#Teeth Cleaning Milton

[floralcyanide]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part Three

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it.

AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

warnings: brief descriptions of murder, nsfw, beginning signs of obsession and yandere behavior, perhaps an innuendo at the end who knowsss...

word count: 976

author's note: I am so sorry for the wait!! I got sick this past week with something?? and had to go to the hospital and all that jazz. fun times. I also wrote this instead of working on my finals because I make good decisions, obviously. I'm sorry it's short, but the next chapter will likely be long because things might happen... hmmm.... also enjoy a look inside Roman's head in this chapter. I might do more of that if you all like it!

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Pretending to be an adoring fan of Cotton and getting him to relax was all too easy. Getting him to panic, though? Even easier and twice as fun. Cotton and Roman’s brief yet daunting conversation over the phone gave Roman that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slaughtering Cotton and his little blonde girlfriend was bringing back that urge- that desire to kill that had been for so long shoved away. It had taken residence in the back of Roman’s mind for years now, only to bare its teeth again at the thought of anyone harming you. 

You, Roman thought as he plunged his knife into Cotton, you are so special. I hardly know anything about you, but I know you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I did this for you, Y/N. You thought I wouldn’t hear that he spilled coffee on you? Burned you? Then got a little too close to you? Cotton is not a good guy, Y/N. He’s not a nice guy like me. I can take care of you and love you.

Roman somewhat cringes inwardly at how obsessive he is becoming over you. But he can’t help it. He’s got mommy issues, after all. He serves Cotton one final blow that sucks the light out of his eyes quickly. Roman sits on his knees momentarily, wiping the blade clean of blood before standing back up and hurriedly leaving the apartment. 

It’s dead silent in Roman’s condo as he lays in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling blankly. His hands are resting on his chest as he focuses on his breathing, trying his best to fall asleep. But it’s been two hours with no avail. Roman’s mind begins to wander to you like always. It’s only been a month of knowing you exist, but it’s been an excellent month for Roman. Other than him realizing that killing off Cotton could mean bad things for the movie. But at this point, he only cares about his own film because you’re in it, even as an extra. However, he’s asked John Milton about a dozen times already if you could have a role, and he’s said no every time. Roman won’t give up on you, even if he has to kill someone else. Maybe he’ll go for Jennifer or Angelina since they have good roles. You deserve those roles more than they do, in Roman’s opinion. 

Eventually, Roman falls asleep, and the following day rolls around all too soon. He clambers out of bed once he realizes he’s got about 20 minutes to become presentable and get to the studio. Roman runs a wet comb through his hair before hurriedly brushing his teeth, searching his closet for a button-up in your favorite color. He figured that out quite easily, as you often wear the color. After spitting out the toothpaste and pulling the shirt on, Roman examines himself quickly before bolting out of his condo. Traffic is, of course, hellish on the way to the studio, but Roman makes it a reasonable time. He’s about 10 minutes earlier than usual, surprisingly. 

When Roman reaches his office, he starts reviewing the current script and seeing how he could sneakily revise it to fit your style and acting methods. He’s picked up on some things about you so far, such as how intensely you can become someone else, even if they’re a background character. You express emotion in such a beautiful way, too. God, Roman could eat you alive. You were perfect in his eyes. And when you walk into his office during his revision session, he swears he’s still in bed dreaming.

“Hey, uh, Roman?” you scratch the back of your neck nervously, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Y/N?” Roman asks with a smile.

“I was wondering if there were any updates to the script for the extras. I know you’ve been rewriting things quite a lot, so,” you pause, trying not to sound too bitchy about it, “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just want to be prepared.”

Roman chuckles with a casual nod, trying to seem collected, “Everything is still the same. But I’m still trying to put bugs in some ears about you. You have a real talent, even if you don’t see it.”

You brush some hair from your eyes, “Roman, I appreciate you trying, but I’m fine with just being an extra. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, and I don’t see that changing.”

Roman shakes his head, “You won’t know until you try.”

You stare into his eyes for a moment, and his gaze lingers. 

“You know what,” Roman says, not breaking eye contact, “How about we meet for coffee later, and you can look over the main script and see what you think? I’m revising it and need some feedback. Is that okay with you?”

You bite your lip, surprised Roman would ask to see you outside work. Your stomach erupts into nervous butterflies at the thought.

“Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, “See you at the parking lot after we wrap?”

“Of course,” Roman smiles, “See you then.”

You turn to leave Roman’s office, and he unashamedly watches your ass as you exit. God, he thinks, if I could only have you for one night to show you that you don’t need anyone but me. You’d be wrapped around my finger. Begging for me every chance you had. Roman has to shake his head in order to get the image of your ass bent over for him out of his imagination. He needed to focus on work again so he could have something to show you later. 

Roman wanted to show you more than the script, though. But he needed to figure out how to get under your skin. He thinks he knows just how to do it, too. 

taglist:

@bridgergf @crinimalmindsfan13 @oddlittleminx @axen-gers @alwayslilithnevreve @belovedtylerrr @bonbekahsfav @elliotss @jokersgrf @snazzynacho

[feelin-lo]

Leonardo Julius Milton Woods.

Useless Memories.

(Trigger warning for graphic descriptions of injury.) ⚠️

"It will have blood, they say: Blood will have Blood."

(Macbeth, Act 3 scene 4.)

_____________________________

While human memories fade, Vampire memories are stronger.

Is that the justification for the useless memories I have?

I call them memories but now they're a Blur. A smudge on the book that is my life, no faces show themselves to me. Not even a name I can whisper in an uneasy and broken breath.

It's like the man I am now, and the man I was back then, are locked in eternal turmoil. Forever battling one an other in my mind. But in the end, Like humans do,

He will lose.

I was born in 1737, To a Baker mother and Farmer Father. Though I can't remember their faces or their names. It's not a brave upbringing, but it's the remains of something sweet. I used to call them family.

I can't remember if I had siblings, all I have is a faceless figure with red hair and decaying skin, following me around cobbled streets that I knew so vividly .. now burned to ash. But in that ash, I remember entrails. Our streets weren't very clean. The butcher's shop often laid it's blood outside on the streets, swept away in the ongoing rain.

I can feel them rotting, Like an open pinprick. Not something you notice, untill it becomes infected....

Infection... I recall Infection.

"I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to Cure. I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm."

I remember... Bones. Tools.

I remember what I used to do.

"To alleviate pressure on the brain following an injury to the head, or to release evil spirits from the minds of mentally ill people, we would drill holes in their heads."

I remember... Opening the wrist of a woman and letting her go... The waterfall just left to drop to the ground as she later did.

Useless.

I remember... Flowers. Flowers?

A little girl would pass my office everyday. And give me flowers. .. why did she?

I can't remember... Why is the memory there if it's incomplete?

I was 19, I had no choice in the matter.

I wasn't a curer for long, only two years or so.

I remember being at his mercy.

Woods.

What I had caught wasn't uncommon. It was bound to happen.... cholera.

Bed bound, I would pray for freedom from this perpetual state of everlasting pain, the burning inside me, the sheer agony I didn't even think was possible untill I was infected with that demon. Then it got worse. Woods, woods his red eyes, I hadn't noticed them before. He whispered to me "You'll be a fine Servant." Then it got worse, I felt his teeth, ripping through flesh, Was that an injection? Why is the burning spreading? I can't keep my mouth closed, my jaw might split. Why did it end in an swift and painful climax? My skin turning as white as freshly fallen snow? My skin as soft as marble and as hard as granite, my eyes gained his tint.

Crimson.

I stayed with him... "Newborn." Me? How...? I'm 19 years old, not 19 minutes.

I had been cursed by a greater demon, in a state of everlasting death, an immortal in an immoral state that had outlived the weaker half.

Was I like him? A newly created beast of a man, a forger of death and a salesman of agony.

I killed 5 people that day, before my mind was no longer clouded by Red. This red veil that had masked my true wants and needs, my urges on a leash, dragged by a ferocious hunger that I was barely able to wrangle under a shaky and fragile hold.

He told me to work so I wouldn't die.

I treated my patients. Used their illnesses. Many died, I didn't care, everyone had to die at some point, some quicker than others. All their blood went to him. Woods. I lived off of the scraps.

One day, I found out that he was kidnapping Harlots and using them... For pleasure and pain. Using them and draining them.

Women, who had to turn to this life generally weren't with family and so, could dissapear without any suspicion.

The perfect lamb for the slaughter.

I remember an anger.

And my power... Awakening.

Floralkinesis.

I wrapped my vines around their necks and snap. They were gone. Their bodies burned. And I didn't look back.

I don't remember my last name, it doesn't belong to me now.

That's the Human's name.

I'll take his name.

It's the start of my revenge when he took everything from me.

My name now. Is Leonardo Julius Woods.

[jackjolene]

BioShock/Sinking City/Vampyr: Taking Control

One thing I’d like to point out before I get into the story about the Mutants: They are basically the pre-concept art Splicers. They look like something straight out of the Dead Space games. You can look them up if you want; be warned, they are nightmare fuel.

Once Jack and Co. are apprised of the situation in Rapture, they decide the best thing to do is to recuperate and resupply at Minerva’s Den. Without their guns, which were left on the Mary Catherine, they need replacements. And while bullets don’t one-shot Mutants like a dart of SERPENT, they are certainly more common than darts.

Subject Artemis, Dr. Reid, and Lady Ashbury lead Jack and Co. to the safety of Minerva’s Den. Whenever they run across some Mutants, Jack and Liz do their best to aid their guides, Porter (who actually brought his weapons), and Eleanor from the sidelines. They have no intention of being useless escorts.

After some harrowing encounters, the party of seven makes it back to the safety of Minerva’s Den with a bathysphere. There, they find a welcoming party of non-spliced survivors waiting for them. After Porter cleaned out Minerva’s Den of splicers, no new ones moved thanks to it being cut off from the rest of Rapture. 

While awaiting Tenenbaum’s return, Artemis found as many non-spliced survivors as possible and escorted them to Minerva’s Den. They passed the time by cleaning up, making repairs, organizing the supplies that Artemis brought in, fortifying Minerva’s Den, and also preparing to evacuate once rescue had arrived.

