether standing or sitting, he remained above everyone else. With deliberate ease, he reached for a dish beside him, plucked a single nut between his fingers, and inspected it closely before popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste.

The rest of the room, however, was anything but relaxed.

His advisors—Betas and Alphas alike—stood off to the side, shifting uneasily, whispering in hushed, anxious tones. Even the guards lining the hall, though outwardly composed, betrayed their unease through the nervous scent that his superior Alpha senses detected. It was disappointing—such weakness in those meant to serve him—but given the circumstances, he allowed them this lapse.

The source of their collective tension knelt in the center of the room: an Omega woman, flanked by two guards.

She was a pretty little thing, he supposed, even in the drab servant’s garb she wore—garb now further disheveled from the rough handling she had endured. Wide, terrified eyes darted around the chamber, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths as she trembled in place. When she had first been brought in, she had dared to speak—but a single, idle command from him had silenced her, punctuated by a sharp slap from one of the guards. Now, all that remained was the suffocating stench of her fear, thick enough to nearly drown out the other scents in the room, and the cause of the instinctual reactive nervousness from the others.

He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Oh, how he hated the weak.

The doors at the far end of the room burst open, and a man dressed in fine robes was dragged inside by two guards. He thrashed against their grip, his protests loud and indignant, his outrage echoing through the chamber. But as he was hauled forward, his eyes landed on the kneeling Omega woman. He faltered mid-sentence, choking on his words. The brief hesitation lasted only a moment before he recovered, his gaze snapping back to Lian Huan, now burning with fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he bellowed, attempting once more to shake off the guards restraining him—an effort that proved utterly useless. “You have me dragged from my home like some common criminal and brought here?! I demand an explanation!”

Lian Huan remained unimpressed by the outburst. Without a word, he gave a slight nod to one of the guards. The order was understood instantly. A clenched fist drove into the man’s solar plexus, knocking the wind from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping, coughing, but he was given no time to recover before he was forced down onto his knees.

“Advisor Zhao,” Lian Huan drawled, his tone deceptively lazy. “Do you honestly claim not to know why you’ve been brought before me today?”

Zhao’s eyes flickered toward the trembling servant woman before snapping back to Lian Huan. Straightening from his hunched posture, he lifted his chin defiantly, forcing arrogance back into his expression. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, voice edged with indignation. “And I demand an explanation for this madness!”

Lian Huan rose gracefully from his seat, the soft rustle of silk accompanying his movement. He stepped forward until he stood directly over the kneeling man, gazing down at him with quiet amusement. He let the silence stretch, savoring the way Advisor Zhao squirmed under his scrutiny. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object, holding it up for all to see.

A delicate green glass vial, half-filled with a dark liquid.

“An attempt on my life has been made,” Lian Huan announced smoothly, his voice carrying through the chamber. “By none other than this wretched servant woman.”

A sharp gasp rippled through the gathered advisors.

The Omega’s eyes widened in desperation. “Please, my Lord, just let me explain—”

A swift slap from the guard sent her sprawling, cutting off her plea.

Lian Huan barely acknowledged the interruption as he continued, turning the vial slightly so the liquid inside glinted in the light. “One of the other servants caught this woman trying to poison my morning tea with this very concoction. Fortunately, she had the good sense to report the incident immediately, and I wasted no time having this traitor arrested.”

Advisor Zhao looked up at the vial, his confusion quickly turning to horror. “You can’t possibly think I had something to do with this—!”

Lian Huan tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Didn’t you?”

Zhao’s face twisted with outrage. “No! Of course not! I have been a loyal advisor to this family for decades! I served your father before you—”

“Oh? And I suppose you’ll also claim you don’t know who this woman is? A woman who, reports have said, has frequently been seen with you.”

At that, Zhao’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. His jaw tightened, his gaze very carefully avoiding the woman trembling beside him. He spoke up after a moment. “Whatever you have been told is simply untrue. I have absolutely no idea who this woman is.”

Lian Huan’s smile widened. ‘Got you.’

“Did you know that, in this world, an invisible line tethers us to others?” Lian Huan mused as he strode back to his chair, stopping just in front of it rather than sitting down. From this vantage point, he could easily observe the expressions of everyone in the room. “Most refer to it as the Red String of Fate.” He spread out his arms to everyone in the room. “An unbreakable red thread that, even through space and time, connects those who are destined to be together.”

Advisor Zhao remained silent, though his gaze was locked onto Lian Huan. “Yes, I know of this. What does it have to do with me?”

“Patience Zhao.” Said Lian Huan, a slight undertone of warning in his voice. “Where was I? Oh yes. What most people believe is that it connects us to our destined soul mate. But what they don’t know is that there is more to it than that.”

Lian Huan placed a hand over the center of his chest, his voice smooth, almost casual. “Every person we meet leaves behind a connection with us, down to our very souls—whether they’re a lifelong friend or merely a stranger we meet in passing on the road.”

He smiled smugly. “And thanks to my unrivaled skill and power, I have found a way to tap into these connections.”

Lian Huan raised both hands, palms glowing with power as he pointed one at Zhao and the other at the servant woman. Twin beams of light shot from his hands, striking each of them square in the chest. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, a glowing red strand emerged from both Zhao and the woman, the two beams stretching and intertwining before meeting in the middle.

With a simple beckoning motion, Lian Huan summoned the connection toward him. The pair gasped at the sensation as the glowing thread detached from their bodies, coiling in on itself until it condensed into a pulsating red orb that hovered obediently above his outstretched palm.

“I had a feeling something like this would happen. That someone would attempt to betray me. To have me assassinated.” He gestured lazily toward the woman still trembling on the floor. “So, thanks to this,” He said, holding up the glowing ball for all to see. “I get to see exactly how two people are connected to each other.” His lips curled into a smirk. “It saves time with questioning .”

Zhao’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait—”

“Let’s see if you’re telling the truth, shall we?”

He studied the orb intently, his eyes flashing in sync with the swirling light. Images played on the orb’s surface of two people interacting with one another—Advisor Zhao and the servant. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face as he watched the two interact: talking, laughing, sharing a passionate kiss down an empty dark hallway, making love…

With a flick of his fingers, the orb dissipated into nothing. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do. Almost.

Lian Huan shook his head with a tsk, like a disappointed parent chastising an unruly child. “Advisor Zhao, engaging in an illicit affair with a mere servant. How disgraceful. You bring shame upon yourself and your family.”

Advisor Zhao’s face flushed a furious red. “How dare you! After all I have done for this house—”

“Which ultimately amounts to nothing in the wake of this treachery,” Lian Huan interrupted smoothly, finally reclining back into his seat. He waved a dismissive hand. “That is all the proof I need. Guards, take them to the courtyard and execute them immediately.”

“No!” The woman shrieked as the guards seized her arms. She struggled, twisting and kicking, but their grip was ironclad. “Please, my Lord, have mercy! I haven’t done anything wrong! I don’t even know where that vial came from—”

“You will regret this!” Zhao bellowed as he too was dragged toward the doors. He fought against his captors, his voice ringing with fury. “Do you hear me, Lian Huan?! Someday, you will pay for this crime!”

Their shouts echoed through the hall—until the heavy doors shut behind them, cutting off their protests. Lian Huan watched them go, the corners of his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

A nervous cough broke the silence. One of the advisors, who had been watching from the side had stepped forward, his forehead glistening with sweat. Though clearly terrified, he forced himself to speak. “My Lord, are you certain this is wise? Advisor Zhao has been a loyal and steadfast servant for years. Surely, this must be some sort of misunderstanding. And the Omega woman, my Lord—”

Lian Huan’s expression darkened instantly. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his sharp Alpha fangs flashing as he snarled, “You dare question me?!”

The advisor paled, visibly trembling.

“Stand down now, or I will take your disobedience as a sign that you wish to meet the same fate as Zhao.”

The man’s breath hitched, and he dropped into a deep bow, his voice shaking. “Of course not, my Lord. Please—please forgive me.”

Lian Huan let out a sharp hmpf and turned away in clear dismissal, but the advisor hesitated, shifting uneasily before speaking again.

“A-and what of his mate, my Lord…?” he asked, voice wavering. “He is with child and should be giving birth any day now.”

Lian Huan sighed, irritation flickering across his face. “I suppose I can show leniency in this case. It’s not their fault their mate turned out to be a treacherous snake. Strip the Omega of his rights and title and throw him in with the lower-class servants.” He waved a hand dismissively. “That will be all.”

For a brief moment, the advisor looked as though he might protest, but the sharp warning in Lian Huan’s gaze silenced him. He quickly bowed his head and stepped back to join the others.

Good. It was about time these old fools learned their place. Ever since he had assumed his rightful role as Master of Suǒhún Gōng after his father’s death, they had done nothing but challenge him—questioning every command, doubting his every move. But now that Zhao, who had been the most outspoken, was finally out of the way, he should have no issues getting the others to fall in line.

