#a beautiful sort of magic in her eyes ☆ visage

[dragon-clan-and-company]

Puella Veris et vir Siderum

(Closed RP with @wxvebreaker)

The skies of the Astral Sea were as beautiful and dreamlike as they were dangerous... The silvery and purple haze that hung about the stars hid countless secrets from times immemorial, and the ship that floated in the ether wasn't even akin to a grain of sand on the shores of a beach, but something smaller yet still... Aboard the ship was a man, of late twenties, in a suit of ornate bronze armor with occasional patina-green accents, at his side, a shield of gleaming platinum, depicting the profile of a noble Dragon, and on his back a cape of chainmail, made of a similar bronze on the outside, with platinum on the inside, as though to complete the ensemble of his mixed-metal menagerie of protectors... His face was fairly handsome, but with a few particularly striking features- A large scar on his left cheek, telling of a life met with its' share of strife, and a pair of crimson eyes with a lively spark of passion behind them. His hair was a somewhat longer mess of brunette hair, kept in check by a black bandanna tied back atop his head.

"Wait, is that...?" His crimson eyes widened as he saw clouds black as the void of space beginning to approach. He held his right hand out, calling to it a blood-red spear of immaculately ornate design. He looked to his crew- all magical copies of himself, disguised as other people as a contingency, save for a hulking golem made of some assortment of uniform metals. "Reginald, plan delta, scenario 65... I'll see if I can't try to impact that psychic storm, and keep the ship intact..." Golden lightning suddenly crackled around him, forming a almost spectral visage of crackling Dragon-like armor over his normal armor. He flew forward with intense speed, charging straight for the storm ahead... After an impressive surge of willpower-made-manifest, something of a specialty of the Astral Sea, he managed to calm the storm a bit, just enough to let his guard down as a final surge blasted him off to starboard by the perspective of the sky ship behind him... He went careening straight into one of the occasional portals dotting the Astral, this one a rainbow swirl of colors. After falling through, he was suddenly in the night sky of an alien, breathtaking land... He was so taken aback, that he didn't pay attention to the fact he was still falling, streaking through the sky like a golden shooting star, heading near what seemed to be a decent-sized fishing village of some sort... Though there wasn't much time to deliberate or form a plan as he went falling to an outlying area by the shore... He was able to spot a figure for a brief moment as he tried to adjust himself so he didn't crash right into her!

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEEEEEN?!" He cried out, tracing a protective sigil over himself, as he fell face-first about a dozen feet from the figure in question... All things considered when the rest of his body flopped unceremoniously into the sandy soil, he wasn't very much harmed... The lightning crackling around him quickly dissipated as his eyes remained snapped shut, a bit of a wince as the impact did seem to affect him to some degree.

[wardenwyrd]

Writeblr Introduction

Dotted in secret stars and whispered moons lies The Warden O' Wyrd; too bright smiles and sharp eyes linger on her skin, miasma orbiting their visage. When dusk's hands sweep fluttering eyes closed her shackles, in turn, loosen.

Greetings and welcome all, I am Wardenwyrd - connoisseur of messy queers, the freaky & occult, and all things speculative fiction! I am freshly new to Writeblr and am keen to dig my claws so fellow denizens of Writeblr interact if you enjoy my vibes < 3

Open to ask and tag games !

◈What I write ◈

Anything and absolutely everything speculative, weird horror, all shapes and forms of queerness, and a metric ton of worldbuilding.

Genres: Fantasy (Low, high, dark, fairy tale-esque, etc), Sci-Fi, Paranormal, Romance, Horror, Mystery

Fantastical, often ethereal and treacherous worlds flavoured with flowery prose

Queer, neurodivergent, and disabled characters and themes. All kinds of diversity really. Always looking to broaden and grow my noggin' with wisdom

Gender queer characters. An UNBELIEVABLE amount of dyed hair and pronounces.

Body horror: elegant body horror; gross, grimy body horror; wonderfully queer body horror 'til I burst at the seams; all sorts. Twisting of the body into something other than human as a form of beauty my beloved < 3 < 3

Characters who desperately need therapy (That would be my fault)

Rich settings and worlds. Give me intricate magic systems !!! give me ecology that could be shown in a nature documentary !!!

🌔About Me 🌒

Goblin in my (late) teens. I've been writing for a whiiiile but started really getting into it about half a decade ago. I will ravenously consume all forms of creative media.

⭐Likes ⭐

Favourite colour: Purple my beloved Favourite band: Mili (I'm so normal about them) Favourite genre/s: Gothic lit, Fantasy, Horror romance, whimsical fairies Fav insect: Moths/Butterflies

Stats:

Creative writing college student

Panromantic Ace | Queering my gender to the max

English (Regrettably)

Autism kreachure

Revolving door of hyperfixations on science-y stuff

Purple hair (Not beating the stereotype allegations)

WIPs

[Note: I am very bad at deciding on WIP names]

Prisma

My surreal fantasy WIP comprised of a collection of different stories linked by a unifying setting.

Colour-Coded to the max. Each central story focuses on a character assigned a colour, differing in tone, POV, and focus. Main three are purple, blue, and red.

Literal becomes figurative, and figurative literal

Charms and incantations of old swirl in from afar, weaving our hands together with something much deeper than flesh – a curious sentiment oozing from the recesses of Damsel’s cloak as the feeling of moss and stone wove through my veins; cold and refreshing.

◉

‘What absurdity’, The Arbiter would think to himself. After all, those carmine red eyes of his delve into the primaeval madness: in their muddy depths lies the shivering madness - Fear. From fear is the knowledge wrenched from uncertainty and bloodshot eyes. Dread is the light; tugging on world-weary watchers. 

Sort of portal fantasy, sort of not. The stories in this WIP span across many eras and places, yet often find themselves connecting and mingling. Incredibly queer.

Main characters:

MC of Red, Jack Pronouns: He/Him Bnuuy ass trans Victorian boy. Pasty and WILL combust in the sun. Autism creature. He gets a himbo bf and sick asf t-surgery scars as a treat &lt; 3 Character Playlist

MC of Blue, Hel Pronouns: Any/All seemingly innocent girl but remove the innocent and girl part. Kind of an eldritch horror after a character arc but like, that's the good ending. So old surnames weren't a thing in the era they're from. Character Playlist

MC of Purple, Dorothea Pronouns: She/They Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. Autistic adhd precocious mess who WILL make it your problem. Genuinely manipulative but has great hair so it's fine. Character Playlist

Other notable mentions

[Note: I will elaborate on all of these later]

Witch WIP

My beloved blorbos < 3 Once I figure out how to frame and present it in a more refined way I like I shall be posting about this.

Personal & Cultural struggle within a fantasy context | Disability & Identity as a main theme | Aroace protagonist and Queerplatonic relationship | Magic inspired by folklore and myth | Found family

Low Fantasy setting in a somewhat alternate earth

Sprawling magic system

Conventional fantasy groups but with a spin: revamping those vibes

Witches aren't just funny flying women but genuinely inhuman creatures with spicy shit going on

Demons and angels but: demon is the colloquial term for a class of magical beasts characterised by dense essence, not like hell demons. Angels are living algorithms born from patterns and don't have an actual association to any gods.

MC Playlists:

Branwen | Ingram

Five Steps From Hell

Biblically Accurate Angelic-Flavoured paranormal apocalypse

Autistic MC

More horror oriented than action

Lots of vibes.

MC becoming something not very human, but they're more worried that they aren't worried too much about it

I've got some dastardly plans for this one. Vibes and atmosphere whilst the world falls apart and neurodivergence is a great combo.

[astrxlfinale]

“Would it be strange to say your eyes are pretty? Probably... ” Compliments had been thrown his way left and right all evening, a stark contrast to her more reserved nature. Perhaps it was the cozy atmosphere of the bar… or the several drinks she had downed. Who knows? “It’s just so easy to talk to you. Sometimes I despise you for it.”

Underneath the dreamy veil of Penacony, a sense of adventure, a thirst for ambition or times to unleash from daily stresses found themselves running rampant. The Reverie found itself a host to all sorts of characters, big and small in order to chase their dreams or to find an unforgettable experience. Here, the Trailblazer would've believed that he saw it all. Yet it looks like the realm of emotionally charged ingredients and an expert's touch of alcohol held more secrets for him to unlock.

All in the form of a view that feels so.. rare. That in itself was an oddity to say despite the bizarre, bubbly and welcomed feelings that the Emanator's thoughts introduced to the metaphorical table. Too many were either indulged in their own drinks, or the high profile shows and business deals to offer them a modicum of attention. That craft Siobhan however kept herself scarce outside of the delivered drinks, a match of professionalism and crafty eyes being the silent signs.

Screw her. While he's certainly grateful on one hand, the sight before him drinks deeper of his attention, how her Yanfei's vocalized thoughts found themselves uninhibited. While they lacked the prose (amusing, how honesty shines even when a fair touch tipsy), the level of heart she'd throw onto him caused even Caelus's sheepishness to stir, prompting him to down another flavorful addition to his own drink. Heat and good drink were the concoction to make his cheeks rosy.

It was a sweet burn, enough to guise how much the sweet words worked their magic when it came from her. A spiced sigh spills as turns to her, allowing the innate flare of that molten gold to rival her own sanctum of vivid color.

"Adjust to the special privileges that've been set in your ballpark for a while then." Caelus dares to admit, this time, keeping the focus locked on just how beautiful her visage could be.

"Things are just.. Good with you. I really don't know how to get too deep with it, it's just always been here." How the potency of her cosmic gaze could drive most to madness, where there's fire, flare and all of it is leveled out with her particular awakening in that very Path. He found himself daring to breach through the tempest of loneliness in order to discover more, to witness just how much so many people have been missing with her presence.

It strums a greedier string of the soul within his body. To allow that flourishing pink heaven to actually be met, to learn of her warmth and so much more once again. Caelus would find that glass going ignored as he'd dare to cross the distance, always being the brazen sort as he'd come to cup Yanfei's cheek. "And honestly? I want to keep seeing where that goes. Days with us written all over it." She'd find the proof of such resolve in the very eyes she complimented.

...Also? She felt really nice to the touch. The mesh between flesh and the idle scales, just how warm she runs as if she was a living flame in her own right. Idly did his thumb begin to course gentle brushes along her cheek. Despite the stirred race of his heart, right now, the dare of more public affection refuses to be ignored.

"You're beautiful." He abruptly declares, proudly losing himself in that shade of emerald.

"Despising me, enjoying time with me, whatever else."

@wise-innocence

[tazindrox]

May DWC Day 6 - Gleaming

Eyes darted over the ‘red carpet’, which much to his surprise was an actual red carpet where people posed and showed off their wardrobe for the evening. How peculiar. BUT! He said he was going to experience it all, and that was the plan! Being one of Vixannya’s VIP guests certainly had its perks, and it allowed him and his plus one access to a variety of fashion designers willing to dress them for the night. 

He preferred simplicity and comfort over extravagance, knowing this was to be an all night event. His ‘date’ and clutchmate Aleta opted for the full works. She had decided to join him in her Visage form and wanted to be pampered and made to look beautiful. At least whatever standard of beauty the other inhabitants of Azeroth followed. She wasn’t so convinced that Tazindrox was actually handsome and that she had ‘an ethereal beauty’ about her. They had made a charming and precious duo on this ‘red carpet’, not really understanding posing or the intricacies of certain facial expressions - which immediately made them a paparazzi favorite.

The gallery was intriguing, especially to Aleta who had not spent a whole lot of time among non-Dracthyr. Pointing towards his portrait and exclaiming loudly, “Is that your dick?!” elicited a handful of nearby chuckles, but it really was a peculiar thing when you had never seen one before, especially on your friend, whom you had never seen naked in his Visage form. Briefly afterwards, she asked in a more hushed tone, “Can you show it to me later?” It would certainly be a night of many firsts for them both!

The afterparty itself was completely unexpected. He had heard the descriptions and the vague tales, but he never imagined this. The opulence of it all was overwhelming, and Tazindrox found himself completely caught off guard the moment he walked through those darkened curtains into the gleaming lights of the Water room. It felt like a dream come to life, and immediately he wanted to explore everything.

Aleta curled her fingers around his forearm, clearly experiencing the same reaction as her large, rose-colored eyes drank up the space. “Holy fuck! I hope you have your notepad on you...”

“Holy fuck indeed….and of course I do” He patted his chest before immediately honing in on the massive display of food, which included people lying nude on the table covered in what appeared to be raw fish. Weird. “Food, and exploring?”

“Yes.”

There were all sorts of dishes from all over Azeroth being offered, with a waitstaff and chefs on hand to fulfill any special requests. The two of them immediately loaded up their plates to the extreme, and then some, before starting their trek around the rooms, snacking and staring in awe.

Taz exchanged pleasantries and introduced his friend to any familiar faces they ran into, but mostly their attention was occupied by just observing everything. And eating, of course. There was so much food, they didn’t want it to go to waste! He did, however, warn her that overeating or drinking too much in her Visage form would be a horrible idea and make her sick. They had a lot of space to cover, so pacing themselves was key.

Aleta’s favorite area was Earth, especially the hidden secret gardens with fairy rings that when you stood in the middle, illusions of fairy dragons would come to life and begin to sing and flit around. The first time it happened, they both startled and spilled some of the contents from their stacked plates, although the moment the food touched the ground it magically vanished. Which, naturally, stole their attention for a while as they attempted to figure out where it went, and then how their plate suddenly refilled with the very thing that was dropped. Fairy rings were definitely magical!

Moving onto the Air room, Taz pointed out his good friend Ryland performing up on the silks. Aleta stared at him, not once looking away until the half-elf caught sight and gave her a charming grin and a wink. “...I think I may understand the appeal of these elves.” Typical of Ryland to capture the heart of just about anyone, he hadn’t seen Aleta that smitten with anyone since the before times. “He makes my loins feel very tingly. It’s a strange feeling in this form.”

“That’s a fairly usual reaction around him, I have come to learn. It happens to me too.”

“Huh. I think I would like to look at his dick later too.”

Taz nearly snorted his drink out through his nose. Any passers-by would have likely assumed that comment was sexual in nature, but he wasn’t so sure. She was curious, just like him. Although if anyone were to seduce her, it would probably be Ryland. At one point much later in the evening, Taz was fairly confident that he had when he noticed them slipping into a dark corner and remaining there for a good 20 minutes.

After a few more moments of staring, they made their way into the Fire room: This was Taz’s preferred element. He made sure to point out not to step on the lava on the floor because it may melt their fancy shoes. Although once they saw others wandering across it, it was decided that it was safe to traverse. It was loud and flashy in this room and there was fire everywhere, and neither quite knew where to put their focus. Until he noticed Dicenne on the main stage, armed with two flaming whips.

“Ohhh, I have met him before, he’s a very nice fellow.”

Aleta canted her head to one side, a little uncertain about that description. He wore a little bit of leather and a lot of body paint, glitter, and oil. She found herself mesmerized once more, especially when the end of one of those whips snapped around a nearby human’s wrist and yanked her closer, where they proceeded to do things that were perhaps more suitable behind closed doors. 

Neither could look away though, and that was probably the point of it all. Fire was an extremely dangerous element, and something about watching this happen live in front of their faces felt dangerous as well. It took a few moments to realize that Dice and his current partner weren’t the only ones enjoying these types of pleasures.

Taz slowly glanced towards Aleta, who was currently holding onto and gnawing at what appeared to be a piece of steak as she watched Dicenne and the human woman. “...Wanna get some more food?”

“Yes.”

With that, the two quickly made their way back to Earth to overindulge in their own way. They could explore more later, but this was more important.

@daily-writing-challenge @vixannya @rylandfalkov @dicenne​

[newtthetranswriter]

Characters, places and Terminology

Here you will find a list of characters, places and terminology mentioned in my Kalecgos x reader soulmate au.

Characters:

Y/n - Our leading Character, y/n is written to be gender neutral and as self insert friendly as possible. The only descriptions I’ve given them are One) they are a Green Dragon, Two) their visage is half-elf looking mostly human but slightly longer pointed ears. They are also a druid meaning they can shape shift and use plant based magic. Y/n also spent time around the Night Elves and Views themself as almost a protector of them.

Kalecgos - Our main man. Kalecgos is a Blue dragon and more specifically the leader of the Blue Dragon flight, also known as the Blue Aspect. He is a very powerful Mage and is very caring. His visage is a Half-elf with Blue hair and blue eyes, when using his Visage most call him Kalec.

Ysera - The original Green Aspect, who sadly lost her life during the events of Legion

Merithra - Ysera’s daughter, took her mother’s spot as Green Aspect after her mother died

Sylvanas - The former leader of the Forsaken (undead), Former Warcheif of the Horde

Illidan - former Night Elf turned demon hunter who was crucial to stop the Legion’s invasion

Sargeras - demon leader of the Legion

Malfurion - The first druid and one of the leaders of the Kaldorei, Tyrande’s husband

Tyrande - The officially recognized leader of the Kaldorei

Alexstrasza - The queen of Dragons, and aspect of the Red DragonFlight

Nozdormu - Aspect of the Bronze DragonFlight

Neltharion - Original Aspect of the Black or Obsidian Dragonflight

Raszageth - A primal incarnate of the storm, she is what the Aspects used to be, and was locked away over ten thousand years ago for threatening the balance of Azeroth

Wrathion - One of Neltharion's sons and acting Leader of the Black dragonflight at the start of the Dragonflight expansion and start of our story

Places:

Azeroth - the primary world where World of Warcraft takes place

Kalimdor - a continent on Azeroth where the Night elves live

Teldrassil - A world tree where the Night elves once called home even having their capital of Darnasus in its branches

Val’sharah - the ancestral home of the Night elves located on the Broken Isle

Broken Isle - Primary location of the Legion Expansion

Emerald Dream - A realm protected by the Green Dragonflight full of nature and beauty

Dalaran - A floating city and home of many powerful Mages

Nordrassil - A former world tree where the Night elves sought refuge after the fall of Teldrassil

The Dragon Isles - The recently reawoken ancestral home of the dragons

Valdraken - A Major capital city and home to the Seat of The Aspects

Azure Archive - A large archive of arcane Knowledge and magic located in the Azure span of the Dragon Isles once protected by the Blue Dragon flight, there is an Annex in Valdraken that acts as a sort of library

Sapphire enclave - A portion of Valdraken dedicated to Arcane Magic and the Blue Dragonflight

Terminology:

Visage - A type of illusion or spell the dragons use to interact with mortals, Dragons are able to choose what shape they take

Dragonflights - Basicly groups of dragons who are the same

Aspects - These are the leaders of the five major Dragon flights who are tasked with protecting a different aspect of the world. The Red dragons protect life, Bronze dragons protect time, Black dragons protect the earth, Blue dragons protect magic, and Green dragons protect nature

Kaldorei - another word for Night Elves, they are used interchangeably 

Legion - the legion or Burning Legion is a group of demons powered by dark magic hell bent on taking over every planet

[craft-not-of-the-witch]

Ancient Natural Machine

An Abridged Version

The Jefrin

Abridged by Paul Knightly

“Good-day to you, Kind Reader. I’m glad my tale has found you, one way or another. It’s made a long, long, very long journey to get to you, but this story was made for you and your eyes. Get your tea, and get your puppy-dog, for I am the Jefrin and this is my Earthly experience.”