The welcoming committee, happy to see Artemis, Reid, and Ashbury return safely, are stunned to learn of their companion’s identities: Jack Ryan, the Son of Andrew Ryan; Eleanor Lamb, the former “Daughter of the People”; and Charles Milton Porter, who made their refuge possible. (Liz isn’t miffed that she isn’t recognized; her role was behind the scenes after all)

The moment of stunned silence gives way to cheers, which only increase in volume when Jack confirms that he and the others are there to rescue them. The survivors are only too happy to provide them with weapons, ammo, medical supplies, and security bots equipped with lasers, electricity, and rockets (Jack, Liz, and Eleanor are a mixture of impressed, surprised, horrified, and delighted at these bots).

Jack and Eleanor are both surprised at how much these people look up to them; as far as they’re concerned, they abandoned these people to escape by themselves to the surface, leaving them to rot in the ruins of Ryan’s dream and Lamb’s nightmare. Instead, for the most part, these people see them as heroes for daring to escape Rapture, doubly more so for coming back to save them!

Amongst the survivors, Eleanor is surprised and delighted to find her old childhood friend and playmate, Amir, who has survived Rapture and grown into a young man (and a handsome one, she thinks). He’s happy to see her again as well, and that she has managed to cast off her mother and her teachings (In his opinion, she is an angel that ascended from Hell into Heaven and then returned to save the damned).

Once they’ve resupplied and rearmed, Jack and Co., now also including Artemis, Reid, and Ashbury, take the bathysphere to Hephaestus. Jack allows himself to think that it’s going to be easy for once. Last time, he was on his own and he had to go on a scavenger hunt to make an EMP bomb to get past Ryan’s fancy electronic lock. This time around, he has his stealthy wife, a Big Sister, two Big Daddies, and two stable Splicers on his side, and an open door right into his dad’s office.

Turns out, it’s not easy, thanks to the few dozen Mutants prowling the halls and offices of Hephaestus. The fight that ensues the moment they walk through the front door is ferocious, but the party of seven is able to make their way through the nightmare of teeth, claws, and monsters to the Office of Andrew Ryan himself.

Once in Ryan’s sanctum of power and control, Jack gains access to Rapture’s security thanks to his father’s DNA and shuts off the anti-ship defenses. He then radios Tenenbaum to let her know that it’s safe for her to come down, before giving everyone in their group top-security access and also Vita-Chamber usage (just in case). He looks at the corpse of his father, still laying where he fell nine years earlier, and then tells everyone to head back to Minerva’s Den. He’ll be right behind them.

Back at Minerva’s Den, the Party (sans Jack) arrives just in time to see the submersible dock and Tenenbaum disembark. She is even more flustered at the welcoming committee’s greeting than they were, but she is quick to get down to business. She’s not at all happy to learn about the new ADAM, the resulting Mutants, and SERPENT’s lethal effect on them.

In Tenenbaum’s absence, Artemis and the robotic Little Sisters gathered a truly disgusting amount of ADAM, giving her plenty of material to work with. Additionally, Dr. Reid has been studying the Mutants and their variant of ADAM for months now, and he is more than happy to share his findings with Tenenbaum. Between her, Dr. Reid, and the gathered ADAM, they have what they need to make a new version of SERPENT to cure the Mutants.

As Tenenbaum is settling in and the supplies are being offloaded from the sub, including their actual guns, Jack returns to Minerva’s Den with a very unexpected guest in tow: Andrew Ryan himself.

Back in Ryan’s Office, after everyone left for Minerva’s Den, Jack turned the Office’s Vita-Chamber back on (Ryan had turned it off nine years before Jack confronted him), bringing his father back to life. When Ryan realized he was alive again, he attempted to use WYK on Jack, which earned him a bloody nose.

A mob quickly appears, looking to get revenge on Andrew Ryan. Jack intercedes, pointing out that his father has been dead for nine years, plus killing him wouldn’t do anything; he’d just resurrect in the nearest Vita-Chamber. Eleanor points out that they could torture him to death again and again, but shuts up with a look from Jack.

As far as Jack is concerned, the best punishment for Andrew Ryan is to see the depths that his city, his Rapture, has fallen to. Before bringing Ryan back to life, Jack cut him completely out of Rapture’s systems with the exception of the Vita-Chambers; Ryan isn’t taking back control of Rapture, and he is going to see exactly what his dream has become.

While Jack and Co. continue offloading the sub and making plans, Andrew Ryan is left to wander Minerva’s Den. He sees firsthand the ruin and decay that the Den alone has fallen into despite the repairs and cleaning up done by its new residents. Thanks to Jack’s speech, the survivors either ignore him or glare at him; he is persona non grata with them.

He sees how malnourished they are, how they jump at the smallest sounds despite being safe for months now from splicers. Many have turned to religion to gain some semblance of hope, openly worshipping in what was once Ryan’s cathedral to himself. He sees the people sharing their food and medicine with each other, engaging in the altruism he hates so much.

Finding that people avoid the airlock for some reason, he goes there and looks out into the ocean. He’s shocked to find dozens of corpses floating outside; as part of cleaning up the Den, the survivors tossed every corpse out the airlock and into the ocean. Their mutated and mangled bodies, now being chewed on by the local marine life, seems to mock him as he beats a hasty retreat.

Finally, he finds a seat and window where he can just look out at Rapture, his dream, and think about all he has done and how it has led to this.

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (29/44)

Author's Note: This chapter contains cameo appearances of characters from my other stories, if you're confused by all the random names. I was setting the foundation for a big crossover story that brings together several of my established characters/ worlds.

Chapter 29: Maneaters Anonymous

As the days progressed, Bianca felt increasingly worse about what she had done, and the secret she was hiding from her boyfriend. More and more, out of shame, she made excuses not to see Gio, and spent less time on dates when they did have time together. Their interactions felt increasingly uncomfortable and strained. Gio had ostensibly moved on and forgiven her, with his precious magnanimous soul, but Bianca had not forgiven herself. She had yet to come clean to him about eating her ex-boyfriend at Bucky’s. She still had cravings that she grappled to keep under wraps. While they weren’t so strong that she feared losing control and devouring Gio, she knew she couldn’t go on in the same way. At some point, she would have to tell him, but she dragged her feet. 

Bianca decided to seek help. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she could not return to Bucky’s. If she did, and indulged herself, there was no going back. She would spiral out of control. She searched online for resources and discovered a support group for Giants who were afflicted with similar cravings called “Maneaters Anonymous.” The next meeting was that night, in a venue near her apartment, so Bianca decided to go. She was nervous, yet hopeful. She didn’t know what to expect. 

When Bianca arrived, there were already some Giants milling about waiting. There were refreshments available, including coffee and donuts, so Bianca availed herself of the provided amenities and took a seat. The others there seemed to know one another and were chatting politely amongst themselves. Bianca sat alone in awkward silence, quietly eating a glazed donut, until one of the Giants noticed she was by herself and approached with a friendly smile. Bianca, as an attractive Giantess, was accustomed to constant unwanted attention from men, so she initially had her guard up, but the man had a calming aura that relaxed her. He didn’t seem to have any bad intentions. Bianca noticed that he was extremely tall, perhaps one of the tallest Giants she had ever met. He was well-groomed and dressed, in a way that appeared refined and professional. 

“Hi there,” the Giant greeted her with a cordial smile that revealed straight rows of white teeth. “I haven’t seen you here before. You must be new. What’s your name?” He leaned down slightly and offered his large hand to shake. 

“Bianca,” she answered. “And yours?” Her smaller hand disappeared in his as she shook his hand. He had a gentle but firm grip. 

“My name is Milton,” he introduced himself. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He gestured to the chair next to her. 

“Oh, go ahead.” He settled his huge bulk into the chair and serenely sipped his coffee.  

“So, what brings you here, Bianca? If you don’t mind me asking. No pressure to talk if you’re not comfortable.” 

“Oh... um...” Bianca hesitated, embarrassed by her situation, but considering the context of the conversation, she figured it couldn’t hurt to share. Besides, there was something about this Giant that put her at ease. He regarded her with an understanding sincerity in his brown eyes, warm like a cup of coffee. “Well... I ate my boyfriend. He wasn’t too happy about it. Then I went to a restaurant that serves humans and ran into my ex-boyfriend there. I ate him too. Now, I don’t know what to do. I have these strong cravings, but no outlet for them, since my boyfriend doesn’t want to be eaten.” 

“Oh, dear. That is a problem. You’ll see we all have similar struggles here. You’ll have to learn to control your urges or find alternatives. There are appetite suppressants that they sell at pharmacies that sometimes help. I’ve never found them to be useful, personally, but some Giants swear by them.” 

Bianca mentally filed this information away for future use. “What about you? What’s your story, Milton?” She was curious. 

“Ah, well. I’ve suffered from bloodthirsty urges to devour humans from a young age. I work around humans as part of my job, so I can’t afford any slip-ups. Additionally, I have a human girlfriend, and an adopted human daughter. So, I must keep myself under control, at all costs,” Milton explained. “I’ve found keeping myself well-fed, with large quantities of red meat, helps immensely. As long as I don’t get too hungry, my cravings are perfectly manageable. I still come to the support groups every once in a while, since I find them helpful if I start to backslide. It’s a bit of a ways to drive, since I live in the next city over, but worth the journey.” He took another sip of coffee. “I don’t want anyone near where I live finding out about my little problem.” 

“Milton!” a Giant called who had just walked in the door, striding towards them. He was also a very large Giant, almost as tall as Milton, but his appearance and demeanor were quite different. He was dressed strangely, in a sky-blue vest over a white shirt with billowing sleeves, tan pants with elaborate orange stitching on the sides, and big leather boots. He had a prowl in his step and a gleam in his bright green eyes that reminded Bianca of a hungry carnivorous predator, like a lion. 

“Hey there, Chester!” Milton hailed back. “This young lady is Bianca. She’s new here.” 

“Hello, Bianca,” Chester said warmly, turning his attention to her. She observed he had a faint hint of an undefinable accent when he spoke. After pausing a moment, he seemed to remember what he was supposed to do, seized Bianca’s hand, and shook it. He had a hardy grip, more aggressive than Milton’s. “Sorry if I am a bit awkward in social customs, I am from a different universe—er, I mean, country.” 

“Chester here, like me, also has a human partner,” Milton explained. Bianca found it amusing that these two abnormally large Giants both had such tiny girlfriends. She supposed their voracious appetites must have something to do with it, just as she was attracted mostly to small human men. She had never considered that such a preference was a widespread phenomenon, tied closely to a desire to eat humans, but it all made sense when she took into account her own experience. 