Just as soon, all of the Celestial Realm—and beyond—would learn to fear his dominance.

All he needed was for his plans to fall into place…

Ah, speaking of which... Lian Huan’s thoughts were interrupted as the same soldier who had briefed him the night before entered the chamber. The man strode forward and bowed low before him.

“Any news to report?” Lian Huan asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

“Yes, my Lord. Our scouts have sent word—our target is still at Flower Fruit Mountain, where the Monkey King resides. He has not left in two days.”

Lian Huan clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And no information on what’s keeping him there?”

The soldier hesitated. “Forgive me, my Lord, but we have no such intel. The wards around the mountain are too strong. If we get too close, we risk drawing the Monkey King’s attention.”

“Yes, yes.” Lian Huan waved a dismissive hand. “We wouldn’t want that. Not yet, at least.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “Have the men keep their distance for now. The moment our target emerges and is vulnerable—we strike.”

The soldier bowed. “Yes, my Lord.” Without hesitation, he turned and swiftly exited to carry out his orders.

Lian Huan leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. Perfect. Soon, everything will fall into place, and he will have all the recognition he deserves.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Talk - Part One

They had intended to go to the bedroom for their discussion, but the moment they stepped inside, they were met with the aftermath of a disaster.

At some point after waking in his frenzied state, Wukong had utterly destroyed his bed. The mattress had been tossed across the room, blankets and pillows lay scattered in every direction, and the once-sturdy bed frame had been split clean in two, the halves caved inward.

“Wonderful. Now I'm going to have to get a new one!” Wukong groaned, staring at the wreckage.

What the hell was going on with him? He liked that bed! Worse—where was he supposed to rest during his heat now? His inner Omega mourned the loss of his prime nesting spot.

“I was only gone for maybe fifteen minutes!” MK exclaimed, his wide eyes darting around the room. “How did you cause this much destruction?!”

Macaque snorted. “Only this in fifteen minutes?” He cocked an eyebrow. “We’re lucky he didn’t bring down the whole house.”

“Is this how it always is when you have your heat?” MK asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

Wukong bristled. “No!” he exclaimed—perhaps a little too quickly. Realizing this, he backtracked. “Well… to be honest, I don’t usually remember much of my heats. When they happen, I just sleep through them until they’re over.”

“So let me get this straight—you just knock yourself out for a few days and hope for the best? Real responsible, Wukong.” Said Macaque, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh.

“Hey! What was I supposed to do? Just deal with it like everyone else? Thanks, but no thanks.”

Macaque opened his mouth, looking like he was getting ready to lay into Wukong, but he stopped mid-breath. His tail flicked and his sharp eyes narrowed as he looked at him.

“…Hold on,” Macaque muttered, stepping closer.

Wukong blinked. “Uh—what?”

Before he could pull back, Macaque reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Wukong’s forehead. The moment their skin made contact, Wukong went rigid, stunned into silence. The touch wasn’t rough, wasn’t demanding—it was just there, grounding and cool against his overheated skin.

Macaque frowned. “You’re burning up again…”

Wukong’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His brain short-circuited at the simple, unexpected gesture. He should’ve shoved Macaque’s hand away, should’ve snapped at him for getting all up in his space. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just stood there, caught between surprise and something… softer. Something he couldn't name.

Wukong let out a breathy laugh, though it lacked his usual energy. “Heh… what, are you my doctor now?”

Macaque didn’t return the joke. His frown deepened as he let his hand drop, studying Wukong’s face more intently.

“Wukong, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

As if on cue, Wukong’s legs wobbled, his balance slipping. MK tightened his grip, holding him up as his whole body swayed under the weight of his exhaustion. His vision blurred at the edges, a lightheaded haze creeping in, making it harder to focus.

Then, to make things worse, his cramps returned—a sharp pulse of pain lancing through his belly. He barely stopped himself from wincing, his breath hitching instead. Damn it. The last thing he needed was this on top of everything.

Motion caught his eye and he looked up just in time to see Macaque stepping into the room and, to his surprise, started picking up. Wukong opened his mouth to tell him not to bother—he’d get to it eventually—but then he noticed something.

Macaque wasn’t cleaning.

He was collecting the bedding.

“What are you doing?” Wukong asked, brow furrowing.

Macaque turned, fixing him with a look that clearly said Are you an idiot?

“You need a new nest, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then we’ll have to move you to the couch.” Macaque gathered a large pile of blankets and pillows into his arms, stacking them so high they nearly obscured his face. Without another word, he strode out of the room, leaving Wukong and MK staring after him.

Wukong’s mouth fell open. “Okay, what’s going on here?” He turned to MK, baffled. “Am I dreaming, or something? Why has he been acting so nice?”

MK shot him a knowing look. “Hey, cut him some slack, Monkey King.” He nodded toward where Macaque had disappeared. “He’s been working really hard to take care of you this whole time. I wouldn’t have known what to do if he hadn’t been here.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Wukong muttered stubbornly.

MK raised an eyebrow, his expression practically screaming ‘Uh-huh. Sure.’

Wukong pointedly ignored it.

MK continued, “All I’m saying is, go a little easy on him. He deserves at least some gratitude, don’t you think?”

Wukong didn’t respond. MK was right and Wukong wasn't blind. He could see how attentive Macaque was being.

‘It’s probably just his Alpha instincts kicking in’, Wukong thought bitterly. Macaque was acting just like every other Alpha he had seen dealing with an Omega in distress.

‘It’s not real.’ He told himself. ‘Just some ingrained Alpha instinct, nothing more. Not because he cares, not because he wants to.’

Before he could delve too deep on why that thought bothered him, Macaque’s voice rang out from the living room.

“Alright, come take a look, your Majesty.” He called, his tone light and sarcastic.

The words jolted Wukong from his thoughts, and he swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat, as MK led him back to the living room.

They walked in, and immediately his gaze landed on the couch. It was perfectly set up for him, just the way he liked it—nothing elaborate, but everything in its place. The blankets were arranged just right, the pillows stacked neatly.

Relief washed over him instantly. He had been pushing himself too much, and the comfort of that couch seemed to be the only thing he truly needed right now. MK helped him shuffle over and eased him down onto the cushions.

He was hot but shivering and the urge to completely cover himself up and sink into a cocoon of blankets was too tempting to deny. So, he curled up and carefully wrapped the blankets around himself until every part of him was covered. He grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it to his stomach. The soft pressure of the pillow helped ease the lingering discomfort from his cramps, and for a moment, he just let himself breathe.

As he made himself comfortable, a fleeting thought crossed his mind: It’s like Macaque knew exactly how he liked everything arranged. A small, pleased smile grew on his face which he hid behind the pillow he was holding.

He hesitated for a moment before quietly saying, “Thank you, Macaque.”

Macaque looked over, clearly surprised by the unexpected praise. His eyes widened for a brief second. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, a bit softer than usual.

They stared at each other for a moment, but the sound of giggling pulled them both out of their quiet exchange. They turned to find MK watching them with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“What are you so happy about?” Wukong asked, raising an eyebrow, suspicious.

“Oh, nothing~” MK replied, his smile only growing wider.

Macaque cleared his throat, and Wukong looked at him just in time to catch the embarrassed flush on his face before he quickly turned his back to both of them, the tip of his tail flicking.

Wukong frowned. He had the distinct feeling that he was missing something here.

“Now that you’re settled in, how about we get started already?” Macaque said gruffly, his voice a little too sharp.

While he wasn’t exactly eager to spill his guts, Wukong couldn’t help but agree.

He didn’t want to say it—didn’t want to admit it—but it was only a matter of time before he became completely insensible. He was fighting it off as best he could, clinging to his awareness with everything he had, but even now, his mind was beginning to slip into that mid-heat haze.

At least his libido hadn’t kicked in yet. Thank Buddha for small mercies.

But he needed to get this over with. And fast.

“Okay, Monkey King Story Time! Let’s do this!” MK cheered, throwing a fist in the air before plopping himself onto the ground, legs crossed. He leaned forward eagerly, eyes bright with anticipation.

Wukong managed a weak smile at his enthusiasm but soon sobered, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Tell me, Kid. What exactly do you know about Omegas?”

MK’s grin faltered as he crossed his arms, tilting his head in thought.

“Hmm… well, Omegas are supposed to be weaker, right? Uh—not including you, of course.” He shot Wukong a sheepish smile.

Wukong merely waved off the comment and gestured for him to continue.

“They’re usually considered to be much gentler and quieter. Oh! And they're smaller than Alphas and Betas too, so their families can be really protective of them.” He said the last part like he was repeating something he’d been told before.

Wukong stared at him, unimpressed. “Wow. That was great, bud. Thanks for that enlightening explanation.”