— The Jefrin

The Mighty Jefrin was born in an unknown year-sometime during World War II-His records being lost in a German air raid. His childhood was spent with his thoughts and various dangerous activities. The Jefrin was raised by a single mother, in Manchester, England, and was the eldest of several children. After He completed grammar school, The Jefrin and His sweetheart, who was referred to as Merope, moved to France and began dabbling in music. It wasn’t until the two’s first psychedelic experience that they saw music as a viable career option. The aim was to get their message out, and indeed they did. Their first single, The Moon Dips Low, was a mega-bestseller and immediate radio hit in 1967. The following album, Leaves in the Quarry, peaked at number 1 in the UK charts and number 3 in the US charts. Unfortunately, Merope fell sick after the release of their second best selling album, Flight of the Hummingbird. She had been diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer, but kept it hidden from the following their two-man band had amassed. She had only recorded vocal backtracks and a few drum licks for their next album, when Merope met her untimely demise in 1970, in the arms of the Jefrin, while tripping. By the grace of her existing consciously in the Fourth Dimension, Merope was able to pass on, but remain tethered to the Jefrin’s soul. Since the connection was made, the Jefrin went partially insane, deciding to live in the Fourth Dimension, so as to always be with Merope. This story that you are about to read was written by the Jefrin and, so He claims, Merope. It has been abridged by myself, Paul Knightly, or as the Jefrin used to call me, Arthur. The Jefrin and I met in 1969, at a nightclub - we quickly became friends, as one does when one meets the Jefrin. He gave me this journal a few years later, in 1972, after he had finished their third and final album, Surface Tension. Since that point, no one has heard anything of the Jefrin and more and more people are forgetting Him.  So, here it is. The Jefrin, as He saw Himself.

***

The Moon is just so beautiful. She is free to do her magic in the sky as she sees fit. Her glow can illuminate a face, and infect said visage with a pinch of her love. The Space Race was, and is, stupid. We, as the lucky visitors of this rock, should explore and appreciate our world before we dabble in Space Capitalism. 

My darling girl is just like the moon; her smile is bright, her love is omniscient. We, together, are the Earth and the Moon - intertwined since the dawn of time; I admire her and she changes my tides. I wish to any dear deity with an ear, to hold my sweet love, once again. More on that later.

Now, you nevermind my childhood. I spent lots of my time alone, not with the other children. This wasn’t particularly by choice in the beginning, but I grew into it. As I aged, I thrived in my own company, and I-later, regrettably-began avoiding my peers in pursuit of bettering myself and becoming comfortable with being alone. In my teenage years, I felt a sort of remorse for the amount of time I spent with myself, as I had missed out on the golden memories my peers had then revelled in - but, moving past, I realised just how uncomfortable these people were with themselves. 

My life particularly picked up in school, Stretford Grammar School. I met the love of my life, Merope, the One of Sparkling Face. She is every star in my sky - she is my sky! We met in 8th year; I had asked this cute girl, with wild white-blonde hair, what flavour her lolly was. She stuck it in my mouth. It was cherry. In that moment, with the grass brushing my knees, I knew I would marry Merope, that I would carry her through Hell, bare-foot, if she so asked.

We owned our city; we observed the people, like we were Gods, giving them backstories and names. There were recurring characters and plot-enrichment characters, there were also people living their own stories, with the same Godly agenda as Merope and I, it was obvious. We used to go to the park by Merope’s house and play all sorts of games, with cards, boards, little figurines, and the lot. She would always dress to the nines to see me, too - she’d wear her cute little dresses and skirts, and always had her lavender headband holding back her nearly white hair. One day, my pretty lady surprised me with a Box, and in it, a guitar, and from that day forth, we were never bored again.

God, we used to bounce around - we had the best time. She could read my mind, I could read hers (sometimes). Nothing on this Earth has ever made me as happy as Merope has made me. 

After our graduation, Merope and I went to France - first Paris, then Epernay. We continued to chase the fun, anywhere it went. Every night, we’d go to a show, we’d go to a dance; we were doing something every day, big or small. We went on walks in the countryside, we attached ourselves to the walls in the inner-city of Paris. 

In France, we made many friends. Merope says I need to write of her favourite friend, Manon Lucas - she was the wonderful woman who got Merope and I on a stage for the very first time. We sang a little swing tune at a talent-night. All sorts of people were there that night and, despite neither of us particularly remembering it, we just kept getting invited back - soon enough, for our own full sets. 

We drew crowds of hundreds from all corners of the city - I suppose, people either felt they could relate to us, or wanted to relate to us. It was no issue for us; it helped pay the bills, it gave us more reasons to buy Acid, and the music just flowed from us so beautifully that, after a certain point, we couldn’t fathom what we could be doing without our music. We soon forgot why we came to Paris (it was to study) and began chasing our ‘music career’ fullstop. We also got married.

*

One evening, while I was preparing our Box for my sweet girl, she was very deep in her trance. Merope was focused on something so hard, and I just let her - I was busy, physically making our Box, I know she handles everything else. This is after Leaves in the Quarry was released, you keep in mind now. It had been released on the Friday night, so we had the whole weekend to manifest our records flying off the shelves, and we were treating ourselves after the stressful ordeal of producing an album.

Once the tension broke, and we were thrust into the Fourth Dimension, it was the most beautiful sight one had ever seen. Tall trees surrounded us, with their branches hanging so low that the leaves could tickle your face if you allowed them. Our two cats, Igor and Ivan, meandered through the Fourth Dimension, constantly living in it. The ceiling above glimmered like the night sky and was so far beyond my reach.

Dead Heads littered the ground, leaning against the trees, sitting on their motorcycles. Just as they always did, they existed. They were expecting something though, waiting for it to happen.

This time, Merope had a surprise for me. She had covered my eyes quickly with her velvet, smooth hands and her giggle made my heart warm. Merope asked me to count to three, and I, of course, obliged. When she lifted her hands, she revealed a new, purple, sparkly guitar, and a matching drum kit, with our band’s name written on the bass drum.

We jammed for hours, upon hours in that Box. Even now, we’re laughing about how it was my most structurally sound ever, too. Really, Merope makes the Boxes. She creates what’s in the Box and I create space for the Box, I ensure she can always have exactly what she wants in the Box.

While in France, we went from Paris to Provence; after our album began selling out in France, we leased a small apartment, so we could just keep to ourselves and keep the inspiration close. The outdoor views were breathtaking, I can still picture them. I can still imagine my darling, smiling wife, twirling in the middle of a forest, so carefree and overjoyed. We would pick the Forget-Me-Nots and the Lavender, the Daisies and Lilies of the Valley - our abode was filled to the brim with flowers of all scents and colours, dried or fresh, watered or potted.

Flight of the Hummingbird was written partially in the deep Provence forests and fields, under the beams of the sun and in the company of the universe. Merope really spearheaded Flight of the Hummingbird, writing more and more lyrics and coming up with the bassline for every single song. Our first two albums were just like our Box - in the first, I took control and guided our project, but our second was when Merope showed, not just me, but the entire world, what she had been working on the whole time. Our second album is our best-selling album, for good reason. It was all my girl.

*

The day she was diagnosed will live on in my brain until the day I finally join her in sweet eternity. Pancreatic Cancer, stage four, terminal - and, by Jehovah, it was quick and painful. It wasn’t even mercifully quick, because it was so excruciating. 

I suggested we end our tour, to go home and recuperate. Merope refused, insisting the last five or six shows wouldn’t kill her - but after we got off tour, and settled in a new London flat - she was gone in a matter of three weeks. We began using more and more psychedelics as she came to her end, and we wrote music like our lives depended on it. Merope only recorded some backing tracks and one ballad, and a few drum licks before she died, but she died while on Mescaline.

Because of her extended consciousness at the time of death, my beautiful woman came back to me as a Dead Head, in the Fourth Dimension. I had blinked, and the cold, grey girl in my arms transformed into a skeleton with the same striped, black and white skirt Merope was wearing just a second before. She spoke to me, and the honey had returned to her voice! Merope’s words crushed like velvet upon my ears and I was beyond overjoyed to find out that my girl wasn’t going anywhere.

Life truly is pointless without your love. I had told her through her entire battle that I would take my life the second she died. I just have a single task to do before we can truly enjoy our Box; finish our album. I’ve decided on a name.

No one can understand the thought going into our latest album - the Dimensional influence is going to upheave our entire style, our fanbase, and with any luck, the scene as a whole. I’ll be using a loop of her final drum tracks - I will not be touching her kit, only Merope can use those sticks on those drums and cymbals. 

When Merope would break the trance during a trip, and fully enter us into the other Dimension, it felt like a swimmer coming to take a breath of air after a straight 100m swim - it felt like breaking the Surface Tension.

*

In their final concert, The Ancient Natural Machine, was just the Jefrin, to celebrate the final album the pair would produce. He rambled about lessons, talked to people who weren’t there, and preached strange ideas - but witnesses report seeing the drum sticks moving during the final concert.  At the end of their final song, the Jefrin smiled to the audience. He thanked everyone, and thanked his wife. Then he swallowed about 20 unknown pills and was pronounced dead on scene, with a smile on his face.  His death was sad for many, but, if you were a true friend, you should be happy that the Jefrin is dead. You should rejoice in the fact that he is with his love, so at least one thing, in one dimension, is absolutely perfect.

[doublejango]

What was she? What the actual sweet ever-loving fuck was she? A Hellhound, maybe a hybrid, a warrior, and an Overlord? Blitz had been shocked by how abruptly the woman shifted into rage, a righteous fury that silenced any arguments from the bouncer, but he couldn't say she was wrong for it. For any of it. Lacerate was usually a decent place, at least as far as clubs in Pride went, but this shouldn't have happened. Given that the semi-conscious Sinner was wrapped around his leg as Blitz stood on the table, he couldn't physically go to her to back her up in her confrontation. Instead, he clenched his fists and glared murder at the bouncer, tail whipping side to side, chin up, furious defiance written in every line of the imp's body.

When the confrontation ended though, Blitz's stance softened. He looked down at his chest and winced--yeah, that was a disgusting wound--and then snorted angrily. "I really liked this fucking shirt. And I'm good," he lied, "but this guy..."

"I will care for him," a smooth male voice cut in from the doorway, someone far calmer than that poor bouncer had been.

Blitz's tail immediately began thrashing again and he bared his teeth, looking at the... the... the fucking beautiful Goetia standing there. Iridescent, almost scaly feathers--probably blue-green, but they looked shiny and black right now in the club's lighting. He wore trousers and a vest that were clearly tailor-made, leaving his muscular, feathered arms bare to the shoulder.

Vepar. The owner.

The white cat Sinner awoke at the voice, blinked, then stared at Vepar, looking at him like he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"My lady Visage," the Goetia said as he stepped into the room, "I deeply appreciate your aid. This atrocity never should have happened. Thank you for your assistance, as well as for your visit to my establishment. It's always a pleasure, having an Overlord visit. Now, little one." He offered the cat his hand. "Would you like to be healed?"

"Y-yes please...?" Shy but clearly enamored, the Sinner let go of Blitz's leg and scooted over to take the Goetia's hand. When the bird scooped him up into his arms instead, he whimpered quietly in pain before he abruptly began purring; Vepar was holding him just right, so snug and comfortable and comforting, and seemed to be sending some sort of soothing energy into him...

"If you would like to wait, Mr... Buckzo, isn't it? I will gladly heal you as well."

Blitz blinked, frowned. Goetia could do that? It might be nice, but right now, he wasn't in the mood to trust anyone to do any magic on him. "No fucking thank you. I've got horsey bandages at home that'll do me just fine. But listen, you hurt that cat, I'll come back here and burn your whole fucking place down."

Vepar's eyes were very dark. Shadows within shadows, the deadly depths of an ocean. When he smiled and bowed his head ever so slightly, it did absolutely nothing to warm his expression. "Understood. I would appreciate if you refrain from threatening myself or my employees in the future, Assassin, but this once? I am inclined to forgive.

"Unless there is anything else? I'll be off with this little one."

Like a shell-shocked soldier locked in place, near-catatonic from the daze of that haunted vision ... only the sudden outburst by Blitz finally brought the hellhound back to reality in a jolt of sights and sounds that roared back into her ringing ears. Inwardly she cursed herself, even amidst the appreciative relief of seeing her new partner in crime handle his attacker so cleanly. He was a capable warrior, that much was beyond a doubt. Still ... her hesitation had gotten him injured and nearly cost the feline Sinner his afterlife. One errant swing of a knife was all it would have taken, if the imp had been a fraction slower to react. In an instant, a hot sour twist coiled like an agitated serpent deep in the pit of her gut, words filling her mind like seeping poison. As usual, you can't protect anyone... Standing there with ink-black ichor oozing off the curved edges of her blades, Visage had scarcely parted her muzzle to utter an awkward half-apology when a stranger barged into the doorway. At first too stunned to react, that numbed state of self-directed anger soon went up like a sheet of paper dropped into an open flame--her ire had itself a new scapegoat. Silver eyes narrowed dangerously as their edges took on a glimmer of that same azure hue that marked her signature flames, the grip on her sickle handles tightening with an audible creak of straining leather. "What the fuck is going on...? Y'know, that's a really fucking good question..." Pausing briefly to shove her blades back into their sheaths with enraged flourish, the lupine Overlord began to angrily storm towards the bouncer that had made the dire mistake of interjecting himself on his employer's behalf. He'd soon regret it. In a flash, Visage was inches from the other demon's face, canine muzzle creased into a hateful snarl. "How about you FUCKING tell me?! How does a trio of psychopaths manage to get a submissive alone in a room like this without any kind of safety overrides in place?! In a god-damn BDSM club of all the shit places!" Those eyes had long since shifted from silver to bright blue, pupils shrinking to the size of pin pricks until they almost vanished completely. An almost hollowed resonance echoed across every edge of her enraged words as she suddenly gripped the bouncer by his leather vest, yanking him off balance to pull him in closer. For the moment, anger was winning against any semblance of fear as the brute of a demon glared at the she-wolf who was daring to manhandle him. "Just who the fuck do you think you--" "I RUN this fucking district, you sorry sack of shit!" The swift retort was barked into his face in a fine mist of angry spittle. For a brief moment, the bouncer gaped in furious confusion ... but suddenly a visible sweep of terrified recognition flashed across his face. "Y-You're that new Overlord ... the one with those Grimfang goons...!" In an instant, that snarl twisted into a mocking sneer. "Gee, no shit, Sherlock!" Even as her tone dropped to a low ominous growl, the air of danger in her words was no less profound. "Now ... if your boss is too damned incompetent to run a business in my domain and keep its visitors safe, then he's gonna wish he'd never set up here. Got it...?" The other demon's head bobbed frantically in mute agreement and only then did Visage finally relinquish her grip on him with a hard shove backwards, employing enough force to leave him stumbling. "Good! We're leaving. Clean up this fucking mess, and it better not ever happen again." Only when the panicked bouncer had scrambled from the room did Visage's attention return back to the other two with a tired and apologetic expression. Already her eyes were returning to their normal black and silver. "You two able to walk outta here in one piece?"

[protectedparker]

↪ INSTAGRAM

parkermax: dropped the ball yet again last night, so have a double post ft. Jessie of team rocket and a genie ^^ (6/13 & 7/13)

[mistabullets]

Mon Lapin (Kinktober Day #2 - Dirty Talk)

Characters: Laurent Thierry x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Laurent demands you express what you want.

Content Warning: n/s/f/w, afab reader, neutral pronouns, drunk sex, slight dubcon cause of alcohol involved but otherwise it’s consensual, dirty talk, teasing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial

Note: Some more Great Pretender content cause we need some more of this idiot yet suave Frenchman. Also slight spoilers for Dorothy (she’s hinted and alluded to but never name dropped)

The heist had been a success.

Somehow, you pulled through it, playing your part beautifully. You celebrated with your fellow swindlers for a job well done and evenly distributed the stacks of greens amongst yourselves. Alcohol was served - as you downed your shots, more people vanished to return to their villas. You didn’t quite mind the lack of people; Laurent remained by your side to keep good company, nursing a glass of champagne but he was flustered from the buzz swimming through his head.

Laurent, albeit an enigma to you, certainly carried an aura of charisma. While you were new to the game of con artists and the conned, he had shown you the ropes in his own unique method of teaching. He was an excellent coach and a better swindling partner. While there had been times when you questioned what the hell was going through his head, you realized it was better to blindly trust him than to wonder the inner mechanisms of his mind. Eventually, it was just the two of you left at the resort - laughter echoing as he told you about his older days and his first missions.

“And that’s how we managed to get him - though, it was a close call. My English was a bit rusty at the time and I couldn’t pronounce the name of a certain city. But we pulled through,” he laughed, blue eyes twinkling as he reminisced the nostalgia.

“Now you’re a natural at this,” you commented, feeling reassured that while you were unusually nervous to play a big role in this heist, you had done well. It’s weird to think that once, Laurent was a rookie like you - that someone had mentored him. “I hope... my performance as a princess was good.”

“It was fantastic, mon lapin,” he praised, reaching your empty hand to emphasize his point. Your ears turned red - you weren’t the best at handling compliments like this, “If anything, I think you’ll probably outshine me one day.”

“I doubt that,” you said sheepishly, turning your head away from this gaze. He was too handsome to look at - tousled blonde locks and playful blue irises. His drunken blush didn’t help either.