“Yes, as well as a half-human, half-Giant son,” Chester elaborated. He sat down in a chair on the other side of Bianca. 

Bianca gaped at him in shock. “Wait, really? Is that even possible? How...” She trailed off, recognizing the awkwardness of her inquiry. 

Chester became flustered. “Ah, um... yes, it’s possible. Though I believe our son is... unique, to say the least,” he admitted. “It’s certainly not easy to raise such a child. Quite the contrary. The added stress has compelled me to begin attending these meetings, actually. They do not have any such meetings in my world—I mean, country. So I must travel far.” 

Milton had a distant look in his eye when Chester mentioned he had a child, though Bianca couldn’t tell why. She was disturbed by the revelation that Giants and humans could procreate. She placed her hand on her abdomen, deep in thought. She had never heard of cross-species childbearing and had always assumed it to be impossible. She had practiced unprotected sex with Gio. Was it possible for her to get pregnant with human seed? Her mind revolted at the idea. She didn’t want that, not when their relationship was still so fragile. Even though Gio had forgiven her for eating him, she was still hiding her secret from him, and she occasionally observed sparks of fear within him when he interacted with her. She knew he didn’t always trust her, though he never vocalized his concerns directly to her. 

“How do you control your cravings, Chester?” Bianca asked him, to change the subject. 

“Fortunately, I don’t have a desire to eat my own son, perhaps because he is of my own flesh and blood, and also half-Giant. My wife allows me to eat her, on a regular basis, but with everything going on with our son, she has been very strained lately. So, I can’t eat her as much as I would prefer. This is one of the reasons I began attending meetings.” 

“Wow, she lets you eat her? Lucky,” Bianca mused. She was, admittedly, quite jealous. Her problems would be non-existent if she just had a willing partner. She felt strange at the thought. Before all this drama started, she had believed Gio to be the perfect match, but now she had serious reservations. He had been incredibly forgiving of her mistakes that he knew about, but she wondered if she’d be better off with someone more in alignment with her appetites. 

She looked over at Milton. “Do you eat your girlfriend, Milton?” 

“Heavens, no. I could never eat my sweet little Millie. She is far too traumatized for me to subject her to such an act. Besides, my cravings are more… brutal and violent in nature. I’m not sure if merely swallowing her whole with a human pill would be enough to satisfy my taste for blood. I hate to admit it, but I’d be tempted to use my teeth.” He licked his lips nervously at the thought. 

“Human pills? What are those?” Chester inquired. Both Bianca and Milton gave him strange looks, with his statement that he regularly ate his wife still fresh in their minds. He looked back, confused. “What?” 

They didn’t get a chance to ask him, because just then the meeting began. “I see we have a couple of new faces here tonight, so we may as well go around and introduce ourselves,” the Giant leading the meeting announced. He was an older gentleman with noble features and gray hair. “My name is Dr. Brown, and I’m a group counselor. Why don’t we start with you, sir?” He directed his attention to one of the new attendees sitting by himself off in a corner.  

“Oh, uh…” The Giant was ruffled, to be called on to speak so soon, but he fell readily into his role and stood up to introduce himself. “Hi everyone. I’m Pete, and I’m a maneater.” He gulped, fidgeting with his hands anxiously. “Um… I’m here because I have many small human friends. They trust me completely, and believe me to be a gentle Giant, but secretly… um… I fantasize about eating them, constantly. I just want to pop them all in my mouth like chicken nuggets and gobble ‘em up. Or make human sandwiches and chomp them up, bite by bite. I know it’s sick and depraved, but I can’t help it.” He flushed and licked his lips hungrily. “The other night, I finally caved and went to that new restaurant downtown that serves humans, Bucky’s. I ate a spicy little redhead named Pepper in a cheeseburger. It was… so satisfying… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from going back…” He swallowed with longing. 

At the mention of Bucky’s, the mood in the room shifted into a more tense atmosphere. Most of the Giants at the meeting had heard of the notorious place and had been sorely tempted to go, if they hadn’t already. Bianca noticed, to her right, Milton was gripping the arm of his chair, digging his nails into the cheap fabric. To her left, Chester’s green eyes were glinting with curiosity and an insatiable hunger. 

“Thank you for sharing, Pete,” Dr. Brown stated. “As you’ll soon see, you’re not alone here. We’re here to create a safe space for you to share your troubling thoughts and hopefully purge them.” He went around the room and allowed others to share their stories and insights. When he reached Bianca, she stood up and introduced herself. 

“Hi, I’m Bianca, and I’m a maneater.” She had some reservations, but she felt comfortable in the room surrounded by Giants grappling with the same issues, so she relayed her story in detail. Dr. Brown nodded with understanding as she spoke. 

“Yes, I see the dilemma. Remember, Bianca, it is crucial for us to be upfront and honest with our human romantic partners. If you are not able to reign in your urges with a partner who is unwilling to be consumed, it may be best to break off the relationship, for the human’s safety,” he expounded. Bianca ruminated on his words as he moved on to the next participant. She had to admit that he had a point. She needed to tell Gio the hidden truth that was eating away at her conscience, regardless of what the consequences may be. She couldn’t conceal it from him any longer. 

Several other Giants shared their experiences. Most of them had friends, family, or lovers whom they needed to resist the urge to devour. Bianca was sympathetic, but at the same time felt alienated as she listened to their stories. She was different from the others: She wanted a willing partner to eat. Perhaps a partner that wasn’t Gio. 

Toward the end of the session, the group counselor had all the participants stand up and chant an affirmation: “I am a friend to humans. I am a gentle Giant. I would not, could not, ever eat or hurt anyone.” Bianca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew some of the Giants needed those words, but she was not included among them. 

After the meeting concluded, Bianca bid adieu to her new acquaintances and started walking home. She resolved to bite the bullet and tell Gio the truth. With a grimace, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number. He answered by the third ring. 

“Hey Bianca, what’s up?” he asked, his voice scratchy. He sounded tired. 

“Hey there… Gio. I need to tell you something.” 

He sighed, detecting the gravity in her tone of voice. “What is it?” 

“So Gio, do you remember that night when I ate you?” 

“Uh huh.” Gio didn’t sound too happy at the reminder. 

“Well, I have a confession to make. That night, after you left… I went to Bucky’s.” Bianca paused, then continued. “While I was there, I ran into my ex-boyfriend. And… I consumed him.” 

Bianca waited to see how Gio would react. There was a long, drawn-out silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Gio choked out, “Are you serious right now? Jesus…” He huffed with exasperation. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Bianca?” His words dripped with frustration. 

“I-I don’t know,” she confessed. “Gio… these cravings won’t go away. I think… I’d be better off… we’d be better off… if we went our separate ways. If I’m being honest.” 

Gio exhaled. “To be blunt, Bianca… I’m glad you said that. I was beginning to feel the same way. I’ve tried my best to move past it, but... it’s just not working between us anymore.” 

Bianca swallowed. “Well, I guess this is it then.” 

“Yeah.” 

And that was it. Bianca hung up. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She thought she would be sad, even devastated, but somehow instead she felt relieved, like a weight had been lifted off her chest. She had been agonizing over her relationship for long enough that she was starting to feel trapped, and apparently Gio had shared the same sentiment. Suddenly, she felt free—and hungry. She checked the time. She still had time to go to dinner before most of the restaurants in the area closed for the night. However, she had a specific place in mind: Bucky’s. 

Chapter 30

Chapter 1

[abacusdentalcare]

The Complete Guide to Common Dental Emergencies and Quick Solutions

I. Introduction

Dental emergencies can occur at the most unexpected times, causing severe discomfort and potentially leading to long-term oral health issues if not addressed promptly. But what exactly constitutes a dental emergency? Any situation involving acute pain, visible damage, or signs of infection in your teeth or gums can be classified as an emergency. Understanding these situations and knowing how to handle them can make a significant difference in preserving your dental health.

This guide aims to provide a comprehensive overview of common dental emergencies, quick solutions to manage them, and why seeking the help of a professional emergency dentist in Milton Keynes, is often the best course of action.

II. What Qualifies as a Dental Emergency?

Not every dental problem requires immediate professional attention. However, certain conditions warrant an emergency visit to a dentist. Some key characteristics of a dental emergency include:

Severe Pain: Persistent or worsening pain that interferes with daily activities.

Excessive Bleeding: Bleeding that doesn’t stop with basic first aid measures.

Tooth Loss or Damage: Any situation where a tooth is knocked out or visibly fractured.

Signs of Infection: Swelling, pus, or fever that may indicate an abscess.

Non-emergencies, such as minor tooth sensitivity or mild discomfort, can typically wait for a regular dental appointment. However, it is crucial to consult a professional if you are unsure.

III. Common Dental Emergencies

Toothache

Causes: Tooth decay, infections, or abscesses.

Quick Solution: Rinse your mouth with warm salt water to reduce bacteria. Over-the-counter pain relievers can provide temporary relief, but avoid placing aspirin directly on the tooth as it can damage gum tissue.

Broken or Chipped Tooth

Causes: Accidents, sports injuries, or biting hard objects.

Quick Solution: Rinse your mouth with warm water and save any broken pieces. Use dental wax or sugar-free gum to cover sharp edges and prevent further damage.

Knocked-Out Tooth

Causes: Trauma or sudden impact.

Quick Solution: Gently rinse the tooth with water, being careful not to remove any tissue fragments. Place the tooth back in its socket if possible, or store it in milk or saliva until you reach an emergency dentist.

Lost Filling or Crown

Causes: Wear and tear over time.

Quick Solution: Use dental cement or sugar-free gum to temporarily cover the exposed tooth. Schedule an emergency appointment to restore the filling or crown.

Abscessed Tooth

Causes: Bacterial infection at the root or in the gums.

Quick Solution: Rinse with salt water and apply a cold compress to reduce swelling. Seek immediate dental care to prevent the infection from spreading.

Soft Tissue Injuries

Causes: Biting your cheek or tongue, accidents, or irritation from braces.

Quick Solution: Rinse the area with cold water and apply pressure to stop bleeding. Use a cold compress to minimize swelling.

IV. Immediate Steps to Take in a Dental Emergency

Stay Calm and Assess the Situation

Panicking can make the situation worse. Take a deep breath and evaluate the severity of the issue.

Protect the Affected Area

Avoid chewing or putting pressure on the injured part of your mouth. Keep the area clean to prevent infection.