MK crossed his arms, pouting. “Hey, you asked what I knew! Sorry, but I don’t really know many Omegas! Most everyone in my life are either an Alpha or a Beta,” he said indignantly.

Wukong snorted. “Well, you got some of the basics right,” he admitted. “Omegas are usually smaller than Alphas and Betas. Alphas tend to be bigger, stronger—more aggressive. Betas? They’re the middle ground—not as strong as Alphas, not as small as Omegas, but they make up for it by being a lot more balanced.” He shrugged. “Omegas aren’t built for brute strength, but that doesn’t mean we're weak. We tend to be faster, more agile—endurance is our real strength.” Wukong puffed up proudly. “It’s why you'll never see me tired in a fight.”

MK frowned. “So what is so different about Celestial Omegas, then?” He turned to Macaque. “You made it sound like Monkey King being one was a huge deal. Why are they so special?”

Macaque glanced at Wukong, silently asking with a look. Wukong gave a small nod, silently giving him the go-ahead.

Crossing his arms, Macaque frowned down at the floor. “I don’t know everything, but from what I understand? Celestial Omegas are really rare. Like, once-every-several-thousand-years rare. And when one’s born, it causes a stir—especially in Heaven.”

He smirked then, casting a pointed glance Wukong’s way. “Pretty sure the Celestial Realm nearly tore itself apart when the last one failed to show up.”

Wukong answered that with a scowl, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“So wait,” MK said, brows scrunching. “There are no Omegas in the Celestial Realm at all?”

Macaque was already shaking his head before MK finished his question. “No, there are. Omegas are born there often enough but just because an Omega is born in the Celestial Realm, it doesn’t make them the Celestial Omega. Get it?”

MK nodded slowly, digesting that. “Okay… I think I do. Kinda. But I still don’t get what makes them different.”

“It’s the scent, for one.” Chimed in Wukong.

MK blinked. “Wait—really? That’s it?”

He turned to Macaque. “Is that how you knew? You smelled it on him?”

Macaque shook his head. “Not at first. But… yeah. It’s unmistakable if you know what it is you’re smelling.”

He leaned back against the wall, his eyes thoughtful. “His scent—peaches and freshly turned earth. But not just any peaches. It’s the same scent as the ones that grow in the Celestial Realm. The Immortal Peaches.”

MK’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? That’s it? Just… peaches? That’s kinda wild. No wonder I never noticed—I’ve never even seen one of those before.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Macaque said with a pointed look. “Wukong’s got an Immortal Peach tree planted right outside his house.”

“What?!” MK turned to Wukong, utterly betrayed. “You have a whole tree of immortal fruit and you never said anything?!”

Wukong shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

MK squinted suspiciously. “How’d you even get a tree like that?”

“Long story,” Wukong repeated, more firmly this time. “And don’t get any ideas—they’re mine. You touch one, I’ll know.”

MK held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! Sheesh…”

He paused, then tilted his head, brow furrowed. “So… that’s what makes them special? Their smell?”

Macaque’s gaze flicked to Wukong, and something in his expression shifted—just slightly. The faintest crease of discomfort passed over his face.

“No,” he said after a moment. “That’s just how you find them.”

He exhaled slowly, arms still crossed as his tone turned more serious.

“According to the stories,” Macaque began, “the main reason Celestial Omegas are so sought after is their ability to produce powerful heirs. Practically Gods. That’s the part that really makes Heaven lose its mind over them.”

Wukong scoffed quietly under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah. Great, right? Be born with the scent of some fruit and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a walking divine baby factory.”

MK grimaced. “That’s… seriously messed up.”

There was a beat of silence before MK spoke again, more cautiously this time. “So… is that why you never told anyone? Why you tried to keep it a secret?”

Wukong raised an eyebrow. “What? The part where everyone would expect me to start pumping out baby gods?” he asked, dryly.

“No,” MK said, rolling his eyes in exasperation, face reddening slightly, “Well there’s that, but...”

His voice quieted as he added, “I mean… Is being an Omega something you're ashamed of? Is that why you built up this whole ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven’ persona?”

Wukong studied his protégé for a moment, before looking at Macaque, who was watching him intently, obviously wanting an explanation as well. He looked away, his hands squeezing his pillow. “No. I didn’t hide who I was because I was ashamed…”

“Then why…?”

He took his time answering, suddenly wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. But he forced himself to answer. “My freedom means everything to me, MK,” he said quietly. “The life I built—being seen as strong, untouchable—I fought hard for that. If I had ever come out as an Omega...” He shook his head. “I would’ve lost it all.”

MK blinked. “Lost it? What do you mean?”

“I would’ve stopped being me in everyone’s eyes,” Wukong said, voice low. “They wouldn’t see the Monkey King anymore. Just an Omega. A rare and valuable one, sure, but still something to own. Something to mate, shelter, use. Not someone with a will of their own.”

MK furrowed his brow, clearly confused. “But… that doesn’t make sense. Omegas are treated the same as Alphas and Betas. My neighbors are an Omega-Beta couple and they run their own business together!”

Wukong let out a bitter breath.

“But that’s only down here.” His expression darkened as his tail flicked irritably. “There’s still some old-fashioned thinking from time to time but for the most part, the mortal realm’s changed. Omegas have rights now. They can live their own lives, make their own choices. They don’t have to be locked away or treated like delicate little dolls anymore.”

MK blinked, a kind of understanding dawning on his features. “So if it's not the Mortal Realm, it’s—?”

“The Celestial Realm,” Wukong said, voice bitter. His fingers tapped against his pillow, his posture stiff. “Up there, things haven’t changed. Omegas are still treated like property—like something to be claimed, controlled.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged the pillow tightly, anger building in his chest. “And worst of all? If an Omega doesn’t have a family or a mate to protect them, they’re basically fair game for any Alpha who decides they want them.” His jaw tightened. “And an Omega’s say in the matter? Doesn’t count.”

MK’s face twisted in something between horror and outrage. “That’s—That’s awful!”

Wukong nodded, but there was still more. He hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter. “That's… not all.”

MK looked at him, confused and worried.

“There’s something called an Alpha command,” Wukong said. “It’s… a biological thing. Its not ethical in the Mortal Realm where Omegas have more rights, so it’s rarely known. But in the Celestial Realm? It’s common knowledge.” He clenched the pillow in his arms a little tighter. “Alphas can use their voice to give Omegas commands. And the Omegas—they have to listen. Even if they don’t want to. Even if it goes against everything they are.”

MK’s eyes widened. “Wait—but that sounds like—like mind control!”

“It’s not exactly that,” Wukong said, tiredly. “Normal Omegas can sometimes resist. It takes a lot of willpower, and it’s harder once they’ve been given the mating bite—but it’s possible.”

He looked down at his hands, voice falling to almost a whisper. “But Celestial Omegas… once we’re bitten, we lose everything. No resistance. No fight left. The Alpha who bit us could say anything—tell us to kneel, to obey, to kill—to die—and we’d do it. Without question.”

The room fell deathly still.

“That’s sick,” MK breathed, horrified.

Wukong nodded sadly. “That’s why I hid it. I had no choice. If the Celestial Realm ever found out, I know they would stop at nothing to get me.” He reached a hand up to his forehead, suddenly feeling the urge to scratch at an itch that hasn’t been there for centuries. “And they would succeed…”

There was a soft sound—a sudden shift—and Macaque was moving. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he stepped forward and knelt beside Wukong on the floor next to the couch. His expression wasn’t just angry; it was stricken. “You’ve lived with that fear this whole time?”

Wukong didn’t answer, just stared down at his lap.

Macaque reached out, but didn’t touch him—his hand hovered in the space between them, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab hold of his hand. Wukong watched, his stomach twisting, unsure if he wanted Macaque to touch him or not.

Then Macaque’s fingers curled into a fist and he pulled back, his whole body going taut like a bowstring pulled too tight.

“All this time…” His voice was low, shaking with something sharp and ugly. His tail lashed behind him. “You’ve been walking around like you own the world, acting like nothing could ever touch you—when all it would take is one bite to turn you into some Alpha’s mindless little plaything?”

Wukong’s instincts forced him to keep still. He wasn’t used to seeing Macaque like this—like an enraged Alpha. His dangerously sharp teeth bared, shoulders rigid, his anger laced with something dangerous.

He swallowed and fought down the urge to make a joke, to brush it off. “Yes…” He muttered instead, voice rough.

Macaque let out a breath that was more snarl than exhale. His hands were shaking. He’s furious, Wukong realized. Not at him, but for him.

“That’s not—You shouldn’t have had to live like that! Keeping this to yourself—hiding it from everyone—!” Macaque’s breath hitched, and he raked his fingers through his fur, a frantic, jerky motion like he didn’t know what to do with all the emotions boiling under his skin. “You should’ve told someone, dammit! You should’ve had someone watching your back!”