“Mon lapin, you need more confidence in yourself,” with all inhibitions flew out the window, he reached for your chin and forced you to confront him - rather than his usual cunning smirk, he softly smiled at your adorable flushed cheeks. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it but there was something about your unbridled enthusiasm to learn and commit that made him quite fond of you. It reminded him of her. She would have taken quite a liking to you - always eager to please and coming apart under the slightest amount of praise when all eyes were on you. An idea hit him drinking in your demure visage. “Let me help you with that, my dear—“

“What do you mean, Lau—“ he hushed the question with a kiss. It was smooth and natural but being unfamiliar with this sort of affection, you froze. The Frenchman expected your unease - a long hand came to cup your cheek while the other rested in your shoulder to keep you grounded. Eventually, you settled in - even experimentally pressing your tongue against his lips, seeking permission. He hummed contently and indulged in the aftertaste of vodka lingering in your mouth. Your hand found purchase in his tropical shirt and tried to pull him in closer.

But he pulled away with a chuckle, taking in the glossy glisten of your eyes and your plush lips with red waxy smears from the corners of your mouth. “Eager to please, are we? J’aime ça.”

You didn’t respond, too caught up in what was taking place. A warm heat was spreading to your nether regions and Laurent noted how you shifted your thighs. Now he was curious. Seeing you positively react, he reached in again for another kiss but instead his hand went running up your thigh and you instinctually spread your legs to invite him closer.

“I knew it. You’re an eager slut, ready to please, aren’t you, mon lapin?” a devilish smirk curled his lips upwards - it made your heart hammered against your chest. Your words were stuck in your throat - he had caught you like the vulnerable rabbit trapped in between the sharp canines of a fox. He was the cat that got the cream. You shuddered when you sensed his fingertips dancing at your sides, ready to pounce.

“L-Laurent, please—“

“Hm, glad to see the cat didn’t get your tongue. But please what, mon lapin salope?”

“I— mmph—!” he pushed you down on the couch, assaulting your senses. His kiss was rougher, more sloppy - he bit at your lower lip so you could gasp and allow access to your mouth. He tongued you eagerly, all while lazily grinding his tented half-hard erection against your clothed heat. You moaned into his mouth, relishing in the taste of cigarettes and booze; your mind was growing fuzzy, unaware of the world surrounding you. Luckily for you and Laurent, everyone else had either left and found a room to crash in for the night. You wanted more of him. You whimpered when you left your lips, only to feel his hot breath tickle against your neck. He made a trail of kisses, occasionally deliberately teething, the skin blooming into a red-purple shade.

He stopped his incessant grinding, taking in the effects he had on you - swollen lips, blown-out pupils, matted locks against your forehead, and a couple of hickeys. You whined when he stopped, his teasing grin would have warranted a punch in the face. “You didn’t answer my question so I’ll help you out,” he jerked his hips against your clothed sex and you sighed, bucking your own hips to feel him again. However, his hands gripped them, holding you steady much to your dismay. “It’s clear what you want, mon cheri. I want the same. I want to fuck you. So don’t deny how eager you are to take my cock, you adorable slut.”

“L-Laurent— p-please, I want you—“

“Better, mon lapin. But why do you want me?”

“Y-You know...”

“Perhaps I do. But I want to hear it from your pretty slutty mouth, mon lapin.”

“B-But, Laurent, I—“ before you could articulate your words, the blonde dips one hand underneath the waistband of your pants. You choked on your words and moaned when his palm cups at your pantie clad sex, his long finger experimentally rubbing the slit.

“I can feel how wet you are. You’re particularly dripping, my dear Y/N...” being a bit impatient himself, his hand slipped underneath the fabric of your panties, his experienced hand easily finding the bundle of nerves hiding in its hood. With careful consideration, he rubs it, electricity jolting down your spine and a desperate moan leaving your lips. His free hand is already pulling down your leggings along with your panties and you help shimmy them off. Laurent spreads your legs further apart, admiring the pretty shade of your pussy and your swollen clit. Collecting more of your slick on his index finger, he presses it against your entrance and sinks it into the knuckle. You sigh in relief - he works his magic on you, immediately finding that one particular spot that has your toes curling.

With ease, he inserts another digit and begins to fuck your tight walls with only two of his fingers. You tense up, going with your instincts, and bucking against his hand. To put the icing on the cake, his thumb finds your swollen clit again, rubbing it in vigorous circles that has white stars flooding your vision. Laurent knows you’re about to cum, your core pulsating against his knowledgeable digits as he assaults your g-spot with a come here motion. However, before you can fall from your peak, he stops his ministration, cackling almost sinisterly when you let out a whine followed by a curse.

“Tell me, mon lapin salope, what do you want?”

“Fuck Laurent, please! You know already!” you cry out in frustration.

“I know what your beautiful body wants but again, I want to hear it from those pretty lips,” he coos, lapping up juices from his slender fingers.

“God, p-please...! J-Just do me already—“ you whine, your cheeks burning red, steam particularly coming out of your ears. You avert your gaze away, his wolfish grin too much to handle.

But he wasn’t going to have it. He reaches for your chin, his visage softening. It was too cute with how embarrassed you were but he understood he could be cruel. He gives you an encouraging kiss, “Look me in the eyes and say it with confidence, mon cheri.”

With an exasperated sigh, you throw out your dignity, finally giving in to the Frenchman’s scheme. You reach for his face, appreciating how he was being more lenient - yet a hint of a smirk remained, his eyes beaming with amusement. Chewing on your bottom lips, you stumble over some of your words but still carry on, desperate at this point. “L-Laurent, please... I-I... I want you to... f-fuck me with your cock! Please, I can’t handle this anymore—!”

Finally - your cute face was desperately worth it.

“I thought you would never ask~”

“B-But we can go to the bedroom?”

He chuckles, giving you another quick kiss before scooping you up, “Of course.”

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel's viper eyes turned to meet her violet pair, at her vow to help him, if it turned for the worst. Remaining silent, he nodded his appreciation and understanding, preferring the matter remain unspoken until that bridge had to be crossed, if it had to be. He took another drink, savoring it some more and studying the fire once more, though keeping some of his senses on the possessed girl behind them, across the room... listening to her rapid heartbeat, as well as the raven haired Sorceress' slower one nearby. They were in the eye of the storm, alright... a rare calm he intended to make the most of while it lasted. More than that, she didn't seem up to arguing with him, for the moment, understood the gravity of the situation well herself. Thus far he couldn't sense any demons outside, but with his medallion in a perpetual state of humming, it was difficult to tell, like an encompassing mist of magic... which was probably closer to the truth than not. Still, with all the precautions and traps he had set around the cabin and outside, the next wave of them trying to attack would alert them at once. He hadn't just started his profession yesterday.

At her unexpected laugh and faux haughty teasing... a rare moment she seemed to drop the frostiness, his marred visage looked her way again and smirked back at her, uttering a low chuckle under his breath. Her manner mischievous. He studied the pale, dark haired beauty silently as she spoke... there was no denying that much, her beauty, despite his misgivings of Sorceresses. It had been evident the first time she had visited Kaer Morhen, one winter, and he had tried to keep his distance as much as possible, with good reason. And if she had acted like this more often, less like the storm going on outside the cabin, perhaps he would have been more welcoming of her back in those days, as he had been to Triss. He knew her type well, the cold sort that wanted to be chased, that had a secret warmth inside that kept a short sighted, gullible man perpetually chasing them, thinking they would be the one to uncover it. The Winter Queen, brought to life. Regardless, maybe there was a bit more to her than met the eye, and Geralt hadn't been altogether a fool regarding her, in their time together. Only half of one. Time would have to tell. At her request, he nodded and passed the drink back over to her again, before his deep, languid voice returned to her as well gradually.

"Lucky me. A bit of class certainly never hurts. Course the jury is still out on how much it will help our current dire circumstances. I'll take it over all the demons of late, at least. I ain't half bad when it comes to contenting even a picky woman. A warm lady beats a cold one any day of the week. Just look at the Winter Queen of the old legend. A proper drink would have done her some good... might have even saved many poor, frozen bastards from her magical shards of ice as well. Kept them from chasing her sleigh. But many men seem to enjoy chasing their doom, and what is beyond their grasp, in my experience. There's some mundane wisdom to the legend... though I'm more interested in the Witcherly aspects of it. What kind of monster she really was, if she was connected to the Wild Hunt, White Frost and Aen Elle... or just an old wives tale. Suppose some stories are better off as mysteries... enough cold blooded folk in this world as it is."

@okruchlodu

"I'm the one that separated her from the Ruehin. If necessary, I'll be the one to end her suffering one way or the other. My choice, my responsibility. But only if it is necessary. Ain't in a hurry to become another Witcher who has sacrificed children, regardless of the goal."

Eskel's low, calm voice spoke again after some grim contemplation, fingers absently rubbing his mutilated cheek, viper eyes looking between the raven haired Sorceress and the fire now and again. Memory stirring of the screams coming from the laboratory at Kaer Morhen... both his own, and each of his brothers... those who survived and died upon Sad Albert alike. When his senses had been enhanced, it had been hell getting any sleep in the evenings when the mages had performed the rituals on the latest students. He had come to prefer sleeping out in the barn, boat house, or somewhere else besides the keep on those evenings. Screams like the way the girl screamed in her slumber, now and again. At least in her case, if it came to it, little as he wanted to, he was in a position to be able to grant her a mercy, if treating her was not possible. No mercy had been shown on the students. Returning from the unpleasant memories to the no less unpleasant present they were in, he observed and uttered a morbid chuckle at Yennefer's reaction to the Mahakaman Spirit she had stolen from him, reaching out and taking it back. In contrast to her, he drank a good helping with ease, savoring the burning that went down his throat and chest... uttering a contented breath. Languidly speaking back to her once more with weary amusement, mutilated visage returning her smirk faintly, despite the situation they were in.

"We drink toxic mutagens and monster entrails and fluids on a regular basis. Ain't much we won't or can't drink, on that scale of measurement. We didn't all grow up at lavish Aretuza or Ban Ard, with your fancy wines and parties. Whatever does the job works for us, and there ain't many that do with our mutations. Recall you saying something about being willing to drink our liquors from an old boot at Kaer Morhen, not so long ago. Lucky for you there were no old boots around that evening."

@okruchlodu

[randombtsprincessa]

Blackthorn Creek

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 24.1k

Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU! Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Smut!

Rating: NC-17 ranging till 18+ during the last scene, just to be safe.

Warning: Curses, magic, violence, conspiracy for treason, heavy insecurities, imprisonment of sorts, animal attacks, description of blood and injuries, mob mentality, invasion, stabbing, falling from heights, death, marital sex, first time, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (be careful folksies!) And a whole lotta cheese cause it’s Jimin and I love him.

A/N: The following work is part of the Twisted Fairtytales: Members in Distress for @ksmutclub​ I had the idea for this story sitting in my WIPS and thankfully, the project came at the perfect moment! I hope you all like it as much as I loved writing it! 

A major thank you and a glomping hug to @cuziloveyou7​ and my amazing best friend for all their support for the fic!

The night was chill.

Pale, gossamer links of snow knitted across the glass of the castle, the granite of the stairs seeping the cold through to the skin.

A light chatter was interrupted when the front doors thudded – once, twice and then another time.

It was late, after all; much too late for any visitors, too rude for guests to show up…

The King, a benign man, stood from his seat near the fire, guards surrounding their liege. The Queen looked up at her husband, worried but the King patted her shoulder, beckoning for the doors to be opened.

It would be rude to leave the doors barred too, of course. It could be someone in need.

He watched, curious, as his Maitre D’, Seokjin, walked slowly to the doors. His arms flung the heavy oaken doors open, a flourish to his actions.

“Welcome,” Jin spoke in his exaggerated voice, “to the Castle of Blackthorn Creek. To what do we owe the pleasure, and to whom, may I ask?”

There was silence, much too thick, much too tense to be someone in need, to be a friendly visitor.

“I am here, to see your King. Bring me to him.”

Seokjin stuttered in his vigor, an unnerved stance taking him over as he glanced back to the royal couple, a question to his eyes.

The King cast an eye to his right corner, where his trusted advisor sat, his shoulders visibly tight. Namjoon cleared his throat, a warning sound. “I will see him.” The King said instead, knowing it would be better to see what the stranger wanted.

His guards circled him, his wife remaining behind as he approached and stood behind Seokjin.

“You are in the presence of our Lord and King.” The man announced, drawing away with a stiff bow – unlike any he had performed before.

The King stepped forward, and looked at the man who stood at his doorstep. The man, in turn raised his head, allowing for the dark hood atop his head to fall back. His head was cast in shadows, the whites of the eyes visible as he spoke.

“Your Majesty, I have come from far lands for the pleasure of your company.”

“Consider the pleasure ours, please do come in. What can we do for you?” The King waved a hand, dismissing the surrounding guards as the stranger tilted his head, walking in with his head still held high. He stopped right inside the threshold, as the inmates of the house gazed with wonder and some horror at his visage.

His head was shaven, dark marks etched into the near blue-white skin of his face. His arms bore similar marks, sheathed in crimson robes that were certainly not the fashion of those times.

“Well,” The King pressed.

The stranger slowly blinked his unnerving eyes, a flash of green lighting them. “I hear tales of your kingdom, your generous reign in my homelands. I must say I am not disappointed.”

He finally turned his head to where the Queen sat. “I also hear tales of a beautiful daughter. Your little Princess,”

There was a ringing silence. Guards shifted in their positions, Namjoon and Seokjin drew closer to the Queen and the King froze. To all but the mysterious stranger’s eyes unknown, a small figure crouched at her mother’s skirts, face turned curious to the sudden tension in the air.

“What do you want?” It was the Queen who spoke. Her crown glinted in the firelight, her body clenched on her chair. The stranger didn’t look at her when he answered the question.

“I come with a proposal. I offer my hand in marriage with the Princess.”

There was another pause, albeit much less tense as movement started.

“Preposterous; she is but a child.” This came from Namjoon.

“I am willing to wait.” The stranger said coolly.

“Then you will be waiting forever. I will not give my child to any godforsaken man who happens across my door and throws around absurd ideas. You will never have my daughter.”

“I will be a good husband, and a good king.”

“My Liege; do we have permission to draw arms?” The guard closest to the King asked, his hand already drawing closer to his sheathed sword.

“Nay, no bloodshed; just throw this madman out to the snow.” The King spat, his cloak whirling as he turned to go back to his family.

Behind him, his men converged, arms raised to push the stranger out the palace gates.

Time seemed to slow as the men gathered around his form, which had straightened to as tall as he could get.

“You’ll find you’ve made something of a mistake…Your Majesties.”

A cruel smile curled his lips, hands cupping near his stomach. His large sleeves gave way, revealing the etched marks and even as they pulse green, his form erupted in green light, exploding out till it engulfed the entire estate.

The King buckled, his arms wrapping around his wife and child as the men began to shout, and darting away from whatever it was the demon man unleashed.

“Hear me, O great King; for your impudence, I place your most beloved under this curse. You will be reduced to nothing but a fixture; your entire household will be mere pawns to be used by commoners. And your daughter,” The smirk widened, finding the small girl who still hid, now visible to everyone as their horrified gazes found the young princess.

“Your daughter will be left all alone. Her beauty will now be gone, her temperament destroyed. She will be feared, loathed, a monstrosity that will live with your enchantment.”

“She is a child! You are hurting a child!” Finally, an anguished wail escaped the Queen but the wizards over spoke her, drowning her words.

“At the age of twenty and three, she will be rendered thus permanently. Not a thing but the truest of love can rescue her and break my curse. Only the one who will look past her form will win that honor.”

The light faded with the man’s silhouette, the only thing that remained in the blazing glimmer of the settling curse. Movement ceased, the fire died into its embers…

“You will soon find that I am the only man who is merciful and worthy enough.”

These last words echoes in the halls, sealing through the stone and glass until another sound replaced it.

The screams of a terrified little girl…

Time seemed to flow like water after the screams died.

Nobody took courage to go up to the Palace, find their rulers…the town forgot they even had rulers. Administration moved into common hands, spread to the citizens and the legend of the lost royal family became a ghost story.

The path to Blackthorn Creek remained abandoned, silent, and derelict.

In the town of course, the ghost story didn’t matter. Life had moved on, become busy, become full of bustle.

Park Jimin threw the doors of his father’s work room open, sticking his head in to check once on the aging man.

“Father, I’m out to the baker’s. Shall I bring back something?”

There was no answer from his father, just a distant sigh that said there was nothing that could be brought back that would satisfy him.

Jimin drew back, unable to curb his rising disappointment. There was something in the slump of his father’s shoulders, ever since they’d moved into the developing town of Blackthorn Creek that, as much as the exuberant Jimin tried, he simply couldn’t shake.

Perhaps, it was his mother’s death that took their house and worldly belongings. Perhaps it was the sinking of his father’s patent ship, causing such debt that there was no hope to pay it back with nothing to put up for interest.

The Park family had to relocate from their luxury in France to the eastern countryside, to this small place. It had taken all the merry from his father’s life.

Jimin, however, worked hard to keep his spirits up. This was a setback yes, but his father was a genius. He was sure to come up with another pitch that would work out. And even if he didn’t; well, Jimin would always be there to take care of his beloved father.

A basket in hand, Jimin cocked his hat, setting out for the day.

The town, as small as it was, was full of life around midday. The market bustled, the streets running with people and the pub was always open, till as late as it could get.

But even through the color, there were shades of grey. The cheerful Creek had one mighty legend; one of the local royals’ disappearance. There was a long winded street that was barred from the public, leading up to a small hill, behind which there was said to be the palace.

He had taken these myths with a small smile, aimed at the person trying to call for his attention with these stories.

But even he had to admit, such tales of mystique piqued his fancy in the most delightful way. France had been exciting, especially for a young man such as himself. Plucking him out and placing him in a much smaller world where things were…stagnant, did cause something of a blow to his vigor.

Jimin stopped, contemplating the bookshop that lay just at the edge of the forbidden path. He had a few books still remaining back home, left to be read – but perhaps, he could squeeze in another couple?

“My boy,” The shopkeeper chuckled at the frown on the young man’s face. “Are you done with those piles that you took already?”

“Not quite, sir,” Jimin grinned. “I might just pop by again soon enough.”