At-Home Remedies

Use cold compresses to reduce swelling and over-the-counter pain relievers for discomfort. Avoid placing hot or cold substances directly on the injured area.

Contact an Emergency Dentist

Clearly describe your symptoms when calling the emergency dentist. If you are in Milton Keynes, professional emergency dental services are readily available to address your needs.

V. Prevention Tips for Avoiding Dental Emergencies

1) Maintain Good Oral Hygiene

Brush and floss regularly to prevent cavities and gum disease.

2) Wear Protective Gear

Use a mouthguard during sports or high-impact activities.

3) Be Cautious with Your Diet

Avoid biting hard foods like ice or unpopped popcorn kernels.

4) Schedule Regular Dental Check-Ups

Routine visits help catch potential issues early, reducing the likelihood of emergencies.

5) Avoid Risky Habits

Don’t use your teeth as tools to open packages or bite your nails.

VI. When to Seek Professional Help

Certain symptoms require immediate attention, such as:

Persistent pain or swelling

Bleeding that doesn’t stop

Loose or missing teeth due to trauma

If you’re unsure, it’s better to err on the side of caution and contact an emergency dentist. Milton Keynes residents, for instance, have access to several 24/7 dental clinics equipped to handle urgent cases.

VII. Costs and Insurance for Emergency Dental Care

1) Typical Costs

Emergency dental services can vary depending on the procedure, ranging from simple fillings to root canal treatments.

2) Insurance Coverage

Many insurance plans cover at least a portion of emergency dental care. Check with your provider to understand your benefits.

3) Managing Costs Without Insurance

Some clinics offer payment plans or discounts for uninsured patients. Consider asking about financial options when booking an appointment.

VIII. Pros of Choosing a Professional Emergency Dentist in Milton Keynes Over Natural Remedies

While natural remedies like clove oil or saltwater rinses can provide temporary relief, they often fall short in addressing the root cause of a dental emergency. Here are some benefits of choosing a professional emergency dentist:

Accurate Diagnosis: Dentists use advanced tools to identify the exact issue, ensuring effective treatment.

Long-Term Solutions: Professional care prevents complications, saving you from more extensive and costly procedures later.

Immediate Relief: Emergency dentists can offer pain relief and restore functionality quickly.

Expertise and Safety: Dentists in Milton Keynes are trained to handle emergencies efficiently, minimizing risks.

Natural remedies can complement professional care but should never replace it. Delaying treatment can lead to worsening conditions, such as spreading infections or permanent tooth loss.

IX. Conclusion

Dental emergencies can be stressful, but knowing how to handle them and when to seek help can protect your oral health. Immediate action, combined with the expertise of an emergency dentist, is crucial for resolving these issues effectively. If you’re in Milton Keynes, professional emergency dental services are just a call away, offering prompt and reliable care. Prioritize your dental health to prevent emergencies, but when they occur, trust the professionals to provide the best solutions.

[teethwhiteningcare]

The Benefits of Early Orthodontic Treatment for Children

Orthodontics is often associated with the teenage years when braces are typically fitted to address misaligned teeth. However, early orthodontic treatment for children can provide numerous benefits that set the foundation for a lifetime of healthy, beautiful smiles. In this article, we will explore why early intervention is so important and how it can help address a variety of dental and facial issues in growing children.

Understanding Early Orthodontic Treatment

Early orthodontic treatment, also known as Phase 1 treatment, is typically recommended for children between the ages of 7 and 10, depending on the individual needs of the child. The goal of this early intervention is to guide the growth of the jaws, correct bite issues, and address other orthodontic concerns before they become more severe.

While many parents wait until their child’s permanent teeth have emerged to visit the orthodontics in milton, early treatment can lead to better results and fewer complications later on. An orthodontist will use diagnostic tools, such as X-rays and impressions, to assess the child’s bite, jaw development, and overall dental health.

Benefits of Early Orthodontic Treatment

Improved Jaw Development One of the primary benefits of early orthodontic treatment is the ability to guide the growth of the jaw. If a child has an overbite, underbite, or crossbite, early intervention can help correct these issues while the bones are still growing. By addressing these issues early on, orthodontists can minimize the risk of more serious problems in the future, reducing the need for invasive treatments later.

Avoiding Future Tooth Extraction Early orthodontic intervention can help create enough space for permanent teeth to emerge. When teeth come in crowded or misaligned, tooth extraction may be necessary to make room for proper alignment. Early treatment can prevent the need for future extractions by guiding the eruption of permanent teeth in a more natural way.

Reduced Risk of Dental Problems Misaligned teeth or bite issues can lead to a variety of dental problems, including tooth decay, gum disease, and difficulty chewing. When teeth are properly aligned, it’s easier to clean them effectively, reducing the risk of cavities and other oral health issues. Early orthodontic treatment can also help prevent speech and chewing difficulties associated with bite problems.

Enhanced Self-Esteem Children with misaligned teeth may feel self-conscious about their appearance, which can affect their confidence. Correcting these issues early can improve their self-esteem, making them feel more comfortable smiling and engaging with others. In turn, this can positively impact their social interactions and emotional well-being.

Shorter Treatment Time Later On By addressing orthodontic problems early, the need for more extensive treatment in the future is often minimized. In many cases, children who undergo early treatment may require only a short phase of braces or other corrective devices in their teenage years. This results in a less invasive and shorter treatment process overall.

Avoiding Future Surgical Procedures In some cases, early orthodontic treatment can prevent the need for surgical intervention later in life. For example, if a child’s jaw develops improperly, surgery may be necessary to correct the issue. With early intervention, however, the orthodontist can help guide the child’s growth in a more favorable direction, avoiding the need for surgery.

When to See an Orthodontist

The American Association of Orthodontists recommends that children visit an orthodontist by the age of 7. While not all children will need early treatment, an orthodontist can assess the child’s dental and skeletal development to determine if early intervention is necessary. Signs that your child may benefit from orthodontic treatment include:

Misaligned teeth or bite issues

Difficulty chewing or biting

Excessively crowded or spaced teeth

Thumb-sucking or other oral habits

Mouth breathing

Finding the Right Orthodontist

For families in the Buckhead and Milton areas, finding a trusted orthodontist is essential to ensuring the best care for your child. An experienced orthodontist in Buckhead or orthodontics in Milton can provide personalized treatment plans that align with the unique needs of your child’s dental development. Whether you’re seeking early intervention or simply want to ensure your child’s smile is healthy and well-aligned, working with a skilled orthodontist can help set them on the right path.

Conclusion

Early orthodontic treatment offers numerous benefits for children. From improving jaw development to preventing future dental problems, early intervention can help ensure a healthier, more confident smile for years to come. If you are considering orthodontic care for your child, consult with an experienced orthodontist in your area to discuss the best treatment options for their needs.

[miltonkeynesdentists]

Invisalign vs. Braces: Milton Keynes Dentists Weigh In

For individuals seeking to straighten their teeth, two of the most popular options available are traditional braces and Invisalign. Both methods offer effective solutions for correcting misaligned teeth and improving oral health, but they differ in terms of appearance, comfort, treatment duration, and maintenance. If you’re in Milton Keynes and considering orthodontic treatment, understanding the key differences between Invisalign and braces will help you make an informed decision.

1. Appearance

One of the most significant differences between Invisalign and braces is their appearance. Traditional metal braces are highly visible, consisting of metal brackets and wires attached to the teeth. For many, especially adults, the idea of wearing conspicuous metal braces for an extended period can be a deterrent.

In contrast, Invisalign offers a discreet alternative. These clear aligners are virtually invisible, making them a popular choice among those who want to straighten their teeth without drawing attention. Invisalign’s subtle appearance is particularly appealing to professionals, teens, and individuals who are concerned about aesthetics during their orthodontic treatment.

2. Comfort

Comfort is another crucial factor when deciding between Invisalign and braces. Traditional braces, made of metal brackets and wires, can sometimes cause discomfort. The brackets can irritate the inside of the lips and cheeks, and periodic adjustments to the wires may cause soreness.

Invisalign aligners, on the other hand, are made from smooth plastic, reducing the likelihood of irritation. Since they are custom-fitted to your teeth, Invisalign offers a more comfortable experience overall. While patients may still experience mild discomfort as the aligners shift their teeth, the absence of metal components makes Invisalign generally less invasive than braces.

3. Effectiveness and Treatment Time

Both Invisalign and braces are effective at straightening teeth and addressing various orthodontic issues, such as overcrowding, gaps, and bite problems. However, traditional braces may be more suitable for complex cases. For patients with severe misalignment, significant overbites, or underbites, braces may provide better control and faster results due to the fixed nature of the system.

Invisalign works well for mild to moderate orthodontic issues, and technological advancements have made it suitable for more complex cases than before. However, braces often provide faster results in severe cases because they can exert more precise pressure on each tooth.

Treatment time can vary for both Invisalign and braces, depending on the complexity of the case. Traditional braces typically take about 18 to 24 months, while Invisalign treatment can range from 12 to 18 months. Invisalign patients are required to wear their aligners for at least 22 hours a day to stay on track with the treatment plan.

4. Convenience and Maintenance

When it comes to convenience, Invisalign has a clear advantage. The aligners are removable, allowing patients to eat, brush, and floss without restrictions. This flexibility is particularly appealing for those who want to enjoy their favorite foods without worrying about damaging their braces. However, the responsibility lies with the patient to wear the aligners consistently. Failing to wear them as instructed can delay treatment progress.

Traditional braces, in contrast, are fixed to the teeth and require more maintenance. Patients need to avoid certain foods, like sticky or hard items, to prevent damage to the braces. Cleaning braces also requires more effort, as food can easily get stuck around the brackets and wires, necessitating careful brushing and flossing.

5. Cost Considerations

The cost of orthodontic treatment in Milton Keynes can vary depending on the complexity of the case, the length of treatment, and the dental practice. In general, Invisalign tends to be slightly more expensive than traditional braces. However, many dentists offer flexible payment plans to help manage the cost of treatment. It’s also important to note that orthodontic coverage varies depending on your dental insurance plan, so it’s worth discussing options with your dentist.