Wukong scowled and felt something dark and petty grow in his chest. He looked Macaque straight in the eye as he said: “And who, exactly, was I supposed to trust with this?”

Macaque froze.

Wukong didn’t move, barely even breathed, as he watched realization sink into Macaque’s face. His hands curled into fists, his jaw tightening, something flickering behind his yellow eyes—regret, maybe, or something close to it.

But it was too late for that.

Wukong let out a breath that tasted like dust. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

The silence that followed was thick, pressing down on them like a weight. Wukong slumped back against his cushions, suddenly too exhausted to hold himself up.

Their eyes met and Macaque’s yellow eyes burned as they locked onto Wukong’s, sharp and unwavering. “If anyone had ever tried to do that to you, I would have ripped their damn throat out.”

Wukong blinked, startled. For a moment, he just stared, taking in the fierce, unshakable conviction in Macaque’s gaze. He wasn’t bluffing. There was no hesitation, no doubt—just a promise, plain and simple.

And for a fleeting moment, Wukong saw not the shadowed, battle-worn warrior before him, but the Macaque from a lifetime ago. The one who had stood by his side, back when they were just trying to make sense of a world that never quite knew what to do with them. The one who had laughed with him, fought with him, dreamed with him…

The one Wukong had loved once.

Something old and buried stirred in his chest, something he’d long since convinced himself was dead.

A slow smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he huffed, shifting against his pillow. “Heh. Good to know.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Talk Part Two

Wukong had started to weaken, so they hadn’t had much of a choice but to call for a break and let him rest. After what happened to the bed earlier, they all silently agreed that leaving him alone was probably not in the best interest of the couch.

Which was how MK now found himself sitting exactly there—with Monkey King curled up beside him, head resting in his lap like it belonged there. A damp cloth hung loosely in MK’s hand as he gently dabbed at the monkey’s flushed skin. His brows pulled together in quiet worry as he watched Wukong’s face twitch and tighten, his body shifting restlessly.

Wukong clutched the pillow in his arms tightly in his sleep, squeezing it to his stomach. MK had noticed it earlier, when Wukong was talking, he had been holding it the whole time. He thought it had just been for comfort. But now… now MK wondered if it was helping with something more.

He tried again to release his scent, hoping it might help soothe him the way it had earlier. But this time… the effect was muted. MK frowned. It still calmed Wukong—just not in the same way. It didn’t seem to be easing his heat symptoms anymore. Not really. The thought that Wukong might be getting worse made his stomach twist.

He dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water again and resumed gently wiping Wukong’s face, losing himself in the rhythm of it.

His thoughts were a mess.

He was still trying to wrap his head around everything. All the truths Wukong had laid bare between shaky breaths and quiet admissions. And the feelings it stirred in MK—those were even harder to sort through.

Celestial Omega.

The title sounded like something holy, something exalted. But now MK knew better. It wasn’t a crown—it was a collar. One weighed in fear and impossible expectations.

And Wukong had lived with that weight for centuries. Constantly watching his back. Hiding who he was. Isolating himself, even from the people closest to him.

Looking down now at that familiar face, scrunched in pain even in sleep, it was hard to reconcile the image. The indestructible, untouchable Monkey King—reduced to this. Sweating, trembling, clinging to a pillow like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart.

It hurt, realizing he wasn’t as invincible as MK had always believed. That he had a weakness—and a really devastating one.

Not to mention, a certain thought kept pushing its way to the forefront of his mind since he and Macaque had almost talked about it earlier.

Was Wukong his dad…?

It seemed ridiculous but, was it…?

Monkey King was an Omega after all, and could have children. And MK couldn't help but compare their powers, how similar they were in pretty much every way.

He wasn't a monkey though…

But Red Son’s dad was the Demon Bull King and he didn't look anything like his father. Ugh! Genetics were weird!

He ran a hand through his hair and his eyes traveled down to Wukong's face. Should he ask him? The possibility of the answer he would get left him feeling jittery with nerves.

What if Monkey King said yes?

…What if he said no?

If he was perfectly honest with himself he didn’t know how he would feel if he got either answer.

“How’s he doing?” came Macaque’s voice from behind, and MK turned to see the dark-furred monkey enter the room, a bowl of bananas balanced in one hand.

He’d left not long after Wukong had fallen asleep, saying something about finding food. Now he was back, casual as ever, like he hadn’t just walked in on MK silently spiraling.

Macaque reached into the bowl and pulled out a banana, tossing it to MK. He caught it without thinking.

Only once it was in his hands did he realize how hungry he actually was. “Thanks,” he muttered, already peeling it.

He took a bite and spoke around it, voice muffled. “The same,” he said, swallowing. “But I think he’s starting to get worse…”

Macaque let out a soft sigh as he sat down nearby, peeling his own banana. “Yeah. Figured that might happen.”

MK glanced over at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“His heat’s just getting started,” Macaque said simply, then took a bite. “He’s bound to get worse before he gets better.”

That made MK quiet. He looked down at the banana in his hand but wasn’t really seeing it anymore. After a few moments, he asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Macaque raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“That you’d kill to protect him?”

Macaque paused, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I meant it.” He looked back up at MK. “Does that bother you?”

MK blinked, surprised to find it didn’t. “No,” he said slowly. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “Actually… I think I feel the same way.”

“Oh?” Macaque’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching him carefully. “And that bothers you.”

“Well—yeah!” MK gestured with one hand, the other still holding half a banana. “I’ve never felt that before. This urge to… to kill someone to protect someone else.” His brows furrowed, and he clenched his fist over his chest. “It scares me a little…”

Macaque studied him for a long moment, then huffed a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he climbed to his feet, walked over and clapped a hand on MK’s shoulder.

“Don’t stress about it too much, kid,” he said, giving the shoulder a light squeeze. “That feeling? That’s what being an Alpha’s about. It’s what we’re made for.”

“To… protect?” MK asked.

Macaque nodded. “Exactly. People think being an Alpha means being the strongest, the one in charge, the top of the monkey pile. But that’s not it. We’re strong so we can protect our family. Our pack.” His gaze slid over to where Wukong still slept fitfully. “The people we care about.”

MK followed his line of sight and smiled faintly. “See? Told you you cared.”

Macaque rolled his eyes and stepped away, snatching another banana from the bowl. “So I’m not heartless,” he muttered.

MK chuckled.

“Just a little advice, though,” Macaque added, pointing the banana at him like a warning finger. “Just because you feel those protective urges now doesn’t mean you should start throwing yourself into danger for Wukong’s sake. Don’t forget—he’s still the strongest one in the room.”

“Who’s the strongest one in the room…?” Came a tired, groggy voice.

MK’s head whipped to the side to see Wukong slowly sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“No one,” Macaque said without missing a beat.

He walked over and handed the now-peeled banana to Wukong, who took it absentmindedly and started eating like the exchange was the most natural thing in the world.

“How are you feeling?” MK asked, watching as Wukong devoured the banana like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Like crap,” Wukong grumbled without hesitation, and MK winced. That blunt honesty told him just how bad he must really be feeling—normally, Wukong would’ve tried to play it off.

As soon as he finished, Macaque handed him a mug of water, which Wukong accepted without a word and drained quickly. When it was empty, he handed it back with a quiet, “Thanks,” then shifted, curling up against the arm of the couch like it took effort just to stay upright.

“So…” Wukong said, voice tired but steady, “shall we continue?”

MK hesitated, concern knitting his brow. “Are you sure you’re up for it? We can wait. It doesn’t have to be now.”

But Wukong gave a small, dismissive wave. “It’s fine, bud. I’m not that out of it yet.”

He propped his elbow on the arm of the couch and rested his head against his closed fist, turning to look at MK and Macaque with fever-glassy eyes.

“Besides,” he added, softer now, “I think I like sharing, actually. It’s like… taking a weight off my chest. Almost freeing.”

MK nodded slowly. “Well… alright. If that’s what you want.” He still wasn’t totally convinced, but if Monkey King was ready to keep going, he wasn’t going to argue.

“But first,” said Wukong, before anyone else could speak. “I have my own question.”

MK and Macaque glanced at each other, then looked back at him.

“What is it?” MK asked.

Wukong looked serious for a beat—too serious—and then broke into a mischievous grin. He pointed straight at Macaque and started laughing. “Why are you wearing a clothespin on your nose?!”

MK nearly choked on his breath. He had to look away to keep in the urge to chuckle.

Macaque stiffened for a moment but then rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” He grumbled.

But Wukong only laughed harder. “No seriously, what's up with that? What, you allergic to my heavenly aroma or something?”

Macaque crossed his arms, giving Wukong a slightly dangerous smile. “Heavenly?” He said, scoffing. “Please. Don't flatter yourself.”