The shopkeeper gave him a toothy grin, watching the man glance in some wonder at the blocked off road. The mountains had already started to grow slick with frost – sign of another passing winter. “Here,” he said suddenly.

Jimin stuttered in his forward steps, retracing back to where the stooping elder held out a pale bound tome from the front window. “Sir,” he raised his eyes in puzzlement.

“It’s a little something special I had lying about collecting dust. It was surprising that this one hasn’t caught your eye as of yet but I’m sure you will enjoy it.”

Jimin gave the friendly man a smile, letting the soft book fall open upon his palms, sifting through the delicate pages. “What’s it about?”

“The very thing you’re so curious about; lost princesses, brave knights, curses, fairies…” The book keeper burst out laughing at the soft blush that crept along Jimin’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be coy, son. Our little legend is bound to attract someone.”

“I must thank you sir. I will return it as soon as I’m done.”

“Oh by all means, keep it. It’s better suited to your hands than the shelves in this old place.”

Jimin blinked. “That’s a generous gift. I hope I do it justice.”

“I’m sure you will. Now off with you; the market isn’t going to stay open all day.” The man waved Jimin off, returning to his shop.

Jimin found himself quickly immersed in the fantasy, the short stories of courage, chivalry, sacrifice and fire keeping his nose well buried in the musty pages as he found the daily shopping that he was required to do.

All was well, until the book was snatched out of his hands, a giggle soon to follow.

“Hello stranger.”

“Hyebin,” Jimin sighed, looking around to where the young girl had snapped the book shut decisively.

Hyebin had been the girl to whom Jimin owed most of his knowledge of the town. Raven haired, slim and tall, she was the beauty of the town, sister to one of the most renowned hunters in the nearby vicinity – Kai. He and his sister had taken over most of the social scene of the town, near to becoming the law itself.

And Hyebin had her eyes set on Jimin ever since he set foot within the pub; by proxy, leading her brother to pester him with offers of her hand.

“May I have my book back?”

Pale glimmering lips pouted at him, the book still clutched in her hands. “You never pay attention to me, Jimin. Not when you have books about,” she said.

“Of course that’s not the case.” The man said smoothly.

“It is so. What’s so special about books anyway?” Hyebin took a step further back, too quick for Jimin’s reaching fingers. She pried the book open rudely. “They don’t lead to too much around here.”

“There’s more to books than just material gain, Hyebin.” Jimin was becoming impatient – his eyes fixed on the way her nails dug into the delicate binding.

“If you say so, when we’re married; would you still pay more attention to books than me?”

Jimin dearly wanted to say that that would never happen but he settled for resignedly bouncing on his toes. “What if I read to you?”

“I’d fall asleep.”

“I see.” This time Jimin moved fast, hands grabbing the book from Hyebin’s distracted hold long enough to fall back a safe distance. “I need to go back home. Give your brother my best.”

By the time he got home, his father had put away his new working equipment, instead pacing about in the handkerchief living room.

“Father,” Jimin greeted, putting up his hat.

“Son, how…how was the day?” His father stopped marching, coming up to take the basket of shopping from him.

“Normal, had to dodge Hyebin as usual,” he muttered, making his father chuckle.

“One of these days that girl will marry you still.”

“Such a horrifying thought,”

“Then let me put you to ease.” Mr. Park put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, making his son look him in the eyes. “There has been some development. The ship that I lost at sea, a year ago, has been heard from. I have been called to attest to it.”

Jimin took a moment to process the news, watching his father’s eyes light up with something that was fearfully hopeful. “Do you mean that --?”

“Possibly; if it is true, we can go back to our old lives again! Think of it, Jimin! Paris, France, the beautiful sprawling house that we had to give up. Your education…” The man smiled affectionately, “We’ll have to find you a lady to wed who is at par with you.”

“Father,”

“I set off tonight! It will be a day’s journey but I know you can watch over things here.”

Jimin watched as his father hurriedly moved to the door, a coat and hat finding their way on his body and his cane and horse whip clasped to his breast. “Wish well for us, my son, our lives could be soon close to change. Do you wish for me to bring you anything back?”

“No father, just you,” Jimin bid farewell to his father, watching him disappear within the small stable to gallop away.

When Mr. Park had set out for the harbor, his spirits had been up soaring in the clouds, visions of his life returning to him in his previous splendor. Now, stood at the wooden ledge, watching crestfallen as merchants, traders, moneylenders, once his friends but now…now they had gathered around his returned goods and scavenged and distributed everything among themselves.

“Your debts are clear, Park.”

“Jimin won’t have to be in debt to us anymore, sir.”

“Go back home sir,”

Just words…nothing more, no comfort found his heart when he straddled his horse again, starting the long trek home.

The horse wouldn’t gallop, possibly sensing its master’s indolence and Mr. Park was overcome with a sudden wave of gratefulness for the animal. After all, he would have to strengthen his bones; he had to deliver the news to Jimin.

The idea of disappointing his son was probably more harrowing than that of losing his wealth yet again.

At least now they were free from debt.

There was a small whinny, attracting the older man’s attention as he looked up to see which path he was on. It was long, thin, winding up a hill he had never seen before in his life.

“Hey boy, I think we took the wrong way.” He patted the horse’s head, before getting off, grabbing the reins. “Let’s find a way out.”

A few miles in, Mr. Park stopped, short of breath.

“Where in the world are we?” He growled low, ignoring the shuddering animal behind him as he trudged on when a high, pitched sound made them both freeze.

A wolf’s howl…

There were wolves around. Mr. Park was alone with no weapons and no idea of where he was. His horse let out a sound of protest again.

“Damn it all too hell,” Mr. Park quickly climbed the horse, kicking it to speed. “Take off, boy; we don’t have any time to lose.”

His ride raised back its front legs, before racing down the way they had come.

Jimin had been anxious all day, toiling in the small garden that his father had managed to build in the front of their house. Sweat had gathered his dark hair into clumps, matting his eyes so when he hear the familiar whinny of Geureum, the horse, he smiled naturally – relieved that his father was finally back home.

“Ah father, nice to –,” he turned, his smile vanishing slowly when he saw the horse alone, pawing his hooves into the dirt, snorting impatiently.

“Geureum, where is he?” Jimin grabbed for the horse’s reins, pulling it closer to soothe it. “Where is Father?”

All Geureum did was shake his head roughly, stepping back and forth.

“Can you show me where he is, huh, boy? Come on,” He slipped his foot in the stirrup, hauling himself into the saddle. “Take me to him, Geureum.”

Geureum stopped only once when he reached a huge, wrought iron gate, roses and swans intricately welded to the metal, now rusty from disuse.

Something had prickled Jimin’s hairline when Geureum had approached the blockaded hill up to the legendary Blackthorn Creek palace but the horse had circumvented it, riding up a much thinner path up.

Jimin slipped off of the horse, patting Geureum on the side. “Stay here, boy.”

And then…with a creek that echoed through the cold night, he entered the palace, walking through huge oaken double doors to find his father.

He had to admit, for a second, standing in the atrium of the castle, he was struck by how grand it must have been. The ceiling peaked, now broken in with many of the granite slabs gone, the starry night sky clearly visible. Dirt and mud had accumulated on the marble floors, muffling the clicks of his boots just a bit.

“Father,” he called loudly before cursing to himself.

What if someone heard him? He wasn’t exactly supposed to be here.

Jimin shook his head. Who would hear him? It was a deserted castle with its family long gone. There probably had never been a family; the town had probably spun a yarn to make it special to tourists.

He crept up grand staircase, sticking close to the rails.

“Father,” he called again.

“Jimin…?”

He whirled, looking around for the source of the sound. “Yes, father it’s me.” He ventured, noticing a hand slipping out from the bars of a door. “Father!” He dropped to his knees in front of the door.

“Jimin, what are you doing here? You can’t be here, you have to leave!” His father was wailing from within, his hands grasping air in search for Jimin.

“What are you saying? Of course, I had to come! Who did this to you?”

“No! Don’t you see, Jimin? It’s true, the legends, the stories, they’re true!”

“What is true? Father, tell me who did this to you?”

“The monster; there is a monster in this castle!”

Jimin paused in trying to pry the door open, widened eyes swiveling to his father’s outstretched hands. “What?”

“It’s true! Please you have to leave! It’s dangerous!”

“Father, that can’t possibly be true!” Jimin said adamantly only to be proven wrong the next second.

A roar that sent Jimin’s hair rising to its ends erupted, echoing around the cavernous halls. A heavy weight landed on his shoulder, throwing him away from the door.

“What are you doing here?”

If there was a god, Jimin had better start praying to it, he thought, cowering away from the hunkering shadow that loomed over him. All he could discern were bright yellow eyes, slanting dark pupils glaring at him and the appendage his father had left hanging out the bars.

“Jimin!” His father chose to shout at the very moment.

Jimin watched the – the – thing – rise upon its legs, prowling further in but still remaining in the dark corner. “What are you doing here?” It asked again.

Jimin blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Here he was, in an allegedly cursed castle. His father was locked up, raving about monsters and now he was face to face with what appeared to be a huge animal…only, it talked like a human.

“I…I came for my father.” Jimin stuttered, trying to push himself back up.

The yellow eyes flickered, between Jimin and his father, before creeping back into the shadows. “You came in vain. The prisoner will not be released.”

“No wait!” Jimin called, shuffling to his feet as the figure began to draw back. “You can’t keep him here like this! He’s an old man, he’ll die!”

“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED IN MY HOME!”

Jimin froze at the sudden roar, managing to grab onto his father’s hands finally. This was real. The legend was true. The people living in the castle were monsters, cursed.

“Your…please – I’ll do anything.”

“No! He’ll stay here, locked up because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The monster began to disappear.

“Take me.” Jimin took a step forward.

The figure paused.

“What, Jimin, no – no, listen, you can’t do this!” His father yelled.

“I mean it. You take me, let him go.” Every word strengthened in his throat, conviction pushing him forward till he was barely a meter away from the monster.

“You – You’d do that? You’d stay here, in exchange for him?”

Jimin met its eye. Bright yellow to Jimin’s deep brown, when it stepped finally into the small lighted part.

Coarse, shaggy fur coated a huge, lumbering form. The bright yellow eyes that seemed so unnerving were set in a canvas of a ferocious face, the fur streaked with grey and black, a huge snout for a nose and huge fangs that protruded from its mouth.

A lesser man would’ve burst a lung screaming at the horrifying sight but Jimin managed to hide his face, backing up till he could feel his father trying to clutch at the back of his shirt.

“I…I would. Let him go and you can take me.” Jimin finally said and he was proud to say that his voice remained steady.

There was a ringing moment of doubt, flickering in the golden orbs of the monster, before with a growl it raised its paw. Jimin flinched, cringing away from the blow but it never fell. Instead, he heard a dull, metallic thunk and the heavy padlock fell to his feet.

Mr. Park fell out; the door giving way under his weight and he clung to Jimin. “No, no, please, don’t take him, keep me – I have nothing to live for anymore but my son has a whole life.” His father begged to the monster but the only reply they got was a ferocious roar. “GET OUT! If you value your life and your son’s, leave; or I will kill you both!”

The monster turned on an enormous heel, stomping back into the darkness.

The tower that Jimin was pushed into had one small window, a little too high for him to reach, but he managed to hike his nimble body up till he swung from the ledge. His fingers reddened from the strain but when he finally peeked through the window, he just barely caught the end of a huge cart, led by a snorting and neighing Geureum.

He dropped from the ledge, landing squarely on his feet upon the uneven flagstone and cursed, running two hands through his ruffled hair.

“Hello sir,”

Jimin jumped, whirling around at the smooth voice that sounded nothing like the awful grate of the monster’s growl.

“Right down here.”

Jimin backed up as far as he could against the wall before casting his eyes downwards. There was nothing on the floor, soft moss growing within the cracks with one slightly buffed up candelabrum left behind.

“Hello,” the voice said again.

“Where are you? Look, I’m not scared of anything anymore so you’re doing nothing,”

“Of course not, sir, it’s me…Kim Seokjin, the…” a sigh, “the candle holder.”

Jimin took a shuddering breath, before very slowly diverting his eyes to the golden instrument on the ground.

It wasn’t very huge, just barely above average but the sweeping extensions made it seem bigger than it needed to be. Dripping wax clung to its arms where the candles stuck, the gold sheen pale yet glinting in the bare light. Just on the handle, there was an etching…just like one of a face. Even as Jimin watched, the candles lit up, making him flinch.

“Please follow me, sir.”

Jimin gulped.

“Follow you where?”

The candelabrum, to Jimin’s astonished eyes, seemed to turn on the base.

“The Mistress is installing you in a room of your own. The household doubts you want to stay in the tower.” There was something caustic about the smooth tone of the thing. It made Jimin almost bristle and refute before he looked around the tower he was put in.

It was one of the spindle shaped ones, too thin and a little rickety. The window that he had tried to peek out was the single one allowing light in and he could feel some vertigo setting in already, if the nausea was anything to go by.

“Fine – lead the way.” He said.

Jimin had already gauged that the palace had been luxuriant in its time but now, walking quietly through the long hallways with…an animate object bouncing along in front of him, he had to admit; that the ruin that now faced him didn’t seem adjacent to what the palace must have been before.

The stone, now greenish grey had gnarled carvings etched into them. The statues that stood at corners had most of their heads broken or missing and the small beam that the candles gave off only made him all the more unsettled.

“We know it’s a little…dull – around here but we hope you’ll like it.” It was as if the thing knew what was going on in Jimin’s head.

“You said ‘we’…and ‘household’ before…but except for you…and…well, the monster,” Jimin stopped talking when the candelabrum winced.

“You…might want to be careful about that. The Mistress is sensitive and none of the people in the castle will appreciate you calling her that.”

Jimin nearly tripped on his feet when he finally processed something. “That…that thing is a she?”

He was ignored. The candelabrum stopped in front of one of the doors, double door, handles of glum silver. “This is going to be your room, sir.” Jimin didn’t answer, quietly reaching for the handle and turning it, letting himself in cautiously.

The room wasn’t lighted, most of the darkness only marred by the light streaming from a glass window. He could spy a bed at best.

Jimin was about to step in further, squinting his eyes when he heard a loud creak, possibly a considerable weight upon a floorboard and then the clink of metal.

“If you don’t like the room, we can move you.” He heard but instead of the smooth, cool voice of the candelabrum, it was gruff, low and sullen.

He whirled to see a huge part of a shadow standing well back into the room. A heavy cloak wrapped up the body, concealing it further within the darkness.

Jimin didn’t speak as the form lumbered to the open door.

“Your needs will be seen to here. My servants will attend to you.” There was a pause before it took hold of the door. “And you will meet me for dinner; every night.”

The slam of the door made Jimin jump; his immediate reaction was to run to the door and look through the keyhole. There were footsteps and a murmur of conversation but aside from that, the entire palace seemed silent.

Jimin huffed, walking over to the window to open it, casting a furtive look outside and letting out a scornful laughter. He was a good way up the ground. Jumping from the window would mean certain death and even if he only escaped, it would be with broken bones and with no horse.

He doubted the ‘Mistress’ would nurse him back to health.

“My sweetest sister,” A finger brushed under the supple cheek of Hyebin, turning her attention to her brother who loomed over her at the counter of the pub. “What has you down?”

Hyebin pouted, throwing Kai’s hand off. “I went by Park Jimin’s house this evening to see if he would take a turn with me. He wasn’t there. The house was empty.”

“Maybe he went off with that father of his.”

“Why would he? There is nothing to do for him.”

Kai cast a glance at his grumpy sister, feeling the brewing of an odd emotion that he had had for her for months now. It was a mixture of pity, annoyance and yet the unyielding need to present whatever she wanted on a golden platter. He knew that Jimin did not return even half of a quarter of affection that his sister had and while he was annoyed at her overzealous devotion, he knew that she would never falter.

She got her stubbornness from him, after all.

Now, there may be better men for Hyebin than Jimin, but she wanted him and Jimin would marry her – Kai would see to it.

“Sister,” he began.

“You promised, Kai! You promised me you would make him marry me. You don’t love me. You can’t even do this much for me!”

“Now, now, dearest,”

Hyebin’s face had reddened; her hair crackling as she swelled like a bullfrog, ready to rail at her brother when the doors on the pub crashed open, with Mr. Park falling, raving against it.

“Help,” he panted, grasping at whatever was close at hand to heave himself up. “Help, my son, my son please.”

Heads turned, eyes falling to the soaked man as snow melted and pooled around his boots, the cloak wet and snug around his head. His eyes shifted from one astonished face to another, growing more restless.

“Please! I need help. My son has been taken by a monster!”

Behind him, Kai heard Hyebin’s squawk of indignation die down, releasing instead a dainty gasp. He watched the loony man walk around, trying to clutch at the sleeves of the patrons who shook him off with scoffs until he neared the siblings, finally tumbling at Kai’s elbow.

“Please, Kai, my last hope – you…have to help. My son, my only son – gone! – taken! – I can’t take this.”

Hyebin shrunk away from the delirious old man, bundling her dress to her knees even as Kai shook his arm free. “What’s the matter, Mr. Park? Be a little clear.”

“The monster of the palace took Jimin! Trapped him in the big castle on the hill…I couldn’t do anything!”

There was a pause as Kai furrowed his brow, before a patron shouted. “Leave him, Kai. He’s probably mad with the cold!”

“I am not!” Mr. Park immediately protested, wringing roughly at the coat before slumping his head and walking out the pub, defeated. They could hear wails of anguish in the cold winds outside but none were met with sympathy.

“He ran away!” Hyebin finally screeched, sinking her nails in her brother’s arms, ire flaming again.

Kai didn’t answer, letting his arm lax while his thoughtful expression slowly merged into that of a smirk. “Hyebin, my sweet; you might just get to marry Park Jimin after all.”

Jimin didn’t know when he’d dozed off. It must have been the exhaustion of the day, the pressure, the sorrow but he had curled up in one of the dusty armchairs, closed his eyes for possibly a second, only to gather his thoughts. Now he woke up to a pitch black room, stars visible from the window and he knew it was very late into the night.

His back had cramped in his position, obliging him to get off when he heard the gentle knock on the door. He took a wary stance, waiting for the doors to be barged into but to no avail. It was probably Seokjin the candle holder, Jimin decided, going to open the door.

“My now, I thought you’d wait for all the milk to go cold before you opened the door.”