Conclusion

Both Invisalign and braces offer effective solutions for straightening teeth, but the best option depends on your specific needs and preferences. Invisalign is ideal for those seeking a more discreet, comfortable, and flexible treatment, while traditional braces may be better suited for complex cases that require greater control. If you’re unsure which option is right for you, the experienced dentists in Milton Keynes can help assess your situation and recommend the best course of action for achieving your perfect smile.

https://archive.org/details/@milton_keynes_dental_clinic

[smilelounge123]

Essentials of Good Oral Hygiene: Embracing Milton's Emphasis on Prevention and Restorative Dentistry

A critical part of general well-being is oral well-being, and Milton inhabitants might seek careful dental treatment that burdens both counteraction and fix. Knowing the unobtrusive contrasts between Restorative Dentistry Milton and Preventative Dentistry Milton might help individuals in making decisions about their oral well-being that will ensure they save a delightful grin for a long time to come.

The Value of Dental Hygiene for Preventive Care:

Fundamentally, Preventative Dentistry Milton emphasizes the steps done to avoid the beginning of dental illnesses as opposed to treating them after they have already occurred. The need for this strategy lies in its ability to prevent the pain, expense, and problems connected to dental problems.

General Dental Care:

The cornerstone of preventive care is good oral hygiene every day. To lower bacterial presence, which may cause gum disease and decay, brush twice a day with fluoride toothpaste, floss every day, and use mouthwash. Usually advised every six months, routine dental examinations enable expert cleaning and early identification of any issues.

Steps Toward Prevention:

Additional preventive steps that may help shield the teeth include dental sealants and topical fluoride treatments. Fluoride treatments serve to build enamel, which makes it more resistant to decay, and sealants are placed on the chewing surfaces of the rear teeth, where decay happens most commonly.

Restoring Dental Function:

Though restorative dentistry Milton centers around really getting current worries to return the mouth to a sound condition, preventive consideration looks to forestall dental issues before they emerge. Restorative dentistry is fundamental to protecting oral well-being and capability, whether it includes a straightforward filling or a more elaborate dental treatment.

Filling up the Spaces:

Dental fillings are one of the most frequently utilized kinds of treatment. Cavities are filled in to reestablish a tooth to its previous structure and capability. Because of developments in dental technology, fillings may now be almost exactly matched to a patient's natural teeth, providing a long-lasting and aesthetically acceptable treatment choice.

Beyond Replacing Parts:

Dentures, crowns, bridges, and implants are other procedures in restorative dentistry. Damaged or missing teeth are restored or replaced using these choices. Bridges substitute missing teeth using nearby teeth as supports, crowns cover and preserve a damaged tooth, and implants provide a strong, long-term tooth replacement option. Every one of these procedures helps to restore one's confidence in their smile in addition to the teeth's functioning.

Teaching the Local Community:

Dentistry that is restorative and preventive heavily depends on education. Milton dental specialists empower individuals to assume command over their oral well-being by showing them the benefits of standard dental arrangements, the risks of disregard, and the most effective ways to keep up with oral neatness.

To have the best possible oral health in Milton, one must embrace both restorative and preventive dental treatment. Residents may get and keep healthy smiles with the help of committed dentists and cutting-edge technology. Smilelounge.ca provides a plethora of information and services tailored to meet all of your preventive and restorative dental health requirements for Milton residents who want to give their oral health priority. With the professional direction and treatment offered by Smilelounge.ca, embrace the path toward a healthy smile.

[clearviewdental1]

Clearview Dental

At Clearview Dental Dr. Kapadia focuses primarily on your dental health, with no added pressure or anxiety. Our main concern is to give you all the options for you to make an informed decision about your dental health. Provinding a variety of Dental services, including teeth cleanings, dental checkups, dental hygiene services, emergency dentistry, family dentistry, children’s dentistry, porcelain crowns, porcelain veneers, wisdom teeth removal, root canal treatments, dental implants, dentures, and complete smile makeovers.

Address:

10 Bronte St. S Unit 202, Milton,Ontario,L9T 9M2

Phone:

905-876-5070

Website:

social links:

twitter

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[rourkemichaelw]

Welcome to Pawz Milton pet grooming Salon! We offer professional pet grooming, dog bathing, nail clipping, teeth cleaning and much more in Milton. Contact us today

[dentistrymilton]

Dentist in Milton: The Teeth Cleaning Process

A typical teeth cleaning procedure involves several important steps, ensuring a thorough and effective cleaning process. Here’s what you can expect during a teeth cleaning session with a dentist in Milton:

Physical Examination: The dental hygienist or dentist begins by examining your mouth, looking for any obvious issues or changes in your oral health.

Plaque and Tartar Removal: Using specialized tools, the dental professional will carefully remove the plaque and tartar that has accumulated on your teeth and along the gum line. This process is known as scaling and is crucial for preventing dental issues.

Gentle Polishing: After scaling, your teeth are polished using a slightly abrasive paste and a rotating brush. This not only leaves your teeth feeling smooth but also helps remove any surface stains.

Flossing: The dental professional will floss between your teeth and along the gum line to ensure there are no food particles or plaque left in these hard-to-reach areas.

Rinsing: You will be asked to rinse your mouth to remove any debris that may have been dislodged during the cleaning process.

Fluoride Treatment: In some cases, the dentist or dental hygienist may apply a fluoride treatment to help strengthen your teeth and prevent cavities. This is particularly common for children and those at higher risk for tooth decay.

Discussion and Recommendations: After the cleaning, the dental professional may discuss your oral health, offer advice on oral hygiene practices, and make recommendations for any necessary follow-up treatments.

The Role of a Dentist in Milton in Teeth Cleaning

Dentists in Milton play a pivotal role in the teeth cleaning process. They are licensed professionals who oversee the cleaning procedure and are trained to identify and address various oral health issues. Here’s how a dentist contributes to teeth cleaning:

Diagnosis: Dentists can diagnose dental conditions, such as cavities or gum disease, and recommend appropriate treatments. During a dental cleaning, if the hygienist identifies any concerns, they will consult the dentist for further evaluation.

Supervision: Dentists supervise the dental hygienists who perform the cleaning. They ensure that the cleaning is thorough and that any specific concerns are addressed.

Customized Care: Dentists can provide personalized recommendations based on your specific oral health needs. They can advise you on proper oral hygiene practices, including brushing and flossing techniques, and suggest any necessary lifestyle changes to improve your oral health.

Treatment Planning: If more extensive dental work is needed, such as fillings, crowns, or orthodontic treatments, dentists in Milton can create a comprehensive treatment plan that aligns with your oral health goals.

Prevention: Dentists emphasize preventive measures and help patients understand the importance of regular dental check-ups and cleanings. They work with patients to establish a proactive oral health plan that includes regular cleanings and examinations.

How Often Should You Get Your Teeth Cleaned?

The frequency of dental cleanings can vary from person to person. While most individuals should have a dental cleaning every six months, some may require more frequent cleanings, particularly if they have specific oral health issues or conditions. Your dentist in Milton will assess your individual needs and provide recommendations for the ideal cleaning schedule.

In conclusion, teeth cleaning is a critical component of maintaining good oral health and preventing dental issues. Dentists in Milton offer comprehensive cleaning services that go beyond aesthetics, focusing on the overall health and well-being of their patients. By following a regular dental cleaning schedule and heeding the advice of your dentist, you can enjoy a beautiful, healthy smile that lasts a lifetime.

[significantsmiles]

Porcelain Veneers Brisbane CBD | Significant Smiles

Want that instant straight natural beautiful smile?

Want to increase your confidence and feel great?

Porcelain Veneers Brisbane CBD to enhance tooth shape, size and colour to create a long-lasting, sparkling Hollywood smile by getting rid of dental imperfections.

Significant Smiles Brisbane CBD wants to offer you the best porcelain veneers treatment possible, but before we make any recommendations we want to consult with you on the various options available.

Cases By Significant Smiles Brisbane CBD

Porcelain Veneers starting at $1250 per tooth in Brisbane CBD. Interest-free payment plans available.Advantages of Porcelain Veneers

Porcelain veneers dramatically transform the appearance of teeth, with a smile makeover that can last 15 to 20 years.

They’re customised to closely match the colour of your teeth to give you a natural-looking smile, and they reflect light in the same way as tooth enamel.

Other benefits of porcelain veneers include:

Minimal preparation that helps your teeth retain their natural defence against decay.

Greater resistance to staining than natural teeth.

No special oral hygiene measures required after treatment.

Extra layer of tooth protection to prevent further damage.

The porcelain veneer procedure

Designing, making and placing custom porcelain veneers is a process that combines dental science with aesthetic artistry.

Treatment requires little if any anaesthetic and can usually be completed in two appointments.

The veneers are like thin shells, generally thinner than your finger nails and are bonded to your tooth enamel surface. Generally no or only minimal preparation of teeth are required depending on existing nature of your teeth and conditions we need to mask.

All this will be discussed in your thorough Smile Design consultation, where the perfect shape, shade and shine of veneers are designed to suite your facial profile and smile goals.

After the procedure

A soft-bristled toothbrush and a non-abrasive fluoride toothpaste are recommended to avoid damage to veneers.

You should also continue to see your dentist regularly for check-ups and professional cleanings with a veneer-friendly polish.

Keep in mind that, like teeth, veneers can be damaged by habits such as chewing on hard objects such as pens, pencils or ice, or biting your fingernails. Parafunctional habits must be addressed, and your beautiful Veneers best be protected with a night splint to prolong its longevity.

Porcelain veneers for a Hollywood smile

Porcelain dental veneers – custom-made, tooth-coloured, ultra-thin shells that are placed on the front of teeth – are one of the most popular and effective treatments in aesthetic dentistry at Brisbane CBD.

The cosmetic dental treatment of choice of movie stars, porcelain veneers enhance tooth shape, size and colour to create a long-lasting, sparkling Hollywood smile.

The first dental veneers were created for a Tinseltown film shoot in 1928. Primitive by today’s standards, they’ve evolved constantly since then.

Veneer treatment is now one of the leading cutting-edge procedures in modern cosmetic dentistry in Brisbane CBD.

What problems can porcelain veneers fix?

Porcelain veneers are a versatile cosmetic dentistry treatment. They can address aesthetic concerns arising from a wide range of dental imperfections, including:

Chipped teeth

Worn-down teeth

Stained or yellow teeth

Small gaps between teeth

Irregularly shaped teeth

Minor teeth misalignment

Are porcelain veneers right for you?

Significant Smiles can help you make an informed decision on whether porcelain veneers are the right cosmetic dental option for you. So if you're located in Brisbane CBD, Spring Hill, Fortitude Valley, Petrie Terrace, New Farm, Milton, & surrounding areas and looking forward to get a Hollywood smile by getting rid of wide range of dental imperfections then Porcelain Veneers Treatment at Significant Smiles is the right choice for you.