That did it—MK couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped him, hands covering his mouth.

Wukong leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself, while Macaque looked like he regretted every decision that had led him to this moment.

Still smiling, MK let the warmth of the moment settle in his chest. Wukong looked lighter now—maybe not totally okay, but better. More awake.

But he better get the conversation going before the teasing turned to arguing.

MK glanced at Macaque, who gave him a small shrug like ‘go ahead’. So he turned back to Wukong, hesitating for only a moment before speaking.

“Well… I guess I’ve just been wondering,” MK started cautiously, “How did you find out? About being the Celestial Omega, I mean.”

Wukong let out a quiet hum, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he was flipping through memories.

“Back when I was first born from the stone,” Wukong began, his voice distant, “there were others living here on Flower Fruit Mountain. A small community of Monkeys who’d already ascended to higher beings, through many years of training.

“They knew what I was from the start—could smell it right away.” He added, tapping his nose. “The Celestial Omega. But in all their infinite wisdom…” he sneered the words, bitterness creeping in, “they decided not to tell me.”

“What? Why?” MK asked, appalled. “Why would they keep something like that from you?”

Wukong shrugged. “I was pretty wild back then. Unpredictable. Maybe they thought if I found out, I’d leave or disappear. Guess they figured it was safer to keep me in the dark.”

He laughed coldly. “Turns out, they had a plan. Wanted to use me to boost their own standing in the Celestial Realm. Mating with the legendary Celestial Omega? That’s like a one-way ticket to the upper ranks of Heaven.”

MK’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” Wukong grinned, sharp teeth flashing. “But as you can see, I didn’t exactly make it easy for them.”

MK grinned. “What did you do?”

“I kicked all their asses,” Wukong said proudly, punching his fist into his open palm. “One by one.”

Macaque snorted, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. “Of course you did.”

“They learned quick not to try that again,” Wukong went on. “Once I beat them into submission and got some real answers out of one of the elders, I made myself King—and gave them a direct order: never tell a soul what I was. And they listened. Not because they respected me, but because they were embarrassed! An Omega had just beaten them at their own game and proclaimed himself King. They would never live it down.” He said with a laugh.

He paused, and a softer expression settled over his face as he looked toward Macaque. “You came to the mountain not long after that.”

Macaque nodded slowly, watching him with something unreadable in his eyes.

Wukong’s voice quieted. “Over time, the ones who knew grew old. Died. Took the secret with them. The next generations never knew. And every time my heat rolled around, I’d vanish before it hit. Isolate myself somewhere no one could find me.”

A thought came to MK then. “Wait a second. There used to be other monkeys living here? Besides the little guys?” He asked, gesturing toward the window where the sounds of said monkeys could be heard chattering to each other. “What happened to them? Where did they all go?”

Monkey King and Macaque shared a look with each other. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable with the question, Wukong most of all. His gaze fell to the side and he squeezed his pillow a little tighter with his fists.

Finally, Macaque spoke up since it looked like Wukong wasn’t going to. “They died.” He said simply. The look he shot MK made it clear that was all the information on the subject he was going to get.

Okay, touchy subject. He got the hint.

“So, since all the monkeys who knew are…gone.” Said MK carefully, glancing between Wukong and Macaque, “Does that mean we’re the only ones who know? In, like… over a thousand years?” He pointed to himself and then to Macaque. “That’s kind of cool.”

Wukong gave him a look—half confusion, half amusement. “Uh… no?” he said, like the answer should’ve been obvious. A far-off, nostalgic expression softened his features. “My old companions from the Journey—they knew.”

MK opened his mouth, but to his surprise, Macaque beat him to it.

“What?!” Macaque shot upright, looking scandalized. “They knew? You told them?”

Wukong rolled his eyes with a groan. “First of all, they found out on their own—not because I told them, trust me. And second, I traveled with them for fourteen years! What did you think was going to happen?” He shot Macaque a look. “You think Tang Sanzang would just let me wander off for two weeks every year without asking where I went? Yeah, no. That man kept tighter tabs on me than anyone ever has.” He tapped his temple, referencing the circlet he once wore. “Especially at the beginning.”

MK watched as Macaque slumped back, blushing and looking more than a little sheepish. Had he been…jealous?

Huh.

“So what happened?” Macaque muttered, still pink-faced.

Wukong let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting toward the past. “Like I said… it wasn’t by choice. The first time it happened, it was still just me and my master—before the others joined us.”

His brows drew together, the shift in his expression subtle but striking. Fear crept into his voice, raw and unguarded, and MK’s protective instincts flared. He almost reached out—but hesitated. Even Macaque looked unsettled by the rare show of vulnerability.

“I was terrified,” Wukong admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He ran a hand through his thick fur. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life. When my heat started, I begged him,” he huffed a short laugh, looking up at them with wide eyes. “Can you believe that? I've never once begged anyone for anything and I begged him not to tell anyone in Heaven that I was the Celestial Omega.”

He smiled then—soft and distant. “And you know what? He never did.”

He stared past them, lost in memory. “I barely remember the details. Just flashes. I remember hiding in some cave, senseless and shaking. And my master…” He paused, eyes brightening with a mix of awe and fondness. “He stayed at the entrance. Put up a barrier and sat there. For two whole weeks, he held it without moving. Just so I could be safe.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“When it was over, and I was finally ready to keep going… he didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push me. Just waited.” Wukong exhaled, his smile turning wistful. “Eventually, time passed and when I trusted him more, I told him. Piece by piece. And he listened.”

His smile was small and sad. “You know, now that I think about it…I don't think I ever got the chance to thank him for that…”

The silence that followed was thick, and MK didn’t dare break it. Wukong’s eyes were distant again, lingering somewhere far back in the past. Then, with a soft sigh, he leaned back more comfortably against the couch.

“Of course,” he continued, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful, “it didn’t stay a secret for long after that. Not from the others.”

Macaque raised a brow. “They figured it out too?”

Wukong nodded. “Yeah. Not all at once, though. It happened gradually, over the years. You travel that long with people, you start noticing things. Patterns.”

He gave a half-smirk, wry and fond at the same time. “Ao Lie was the first one to catch on. He’s a lot more observant than people gave him credit for. Picked up on the way I always disappeared like clockwork, once a year. Confronted me about it one night. He was surprisingly gentle about it… didn’t pry, didn’t judge. Just said, ‘Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.’”

He paused, as if the memory of it hit him harder than expected, then chuckled softly.

“Wujing figured it out next. He never said anything directly, but after awhile, he always made sure we had extra supplies stashed away when the time came around. Just… left them there, like it was nothing.”

“And Zhu Bajie?” MK asked curiously.

Wukong rolled his eyes. “Bajie walked in on me once.”

Macaque choked.

“It was not one of my finer moments,” Wukong groaned, covering his face. “He ran out of that cave screaming. Took him a full week to look me in the eye again.”

MK snorted with laughter, and even Macaque looked like he was trying not to smile.

Wukong shrugged with a faint grin. “So yeah. They knew. All of them. And… they never treated me any different for it. Not once.”

Wukong’s smile lingered for a moment before fading into something more introspective. His gaze dropped to his hands, thumbs rubbing absently over his knuckles.

“After the journey ended and we all went our separate ways… it got easier to keep the secret again. Fewer people around, fewer questions.” He shrugged. “The world moved on. And I guess I did too.”

After a moment, Wukong gave a small shrug, almost like he was trying to shake the heaviness off his shoulders. “And… well. That’s the story, I guess. The big secret.” He gave a weak grin. “Congrats. You’re now in the very exclusive 'I-know-the-Monkey-King’s-an-Omega' club.”

MK let out a nervous laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, twisting and untwisting the fabric. He could feel Macaque glance his way, could feel the question pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t push off.

Now or never.

He swallowed hard.

“Hey… Monkey King?”

“Yeah?” Wukong looked at him, eyes tired but warm.

MK hesitated. “Can I… ask you something kinda big?”

Wukong tilted his head slightly, brows raising. “Course, bud. What’s on your mind?”

MK drew in a breath and held it a second before blurting it out in a rush:

“Am I… your son?”

Silence fell.

Macaque’s eyes widened slightly, his head turning toward Wukong so fast it might’ve given a lesser monkey whiplash. Wukong just blinked, clearly caught off guard. The question hung in the air, heavy.

Wukong opened his mouth… then closed it again.

Finally, he leaned back against the couch with a slow exhale, one hand dragging down his face. “Wow. Okay. That’s… not what I was expecting.”

MK’s heart was pounding. “I mean—it’s just—everything I’ve learned lately, everything that’s happened, I just—” He stumbled over his own words, hands gesturing wildly. “It’s just—this feeling I’ve had. It’s probably dumb but... I've been wondering if—if you’re my dad or something.”

Wukong was quiet for a long moment. His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers curling slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low—gentle, but final.