Anticipating it, Jimin was already looking to the floor, only to be met by what looked like a tea set. He watched eyes boggling as the tea pot, a tall, sleek work with a rotund belly hobbled into the room, followed by a cup, and a sugar bowl.

“Um, what…who – are you now?” He asked.

“I’m the head cook, boy. Min Yoongi’s the name, also known as the best damn teapot in the kingdom. This right here,” the snout of the teapot tipped down to the cup, “is Taehyung, the assistant cook but not the best cup even in the room because he can’t keep himself on one stupid shelf.”

“Yah Hyung,” the cup opened at its seam, as if they were lips. “Don’t be mean.”

“I wasn’t going to come at all but I can’t leave you alone. Now then to business, boy; the Princess is taking a late supper so you can eat with her. You can have some milk before you go. You look like you’ve been crying and you’re just going to upset her.”

“Upset her?” Jimin glared, as the tea cup, filled with milk jumped into his reluctant hand. “I am the one trapped here.”

“Look on the bright side.” The teapot waved its spout and all the tea materials gathered in one line, heading out the door. “There’s a splendid welcome supper to be had. Come Taehyung.” He called as he exited.

“Oh but,” the tea cup sloshed some of its content onto Jimin’s hands when it jumped down, skidding across the stone before the door shut again. The sounds of the tea cup’s protests reached Jimin even through the heavy door.

Jimin wiped his hands of his trousers, grumbling at the way he made a mess when he backed against something large.

“No need to worry, young sir. Wardrobe is always here to help!”

Golden but dusty doors banged Jimin on the face, nearly tossing him onto the floor as the wardrobe advanced, rows and rows of pristine, shiny outfits ready to be worn. Jimin gasped, clutching his nose in pain as he shook his head.

“Many apologies! It’s been a while since I’ve been opened for any event at all. I am Jung Hoseok, the royal master of robes. Please do look through the selection to pick something out. I daresay you’ll want to change out of your outfit for dinner.”

“No thanks,” Wincing, Jimin managed to get to his feet. “I’m not going to dinner with Princess Monster down there.”

“Oh dear,” he heard the wardrobe as he crossed his arms, turning to the window to glare out of it.

The long dining table had been decked out for the first time in fifteen years. Silk cloths had been draped over the mahogany, candles put up, torches wiped and lit, plates and tableware sparkled in the dancing flame of the fireplace.

Yet, none of the chairs had been pulled back.

Seokjin and Yoongi, watched, anxious as the Mistress of the Castle, their Princess prowled in front of the table, each paw taking further weight from your animal bulk.

“Your highness, perhaps…you should sit and wait.” Seokjin suggested.

“No; I will wait for the man.” You said. Your voice had dipped down to a warning growl but your household items…your staff had never been very afraid of you.

Maybe they had, once, when you had first transformed and not taken to what you had become. A monster, a huge, hunkering loathsome thing which wanted to claw and destroy anything that stood in its wake…

It had taken years, but you had somewhat been ‘tamed’ since then.

“Princess, please, do consider that if we play our cards right, this man could be your salvation.”

“You think I don’t know that? I do…I know that but…how can he be if he won’t even come to dinner?”

“Perhaps also take into consideration that the boy is trapped here. He won’t see his father or his previous life again.” Jin’s statement wasn’t met with any geniality, instead the candelabrum found himself in the vice grip of his Mistress.

“Then what should I do? Do I throw him out? Let him leave so he can bring back a mob? No! I won’t do anything and if he wants to be difficult, I can be too.”

“We know that, your highness.” Yoongi said, his spout quivering. “We just have to remember to keep our tempers in check.”

The last statement was spoken pointedly and the monster blinked its huge yellow eyes, looking down to where you were almost squeezing your Maitre ‘D. You dropped the candle holder, Seokjin bouncing back a few steps when the door to the dinner room opened.

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi’s belly turned, the porcelain splitting into a smile.

You turned, eyes trained in anticipation but what peeked in was an ornate long grandfather clock, its rose gold arms clasping the door in trepidation.

“Namjoon, where is the boy?” Seokjin asked immediately.

The royal advisor hemmed, glancing anxiously at the bunched up bulk of the Princess. “He says, he won’t be coming, your highness.”

There was a ringing silence, torn by the groans of Yoongi and Seokjin before you stood up, your clawed feet digging into the stone floor so hard it hurt.

“Fine, if he wants to be so stubborn then let him have his consequences too. Yoongi, you will bar the kitchens. He will not eat anything unless he first comes to me.”

“Princess, we can’t woo a dead man.” Namjoon said calmly but you were already dropping down from an upright position to what you were used to, on all four feet, crouching.

“I don’t care! Just…just let him starve! I don’t care if we find bones in his room.”

The three items converged, all talking together and you slammed a paw on the table, shredding the cloth. “Enough; let me go!” You roared before taking off, leaping over their heads so you could head and lock yourself in your quarters.

The silence that brushed up and closed around you as soon as the doors shut behind you and automatically locked was bliss. Yet your mind was anything but.

Hateful thoughts swirled in your mind, mostly aimed at yourself, some at the enthusiasm that your staff seemed to show for this new addition to your home and finally, venom spilling out to the man who had now entombed himself in one of your best rooms but couldn’t even show the decency to come down for dinner.

What was so difficult about dinner?

And why was he allowed to shut himself in his room when all your life you had been told to never hide yourself from the rest of the house?

Granted, all your people were now objects, magical but still just objects. Your parents had been turned to statues, forced to weather out in the overrun gardens and you had been raised by Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon mostly. Children your age; Taehyung and Jungkook had hated you in the beginning and you had never sought them out yourself.

Over time, Taehyung had forgiven you but Jungkook turned to a Duster never saw you, working quietly where you would never tread.

The rest of your household never came forward and said it; having never witnessed the event that had transformed you all but the malice was palpable. The rejection hurt, you were a child shunned and you sprouted claws much too early for anybody’s liking but you had tried.

You had tried, before giving up. You gave up because nothing happened. Fifteen years and no prince came; no fairy godmothers pointed their wands at you. The wizard never came back to see if his spell wrecked you.

All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.

No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.

No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.

This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.

“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.

You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.

Jimin had dozed off again. When he woke, it was with a start, groggy and fumbling in his movements. This was a bad habit. He needed to collect his wits about himself. Maybe it was the magic of the castle but he had to remember that he wasn’t safe in here, no matter how friendly and polite everyone…everything was being.

Somehow, in his slumber, the torches in the room had been lit, casting the place in a dazzling golden glow. The chair he had fallen asleep in again was pushed right to the edge of the room, near the window. He spied that the bed had been made with brocade bedding, surfaces had been dusted and to his surprise there was a pool at the very centre, filled with clear, almost glittering water.

Jimin’s stomach, having refused dinner with the Monster out of pride was already protesting, tossing him out of the chair in the direction of the pool. Maybe a cool drink would cheer and lift his spirits.

He sat at the engraved stone border, looking down at his haggard expression in the water, running a hand through the pool, cupping the soothing liquid up to his lips.

The minute the water passed his lips, a new sense of relief and rejuvenation passed his body, coursing through him as though adrenaline itself. Jimin got to his feet, looking about if he could ask the Wardrobe – Hoseok – where he could go to find food.

He found the spot empty, instead there stood a mannequin. On it, hung was a brand new outfit; a white spotless shirt, black trousers and blue silk coat. The mannequin stood lifeless even as Jimin stripped it, and then with apprehension brewing at his belly at accepting the gift, himself. However, unease had to wait; he was soaked, cold, and soiled. He would fall sick at that rate and then all his plans of escape would shatter. He also didn’t want to be indebted to the castle in any way.

So with a bite at his pride, he put on the outfit before pressing his ears to the door, listening for any movement. He couldn’t hear the pounds of the Princess’s paws, the clatter of any objects moving, no conversation, nothing at all.

Wary in his gait, he stepped out, keeping a light foot to lead him on when something whimpered from his side.

Jimin jumped, whirling in anticipation of roars, of overwhelming friendliness but instead a small pair of eyes beamed up at him from behind a moth eaten curtain. Running a hand over his panicking heart, Jimin’s lips tugged into a soft smile.

“Hello there,” he cooed at the pup that ventured out the curtain with three more at its tail.

“Oh, wow, puppies.” Jimin wanted to laugh at the simplicity, at the adorableness but the pups only let out soft gurgles, wrapping paws around Jimin’s legs, trying to nudge him along.

“What is it? Where are you taking me?”

Jimin allowed him to be prodded and nudged along by four small dogs, along the hallway, down the stairs and through another until he was pushing open a door, clearly the kitchen.

“Oh my,” his eyes fell first to the teapot on a wooden table, followed by the grandfather clock and candle holder he’d seen already. “What are you doing here? How did you,”

The teapot stopped when he saw the four puppies cuddling around Jimin’s feet, something of a softness melting the intricate seam of it. “Ah, of course,”

“Forgive me, I didn’t know. I was just hungry.” Jimin shyly dipped his head, knowing he was probably trespassing on some late night gossip among the staff.

“No, no, of course you’re hungry, you did show some nerve. It must’ve made you ravenous.” Seokjin bobbed towards him, wrapping a gold arm around his coat tails, dragging him to the table.

“Don’t worry, sir. We’ve spoken with the Mistress. She’s going to show some leniency. She won’t come down to dinner the same time as you do…unless you request it.” Namjoon the clock lied smoothly.

Jimin was sat at the table by Seokjin, a napkin pressed at him by the teapot as dishes and plates of food began to dance around the length of the table, piling upon the plate presented to him to eat.

“I…thank you.” Jimin frowned, unable to think of anything more to say.

“You may also wander the castle and grounds as you wish. One of us will always be found around and the Guides,” Yoongi pointed its spout at the four pups that stood lined near the door, “will be your companions mostly.”

Jimin looked down at the hearty meal in front of him before digging in. “That will be very nice. Thank you.” He said around a mouthful of potatoes.

True to their words, the castle and grounds were left wide open for the curious Jimin. He woke up to a wonderful outfit slung on the mannequin; suits, coats, wonderful silks and soft cashmeres to drape over his body. The wardrobe – Hoseok, had returned, helping Jimin dress for the day’s adventures.

Jimin would eat breakfast in his room, sitting at the edge of the pool where – he wondered if it was his imagination – the water seemed to move to entertain him. He would climb over stiles; sniff the glowing flowers, count stars and fireflies if he stayed out too late. The castle, upon inspection was vast. Huge statues imposed upon him, Grecian, roman and baroque architecture worked itself seamlessly in the palace and he had fun listening to Namjoon talking about each was worked in or acquired.

He was very rarely alone.

The Guides, as the staff called the small pups were always with him. He had learned their names from Taehyung, the tea cup. The fluffy brown one was Holly, a pair of small Pomeranians that shaded darker was Mickey and Yeontan and then finally a pure white one named Monnie.

They led him in and out the lands, sometimes through a grotto where the only thing that nestled was a pair of entwined huge statues. He had stopped and stared up at them for quite a while. They were probably the biggest in the entire castle, both wearing a pained, sorrowed expression that bore Jimin’s own heart down. He didn’t venture in that particular grotto again. It felt too…private somehow.

Jimin was given dinner in the main dining room, the long table decked out only for him. He would sometimes cast a look upon the opposite chair, feeling lonely even if he had multiple entities to talk to.

The Princess never came upon in Jimin’s presence for days. He could sometimes hear the paws of her feet on the floor when he was roaming about, but she never once tried to impose herself on him. It was almost as if she watched him watch her home from afar.

Something in Jimin tugged when he thought about home, how he had completely left behind his straggly little town for this palatial world. He missed his father terribly yes, but here in the estate that he was free to roam, with people whose knowledge he was free to peck at, the silence had turned blissful very quickly.

Thoughts of escape never strayed further from his mind but for now, he wanted to stay cocooned in this silence.

It was almost two weeks till he was made aware of the very real presence of the mysterious Princess. He was used to her being a phantom by now so when the Guides playfully nipped at each other, chasing down a corridor, Jimin followed at ease, not feeling the pricks of unease until he reached the darker end of the corridor.

It was a whole quarter, possibly belonging to one of the royal family. He peeked into the empty bath before venturing further into the darkened opening.

The palace that had been warmed by fire for their new guest – or prisoner, however Jimin wanted to look at it had failed here. There was an odd chill running through the walls, as if someone had sucked the temperature and doused the room in ice.

The furniture was all dusty, clearly not attended to, and silver and cream paint peeled from the walls. He could almost spy the moss that collected in the cracks of the walls before he came to stand in front of the wall of paintings.

Each and every face on the walls, Jimin noted had been slashed. It was a brutal mutilation, clearly from the Princess’s claws. There was one painting that remained, of what had to be the royal couple. A tall, regal man stood at the side of an equally prim lady who sat on an armchair. One of his hands clasped her shoulders while hers held on to a young child, poised delicately upon her knee.

The child, a girl wasn’t having it though. He could tell the struggle of her flailing arms and kicking feet yet her face was void of distress. Instead he stared at the laughing, playing child, baby curls fluttering around her ears, thick fingers and chubby cheeks – the full deal. A small golden tiara nestled upon her head, crooked from her movement.

The picture was so happy; it brought a catch to Jimin’s throat, looking back up at the couple, tearing his eyes from the once human Princess. There was something hauntingly familiar about the faces yet Jimin couldn’t put his finger on it.

So engrossed he was, in staring at the pictures, moving on to where he tried to put together shredded pieces of the painting together that he failed to notice the silence. There was no yapping of the puppies to be heard and this silence was anything but comfortable.

When the door squeaked open, Jimin turned, coming face to face with the monster who had been diligently avoiding him. Half her furry face was shadowed, but he could tell from the single wide open yellow eye that he wasn’t an expected sight.

The eyes darted from his face to his hands, placed upon the paintings. Jimin had barely opened his mouth, to apologize, to explain, perhaps to snap but the Princess had already dropped to her haunches, a low growl ripping through the back of her throat.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? HOW DARE YOU COME HERE?”

Jimin stumbled back, pressing against the wall as the monstrous Princess leapt, scrambling towards the paintings and covering them up.

“I…I was just,”

“LEAVE! I WANT YOU OUT. GO! NOW,”

Jimin had heard enough and it presented a brilliant opportunity to him. She wanted him to leave. He could leave.

So quick he was, sidestepping the crouching girl that he had no time to see her fall to the floor, the cloak that covered and hid her body wrapped protectively around as a whimper replaced her roars. The Princess’s sobs never reached Jimin’s ears.

He didn’t wait to find any of the household staff. He knew that they would ultimately attempt to stop him, try to make sense of the Princess’s commands. So he hurried down the stairs and out the side to where he’d found the stables.

His own Geureum was gone, with his father but he yanked on the reins of a white stallion; titled Jjangu on his crest. Jimin saddled the panicking horse blindly, patting it only once to soothe it before he was mounting and taking off in the distance of the town.

Your roaring yells had reached the ears of the household, of course. Namjoon was the first to respond, sliding into the royal quarters; his wooden stand skidding as he found you curled up under the one painting that you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy.

It was your family portrait, commissioned just two years before your lives would change forever and while you had torn up every picture of your face that hung up, you couldn’t destroy your parent’s.

Namjoon could tell from the shudders that shook your form that you were just finishing crying. Propriety dictated that he wouldn’t trespass on a royal in distress but you were his charge, he had raised you, taught you, attempted to feed you since he could bring your fear and panic at being transformed into a beast to heel.

“Princess…Y/N,” He coaxed, golden bars running through the shaggy mass where your hair would be. His heart ached at the soft sniffles that sounded too loud because you…you weren’t human after all.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. And it’s okay to not be, you won’t be less of a person for your troubles.”

You raised your head with a deep scoffing laugh. “I am not a person, Namjoon. I’m a monster; a loathsome creature.”

The clock ticked angrily but didn’t prod the issue. “The boy -,”

“Left; I scared him off. That’s that then.”

Namjoon shook his head, casting a glance out to where the snow had become wilder, until only white could be seen. “Your highness, he left in a terrible condition. He’ll get lost.”

“I don’t care.”

“Princess, Namjoon,” Two heads turned to where Seokjin rushed in, candles burning on his many wicks. “The boy, Jimin, he has taken off on your horse! He’s taken Jjangu.”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD?” You screeched loudly enough for both grown men…objects to flinch. “MY HORSE…HOW COULD HE DARE, HE -,”

“Princess, the wolves, if the wolves find them, it will be too late,” Seokjin murmured softly.

There was a heavy pregnant pause in which Namjoon and Seokjin stared at their Mistress, holding her shaggy head aloft as if she was praying for pity. Finally, under the gaze of your caretakers and advisors, you slumped, admitting defeat.

“Alright, alright, I suppose we can’t leave him to die in the blizzard.”

When you had first transformed, a howl had been the first thing that had scared you. Your small hands and feet had turned into paws, huge claws protruding from the nails. Your hair seemed to grow everywhere until you were taught that it was fur, too coarse and too matted to be what had been a well taken care of head of hair.

Your first memories after the transformation had been running away, tripping and falling multiple times because you weren’t used to your new body until Namjoon and Yoongi had found you, cowering under a broken branch. Howls had pushed you into a scared ball and when they’d found you, they’d spoken. You could still remember a clock and a teapot trying to act brave as a single wolf, too big and gleaming in the moonlight curled back its lips, issuing the threat that had locked you in your castle forever.

Of course, with age and your guardian’s patience you had honed your new abilities; speed, agility, strength and keen senses.

It was easy finding your fearful horse and Jimin, running on all fours as if a wolf yourself. Your ears pricked, picking up the yells of the man and whinnying as wolves surrounded your charges on all sides.

It was stupid to charge in head first, but when you saw a wolf snap Jimin’s weapon, a single stick in two between its jaws, it was exactly what you did.

Your first powerful spring, landed you clean behind Jimin’s now buckled body. The wolves immediately halted, intelligent eyes darting from the curling boy at your feet back to you, tongues rolling perversely.

You felt rather than saw Jimin raise his head, wondering why the wolves hadn’t ended him already. When he felt the larger presence behind him, he turned, gaping up at you as you placed one paw to the front, marking a line, marking a territory.

Loud snaps surrounded you, the wolves reorganizing till they circled you now, ready to attack from every direction.

Your eyes, however, sought one wolf out, finding its way back, sitting on its hind legs, tail wrapped around them. You snarled at it, the wolf obviously smirking at you before it rose up, stalking over to the head of the pack. It gave a short yap and the wolves, in once sleek, collective move, pounced.