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[the-al-chemist]

The Phoenix Resistance - Book 1, Chapter 9

The Smuggler and the Scavenger

A/N: the first of a currently undecided number of chapters written as part of the @phoenixresistance project. Kaari Arcano belongs to the incredible Lari @kathrynalicemc, who set up the project and invited me to contribute. Mad props and big thanks to you 🧡 BTW, it’s not too late to join the project, just ask Lari about it. Warnings: sheer desperation, starvation, discussion of war and prison.

Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, England - 14th October 1997, 7.58am

The sun had finished rising over the semi-detached houses of Laburnum Close, and the cacophony of slamming car doors, shouting children, and rattling keys had given way to a gentle sort of hush. The street was empty now, other than a woman with a toddler in a pushchair, one man with curly black hair waiting at a bus stop, and a handful of the local cats picking the best spots to bask in the cool October sunlight.

As the lady with the pushchair walked past Number 12, her child reached out to stroke a tortoiseshell cat sitting on the front lawn, its coat - all mottled black-brown-golden-red - blending in with the autumn leaves littering the grass. The cat leapt to her feet and hissed, her back arched, her fur standing on end. The lady pushed the child away, and the cat turned tail, running down the narrow path between the house and the one next to it, jumping over the gate and into the back garden, where she disappeared completely. In her place stood a short and skinny young woman with matted dark hair and hazel eyes.

Artemis Hexley pushed her hair back from her face, and pulled a wand from the pocket of her coat. She pointed the wand at the back door, and the click of the lock could be heard.

It was a nice house, if a little blandly decorated, she thought, as she walked in through the back door and into the kitchen. Starving hungry, she picked a banana out of a fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and ate it as she padded through the hallway.

“Accio,” she muttered, holding her left palm out. A sheet of paper and a pencil flew from one of the rooms towards her. She caught both, and held her wand between her teeth as she started to scrawl a message on the paper.

Wizarding World at war, your child has been sent abroad for their safety, and for yours. Can’t tell you more, but they say that they love you.

She wasn’t really sure what else to write. She couldn’t tell them more than that, it was too risky, but somehow she got the feeling that most parents would want more information about their child’s well-being and whereabouts than that. Not that she was any expert in the matter.

She left the message and banana skin on a countertop in the kitchen and went up the stairs, wand in hand. She hadn’t washed in days - not unless she counted grooming her fur in cat form, which she didn’t. She found the bathroom and summoned two towels from a cupboard on the landing: one for her, and one to cover the mirror. She knew better than to look at her own reflection at the moment.

It took a minute or so to work the dials that controlled the shower, but as soon as the hot water started to run over her bruised and bony body, turning an ashy brown colour as it did, she felt more human. Not completely human, but at least like she might be something that resembled a human.

Wrapping herself in the towel, she used magic to clean her clothes, and redressed herself. Her belly rumbled. A banana wasn’t enough food, not after days of living off the bare minimum. Or surviving off the bare minimum, anyway. Living was a strong word for what she’d been doing.

The kitchen cupboards were well-stocked, thank Godric, and so she started filling her pockets with items. She probably wouldn’t end up eating all of them herself, but at least they’d do someone some good. As she did so, she heard a floorboard creak in the hallway, and her body stiffened.

She wasn’t alone here.

Cursing herself for not checking before, she closed her hand on her wand, and turned around slowly. The handle of the kitchen door turned, and she planted her feet on the ground, knees bent, her right hand gripping her wand, her left reaching for a knife on the draining board, her eyes fixed on the door. It opened, and she pounced.

In one darting movement, she threw herself across the length of the room, using what little bodyweight she had left to force them - no, him, it was a man - against the wall, her left forearm pressed to his chest, the knife held against his neck, her wand raised and pointed at his face.

“Who the hell are you?” she snarled. The man smirked.

“Most people shake hands,” he said. He had a peculiar accent, one Artemis couldn’t place, but it wasn’t British. “Still, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Artemis Hexley.”

Artemis didn’t move other than to apply a small amount of pressure to the knife.

“I asked you who you are,” she said.

“My name is Kaari Arcano.”

“And how do you know who I am? How did you find me here?”

“It’s a long story. Perhaps if you put down the knife and the wand, I’ll be able to tell you,” replied Kaari Arcano. Slowly and deliberately, he reached into his pocket, Artemis following the movement with her wand, and pulled out his own. He looked her in the eye, and threw it gently across the room. “See? I am not here to hurt you. Put down the knife.”

Artemis looked from his hand to his face. He looked genuine. She lowered the knife and stepped backwards, but kept her wand raised. He chuckled.

“I’m not sure what you were planning on doing with a bread knife,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Were you going to saw me to death?”

Artemis scowled at him.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here so I can get on.”

“What am I doing here? I’m looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I need your help,” said Kaari Arcano, before correcting himself. “We need your help.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The Phoenix Resistance.”

“Never heard of it,” Artemis shrugged.

“No, but you work with us. In a way, anyway,” Kaari Arcano tilted his head, his black curly hair falling over his shoulder. “Have you never stopped to think about what happens to your little friends once they leave you?”

He raised his eyebrows again, and Artemis narrowed her eyes at him.

“The smugglers,” she said, and Kaari Arcano nodded. “I never ask what happens. It is better not to know, that way if I get caught no one can get that information from me.”

“Noble.”

“Hardly.”

Kaari Arcano smiled, less teasingly than before, and Artemis lowered her wand slightly. She looked the smuggler up and down. He had an average build, somewhat muscular, with patterns of scars and shiny burns on his forearms. Artemis had seen burns like that before.

“You’re a dragonologist,” she said, lowering her wand further.

“I am.”

Artemis nodded and moved away from him. She opened the cold cupboard, and started to investigate its contents.

“You were sitting outside this morning, where the bus stops,” she said, picking up a piece of cheese, breaking off a chunk, and eating it. “You were waiting for me. How did you know I was going to be here?”

“You’ve been asking for their addresses,” said Kaari Arcano. “The last one said you promised to leave a message for their family.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t want them thinking their kid’s just done a runner and won’t come back for no good reason.”

“You do it for all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always steal food from them, or is this a special occasion?”

Artemis, clutching a Tupperware box full of an unknown substance, came out of the cold cupboard and stared at Kaari Arcano. He was grinning, as if her antics were amusing. She glowered at him.

“I’m risking my life to save their children, putting up with the dementors for days on end, existing on a diet of cold porridge and mice. I think they can afford to let me use their shower and eat their leftover” - she opened up the Tupperware and peered inside - “chilli con carne. Hm.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Yeah,” Artemis cupped her hand and used it to start eating the mixture. It would have been better warm, but she was too hungry to care.

“Do you want a fork?”

“Do I want to what?”

“A fork. For the chilli con carne,” Kaari Arcano grinned. “Not that you don’t look very appealing right now.”

Artemis pulled a face at him, and continued to eat the cold chilli with her bare hands.

“What do you want from me, anyway?” she asked him through mouthfuls of food. “Why are you looking for me?”

“You can get people out of Azkaban.”

“And?”

“There’s someone we need to get out of there. A prisoner who is needed for… for the war effort.”

“A child?”

“No.”

“I am only helping the children now. Once they’re all out, I can start on the others.”

“I am afraid that that won’t work. We can’t wait,” Kaari Arcano’s voice turned harder. “The person we need to break out is important.”

“Everyone is important.”

“But not everyone can change the result of a war.”

Artemis swallowed, slowly, before giving her answer.

“Tough. I’m getting the children out first.”

“But-”

“Have you ever been there? Azkaban?” Artemis asked him. He shook his head. “It’s awful. You know, birds don’t fly over there. All you can hear is the wind, and the waves, and the screams. Sometimes you can’t tell who’s screaming, you or the person in the cell next to you. The dementors are everywhere, making you remember… everything. The inmates talk to themselves, and they cry until they have no tears left, and some of them are children. Children. Left there in the dark all alone. Whoever it is you want to get out can wait a while.”

“I understand. But we need them out of there, because-”

“I don’t care how useful they are. People are not just worth saving if they’re useful. You said yourself that they’re important, if that’s true they’ll have them in a high security cell.”

“So you don’t think you’ll be able to do it? Or you are worried about getting caught?”

“I can do it, and I can do it without getting caught,” Artemis said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not scared, but I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. Death Eaters don’t care about the odd Muggleborn child disappearing, it’s hardly like they think they’ll get anywhere, what with them having the trace on them. They just assume that they’ve drowned or something, I guess. But a high security prisoner? They’ll notice that, and then they’ll know something’s up.”

“It’s a risk, I know.”

“I don’t think you do know. If I get caught, no one else can escape. If they realise that these children are getting out, and who is helping them-”

“The smuggling will have to stop altogether,” Kaari Arcano finished Artemis’ sentence for her. She nodded.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“But, if we win the war, then there won’t be any more need for smuggling,” Kaari Arcano reasoned. “And this prisoner will help us to do that. Without him, the chances of us winning are limited. And next year there will be more Muggleborn children sent to that hell-hole, and the year after, and the year after that.”

Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed. He had a point. But so did she. She jutted out her chin and shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not doing it,” she said. “Sorry. Find another way.”

“Okay, I will try,” Kaari Arcano pulled a small scroll of paper out of the pocket of his cloak and handed it to Artemis. “But I will find you and ask you to reconsider if there isn’t one. This is how to reach me if you change your mind before then.”

“I won’t.”

“You might. Think about it,” the man smiled again, and retrieved his wand. “Until we meet again, Artemis Hexley. Maybe next time, you will have a better knife.”

There was a loud crack, and he disappeared, leaving Artemis alone once more.

[dcbicki]

holding my breath for you (crowd my grave)

A Rick/Harley fix-it fic • Chapter 1/?

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s not because it’s one o’clock in the morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

She shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket, “I know people.”

Rating: T/M • Characters: Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, and mentions of others • Read on AO3 or below the cut

“I think I just walked in on someone screwin’ a goat.”

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s definitely not because it’s one o’clock in the goddamn morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

The blonde shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket. “I know people.”

“Better people than mine, apparently,” Rick rasps, and he runs a hand through damp hair. Thankfully he’d managed to trade in the towel for sweatpants before she’d started pounding on the door. “So much for flying under Waller’s radar.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Harley says, and the sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose when she dips her head to shoot him a devilish look, single brow raising, “I promise she don’t know I’m here.” Suddenly there’s a hand in his face and she’s wiggling her right pinkie finger as if that'll prove anything.