“…No, bud. I’m not.”

The words hit MK harder than he expected. His throat tightened, and he could feel his heart sinking like a stone in his chest. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped breathing until his lungs ached.

Wukong looked up at him then, eyes soft with something almost like sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he said, and MK knew he meant it. “It’s just… not possible.”

MK nodded, barely. “Right,” he said, his voice thin. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

But it didn’t make the ache go away.

Wukong’s brow furrowed slightly, and he leaned forward, reaching out to rest a hand on MK’s arm. “If…I had a son…” he murmured, his voice rough, “I think… I would’ve wanted him to be like you.”

That only made it worse. MK blinked hard, his vision blurring. He turned his head slightly, not wanting either of them to see the way his face was crumpling.

Suddenly, the small living room felt even smaller—like the walls were closing in—and MK knew he needed to get out. Fast.

He sprang to his feet, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh hey, is your mug empty?! Let me go get you some more!” He turned and made for the door, not even bothering to grab the actual mug.

“Wha-MK!” Called Monkey King but MK pretended he didn’t hear him and walked out the front door, closing it behind him a little harder than he intended.

He walked down the stairs without thinking until his feet brought him to a stop right under the peach tree. The same peach tree that supposedly bore the peaches of immortality.

They really did smell just like him…

But instead of the feeling of safety and comfort, the scent of the peaches only filled him with grief.

‘I guess now I know how I'd feel when I got an answer…’

He became aware of a presence standing behind him only a few seconds later and knew it would only be one person.

He heard Macaque sigh. “Kid—”

“Don’t.” MK hunched in on himself, eyes burning. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, you’re a mind reader now?” Macaque deadpanned.

“I know I was stupid, okay?” MK snapped, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have asked.” He scoffed bitterly. “It was dumb to think that Monkey King could be my…”

“You’re not dumb for thinking that.” Reassured Macaque. “Anyone would think that under the circumstances.”

“It’s just, whenever he was holding me…I don’t know! There was just this feeling I kept getting. That it felt…right. Like I was right where I belonged.” He looked at Macaque, eyes wide and pleading. “Does that make me crazy?”

Macaque stepped in close, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. His gaze was serious, grounding. “No, MK. You’re not crazy. You’re just a kid trying to figure out where he comes from.”

MK opened his mouth, but Macaque kept going.

“Listen. I've known Wukong almost my whole life. And even though he’s not the same as he was back then, I can still tell when he genuinely cares for someone.” He said giving MK an intense look. “And father or not, I can tell he really does love you, Kid.” He released MK’s shoulders. “He wouldn’t have been treating you like his cub when his heat makes him go crazy if he didn’t.

A small but genuine smile grew on MK’s face. He supposed that was true…and the thought did make him feel a little better. But still…

He felt Macaque watching him for a few seconds before the older monkey spoke again.

“You know…if you need some time to clear your head, you can go home.” Offered Macaque casually.

MK blinked and looked up at him. “What?”

“I mean it,” Macaque said “It’s been a rough couple of days. You’ve been cooped up here, worrying about Wukong every second. Why don’t you get out for a bit. Get some fresh air.”

MK hated to admit it but that did sound really appealing right now. But... “But won’t you need my help? What if he goes crazy again?”

“Don’t sweat it, Kid.” Said Macaque with a nonchalant shrug. “I've already come up with a plan for that.”

MK looked at him doubtfully. “…What did you have in mind?”

Macaque gave him a little smirk. “It’s your scent that calms him down, right? So if we give him something that smells like you, it should be enough to fool his system. Anything will work.”

MK hesitated, but his fingers were already drifting up to touch his bandana.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You really think it’s okay if I go?”

“I do,” Assured Macaque. “Go have fun with your dragon-pony friend or something.”

There was a pause, and then MK nodded slowly. He slipped off his bandana, cradled it in his hands for a moment, then carefully began rubbing it against the scent glands on his wrists, and then his chin and neck, trying to make sure it carried as much of his scent as possible.

When he was done, he handed it to Macaque. “Tell him I’m not running away,” he said softly. “I just… need a little time.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Macaque.”

“Anytime, bud,” Macaque said with a small smile.

He shot Macaque one last grateful smile before turning and making his way down the path and into the cave system that led to the waterfall. He tried to not feel guilty bailing on both Macaque and Wukong but he really did need some time to get his head together.

Hopefully nothing crazy happened while he was gone.

------

Macaque watched him go until he was out of sight, then turned and walked back toward the house, bandana in hand.

It was about time the kid left. He’d been trying to figure out a way to get Wukong alone for a while now.

Time to spend some quality time with the King….

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Tell Him

When Macaque went back inside, he wasn’t particularly surprised to see Wukong on his feet, presumably trying to follow MK out the door. Somehow, even with his deteriorating condition, he had been able to pull himself up and around to the side of the couch, holding on to the back cushions for dear life with a white knuckled grip. He was panting from the effort, body shaking so badly it was a wonder he hadn’t already collapsed.

Idiot.

“Where do you think you're going?” Macaque asked with a sigh, more annoyed than concerned at the moment.

Wukong startled like he hadn’t even realized he was standing there until Macaque spoke. His wide, dazed eyes met his for a second before urgency took over.

“Where’s MK?” He asked, between gasping breaths. He tried to push away from the couch to take a step, but his legs gave out almost immediately.

Luckily for him, Macaque saw it coming a mile away, and was already there to catch him before he could hit the floor, guiding him gently but firmly back onto the couch. “Relax. The kid’s fine. Here—take this.”

He tossed the red bandana at Wukong. The other didn’t react fast enough, and it hit him square in the face before sliding down into his lap. Macaque could tell the moment MK’s scent reached him because the change was almost instant—his shaking stopped, the tension in his face eased, and he practically melted into the cushions.

‘At least my theory was correct’, Macaque thought. He was glad for that, too. He didn’t want to have to worry about Wukong loosing himself if MK wasn’t there to help out. Especially since he just got done assuring the kid that he would be fine on his own.

He watched as Wukong gathered the cloth in his hands and brought it up to his nose. He took another sniff, slower this time, more deliberate. Then he looked up at Macaque, who hadn’t moved from his spot above him.

“What is this?” he asked, frowning.

“MK needed a breather,” Macaque said, arms crossed. “I told him to go home. He left that for you so you wouldn’t go feral again.”

Wukong looked down at the bandana in his hands with a stricken expression. “He left?”

“That’s right. I’m not gonna lie, he was pretty upset.” Macaque kept his voice purposefully even, almost light.

Wukong’s grip on the bandana tightened. He pushed himself forward, moving like he was going to try and get up off the couch again. “I need to go after him.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Said Macaque, rolling his eyes. He planted a hand on Wukong’s chest and gave him a light push back down onto the couch. With as weak as the other monkey currently was, it didn’t take much to do so.

Wukong blinked up at him, stunned to silence for a moment before an angry scowl formed on his face. “What do you think you're doing?” he demanded, trying once more to sit up.

Macaque easily pushed him down again before he could move more than a few inches. He looked down at him with a bored expression. “Seriously? Go ahead, keep trying. I've got all day.”

“Stop it! I told you, I need to go—”

“And I told you, you’re not going anywhere,” Macaque cut in sharply. His eyes narrowed. “What do you think you're going to do? Walk into town and reveal yourself to everyone? Think before you act. For once.”

Wukong bared his teeth, shoulders tensing like he was ready to argue—but then, surprisingly, he deflated. His posture slumped as he let out a quiet breath, eyes dropping to the red cloth in his hands.

“I just—” He exhaled, his tail curling next to him before flopping down, boneless. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt him more than I…”

“More than you already have?” Macaque finished dryly.

Wukong shot him a look—half glare, half wounded—but it didn’t last. His expression turned guilty. “Yes.”

Macaque watched him in silence as he fiddled absently with MK’s bandana. He looked fragile in a way Macaque didn’t know Wukong could be. Something shifted inside him at the sight.

‘He really is different now, isn’t he?’ He thought, his mind drifting. The old Wukong, the one he thought he knew, would never have cared this much about hurting someone else. He’d only ever been focused on himself and his own goals.

This Wukong, however.

It's like Macaque was looking at an entirely different being. He was quieter, more introspective. That confidence was still there but it was tempered with maturity. The wildness from his youth was completely gone from him.

His time with the Monk really did change him.

Macaque couldn't help the feeling of bitterness that bubbled up in his chest at the thought.

Maybe that was why his next words slipped out before he could think better of it.

“Were you really never going to tell me?”

Wukong looked up at him sharply, brows furrowed. “What?”

Macaque sighed and turned away, mentally kicking himself. He really hadn’t meant to bring this up—at least, not now—but it was too late to take it back.

“Look. I get why you had to hide.” He paused, jaw clenching.