You only had time to jump over Jimin, drawing the attack away from the human and your precious horse before you felt the first swipe of claws at your back. You whirled around, your own paws frantically hitting and lashing out, trying to bat away as many wolves as you could with as much force as you could muster.

You knew you couldn’t kill them, of course but it wouldn’t be for the lack of trying.

The wolves landed as many blows as they could on you, punishing you, sinking in teeth around your wrist, snapping around your ankles until you could smell the warm, metal in the air, from mostly your wounds.

“Enough,” You finally heard the one wolf, it’s comrades backing away with one word until you were left, swaying, eye to eye with its imperious gaze.

“Back off.” You growled but the only reply you got was a rough snicker, animalistic and feral.

“We would, just to see you fail in this attempt, Princess. We still wait for our master, and the day he becomes King, we shall have the boy for dinner. Another time,” The wolf tipped its tail at you, before turning and trotting off.

Jimin only raised his head when the sounds he could hear was the stamps of the horse’s hoofs, the whistling of the wind through his hair. When he peeked through slatted eyes, he could see you, tall, bulky, standing up to your full height as he caught the wolf farther away, dainty steps carrying it till it melted in the snow.

Jimin’s black robes that he hadn’t changed when he rushed out where wet, dirty again and he picked himself up, trying not to make too much sound lest you turn and put him through the same assault as you had the wolves.

He had heard the heavy thuds of your paws, the throwing around of the wolves as they banged against trees and rocks. He knew you could shatter his skull with one paw but then he’d also heard your screams of pain, each singing through him as you tried to keep the wolves away from him and your horse.

He reached the reins, about to climb on when he saw the horse’s eyes for the first time. They were wide, the neck bobbing as it tried to free itself from Jimin’s holding.

Jimin frowned, turning from the horse to where you stood and for the first time, he saw the damage inflicted upon you. Your heavy cloak had been ripped to tatters, hanging off of you in ribbons that exposed him to you. You wore pants, to contain the large hind legs, a simple men’s shirt. It was now smeared in stark red, the crimson pooling from your feet and arms into the pure snow below.

He watched as you tilted to the side, your weight finally tipping extreme and you collapsed, snow and blood flying from the impact.

Jimin turned to the horse again, reading the pain in the horse’s eyes.

It loved you.

Jimin once again turned to where your body lay, shivering just so slightly.

You were just a child, a cursed little baby girl.

Jimin’s mind flooded with images of a small girl in the painting, phantom giggles in his ears.

You saved him. He couldn’t leave you to die.

Jimin dropped the reins, his feet sinking into the inches deep snow as he ran over to you, kneeling down to turn your face towards him.

Your eyes were long closed, your mouth parted just enough for him to see the fangs within but he looked past that. Your fur was wet, both from the melting snow but also from your blood and as he cupped your huge head, he knew you wouldn’t last in this cold. Already, your breathing was erratic, your chest falling further with each exhale.

He looked to the horse that trotted closer, responding to the man who was helping his owner. It took severe effort, hefting the Princess but Jjangu was unexpectedly strong. The Princess lay across the horse, feet and head dangling and swaying as Jimin took the reins again, deciding to walk as he made his way back to the Castle, your home.

If the household staff was surprised to see Jimin back again, especially with an injured Princess lobbed across her horse, they didn’t express it. Instead they swarmed, concerned around where Jimin heaved and unceremoniously dropped the Princess at the base of the stairs.

While a coat rack took a shivering Jjangu back to the stables to be fed and warmed, Jimin helped the rest of the objects drag their Mistress to the sitting room.

“Great, what’s she gotten into now?” He heard as he unbuttoned his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“Not now, Jungkook; she’s injured badly, near death. Either help, or stay out of the way as always.”

Jimin tilted his head towards the sullen reply, straining to hear. “Gladly, if I never see her face, it will be too soon. She’s the reason we’re like this, or have you forgotten?”

“Jungkook, that’s enough!” He heard the low angry rasp of Namjoon’s voice when there was a shuffle in his eyesight.

The Princess seemed to be able to tell that she was safe again, grunting and whining as she sat propped up in a huge winged armchair. Her tattered robes had been shed off, her modesty preserved by the fact that she was entirely covered in fur but Jimin kept his eyes averted respectfully anyway. Her large legs were drawn up as she clutched her wounded, slashed appendage close to her body.

As Yoongi hobbled over, full of hot water, followed by medicine bottles on a spidery tray that clattered, Jimin ripped bandages. He filled up a golden bowl with the steaming water, dipping medicine and cloths in it.

The moment he stood up, intending to nurse the Princess, she flinched, surprising Jimin as she cowered away from him. She turned her back, and he could hear a distinct whimper, as she licked at her injuries.

She’s not used to being vulnerable, Jimin realized, his slack frame pushed to movement with the fear that her licking and prodding would infect and worsen the slashes.

“Now, now, don’t do that.” He moved too fast, grabbing a hold of the Princess’s shoulder and was immediately met with a wide open maw, her ferocious roar shifting his hair back.

Jimin dropped his hand, scowling at the stubborn slump of her arm, drawn back to her tongue. “You’ll make it worse. Just let me help.”

“It hurts.” She snapped when Jimin leaned right over her, attempting to wipe at the mangled arm.

“If you hold still, maybe it won’t.” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to snap at the already pained girl. Her screams at the biting and slashing wolves were still too fresh in Jimin’s mind. He wanted to show some kindness but she was just so…pigheaded.

“Maybe if you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t be hurt.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows at her petulant tone. If he wasn’t already aware, he would’ve believed the Princess to still be a child at the sullen note of her voice. Something tugged at the corners of his lips as she attempted to cross her arms; the clawed up one still dangling in his hold.

“You told me to leave, remember?”

“I didn’t mean the castle.”

Jimin dropped the bloodied cloth in a waste bowl. “I suppose the lesson here is that you should watch your temper, isn’t it?” He made an exaggerated show of dipping another cloth in the medicine bowl, ignoring the Princess as she huffed and dropped her huge head on an equally huge paw, distinctly pouting.

“Please hold still now, this is going to pinch some.” He used the same tone as he would on his father, concentrating at digging out some remaining bits of grime from the claw marks. A few of his swipes made the Princess cringe and try to pull away but not once did her strength win against his sharp glances and sudden tightening of grips as he repeated the process on her feet.

Finally as he did the bandages he spoke again.

“Thank you, for saving my life.”

The Princess was quiet for so long that Jimin had to chance a look up, catching her quickly smoothening her expression into one of nonchalance. “You’re welcome.” She growled lowly.

But Jimin had already seen the bitten lips, the downward slope of her brow and the glassiness of her eyes.

He stayed right there, on the floor at her feet for a while, until the Princess, who had been staring into the fireplace had her eyes drooping. He stood when he was sure she was asleep, snores shuffling the fur near her mouth and nose.

Jimin folded back the sleeves on his muddy shirt. He knew he needed to change his clothes if he wanted to stay well, if he was sick as well, who would take care of the Princess? He hardly thought Seokjin’s candle hands or Namjoon’s golden bars would be able to change soiled bandages and he could already feel a chill coming.

Placing a huge blanket on the sleeping Princess, he went up to his room to change.

“How is she?” Hoseok asked immediately, as he shuffled inside for something to wear.

“She’ll have a few days with that bandage. It’ll probably scar.” Jimin answered tiredly, dropping his clothes and entering the bath where Yoongi was already pouring hot water in the tub.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said as he stood by. Jimin turned his head to look at the gleaming pot in question. “For not leaving her to die,” Yoongi clarified.

“Of course not…I will admit I had the thought but, I couldn’t. Not after she’d risked hers to save mine and Jjangu.”

“Jjangu was a gift foal from her father. She loves the animal more than anything.” Jimin heard before with a click of the bathroom door, he was alone.

He sighed, laying his head back along the porcelain edge. He was desperately exhausted, aching and needed to sleep, but there was a gnawing in his chest. He knew the Princess was in good hands now; he would only be needed when she needed her bandages changed and he knew she could manage that herself but he found it difficult to not be worried for the girl that somehow seemed so small and scared in all her ferocious enormity.

“Maybe…maybe I could try to be her friend.” Jimin mumbled, more to himself than anything as he closed his eyes.

Jimin took his vow seriously.

The first thing he did when his eyes popped open and fell on the customary outfit left for him; a simple powder blue shirt and black trousers – was to jump up and get dressed even before Hoseok had opened the eyes on top of it.

Quietly, he made his way down to where the Princess was still snoozing in the chair, flinging open curtains and inching closer just in case she woke up and panicked.

“Princess,” Jimin called gently, her head moving just so. “Your highness, wake up.”

With a groggy groan, her head fell towards his direction, yellow eyes blinking open in the filtering morning light.

And to the Princess’s dawning wonder and shock, Jimin gave her a beautiful, wide grin; possibly the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed in her life.

From then on, both Jimin and Y/N tried to make an effort.

Y/N still felt her temper flare up quick as a snake’s attack but she quelled it in fear of the look on Jimin’s face. Jimin learned that despite her age, the Princess was still just a sheltered child who knew only what had been told to her.

Jimin tried to get you to participate in various activities. He taught you a few card tricks with a very old battered set that Seokjin unearthed, he told you stories of France, his life, what the world had to offer outside of the small town that had forgotten and abandoned her, he even tried to paint with her – although that ended in a disaster that had Yoongi steaming from his spout, Taehyung quickly sent to supervise the cleaning.

You, on the other hand, took Jimin outside.

Even though, Jimin had had the Guides to lead him places, no one knew the Castle and its grounds like you did, having spent fifteen years prowling and growing in it.

You allowed him to ride Jjangu while you walked, sometimes raced him. He had to change your bandages multiple times during these rides, noting with some joy that you healed faster than a human.

With four wild puppies and Jjangu, you took him to the top of a stile where in the falling night; he could count a multitude of stars and constellations. You threw Jimin in fountains; let him sift through flowers in the crumbling greenhouse, taste the fruits from the Grottos.

“My parents,” you pointed with a clawed finger, up at the huge entwined statues that had haunted Jimin before. He looked, focused on their faces more now, recognizing them from the portrait.

“Are they…gone?”

“No, just left frozen, to watch over what happens to me,”

Jimin turned to see you staring down at your palms, the story of the curse now making him enraged for your sake rather than sad. However, he kept mum, afraid of upsetting you rather than providing comfort. Instead, he took your huge gnarled hand, leading you quietly back.

Jimin and you took meals together now, lunches and dinners. He had unintentionally grimaced when he saw you simply lower your face and devour the food directly from the bowls and plates. In time, once he saw you try for him sake, he realized that your hands were simply too big for the dainty silverware and fragile glass goblets that fitted so perfectly in his.

So the next meal, Jimin surprised you by asking Taehyung to simply not provide any at all, raising his own bowl to his lips to eat as you did.

Your smile, huge, fanged, fur creasing in the corners of your mouth yet so happy, golden hue shining in your eyes, made him make it a habit to accommodate you, rather than ask you to change for him.

“Can I open them now?”

Jimin followed the trail of your cloak, sight barred by his hands as you attempted to lead him off for a surprise. You had been excited, the morning you simply strode into his room before he was even dressed. He had rushed behind Hoseok, who laughed at the pink of his cheeks and flustered backing away from you, until you claimed that ‘it was ready’ as he hurriedly put some clothes on.

“Not yet,”

Jimin heard the creak of doors, the clangs of curtain rings and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.

“Okay, open them.”

Jimin dropped his hands with an indulgent smile, first looking at where you stood at the window, paws clasped together, and a nervous grin on your animal face. Your ears stood on point, waiting for his reaction as Jimin’s eyes wandered…and then widened till they were ready to pop right out.

It was a library.

A wonderful, glorious library, better than the dingy bookshop in town, better than any he’d seen in Paris. This was better than anything anyone could create in the whole world. Towering till the eye could see, with ladders and actual staircases leading up, his neck strained trying to fathom just how many books there were there.

“Oh my god,”

“Do you like it?”

Jimin looked down at where you were nearly vibrating with nervous energy.

“I had it cleaned, that’s what took so long. Seokjin told me you loved reading so I thought you should have this. I don’t know if everything is alright, but I checked last night and,” You stopped rambling when Jimin said your name. It was just a soft whisper but it tore a shiver through you at the tenderness, the fondness in it.

You had never heard anyone speak to you like that – not even your caretakers.

Jimin was practically aglow. His eyes shone as if someone lit coals underneath, his teeth blinded with the power of his smile, before his eyes turned to invisible slits.

“I absolutely love it, Y/N. Thank you; no one has ever done something like this for me before. This is perfect.” He strode forwards, his hand reaching for your face where his fingers nestled within the shaggy fur on your cheeks. He kept his smile fixed, nails gently scratching as your breath caught at the affection.

Jimin stared up at you, his own eyes and face sobering at the wide eyed look on your face. His fingers slowed till they just rested there, the both of you staring at one another.

“Ahem,” Jimin finally cleared his throat, removing his hand from your face. Was that disappointment he saw across your face? He turned to the shelves. “What shall we read first?”

Something thudded in Jimin’s chest, racing his blood with adrenaline as you and he sat on the floor in the sitting room, books strewn around you and the fireplace bathing you in heat.

“…and they lived happily ever after.” Jimin finished, closing the fifth book.

He had laughed and placed his head on yours when he discovered that you loved stories as much as he did. You had demanded him to read for you with one, two and the next three books. Jimin had happily obliged, enjoying the way you now sprawled on your front, arms cradling your head, looking at him with such a rapturous expression, he could melt.

“Read…one more…?” Jimin looked down to where you slid another book in his lap. Your eyes were big, hopeful and the rush of emotion that swirled in Jimin’s stomach was nowhere polite. He thought back to Hyebin, wanting to be married to him and yet knowing that she would fall asleep at the one thing Jimin was so passionate about. He cursed himself for the comparison. There was none. Hyebin wouldn’t even occupy the shadow of who you were.

“Y/N…I’m tired. How about you read for me now?” he leaned back on his arms, nudging the book back at you.

You paused, sitting up slowly before taking the book in your huge hands.

“I…I’ll rip it.”

“I’ll fix it back for you.” Jimin said immediately.

Your face fell as you opened the book, taking some time to flip it to the first page. Jimin watched; somewhat concerned as you slowly read the first of the fairytales.

“Once…up – on, a time…”

“Y/N, love,” Jimin had no time to worry about the endearment that slipped his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I can’t,”

“Can’t…read…?” He guessed.

You nodded quickly, fearfully.

“Oh, I thought Namjoon taught you.”

“Alphabets, a little book of stories and history…but I…I can’t read big literature. I can’t even hold books.”

Jimin’s heart cracked as you glared fiercely at your hands again.

“No matter, I’ll teach you, here, come now. I’ll hold the book for you.” Jimin grabbed the book, holding it open for you as he slowly, pronounced the words, you following him.

Behind you, unbeknownst to both of you, Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung sighed dreamily.

“Think they’re in love yet?” Jungkook drawled from behind them.

“Not just yet, I suppose, but they’re getting there.” Namjoon said.

“They need one more push.” Yoongi muttered.

“And what better than…a ball,” Seokjin glanced at Taehyung, wearing identical smirks.

Hyebin lay on her front, draped along the chaise in a manner that would have most men in the town be willing to do her bidding. The one she wanted, however, hadn’t even gone past the town in ages. She was bored; dejected from the lack of attention and her brother – she cast a venomous look to where her older sibling paced in front of the fireplace – hadn’t done a thing for her.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hyebin. I’m thinking.” Kai said, catching her eye.

“Well, perhaps you could think later. Isn’t this the time for action?” Hyebin cupped her face.

“Not yet; your impulse is what ruined your chances with the boy in the first place.”

Hyebin scowled.

“But don’t you worry your pretty head, darling sister, for your brother has a wonderful plan in mind.”

“Which is…?”

“Never mind you, you will go about ruining things and Jimin won’t marry you as well. You will only blame me.”

Hyebin slammed a small fist on the chaise. “Kai…tell me!” She whined but Kai only walked to the door, opening it as he tossed her a cloak. “Come on, we’re going to play nice and talk it out with Park Jimin.”

Much to their disappointment, however, and to Hyebin’s rage, when they arrives at the cottage of the Parks, it was completely dark. Not even one candle had been lit on the porch.

Kai knocked; once, twice, thrice even yelled for both Jimin and Mr. Park but the only thing to reply was the keening silence.

“They’re not here.” He mused.

“You don’t think they…left, do you?” Hyebin whispered.

“All their things are still here.” Kai’s eyebrows creased, flickers of annoyance and true anger flaming in his own eyes. “Well, we won’t stop. They have to come back some day. We’ll be ready.” He ignored the smack of his sister’s hand at his back, striding back towards the pub.

He needed a drink.

When you entered your quarters after a day of playing in the gardens with Jimin, watching him weave a crown of roses and dandelions which he placed on your head, you weren’t expecting to see Seokjin standing there with a bunch of standees and mannequins that used to be ladies in waiting for your mother.

“Um…Seokjin,” You queried even as you were swarmed with too many ceramic hands.

“’Tis the day, your highness, it is the day of your birthday! We have to have a ball in the honor!” Seokjin exclaimed.

You were shoved in a tub full of hot water and bubbles, the soap soaking into your fur. The words were enough to shoot a tendril of doubt through your heart, snaking till it looped around and squeezed. Your breath deepened as the mannequins began to scrub at you, rubbing in the water and soap till it reached the skin underneath.

It was your birthday already? No, it couldn’t be. You would remain a monster for all eternity otherwise. You would be condemned to live like this. Loveless, because who would look at you and feel anything but disgust and terror?

“Seokjin, my birthday isn’t till one another day.” You reminded the Maitre D` from behind the screen.

“The actual day isn’t of import, Princess. Besides,” He lowered his voice, “the day of your birthday will be the last day of the curse. It is make or break for us. You have to tell Jimin of your feelings for him and he has to return it. We simply cannot leave these things till the last minute.”

You remained silent, watching the mannequins use huge metal buffers to file and shine your claws.

“You…you do – you do have feelings for him, don’t you Your Highness?” Seokjin asked, misreading your silence.