She taps one foot against the carpeted floor then, toe of her boot crossing the threshold, and Rick has decided she reminds him of a vampire; one covered in sparkles and tattoos with a pink, fluffy duffle-bag dangling from her fingertips, but a bloodsucker all the same. “Ya gonna invite a girl in or what?”

“You plan on telling me what you’re doin’ here first?” he asks, but then he’s moving out of the way so she can duck under his arm and enter. Harley breezes past him, tossing her bag somewhere across the room, and she plops herself down into the old, worn leather seat by the television. There’s some Spanish soap opera playing to itself on the screen.

“Mi casa es su casa… and all that.” Flag grumbles, pulling the door to a close behind her—but not before shooting a quick look out over her shoulder towards the parking lot. He locks it, then turns and presses his back up against it, hands on his hips.

“You can stop looking so constipated, Flag, I told ‘ya. I’m off the grid myself these days.” She taps the side of her neck twice. “The old dragon lady ain’t coming for either of us.”

“Right.” A nod, then, “Dubois told me about that.” The deal. The squad forcing Waller to meet them halfway and offer freedom in exchange for silence.

(He hadn’t exactly been shocked to find out Dubois was still in possession of the drive. It was a smart move; not the best one, or the right one, and it was a far cry from the one Rick had fucking died trying to pull, but not everybody lived by a code of honor. He couldn’t blame the rest of the team for following suit.)

“Milton knew?! He knew where you were this whole time and didn’t tell me? That mother fucka!” She grits her teeth, nails strumming atop the television cabinet.

(He doesn’t ask about Milton. It’d probably be a long, convoluted story and he’s not exactly in the mood for one of Harley Quinn and her gift of gab. Not that he has much of a choice right now...)

“Now you wanna tell me what you’re doin’ here?”

Ignoring him, Harley takes in her surroundings, chewed-end of her plastic sunglasses between her teeth as she eyes the dingy room. It’s cramped for sure, dull magnolia paint is chipping off the walls, and there’s a queen-sized bed with crumpled up grey sheets and three flat pillows, a sign of recent use. Odd number, Harley notes. Would four kill them?

The little washroom is beside the dresser, and there’s a towel hanging from the bathroom doorknob, wet footprints still clear on the tiled floor. It’s only then that she looks up and realizes he’s shirtless. Oh.

“This place got food? I could so do with a burrito right about now.”

(A place this rundown probably doesn’t even have a cleaning crew, much less any other kind of service. Although, there was half a pack of mints beside the sink when Rick first rented the room so does that count?)

(He’s not ashamed to say he finished them off.)

“I got whiskey and half an eggroll, that do ‘ya?” Rick quips, and there’s a smirk starting on his lips.

He’s still waiting for an explanation as to why the hell she’s here, how the hell she’s here, and what the fuck she thinks she’s doing by checking up on him in the first place. He’s supposed to be laying low—supposed to be dead—and she’s supposed to be free. Or at least as free as someone like her can get, which probably isn’t very free at all.

But there’s something off about her whole demeanor, something decidedly un-Harley, and the man can’t help but feel like he’s just waiting for something. Whether it’s one of Waller’s goons bursting through the door, or Harley herself finishing the job or, hell, Harley breaking down (and God, he hopes it’s not that), he’s not sure. He’s not great with emotions. And she’s without a doubt the most expressive person he’s ever had the (dis)pleasure of knowing.

“Hi, Harley. You know, I’m doing pretty good after havin’ my heart practically ripped apart by a fuckin’ toilet seat. How ‘bout you?” She lowers her voice as if to match the bass in his own and goddamnit he finds it charming.

(He doesn’t have the heart to correct her.)

“You know, a little heads-up that you weren’t DOA might’ve been nice, Colonel.”

“Wasn’t exactly high on my priority list,” he informs her, voice dipping as he nods, slow. “Staying alive kinda won that round. You know, ‘cause of the shit jammed in my chest.”

“They said it came out the other side, ‘ya know. My guys. Wanted to see for myself.” She stands up then and walks to him until she’s about four inches away from his face, taking in the long gash above when his heart lies. “I’m thinkin’ they lied though because that don’t look too deep to me.”

“Yep. Not much to see.” He shrugs, heavy as though there’s weight on his shoulders, casting a glance down at his chest when she raises a hand. She doesn’t touch him; just lets her fingers dance in the air above the skin. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

The scar runs right down the middle of his chest. From left collarbone to navel; a rushed surgery in a (probably, totally) sketchy makeshift hospital. It’s not a good look. But she’s seen worse. “It’s healin’ just fine. I’m getting plenty of fluids and I’m takin’ my meds. Think you can be on your way now you’ve done your check-up.”

“I thought you died.”

“False alarm.”

“You died,” Harley repeats, and there’s an edge to her voice Rick doesn’t recognize. She moves from one foot onto the other, swaying back and forth on her heels, eyes unmoving from off of his chest. “And I didn’t even get a goodbye out of it.”

“Was I…” he pauses, considers the look on her face for a moment. “Apologies.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“The fuck you want me to do? Go back in time and tell him to wait so you can make it about you first?”

“Just think it’s kinda rude for one of my friends to go off and die and leave me alone like that.”

“Tad dramatic, don’t you think?” Rick asks before remembering who he’s dealing with. Harley Quinn is theatrical and melodramatic and showy. Of course, she’d turn this into a whole fucking thing. “You’re a grown ass woman with a criminal record and probably a couple dozen bounties on your head, I think you can handle getting on a plane without a handler.”

She stops swaying. But the look on her face is ice cold and calculating and if he didn’t know her any better, he might be slightly terrified. So this is the infamous killer queen, huh? She wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe once upon a time, a few years back, but not now. Not after… “You’re supposed to be the leader.”

“You had Dubois.”

“But not you. And I know Milton’s a fine leader an’ all, but he’s not exactly a great conversationalist. Or much of a hugger.”

“I ain’t either.”

“But you humour me. ‘Ya put the effort in, Flag.” The blonde pokes his chest, manicured and pale fingernail against his sternum, skin hot to the touch. “And no one else is gonna do that for me, so yeah, I’m kinda mad that you went and got your heart broken into little tiny pieces and didn’t think to let me know you weren’t buried under a fuckload of concrete. Not very friendly of you.”

“And since when are we friends?”

There’s a silence then, and now he’s reconsidering not showing any signs of fear. He’s in no position to fight her. Harley is… Well, one kick and it’d be lights out for Flag.

(Since Waller forced her to take swimming lessons with a mean, ‘It’s a basic life skill, Ms. Quinn. No one else is going to have your back out there'  and he made sure he was her assigned instructor. Even brought her a cute two-tone bathing suit that wasn’t Belle Reve-approved and all. Since everyone in Gotham decided they wanted Harley Quinn six feet under and he let her crash on his couch that one time—those three times—and he made her bacon and eggs in the morning. And he didn’t even get mad when she got ketchup all over his carpet. Since she got drunk that second time and kissed him out of loneliness and he never held it against her.)

“Whatever,” she backs away from him with a huff, but her eyes are still dark; a sure sign that she’s not happy. “I’m starving.”

“There’s a place around the corner.”

“Aces,” she grins, then picks up a discarded shirt from the foot of the bed and tosses it to him.

    There’s no mention of her getting her own room. It goes unspoken: she’ll be staying here with him.

“Not sayin’ this is better than sex, but it’s definitely better than a lot of the sex I’ve had lately.”

“Good for you,” Rick retorts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glances around the restaurant. There’s only one other patron in there aside from them, and the chef is off somewhere in the back. He glances down at his watch, then fists the napkin in his other hand.

“Am I keeping you up?” Harley jests, curling her legs up beneath her on the stool. It squeaks under her weight, one of the metal legs unevenly balanced on the patterned tiles. “Got plans I’m disruptin’?” She clicks her tongue, a devilish grin in full swing.

“Nope. Just rest ‘n recuperation, right, Doc? That your diagnosis?”

“Prognosis,” she corrects him, then drops the rest of her tinfoil-wrapped burrito onto the little round table, a thin layer of grime coating the surface. “And yes,” Harley says with a light nod,  putting on her best matter-of-factly voice. She feigns pushing glasses up her nose, head tipping back to look down at him for a change. He’s leaning against the table with his forearms crossed, tanned skin pressing against the greasy tabletop as his sharp chin rests on a curved wrist. “Sleep and that bottle of bourbon my little eye spied hiding under ‘ya bed will do the trick just fine, Colonel,” she says cheerily.

He nods, only half-listening. “Can’t wait.”

“You could smile every once in a while, ‘ya know. I came all the way to Ti-fuckin’-juana to make sure you weren’t rotting away and letting yourself go in some ol’ shitshack. Would a little appreciation for the thought go amiss?”

“I didn’t ask you to,” the man tells her, leaning back in his chair. He clasps both hands in his lap. “Matter of fact, I’m still wondering why you did. What’s the deal, you get bored running from the feds for a change? Didn’t think you tired so easily.”

“What if I just missed you, huh? ‘Ya consider that possibility, soldier?” She pushes her hands out, her chair scraping back against the floor again. Harley picks up the rest of her food, casting him a dark look. “You’re no fun.”

“Never have been, Harley, that shouldn’t be news.” He follows after her, rushing to keep the door from swinging back in his face when she exits the restaurant in what he can only assume is anger. Or maybe she’s just messing with him; truthfully, it’s hard to tell sometimes. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, you know.”

“I am a delight,” she says, whipping around to face him, palm flat against her chest. The many rings on her fingers tap against her necklaces, and she stares up at him with furrowed brows. “Everybody loves me.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true, either.”

“OK, well not everybody hates me, how’s about that?” The scowl on her face turns into a smile then, teeth-baring and wicked. Her eyes are blown wide like saucers, and the crimson lipstick on her mouth suddenly becomes the only thing Rick can focus on that isn’t… Doesn’t...  Deranged, he thinks.

Harley Quinn is an absolute basket case and he must be out of his fucking mind for finding her so damn… what? Fascinating? It’s as close as he can get to thinking of a word to describe her that isn’t derogatory. She’s a character and a half, a whole clown car full of crazy jam-packed into one tatted and made-up doll of a woman, but God help him if he doesn’t kind of want to--

“That’s more like it.” She’s probably hard to love, but she’s not easy to hate.