When he didn't continue right away, he heard Wukong shifting restlessly behind him. “Macaque—”

“But we were partners for years!” Macaque cut him off sharply, spinning to face him. “Was I really just like every other Alpha to you? Did you think I’d— what? Take advantage of you? Try to control you?”

Wukong looked at him with a scowl. “Honestly? At the time, yes! I didn’t trust anyone. That was the whole point of keeping it a secret.” He said defensively, as if it were obvious.

Macaque supposed it was. But it still didn’t feel great to hear it said so plainly.

Before he could say anything, though, Wukong continued.

“But,” Sighing, Wukong looked down at the bandana in his hands, his eyes soft. “back when I was on the Journey, and my secret was found out, I learned that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. To trust other people.”

He looked up at Macaque then, and the expression on his face made Macaque’s breath catch in his throat. Wukong’s golden eyes were round and earnest, his mouth pulled down into a slight frown. It was an expression Macaque had never seen on him before—especially not directed at him.

“I regret a lot from back then. I just never thought one of my biggest regrets would be not…telling you the truth sooner. I'm sorry.”

Macaque’s whole body stiffened at those words. Words he never, in a million years, would have thought he’d ever hear Wukong say. Had never heard Wukong say. Not to him. Not to anyone.

It was simple but genuine and it automatically made the tangled knot of anger he had been harboring—anger at Wukong for all the years of secrets and lies and anger at himself for being stupid enough to not realize it sooner—finally start to unwind.

He looked to the side, suddenly unable to meet those eyes any longer. He huffed a short sigh, stepped forward, and without thinking, plopped himself down onto the spot on the couch where MK had occupied earlier. When he looked over at Wukong, he paused when he saw that the other monkey was looking at him strangely.

It took him a few seconds to realize why.

Temporary though it was, he had just gone and entered into Wukong’s nest. Without permission.

A huge faux pas for an unrelated Alpha to do to an Omega that wasn’t explicitly bonded to them .

Embarrassed, he immediately moved to stand up again but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Don’t.” Said Wukong. He was leaning forward, practically folded over himself to reach him. When Macaque didn't try to get up, he let go and went back to his original position on the other side of the couch. “It’s alright.”

Macaque shifted awkwardly. “Are you sure—”

He stopped when Wukong started nodding before the words had barely left his mouth.

“I'm sure.”

Macaque’s mouth closed. He sat stiffly, the tip of his tail twitching. He was trying his best to keep his cool but his Alpha instincts were buzzing.

Wukong had just invited him to stay in his nest.

He mentally shook himself. ‘Not the time.’ He thought, sharply.

Instead, he looked for something to distract them both. His gaze zeroed in on the red bandana and the reason he had wanted to get Wukong alone in the first place.

“There’s one thing that’s been bugging me,” He said, drawing Wukong’s attention. The other’s eyes had been looking away but now snapped back to him. “You say MK isn’t your kid, but then why do you keep instinctively treating him like he is?”

Wukong frowned, like he didn’t quite understand the question. Then he looked away. “I don’t know,” He said.

Macaque narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to let him dodge the question so easily.

“Let’s see.” He leaned further into the couch, lifting a hand to count on his fingers. “You hold and scent him like he’s your cub. You’ve been clingy to the point of obsession. Hell, you destroyed your own bed when he left you alone.”

Wukong flinched slightly, clearly embarrassed. “Well, that—”

But Macaque didn’t let him finish.

“And then there’s the fact that your scents affect each other.” Wukong looked at him sharply, eyes wide. “That’s right. His scent affects you—but he never told you that your scent has been affecting him too.”

To Macaque, that was the most damning evidence of all.

Wukong’s fingers tightened around the bandana. “I had no idea…”

“Omegas in heat don’t just act that way around someone they aren’t related to,” Macaque said firmly. “So I’m going to ask you this one time.” He paused, waiting until Wukong looked at him again. When their eyes finally met, he asked: “Is MK your son?”

They stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff, like they were playing a game of chicken. Whoever looked away first would be the one to give in.

And it was Wukong who broke.

He sighed and looked to the side, almost like he was annoyed. “I meant what I said before. It would be impossible for MK to be my son.”

“I heard you the first time,” Macaque replied, letting out a breath of his own. “That’s a strange way to put it, though. ‘Impossible.’ Like you know for sure.”

Wukong gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, because I’d totally forget if I ever gave birth to a child,” He said sarcastically.

Macaque scowled. “Fine. Hide behind your secrets.” His arms folded across his chest, his tone sharp. “But I can tell you’re not saying everything. So much for changing. Still the same old Wukong.” The last words slipped out under his breath—but he could tell Wukong had heard him by the way his eyes widened.

They flashed with anger. “That’s not fair.” Wukong said in a low growl.

Macaque’s fury came rushing back, sharp and hot. Whatever warmth he’d felt from Wukong’s earlier apology evaporated in an instant.

“No. Being lied to and manipulated for years isn’t fair.” He said, his voice rising. “Watching you run off over and over, throwing yourself into unnecessary danger, that’s not fair either.”

He was yelling by then, but he didn’t care. The words were pouring out faster than he could stop them. “You turning your back on me and the brotherhood, isn't fair! And you know what really isn’t fair?!”

He didn’t even realize he’d gotten to his feet until he was looming over Wukong, who stared up at him like he’d been struck.

“You kill—!”

The word caught in his throat.

He stopped.

All the fire drained from him in an instant. His breath hitched as he raised a trembling hand to the right side of his face—to where scar tissue was hidden.

Wukong looked like he was going to be sick. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes wide and filled with guilt. “Bud, I—”

“Don’t bother apologizing again,” Macaque muttered, suddenly exhausted. His shoulders sagged and he lowered his hand. This was dumb. What was even the point? “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up. Forget it. I’m done.”

He turned to leave—but before he could take a single step, Wukong lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

“Wait!”

Macaque glanced back, just enough to see the panic in Wukong’s face. The other monkey was halfway off the couch, breathing hard from the effort. His grip trembled.

“You’re right,” Wukong said. “I’m sor—” He winced, choking on the word. “Please. Sit back down. I’ll explain everything. Just, don’t go.”

A part of Macaque—the weaker part—wanted to shake Wukong’s hand off and leave anyway. Just walk away and be done with it. But the other part, the one that had been quietly begging for answers all this time, kept him rooted in place. Wukong was serious. The raw emotion on his face was enough to prove that much.

He brushed the hand off—not harshly—and waited until Wukong eased back into his spot before reclaiming his own seat. Then he sat in silence, expectant, letting the weight of it hang between them. If Wukong had something to say, he’d be the one to start.

The other monkey looked like someone walking to his own execution. His face was pale, a stark contrast to the warm flush that had colored his cheeks for days. His hands trembled, his entire body subtly shivering, and his tail had curled tightly around his waist—a subconscious act of self-comfort Macaque recognized instantly.

It hit him then—whatever Wukong was about to say, it wasn’t going to be easy. Or pleasant. He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless. A part of him wanted to back down, to tell Wukong to forget it. But he stubbornly refused. He’d waited too long for this. And he wasn’t leaving without the truth.

When several minutes passed and Wukong still hadn’t said a word, Macaque’s patience ran dry. “Well?” he prompted.

Wukong shot him a sharp look. “Sorry I’m not moving fast enough for you,” he snapped. “Give me a second!”

He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady himself. Then he shifted, turning fully to face Macaque, shoulders squared as if preparing for a blow.

“I wasn’t lying before,” He began. “I really don’t know why I keep reacting to MK the way I do. But—”

Another breath. Deeper this time, heavier.

“But it could be because… I’ve had a child before.”

Macaque inhaled sharply, but said nothing. Wukong looked like he wasn’t finished, and he didn’t want to interrupt now.

“And that child,” Wukong said quietly, eyes locked on his, “was yours.”

What.

-----

Wukong watched Macaque with trepidation, bracing for the inevitable explosion. But to his surprise, the other monkey didn’t move. He was frozen—completely still. Not even blinking.

Was he… breathing?

Wukong reached out a tentative hand, unsure what he meant to do with it. “Macaque—?”

The moment shattered.

With a sudden burst of motion, Macaque launched himself off the couch. “WHAT?!”

Ah. There it was.

“What do you mean you—I—had a child?!” he shouted, pacing in frantic circles. His hands were in his hair, claws tugging at his fur, and his eyes burned with something wild and disbelieving.

Wukong could only watch, silent and uneasy.

Then Macaque was in his face—snarling, furious—and Wukong barely had time to react before he was yanked up by the front of his robes. His sore body screamed in protest, but he didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. He deserved this.

“You better explain, right now!” Macaque barked, shaking him hard enough to jolt every ache in his bones.

Wukong winced and sagged in his grip, and something must’ve clicked because Macaque abruptly let go. Wukong dropped back onto the couch, collapsing into a half-seated, half-sprawled position. He didn’t bother to fix it. Just let his head hang.