You sighed, dipping further down into the water. Of course you had feelings for Park Jimin. Only an idiot would have a man like him around and not fall for his kindness, his generosity, and his open mind. Also, the small slants of his eyes, the way his lips split to reveal a gleaming smile that could halt an army, with shiny dark hair that fell into his eyes.

He was an angel.

And you were a hideous beast…

“It’s not my feelings that are a problem, Seokjin. How can someone like him ever feel for me, unless it’s fear? Maybe I haven’t earned his affection still.”

“Ah phish-posh, you forget, dearest Princess; we have all watched you and him very closely. We have seen the way he looks at you. Only a man that loves someone will have such a beam to their face.”

You sunk down further, Seokjin’s words easing the nervous grip in your chest a little. Perhaps…you did stand a chance. You could tell him of how you felt, he would tell you what he felt, and maybe you and your people can become human again.

You held the hope close as you were ushered to your own wardrobe, gowns that you had never once had the occasion of wearing, now shoved against your body and you into them, made to twirl in front of a huge mirror to check for anything to improve.

The time had come.

The gown that both Seokjin and the lady in waiting had chosen was approved by Hoseok finally, him making you swish the skirt and twirl in front of it, while pins and needles were floating around you, just in case things needed to be loosened or tightened anywhere.

You, who for almost all your life had only donned on the left behind clothes of your father of the male staff had almost giggled at the fancy attention, enjoying the feel of silk and gossamer curling around you and pooling out from your waist.

The dress was a pale gold and silver, shimmering with crimson jewels strewn about the skirt. A heavy diamond brooch glittered to where the bodice and neckline fell in a waterfall of fabric and your hair had been lifted from the mass of fur at your neck, rolled up elegantly till it lay in a soft mass on top of your head.

“Your highness,” Seokjin said finally and you were surprised at the sniff he let out discreetly. “You look beautiful. Come, your gentleman waits.”

You followed the candelabrum, exiting the room as Seokjin led you to the ballroom, to where the stairs led up to where royals made their grand entrance. You could hear light conversations down below and if you close your eyes, you could almost imagine that it was really a ball of people come to wish you good fortune on your birthday.

Maybe, if you could put aside your doubts and the harsh truths that crushed hope in your chest, you could have it someday soon.

You heard the Maestro, now transformed into a sprawling Organ, strike up a tune and Seokjin swished a golden bracket, gesturing you to walk down.

You lifted up the enormous skirts, praying to anything divine that your claws, now shortened down and sparkling, wouldn’t rip the dress anywhere and walked down the stairs, seeing everyone gathered at the base of the staircase, smiling up.

Mostly, though, you only noticed Jimin.

It was true, you hadn’t paid much attention to what kind of clothes Hoseok had been putting on Jimin for the duration of his stay here. Before, it used to be rich fabrics and embellishments that glimmered with his movements. The moment of your friendship and he began to step out had caused for simple cloths, sans coats and cloaks unless it was snowing.

Now, Hoseok seemed to have pulled all stops.

The suit that Jimin wore was all black, form fitting with studded rubies along the lapels and buttons the same shade as yours. Gold lace wound around his neck and his hair shone with the same effort, as if he’d undergone the treatment you had as well.

He smiled widely when your eyes met his, stepping forward till he reached you.

“You’re stunning.” He said and you could only muster a shaky smile, fluttering from the sincere compliment. “Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, bowing as he extended a hand for you to take.

You let your paw rest gently on his, deliberate and careful not to let him feet the real weight of it. “Thank you,” you managed a smile as wide as his, before the rest of your household gathered around you, wishes poured out and rushed words carrying you off to the cake.

Jimin was excited to see the cake, three tiers of it. Y/N’s eyes popped open wide, gaping at the sheer size of it but even as he grabbed her hand, leading her to cut into it; she was looking down, trying to muffle a smile.

He had to commend Yoongi and the entire kitchen staff. The cake was rich, fudgy and even he was rushing after that very last crumble. Finally, he felt the nudge of Taehyung, the cup around his ankle and he moved into action.

“Could I request for the birthday girl to bestow me a dance, your highness?” He stood up from his chair, slyly winking over to where Y/N put down her plate quickly, looking almost as if she was going to laugh.

“Of course, kind sir but I should warn you – I may step on your toes.”

Jimin chuckled, pulling her onto the glittering marble dance floor. “I don’t mind; you can step on my toes anytime.”

Y/N blinked down at him, Jimin could feel her breath catch at the way he would his arm around her waist and clasped her hand and couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to, moving slowly along with the way he led her, her attention focused down mostly to keep from actually crushing his feet when he stopped moving.

“Come on, let’s go look at the stars. Tonight, they’re as much more gorgeous than ever, as if they’re shining solely for you.”

He walked back with Y/N in tow, opening the balcony doors and letting her go out first before he shut them again, turning to see her stand at the rails, looking up where the stars mirrored in her golden eyes, twinkling in the sky and on the earth alike.

“So,” Jimin cleared his throat, gaining her attention again. “Are you enjoying your early birthday festivities?”

Big eyes blinked yet again at him, something shifting beneath as they were lowered. “I am, much more than I would usually, I suppose. I haven’t had a birthday in fifteen years.”

It was Jimin’s turn to blink, only in horror. “Not one in fifteen years?” he asked.

“Well, Taehyung tried, for the first two years, but then…I had no one to share it with. I had no one.”

Jimin closed in to where she stood with her back to him. His hand ached to rest along her cheek, turn her so he could look at her face but he resisted. “You have me now.”

She still didn’t turn. “Jimin…” A breath was drawn, as if steeling her for some deep resolve. He watched as your shoulders, clad in golden shimmers he wasn’t used to seeing her in slumped finally. “Are you happy here, with me?”

Jimin’s first instinct was to blurt out a simple ‘yes’. Was he happy here? Yes, he had everything he could possibly dream of and more here. He had the library, the gardens, the long winding hallways, the grottos…the silence, oh god, the blissful silence where no one bore down on him, no one judged him for not eyeing girls, not being interested in hanging out around the pub, not being Kai’s lackeys.

Was he happy with you? Of course, he, for the first time, felt someone was completely understanding and kind to him. No matter that he was perhaps the first to show her human kindness too but she let him be when he needed, listened to him read, asked him questions and challenged him. She fulfilled him in a way no one had.

No, they were two whole people. They had just found fulfillment in each other, and he was happy to call her home as much as the castle. He was happy. He was content.

Y/N didn’t seem satisfied. Her head turned fractionally, peering at him in such a fashion as to confuse Jimin. “Wouldn’t you ask for anything else, if you could? There must be something more you could ask for.”

Jimin hesitated, once again hand hovering over her but unable to touch. “I…yes,” he sighed, dropping his hand. “I would ask to see my father again but,” he quickly rushed on, lest she be upset. “I know I can’t, so I won’t press for it.”

She turned finally, too fast for him to not be startled. “There is a way. You can see your father.”

Jimin frowned, crossing his arms, more to protect himself against the temptation than defiance. “How?”

The Princess quietly walked by him, opening the doors and carrying on, Jimin taking a moment to follow hurriedly after her, still confused and a little worried before he realized that they were tracking a familiar path to his room.

“You had a way of seeing your father all the time.” Y/N spoke, stopping by the pool in the centre of the room. She bent down over it, gesturing for Jimin to join her. “You can call out for the waters to show you what you wish for. The waters even have healing abilities. The Wizard’s token, left behind to torment me with everything I can’t see but still so that I wouldn’t be able to harm myself in any way.”

Jimin heard it all; unnerved by the way someone could hurt a little child. Yet, the allure of seeing his father was way more than the urge to console the Princess. He sat at the edge as Y/N drew away to give him space.

“Please, show me my father.” Jimin said, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears.

The water swirled clear, one turn, two turns before deepening into a whirlpool. Images swirled at the very bed of the pool, bubbling up till they hovered over the spin of the water. Jimin watched eyes tearing from horror as his father stumbled from one tree branch, to another, panting, struggling to stay on his feet.

“Oh no, father.” He nearly shouted, before remembering his father couldn’t hear him.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” his father chanted before finally dropping down into the snow, shuddering and curling up in the frigid ground.

“No!” He sprang to his feet, the illusion breaking with his movement, subsiding into the waters again, still and clear. “My father, he’s sick. He’s alone, wandering the woods, looking for me. He could be dying. Y/N, the wolves…what if the wolves find him?”

Jimin turned around to look at you, facing the window, silent as before. He wondered if you had heard him at all.

You had heard him.

Your ears pricked, flattening against the side of your head as you processed the frantic desperation to Jimin’s voice, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You thought back to your childhood, soft smiles and misty words now fogged with time…and then all you remembered was pain. The pain of changing and growing too many sizes too big, the eruptions of the fur, claws, having to get used to them. The pain of being unable to eat and the consequent process of starvation until Namjoon figured out how to feed you – like a dog.

The fear of being hunted mingled with the uninterrupted loneliness that no matter how much your staff tried to ebb, would never cease.

You remembered back to spending hours upon hours with the statues of your parents, wailing when it got too much, with even your own people afraid to approach you.

Then you thought back to the first day you’d met Jimin; brave and strong and so sacrificing, martyring himself for his father to stay here…with you; showing you kindness, helping you, teaching you, and even saving your life.

He’d sparked companionship for you.

How were you repaying it?

By holding him captive here? You had seen the devastation on his face that first night, the same pain that had been your constant. How could you claim to feel anything for him when you were hurting him?

You had lost everything as a child, and you had grown up used to it. You couldn’t put Jimin through the fresh agony of it. He had a life to get back to, loving people to help him.

He was human. He didn’t deserve to live with a paltry princess living in a curse.

And with that came the final blow…

How could he love someone who had torn him apart from his father? How could Jimin be fond of someone who had basically subjected his father to a pitiful, lonely death?

So you quelled the cry of your heart, steeling bands of iron around it until you could nurse its break alone. You made the decision simply because it was already set in place.

“You should go. Go back to him.” You said quietly.

There was a pause.

“What did you say?” You heard him, too close to you and you flinched away from his proximity.

“I grant you your freedom. You’re no longer my prisoner.” You turned to face him, grateful for the fur that absorbed any stray tears before they were obvious.

Jimin’s eyes were shiny as well, but you knew they were tears of joy. He gaped, his breath catching before he spoke, choked up – “Thank you.”

You watched, leaning against the window as he hurried to take off the heavy coat, instead shrugging on a simple, heavier cloak. He pulled on boots, easier to wade in the snow.

You, on the other hand, went to one of the dressers, unearthing a vial and moving to the pool, dipping and collecting the water in the shimmering glass.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/N. I think I’ll have to bring my father along sometime – convince him that you’re actually a big softie, none of the roaring monster that you were so kind enough to act as.”

His voice was teasing; light, even jovial as he eagerly approached you. You remained silent, handing him the vial.

“Here, take this. It’ll be useful to you. If you need to be healed…or it can help you remember me.”

Jimin’s smile faltered, looking from the proffered container back up to your eyes, now obviously dripping.

“I’m not going to be very long, Y/N. At least, not long enough for me to forget you.” He laughed, still pocketing the vial when you didn’t withdraw it. Sighing, you shook your enormous head.

“No…you can’t come back. You have to stay away. Stay with your father.” You refused to meet his eyes.

“Wait, what…what are you saying? What do you mean I have to stay away?”

“It means that you shouldn’t come back to the castle.” Your voice broke. “You have to stay in the town, maybe even go back to Paris. Live your life, Jimin; you have the rest of it. You deserve much better than living in a dilapidated castle with a monster.”

“No! No, I can’t…Y/N; you’re part of my life. I can’t…I can’t just, let you think that of yourself and your home. Y/N, you’re so important to me.”

He was reaching for you, his hand going to wrap around yours but you backed away quickly, unable to let him touch you lest you break down and beg for him to come back, to stay with you. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject him to that.

You loved him too much for that.

Instead, you fled, turning on your heel and exiting the room on all fours, ignoring his rough calls of your name. You knew he wouldn’t waste time chasing you, not with his father in that state, not with the threat of the wolves hanging about his head.

When you entered your room, your whole staff was already present, with expectant beams on their faces. You even spied Jungkook in the midst, the feather duster nearly reeking of disdain.

“Well, how did it go? Did he say it back?” Seokjin nearly shook from excitement.

You dropped your head, already dreading their reaction. “I…I let him go. His father is sick. He needed to go back.”

There was a silence so deep, so disappointed; you inwardly cringed even when Jungkook broke it with a caustic snicker.

“But…but we were so close. Why would you do that, Princess?” Namjoon asked.

You walked to the window, throwing them open to see the last vestiges of hooves vanishing in the snow. “Because, I love him,”

Y/N had been right. There had been no time for Jimin to process what had just transpired in his room, not when the cries of his father echoed through his head. He mounted Jjangu and sped off in the direction he’d gleaned his father would be. He had to be single-minded for his father for now, he decided. He couldn’t take care of the old man if his thoughts were littered with questions, with confusion, with hurt as to why it was so easy for Y/N to just tell him to leave. Did she not feel the same for him as he did her?

He knew he couldn’t disrespect her by showing up with his sick father at her doorstep after she’d told him to leave. Perhaps, after his father was healthy, he would map the course again, ask for answers, and plead to stay with her. Perhaps, he’d hurt her somehow and this was her way of protecting herself…?

Jimin sighed, laying his father back before warming water, laying thick cloths soaked in hot water along his forehead to fight the cold back. It took him back to when he’d patched Y/N up after the wolf attack and he had to shake off the thought when his father stirred, looking blearily up at him. “Jimin…you’re back!” His father sat up too quickly, holding his son at arm’s rest to check him before pulling him to his breast.

“Ah, son…I never thought I would see you again. But how…how did you escape the monster?”

Something tugged in him at his father’s tone, making him pull away from the man. “She’s not a monster, father. The legend of the Castle is true. She’s the cursed Princess…” Jimin sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes taking on the sheen of reminiscence as he recounted his journey with her till he was told to go back to his father.

He hoped perhaps, that his father would encourage him to go back, but he needed him to be stronger first, so once his tale was over, his father still gaping at how Jimin made the monster who had imprisoned him and his son sound so human, he fell asleep.

Jimin, however, didn’t. He paced back and forth from the fireplace to the bed, interrupted only by a quick, sharp knock on the door.

Scowling at the late hour, Jimin opened the door, not too pleased to see who it was on the threshold.

“Jimin,” Kai beamed, almost too familiarly as Hyebin tipped her hood back, studying Jimin as if she was planning to gut him. Her nails were digging into her brother’s arm and Jimin wondered how strong Kai had to be to not wince.

“Kai,” Jimin modulated his voice coolly. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Entirely too late, my good man,” Kai turned his head to his sister. “Didn’t I tell you it would be rude to show up right now?”

Hyebin didn’t answer.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, frustration making him further annoyed. He needed time and space to think, to process things. His father was sick, he had been a prisoner in an enchanted castle where he had found more solace and acceptance than he had in freedom, he had fallen for a cursed Princess who might or might not return his feelings but had forbade him to return to her. He needed to make plans for his future.

He couldn’t be discourteous though, not when they’d taken the trouble of coming by.

“Come in please; my father is ill and sleeping so if you could keep your voices down and be quick about this…” He let the door fall open further. Kai and Hyebin walked in as if they weren’t going to take no for an answer anyway, shedding off their cloaks and making themselves at home.

“Well Jimin, I must say it’s a relief to see you. Your father had been by the pub, you know, raving on about you being kidnapped and all by some monster and imprisoned. We dropped by a few times later to see the house empty.” Kai said. “We all thought he’d gone mad, or you’d run away and he was just lying to make us all look for you.”

Jimin didn’t look at the taller man, feeling the pinpricks of anger flare again at the accusation. “I…yes, I’ve been away. I was at the castle. My father wasn’t lying, neither is he mad,” He said coldly.

There was a silence in which unbeknownst to Jimin, Kai and Hyebin exchanged looks.

“Wait, you’re talking about the palace? The royal palace on the hill…that’s where you were and the monster is real?” Hyebin asked, bug eyed.

“Yes, the monster is your Princess and she’s not vicious or anything, Hyebin, unlike how you described her when you told me the story. She doesn’t devour children and she doesn’t make their bones into furniture.” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms before sighing as he glanced into the fireplace, eyes and voice softening. “She’s a little short-tempered, yes but she’s kind hearted and caring and intelligent and curious. She’s my friend.”

Kai watched Jimin calculatingly, while Hyebin clenched her jaw.

“It sounds like you like her.” She said finally.

“I do. Also, it’s really late. I think I should go to bed as well.” He said. His voice left no room for argument.

Kai gave him a tight smile, his too white teeth glinting almost maliciously in the firelight. “You think…it wise to harbor such feelings for a monster, Jimin? Need I remind you this…thing is cursed and is a bad omen in our town?”

“No Kai, she isn’t. Now please, I am tired.”

For a second, he thought that Hyebin would refuse flatly but even as he steeled himself to assert himself yet again, she was standing and with Kai in tow, moved out without another word.

Jimin puffed a breath of relief, moving to douse the fireplace. The swab plunged the living space in darkness and he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back, already looking forward to his bed when he heard the hushed conversation not too far from the house.

The one thing about living so far from the town and right in the middle of a disused farm was that there was nothing to absorb sounds. Each and every noise reverberated and echoed loudly in his house, enough for him to never be startled.

He went to the window, keeping back enough to see Kai, now holding his torch above him and Hyebin, talking. While Hyebin didn’t bother to lower her voice, Kai was trying to shush her, low and hissing but even his voice carried back to Jimin’s focused ears.

“…you didn’t see his eyes, Kai. He doesn’t just like this bitch. He loves her. He won’t even hear any truths about her!” Hyebin screeched.

“You sure know how to pick them, sister. A man who’s into bestiality,” Kai snidely replied, stopping when Hyebin grabbed his collars.

“This isn’t funny. You have to talk sense into him…or…I don’t…I don’t know, we have to kill this Princess of his.” Hyebin said.

“Keep your damn voice down, will you? Is that all you can think of in your pea brain? Jimin, Jimin, Jimin; all the time…it’s annoying.” Kai snatched away his coat from Hyebin. “Think of it like this, little sister. This girl is a Princess. She is our Princess, a royal. We cannot truly establish a government because a monarch is alive.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

“Darling sister, do use sense. Jimin is here, which means this Princess doesn’t have a man around right now.”

“So…?”