Rick smiles back, finally, then reaches out a hand—tentatively. She’s still her and he’s never a hundred percent certain she won’t slit his throat with a Hello Kitty keyring or something—and wiggles long fingers. “Wanna get drunk and watch god awful late-night television?” He leans down; not too close, not close enough for her to grab, and adds, “Friend?”

Whatever that thing was he’d been waiting for, that unidentifiable something he’d felt looming over them since she showed up in his doorway an hour ago, looking somehow both tired and elated, finally revealed itself; in the form of tears in Harley’s eyes and a shaky hand accepting his.

She nodded and excitedly said ‘yes!’ and then he realized all she’d been after was a friend; the comfort of knowing that there was someone in the world who wasn’t out to get her, who had nothing to gain by being good to her.

And she’d almost lost that. Lost him.

(So when she hogs two of the three pillows on his bed and helps herself to one of his shirts—his favorite, actually. An old wife-beater with torn sleeves and a faded wildcat on the front—Rick doesn’t say a thing. Just lets her curl up in a ball beside him, red tips brushing against his bare shoulder, and rest.)

[mldrgrl]

I've been re-reading your old works for the Revival like Recocering Nicely and Flannel Pajamas,....I miss them being an old married couple doing domestic stuffs so much, can you write something like that again?

Friday Night by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: Set during season 10, erasing any season 11 from the table

Fridays are full of anticipation nowadays.  At first, when they were just starting to get back on track, more often than not he was going home alone.  But, now, he can’t remember the last time Friday rolled around and she didn’t have her weekend bag with her.  There’s nothing he looks forward to more than a Friday night.

They take one car out to the house, usually his, leaving the other in the parking garage at work until Monday.  The ride is long, but comfortable.  Scully rests her hand on his arm across the seat and they talk about mundane things that aren’t about work.  Mulder wants to cut the grass if there isn’t any frost in the morning.  He loaded the crock pot with the stuff for that stew Scully likes this morning.  Hopefully he remembered to turn it on before he left.  That new thing Scully found online to weatherproof the windows came in.  He needs to put in the order for the wood for the stove to be delivered soon.

“An hour and change,” Mulder says, stopping the car in front of their gate.  “New record.”

“You really need to think about installing the remote.”

“I like the exercise.”  He leans close to her as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gives her a peck on the cheek.  She cups his chin with a backwards hand for a moment and then unbuckles her own belt.

Scully takes over in the driver’s seat as Mulder handles the gate.  She drives down the dirt road slowly, avoiding the dips and bumps up to the front.  She’s got her overnight bag from the trunk and Mulder’s dry cleaning that they stopped to pick up weighing her down by the time he’s made it to the car.  He takes the dry cleaning from her and places a hand to the small of her back as they ascend the porch steps.

“My nose is telling me I didn’t forget to turn the crock pot on,” he says, opening the door for her.

“Gonna change first.  Looks like we’re in for a beautiful sunset.  Want to eat outside?”

“Sure.”

He puts the dry cleaning away while she puts on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt.  He turns on the radio.  It’s still on the classical channel Scully last had it on and he leaves it be, coming into what sounds like The Planets Suite.  He thinks he recognizes Jupiter.  He thinks about setting up the telescope.

While Scully dishes out the stew, he changes into jeans and a light sweater.  Noticing a bit of a chill, he brings one of the blankets from the couch with him after he grabs the bowl left for him on the counter to join her.  She tucks it around her and they eat to the strains of Holst in the background as twilight begins its takeover.

They head back inside when it turns grey and too chilly.  Scully separates the leftover stew into two containers, one to store for leftovers for the weekend and the other to freeze for later.  She washes the dishes and Mulder dries.  

“Did you bring the paper in?” he asks.

“In my bag,” she answers.

“We need under 36 minutes to beat last week.”

“36 minutes and 14 seconds.”

“Across or down?”

“Down.”

They huddle close on the couch and Mulder opens the newspaper to the crossword.  He folds it appropriately while Scully starts the timer on her phone.  Mulder starts with the clues running across and Scully starts with the clues running down.  They have a goal of beating each week’s previous time.

“Oh, they’re being cheeky,” Mulder says.  “They’ve got the question marks in here.”

“You like the cheeky ones.”

“When they’re clever.”

After ten minutes, they switch directions.  

“Life source?” Scully asks.  “Is that the cheeky one?”

“You get the answer?”

“M-I-blank-blank-blank-N-blank-R-A-”

“Milton Bradley,” he answers, before she finishes.

“Clever or not?” she asks, filling in the blanks.

“They’ve done better.  Hey, you’re supposed to fill-in all the Latin clues.”

“Mulder, do you know how many 3-letter Latin 101 words there are?”

“How many end in O?”

“Too many.”

“I think it starts with an E.”

“Ego.”

“I should’ve known that.”

“I’ll say.”

He bumps her shoulder with his and she chuckles.  They switch for a second time a few minutes later and then they’re racing against the clock.  He puts down his pen when there’s nothing but a corner left.

“You always leave the Tolkein monsters clue blank,” Scully huffs.

“I didn’t have 5 down yet, it still could be orcs or ents.”

“Ents.  5 down is Etsy.”

“What the hell is an etsy?”

“Online craft store.  You know it, it’s where I got those bath bombs you liked.”

“The eucalyptus ones?  You should get more of those.”

“I’ll see if they still have them.  Time!”

“33 and 51 seconds.  High five g-woman!”  He grabs her hand when she slaps his and laces their fingers together.  “Seriously, though, you need to go to the etsy store and get more of those bath bombs.”

“Remind me tomorrow.”

“Movie?”

“I’m thinking a shower and then bed.”  She moves to stand, but he pulls her down to his lap.  She chuckles and drapes her arms around his neck.  

“Scully, do you remember back in the day when we used to pull all-nighters like it was nothing and now we’re lucky if we make it past nine?”

“Seems we used up all our reserve energy when we were young.”

“Younger, don’t go calling us old.”

“You brought it up first.”  She gives him a brief kiss on the lips and then he lets her go.

While she showers, he takes the newspaper to the recycle bin and sets up the coffee maker for the morning.  He checks the locks on the front door and the back door and pulls the shades in the living room and kitchen.  He pulls his sweater off as he heads upstairs and tosses it on the bed before he goes into the bathroom.  Scully has finished her shower and sits on the closed toilet in a towel, massaging lotion into her legs.  The room is humid from the shower and the mirror is fogged over.

“I set the coffee for 7,” he says, pulling his toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet. “Too early?”

“It’s fine.”   She makes a noise and he turns.  She has her hands held out to him and he puts the toothbrush and toothpaste on the side of the sink and gives her his hands so she can massage the extra lotion into his hands and arms.

“Is this new?  It smells like oranges.”

“Yeah, some vitamin C thing a salesperson at the mall talked me into.”

“You hate the mall.”  He pastes his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth.

“I do, but sometimes the Labor Day sales are too hard to resist.  2 for 1 bras at Victoria’s Secret, I had to go.”

“What, now?”  Mulder turns towards her and pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth.  Foam coats his lips.  She laughs lightly and shakes her head.

“Kidding,” she says.  “But, good to know you’re still interested in my lingerie.”

“I might be old, but I’m not dead.”

Scully smiles and stands on tiptoes to kiss the corner of Mulder’s mouth.  She pats his chest lightly and then rubs a bit of toothpaste residue from her bottom lip.  He turns to finish brushing his teeth, wiping fog away from the mirror to watch her move comfortably around the room and get ready for bed.  He waits until she’s dropped the towel and slipped her t-shirt on to spit and rinse.

She tosses his shirt at his head when he steps into the bedroom.  He grins and hangs it up and then they turn the bed down together.  He sheds his jeans and then opens the window just a crack to let some fresh air in.

“Almost time to pull out the flannel sheets,” she says, as he gets into bed.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he answers, wrapping an arm around her under the covers and sliding her into his chest.  She laughs and wiggles out of his hold as he tickles the back of her neck and shoulder with his lips.

Briefly, Scully turns her head back and after several soft kisses, she pulls away to turn over and shut off the lamp.  Mulder rolls onto his back and she settles on her side after punching the pillow flat a few times.  Five minutes pass and then she sighs.

“Are you still awake?” she asks.

“Mmhm,” he answers.

She turns over to face him and he turns his head towards her.  “I’ve been thinking about something,” she says.  “Something I think we need to talk about.”

“Okay.”  He turns over as well and folds his arm under his head.

“The lease on my place is up at the end of October.  I don’t think I’m going to renew.”

“Oh?  So, what are you thinking?”

“The commute out here is not ideal.  Especially with winter coming.  I was wondering if you might want to find a place in the city.  Or closer to the city.  Together.”

“Get rid of the house?”

“No, never.  This is...this is our home.”

He nods in agreement.  He’s always thought of it as their home, whether she’s been in it or not.

“I was thinking just a place we can be at during the week,” she continues.  “And we’ll still come out here on the weekends.”

He mulls it over.  As much as he wants to be with her and wants to return to the life they once shared, he has some reservations.

“Mulder?” she asks.  “You’re never this quiet.  What are you thinking?”

“You know I want this more than anything,” he answers.  “But, what if this is only working because you got the space you wanted?  And we’ve never done the living and working together thing before.  It would be new.  What if we recommit and then it becomes too much?”

She contemplates the ceiling for some time and he reaches out to stroke her hair and cup her cheek.

“I thought, at the time, that leaving was the right thing to do,” she says.  “I know that I accused you of being a weight that was pulling me down into your depression and despair, but in hindsight, it was the other way around.”

“I never felt that way.”

“I know, but I did.  I thought returning to medicine would be satisfying.  I thought it was the key to happiness.  Something normal.  Instead it just made me sad.  And then I thought leaving was the only way to fix it, but I was wrong.  Really, what I missed was us.  Being with you, working with you, just you and me.  I don’t feel whole without you.”

“Hey now, that’s my line,” he whispers, running his thumb over her cheek.

“It’s true.”

“So, we’re doing this?  Full time?”

“I’m ready for it if you are.”

“Bring it on, honey.”

She chuckles and they slide closer to rest their heads together.  Their legs tangle and arms move to hold on to each other.  He’s filled with a new sense of anticipation.  He won’t ever have to wonder anymore if she’ll be coming with him Friday nights.

The End