He heard Macaque inhale deeply, trying to calm himself, and when he finally spoke again, the fury had thinned—replaced by something colder.

“Explain.”

Wukong slowly adjusted himself on the couch, tucking his legs beneath him and curling his tail tightly around his waist. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Macaque—couldn’t bear the weight of the stare he imagined was burning into him.

There was no point in dragging this out. Everything was already out in the open.

“It was after one of the times we met up with the rest of the brotherhood,” he began quietly. “We were drinking. A lot. I talked you into playing a drinking game with me.”

He risked a glance up through his lashes. Macaque still hadn’t moved from his spot, looming over him—but he looked like he was listening. His eyes were distant, like he was trying to recall the night for himself.

A small, wry smile tugged at Wukong’s lips. “You never could hold your liquor. Not that I was much better.” The smile faded. “Anyway… one thing led to another, and the two of us ended up sleeping together.”

Macaque made a strangled sound. Wukong pretended not to notice.

“I don’t remember much. Just, waking up the next morning and seeing you still asleep. I left before you woke up.”

There was a long pause before Macaque spoke, voice quiet and uncertain. “That was you?”

Wukong nodded slowly. “You never said anything afterward. I figured you didn’t remember. Or maybe didn’t realize it was me. So... I never brought it up.”

Macaque frowned deeply, troubled, and Wukong hated the look. He wanted to erase it, but he knew what had to come next.

“The next day,” he said, carefully, “I went into heat. We must have gotten together close enough for it to matter because a few weeks later... I found out I was pregnant.”

Wukong would never forget that moment. The sheer, paralyzing fear that gripped him when he realized what had happened. His secret—everything he’d worked so hard to bury—threatened to unravel because of one reckless mistake.

There was a moment, a fleeting one, when he considered ending it. But just the thought of doing that… hurt more than he could put into words. So he decided to go through with it.

“How—how did you hide it?” Macaque asked, stumbling a little over the words.

Wukong gave a small shrug. “I’ve always worn loose clothes. And for my scent… the same spell I’ve always used to mask it. And as long as I kept some distance from others, it was almost too easy.”

He tried to keep his voice casual. “Seven months later, the kid was born.” But the tremor in his voice gave him away.

“You gave birth by yourself?” Macaque’s voice was filled with something close to horror, and when Wukong looked up, his expression matched it—eyes wide, jaw slack.

“Yes.”

“Why?!”

Wukong sighed and looked away, irritation prickling under his skin. “You know why.”

“How could you have been—!” Macaque cut himself off, jaw clenched tight, grinding his teeth. He let out a low growl, pressing a hand to his forehead as if trying to soothe away a headache.

Wukong frowned. What did Macaque want him to say? That he knew the risks? He didn’t. Not really. The only thing in his head back then was fear—fear of being found out. Fear that someone would see through him. That fear made every decision for him.

So when the time came, he did what he always did. He ran. Traveled to the place he usually hid away during his heats and had the baby in secret.

Buddha, the blood.

The pain.

He’d always thought he had a high pain tolerance, but those hours—those endless hours—had been some of the worst of his life.

But when it was over—when the screaming stopped and the pain ebbed into exhaustion—and he held that wrinkly, wailing baby in his arms for the first time, he knew it had all been worth it.

He looked into those beautiful, dark, round eyes and, for a moment, he felt like he’d found something truly divine.

His little heaven.

His thoughts were broken when Macaque cleared his throat. “So… what happened next? I never saw you with a baby. So what did you do with it?” He asked, voice a little harsh. 

Wukong bit back a frustrated sound. The tone stung, but he couldn’t blame Macaque for it. The other monkey had every right to be upset.

“I gave him—”

“‘Him?’” Macaque interrupted softly.

Wukong met his gaze, sorrow dimming his eyes. Right. He hadn’t mentioned that part yet.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “A boy.”

Macaque didn’t say anything, and Wukong waited in silence until he gave a small nod, signaling him to go on.

“I gave him to Hualing to look after.”

Macaque frowned. “Hualing? You mean that old midwife?”

Wukong rolled his eyes, not unkindly. Of course Macaque wouldn’t really remember—he’d never been particularly close with the ascended monkeys the way Wukong had.

“Hualing was more than just a midwife,” He said. “She was one of the village elders. One of Flower Fruit Mountain’s most respected Betas. Sharp-tongued, quick-witted—and really good at not asking questions.”

She had been a good friend. He missed her.

“Wait a second…” Macaque’s voice faltered. “If he was here—when we were still with the brotherhood—then that means…”

Realization dawned on his face like a rising storm. He stumbled back a few steps, a trembling hand covering his mouth, as if physically trying to hold back the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

Wukong looked away. This was the part he’d been dreading.

His failure to protect the villagers.

His people.

His own son.

He gave a small nod. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

His child had been there. On Flower Fruit Mountain.

When the entire tribe of ascended monkeys had been slaughtered.

The memory struck him like a blow to the chest—sudden, and all-consuming.

He’d only just returned home after a mission. A demon had been terrorizing a distant human village, and he and Macaque had gone to stop it. By the time he made it back to the mountain, he didn’t immediately notice anything wrong. The silence didn’t register. The stillness of the air felt like any other quiet morning.

Not until the stench hit him. The thick, metallic tang of blood and smoke.

That was when he saw it.

Collapsed buildings. Shattered homes. And bodies—so many bodies—strewn like broken dolls across the village.

He remembered standing there, frozen in place, numb with horror. Then came the panic. The frantic search. Running through the wreckage, shouting names, tearing apart rubble, checking every house, every corner, every shadow—for someone, anyone—still breathing.

But there was no one.

They were all gone.

Every man. Every woman.

Every child.

He remembered falling to his knees in the dirt, his scream ripping through the still air, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. An agony that left him hollow.

Macaque had tried to comfort him. The others in the brotherhood had offered what support they could.

But Wukong had been inconsolable for days. And he couldn’t even tell them why.

Eventually, he forced himself to move forward. He had to. Because not long after, their rebellion against Heaven began. The plan to dethrone the Jade Emperor waited for no one—not even a grieving father.

By the time the fighting started, his grief had already twisted into rage. He wanted the war. Needed it, even. He thought he’d been ready.

Clearly, he hadn’t been.

Finally, Macaque broke the heavy silence. “What did you do with the body?” he asked, voice low.

Wukong didn’t miss the real question buried in those words. Macaque wanted to know where the grave was—so he could visit, mourn, pay his respects. But it was something Wukong couldn’t give him.

“There was no body,” he said softly. “I never found him.”

Not every villager had been accounted for. Based on the injuries he’d seen… based on the carnage… he could only assume the worst. Whoever the demon had been, it must’ve gotten hungry eventually.

The thought made made a disgusted shiver slither down his spine. 

He couldn’t see Macaque’s face—his back was still turned—but the trembling of his shoulders said enough. He wasn’t taking it well.

Wukong thought he heard him whisper something, but it was too soft to make out.

“What did you say?” he asked carefully.

Macaque spun around. “I will NEVER forgive you for this!”

His voice thundered through the room, and Wukong flinched. Instinctively, he tried to back away—but the couch and his own weakness pinned him in place.

Macaque wasn’t finished.

“How could you do this?! How could you be so selfish—to not tell me I had a child?! Family!” He gestured wildly, anguish twisting his expression. “He was right here! I could’ve passed him on the street—!”

His voice cracked. He turned his face away, one hand covering his eyes, the other clenched at his side. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as if trying to hold back the sobs threatening to escape.

Wukong said nothing. He just sat there, still and silent, letting the fury wash over him like a punishment he’d long expected.

He deserved this. Macaque would probably hate him now. Maybe forever.

But he’d been selfish. That much was true. He’d let his fear dictate everything.

Recent events had taught him just how devastating secrets could be. Macaque had a right to know the truth.

And Wukong? He had a responsibility to carry the consequences.

Eventually, Macaque seemed to run out of rage. His hand dropped from his eyes, though they remained tightly shut. He took a few shaky breaths, trying to steady himself.

Then, wordless, he turned and started walking toward the front door.

Wukong didn’t stop him.

Not this time.

No loud slam came immediately. Instead, silence lingered—until Macaque’s voice came one last time.

“…What was his name?”

Wukong didn’t turn to look. “Xiaotian,” he said quietly. “Qi Xiaotian.”

Silence again. Then the door creaked open… and slammed shut behind him.

Wukong flinched at the sound, then sat frozen, numb.

He didn’t move for a long time.

Eventually, his body gave out. He collapsed sideways on the couch and curled into himself, clutching MK’s red bandana tightly in both hands. His eyes stared blankly ahead, unfocused, unseeing.

Exhaustion crept in like fog.

He let it.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him, uneasy and with dreams filled with nightmares.