Jimin heard Kai snap his jaw. “So, sister, I go and I marry her. Simple, and effective; I become King, all powerful and she is out of your way. I will command Jimin to marry you and since you will be royal; he cannot hope to refuse.”

“You…you cannot be serious, Kai. I mean, are you really going to do that? She’s an animal.” Hyebin’s shock was palpable even to Jimin.

“Well, of course I don’t intend to honor the marriage wholly. I’m a hunter, aren’t I? Think of it like my greatest hunt, one that makes us the most powerful pair here. Plus, who’s to know…? Maybe the Princess meets a little accident a few days after our wedding. At least the kingdom will have a king they know and trust; they will only see it more as a sacrifice on my part.”

“You’re…despicable, brother.” Hyebin’s lips trembled before stretching into a cruel smile that looked odd on her beautiful face. “But a genius,”

“I know that. Now hurry up, we need to go to the pub and collect a mob. I cannot go alone in case the Princess tries to get aggressive. I’m going to need witnesses just in case we need to come back and convince Jimin his lovely Princess was actually a monster after all.”

Jimin was moving even before the fleck of light completely vanished from sight.

All thoughts and feelings of exhaustion melted from his body, arms and legs regaining energy as he burst into his father’s room. The old man started awake from the sound, jolting and clutching the sheets as he looked at the manic light in Jimin’s eyes.

“Son, what – what’s the matter?”

“I have to go father. I have to go back to the castle. Y/N is in danger.” Jimin rushed his words, tossing things from dressers till he found a bag, throwing some matches and a torch into it. He patted his pockets for the vial of pool water Y/N had given him, about to turn for the door when his father clasped his shoulders.

“No! I just got you back; I cannot let you go back there!”

“Father, you don’t understand. Kai…he’s taking a mob to her! They’re going to kill her, all because I opened my mouth.”

Jimin’s father wavered, his grip loosening only slightly.

“Come with me, then. See for yourself.” Jimin moved past the old man, not waiting for him to follow. However, when he reached Jjangu, who raised his head quizzically, his father, was right there, climbing on behind his son.

Praying that he wouldn’t be too late, he leaned over to Jjangu’s ear.

“Come on boy, we’re going home to our Princess.”

Jjangu whinnied, rising up on his front legs and then they were racing from the stable, in the direction of the palace.

Jjangu thankfully took the way that they were most familiar with, through the woods. Even as they surpassed the town, he could see the lit fires, domestic weapons of all sorts raised as cries and shouts filled his ears. They were breaking down the blockade; he realized when he saw the closed bookshop, going only the way they knew.

His fault…his fault…

Jimin shook his head, nudging Jjangu to go faster. He had to reach Y/N before Kai did, or he would never forgive himself.

The fire leapt high and powerful, licks of warmth flaring out against where you sat with your back to the muttering and mourning gossips of your royal staff.

You knew that the moment you’d spilled out the truth about how you’d sent Jimin away, even forbidding him to ever set foot back in the castle, you’d basically condemned your entire household and yourself to a grim fate, but could you condemn him to one as well? No, you couldn’t. Besides, you were used to this now, used to living like an animal. Jimin shouldn’t have to live in company of one for the rest of his life.

Behind you, Jungkook led most of the ranting. “I’m telling you; this was the plan all along. Get the Mistress all soft and mushy so he could get out of here first chance he could get.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi sighed. “His father was sick.”

“So, all our families are probably dead now. We won’t ever get to see them now, or even to see their gravestones.”

You knew he was right. Maybe it was ok to live with yourself like this, but sacrificing your own people to this curse made guilt creep up your throat tenfold.

“Perhaps, we shouldn’t have gotten as attached to him as we did, even before knowing what his obligations were.” Seokjin said.

You were about to turn to snap at them all to get back to their chores when Namjoon suddenly squeaked, the clogs of his clockwork chiming anxiously.

“Wait, wait, there’s someone coming…OH lords above! Princess, Princess, it’s the townsfolk, invading the castle gates. It’s a mob!”

“Wait, what…?” You nearly fell off the chair, confused when the doors to the sitting room were flung open again, a squad of soldier armor leading a panting Jimin in.

“Y/N…mob, people are coming for you…run!” He managed to puff out before leaning his weight on his knees, drawing heavy breaths.

You blinked quickly. Didn’t you tell him not to come back? But he was here now, come to warn you about the mob…worrying for your safety.

“Jimin…” You breathed, “You came back.”

You drew closer to the wheezing man, a paw running along his smooth cheek.

“Of course, I did. I had to warn you.” Jimin looked up at you, time slowing as your gazes remained suspended. He placed his own hand on yours, squeezing it even as Jungkook broke it in his rasp.

“Well now, that’s sweet. So, are we to assume you led the mob here before promptly losing courage?”

You and Jimin both turned to look at the feather duster now propped up on a dresser, eyeing Jimin with as much disdain as you had seen him do you. Jimin gaped, flabbergasted while you were ready to rip out all his feathers.

“Jungkook, he came to warn us. Don’t be an idiot.” Namjoon said roughly.

“I can’t believe you’d lap that up, sir. He left here, went back home to tend to his ill father, so he said, and now he’s back…with encroachers on his heel. Why would you believe him? Because of the pool; the waters are also subject to imagination, Namjoon, or have you forgotten?”

“Enough, we cannot fight amongst ourselves, we have to protect the castle and our Princess.” Yoongi said. He turned to the soldiers, ordering for them to gather the rest of the household up and prepare for defenses.

“Ask him, Princess. Ask your dearest if he told them or not.”

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, turning, however, to Jimin. It was better to put this to rest. “Tell him, then, tell him you didn’t.”

Jimin was still looking at Jungkook, a peculiar expression of conflict gathering his eyebrows together.

“Jimin…” You prompted.

“I…” He looked at you then, and just the look in his eyes – wide, pleading, had your hand slipping from him.

“See,” Jungkook said, as Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung gaped at their friend. “I told you, he told them.”

“Jimin, tell me you didn’t.” You whispered.

“I – I did, but I had no idea -,”

“That they were going to take advantage of the fact that a whole castle was left unattended and come to loot it? Or that they were going to come to kill and behead the Princess so they could mount her head upon their walls?”

“Why…how could you?”

Jimin looked at you again, away from the brewing anger and distrust of the staff. “Y/N, try and understand. I only told the truth, I told them you were harmless.”

“You’re lying.” Jungkook hissed.

You watched his hand try to reach for you, pull at you, but you drew away, cringing away from his touch. He stuttered in his steps, looking at you, beseeching.

“Princess,” Namjoon called softly, “what are your orders?”

You looked away from Jimin, reminding yourself you had duties to perform. “Keep safe the castle. My parents…they shouldn’t have to see their home seized in front of their eyes.” Your anger flared as you glared at Jimin finally. “Remind them that there still is a monster in the castle.”

Without another word, you dropped down on all fours and leaped clean over Jimin’s head, bounding for the roof from where you could see everything and lead stray invaders away from your people and home.

Your orders were followed to a tee. Thousands of household goods launched an attack on the people who were mostly comprised of men, having no idea how to operate the basic home wares.

Drawers smacked into jaws, hot water and oil were poured on head, knives and burning torches chased men around until they thought it better to just leave the castle alone and crawl away, defeated.

You stood on top of the parapets, watching your subjects nurse and curse over their bruised and burned extremities, retreating from your home. Perhaps, there would be no reason for the monster to show up after all. No legends would pass around; no one would spread talk to lure hunters and thieves to your home.

You didn’t go down though, instead, curling into yourself on the edge of the roof.

As happy as you were about the prospect of people leaving you alone, you had to contend with the fact that it was Jimin, the man you trusted, the man you loved who had ruthlessly allowed people to come hunt for you. You had mattered nothing to him. It would’ve been better to have someone draw a knife through your heart now, it might’ve hurt less than the betrayal.

“Oh Princess,”

Your ears pricked.

“There you are. You know, when I didn’t see a huge, hunkering monster down below I was worried Jimin might have lied.”

The voice was unfamiliar, nasty and it grated on your nerves so you stayed still, hoping the person would mistake you for a statue and pass by.

“Apparently, the poor boy hadn’t lied. He was so in misery you see, had to come back, leaving his little lady behind. Someone had to convince him that a princess needs a real man around for a husband.”

You frowned, feeling it draw closer.

“So I have a proposition. You marry me and we live happily enough. I’ll even throw in a wedding kiss.”

The footsteps behind you stopped, and you hoped that your silence had fooled him enough until they started again. “Now, Princess, it’s rude to not acknowledge a man talking to you. Turn around; let’s see what got Jimin so dewy eyed. I have to see if you’re worth all the talk.”

You remained still.

“Turn around now.”

You ignored him.

A sharp, plunging pain ripped through your back, making you gasp and seize up. Something pinched at the centre of your back, protruding out and you knew it was an arrow, turning to see the tall man, draw another from his quiver, placing it on his bow.

“Well now, looks like we’ve found our communication link. Are you going to be nice, now?”

You flailed, clawing behind to draw out the agonizing spike from your body.

“No use. I have perfect aim. Now, stop dancing and listen unless you want another to keep it company in your chest.”

He drew back the bow string.

“KAI, STOP!”

You stopped as well, seeing the man – Kai – turn around to look at where Jimin stood on the top most balconies, leaning almost all the way down. You took advantage of the momentary distraction of the hunter, throwing your full weight at him.

Your muscles and joints screamed at your movements, huge as they were, weighing you further down as the man turned quickly to you, trying to aim the arrow towards your body. You gripped his hand, twisting it out of the way.

“This is a nice surprise! Seems like you really are a monster, and here you were hoping for a human companion!” The Hunter laughed maniacally, shaking hair out of his eyes.

You growled, pulling the hunter close enough to snatch his bow, snapping it with a simply pinch of your fingers. “Get out of my house.” You gripped his throat, squeezing just enough for him to be able to tell. “Never come back…or I will kill you.” You flung the man away from him as the disgusting being that he was, backing away.

Adrenaline fading, the fatigue of blood loss raised its ugly head again, faltering your steps and blurring your vision.

“Y/N, here, come here, you’re hurt.”

You turned once again to where Jimin stood, his hand extended for you and stumbled towards him, shaky feet nearly throwing you over the edge more than once. You reached near him, raising your hand to grasp his and began to climb.

“You’re still here.” You choked.

“Of course, I had to clear things up.” Jimin smiled, eyeing you carefully.

You made to return the smile when another scream of pain tore through you, making Jimin jump before he saw the knife embedded deep in your side.

“NO!” He roared, feeling you slip from his fingers when he saw Kai’s added weight clinging to your cloak.

Your back curved backwards; Kai gripping the back of your cloak and hair in a tight fist. His lips split in a wide, sinister smile. “Go on Jimin, pull us up. You save her, you save me.”

Jimin snarled a curse at Kai, eyes darting from your drooping eyes to Kai’s bright ones. He couldn’t save Kai, he knew that. Left alive, he’d keep coming back again and again. You would never truly be safe with Kai alive.

“It’s okay…”

Jimin’s eyes snapped to Y/N, narrowing at the small smile tugging at your lips in puzzlement.

“It’s okay; you have to let me go…”

“What, no, I’m not going to -,”

“It’s better this way.”

“Y/N, no, Kai let her go!”

“I love you, Jimin. I’m…I suppose this is goodbye.”

Jimin opened his mouth to shout for you to hold on when all sound stopped short. You opened your paw, his own hand too weak to hold up all the weight of your body and Kai together. He watched, too slow to move, too stunned to understand as your eyes closed, still smiling while Kai’s eyes widened, almost comically, smile fading and mouth opening in a silent scream as you both fell.

There was no time for Jimin to even scream for you.

Everything was numb. Everything was silent.

Well, in all actuality, a battle had waged around him, promptly won by the small but mighty objects of Y/N’s household. Cheers of victory and joy could be heard from the lower rungs of the Castle. It was just that Jimin’s eyes could only see Y/N’s last smile, hear her last confession and feel her hand slipping from his.

All he knew was that Y/N was down here somewhere – ironically, falling right into her parent’s grotto – and he had to reach her. Nothing else mattered.

The soft grass of the grotto crushed and crumbled under Jimin’s boots, as he walked and broke into aching jogs as he spied the huge mass of fur on its side, reminiscent of when he’d seen Y/N topple over after saving him from the wolves. The memory stung his chest now.

“Y/N,” he gasped seeing Kai’s body almost completely trapped under hers, his fist still closed around her clothes.

He bent over, ripping his hand away and rolling his dead body away till it lay feet away, open eyes dead and unseeing, his laughter finally fading into nothingness.

Falling to his knees, he heaved Y/N’s head onto his arms, propping it against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as well; smile gone and he could spot a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth into the fur. His hand trailed down to the knife in her side, slowly, gently easing it out and tossing far away from her as both arms came to wrap around her, rocking.

“Y/N, hey, it’s okay, come on wake up. He’s gone. Kai’s dead and every one fled. You’re safe now.” He hushed.

She lay still, too still, not even shifting a little in answer to his voice.

“Y/N,” Jimin vowed now to give up so soon. She had to be alive, she was probably just unconscious. He tapped her cheeks, ran his fingers through the mass of her hair and fur.

“Y/N, please, I’m so sorry.” He buried his head against her neck, taking in a whiff of the musk that he was so used to now. There was a change now; it smelt too metallic, too…sodden. “Please, wake up.”

She couldn’t be dead…she couldn’t leave him like this; not after saying she loved him and pulling off such a ridiculous stunt.

His body shook, feeling the chill settle in. Somehow, Y/N’s body that radiated so much warmth normally wasn’t enough to keep the cold away now. Jimin shuddered, drawing her closer before closing his eyes finally. A sob choked its way out his lips, followed by a sound that was too close to Y/N’s own agonized ones.

“Please, come back, Y/N, please, I love you too. So much, so much, please,” he rocked faster, more to keep himself moving than to shake her awake. He couldn’t stop moving, it would only mean for him to accept that Y/N wasn’t moving as well and that she was…she was.

His tears soaked through her fur.

“Now, this is quite the unfortunate situation.”

Jimin hiccupped, looking up to where someone new had joined them in the grotto. For a wild second he thought that it was Kai but no. This man was much taller, skinnier, even unhealthy looking.

A snap echoed from behind him and he jumped, looking about to see a very familiar pack of wolves surrounding him, grinning and tongues lolling. He pulled Y/N closer but the wolves didn’t seem to intent on attacking, instead collecting behind the new arrival.

Jimin squinted, wiping off the blurring tears to see the man was known to him.

“You,” He said at the bookseller who peered down at the cursed Princess with something akin to bitterness.

“Me,” The old man hummed, turning to face the wolves and Jimin was astounded to see that a wave of this man’s hand was enough to line them neatly up.

“How…I thought you never left the bookshop. Did you come with Kai?”

“Kai?” The bookseller laughed, caustic casting a cursory glance at the dead man feet away. “That pathetic excuse for a human and you think he’d have any sort of influence over me?”

Jimin watched as the man drew himself to full height before light erupted out from somewhere in his chest, blinding Jimin and making him feel colder than he did before. Once he felt the light fade from his screwed up eyelids, he peeked through, gaping in disbelief.

Long black robes swirled around the now, considerably younger man, almost as if it was sewn directly from the shadows around him. Long sleeves fell back to reveal tattoos in a language Jimin had never seen before, glowing even till the skin of his bald head and face.

“Not quite who you expected, I see.” The man said.

Jimin was still trying to put together the old bookseller who had been so friendly to him transformed into this being when with a clatter and loud clangs they were surrounded with more things – this time on Y/N’s side.

Namjoon’s clock chimed angrily, Seokjin’s fiery wick gleaming in the dark as they caught the man standing over Jimin and Y/N. “The Wizard,” They gasped, followed quickly by Yoongi and the others who skid to a halt.

“Be gone, monster! You have killed our Mistress!” Yoongi clattered.

“You’re the one who cursed Y/N.” Jimin said, realization dawning over him like a pot of cold water. However, there was no fear in his voice. After all what was the use? Y/N was dead, neither she nor he could be hurt any further.

“Now, now, calm please. Is that any way to greet the man about to grant you salvation?” The Wizard raised his palms.

“You cursed us too swine!” Namjoon yelled.

“I did. And I fully intended to come back on her birthday to remind her that she owed herself to me if she wanted to have her life and loved ones back. It seems,” He looked down at Jimin cradling her body and again there was strange bitterness to his gaze, “I have been rendered useless. She has found love…I didn’t think it would’ve been possible.”

He looked up.

“So now, here, my word means something in the world.” Light shone again, only this time it was blue.

Jimin watched the light move out from the Wizard, creeping slowly to where Y/N lay against him. The light cocooned her, moving forward till it had surrounded everyone present in the grotto and on and on till all he could see was blue.

Jimin’s proximity helped in seeing Y/N, and he clasped her protectively, worried the light was going to further cause her harm. Only, it didn’t. Instead, her weight began to ease up off of Jimin. Fur receded and fell off from her body to reveal smooth skin, wet and smeared with visible blood, fangs shrunk back, and ears flattened and became smaller.

The huge mass of a creature began to slowly shrivel, until all that remained in his arms could no longer pass off as an animal. No, this was laughably, astonishingly, human.

Jimin raised a hand inquisitively, running it through the strands of hair that were now free from the matting of fur, his hand coming back red.

“She’s…”

“Back to normal…or rather what she would’ve grown up to be; that’s about as normal as I can make her.” The Wizard snorted at his own joke.

“Is…your highness,” Jimin turned to see that there were people in the grotto, no longer just objects.

A tall tanned man stood foremost, dimples poking out as a wondrous smile lit up his face, hands running over his suit. “I…I’m a man again!”

“Or how much you were before,” Another spoke, taller than the first, golden hair falling into his eyes.

“Gentlemen, calm down!” A shorter man barked.

These were strangers to Jimin, or maybe not. He looked back up at the Wizard, ignoring the joyous reunions behind him. “She’s…still dead.”

“Yes, but then, the way to bring her back to life is with you, isn’t it?”

Jimin was about to ask what he meant when he remembered the vial. The vial full of the pool water, that Y/N had said had healing abilities.

He delved deep, bringing out the mercifully intact vial before upending it completely into Y/N’s open mouth.

He waited, with bated breath as moments passed. And then – skin knitted back together, the grey pallor of her face smoothed till a healthy glow seeped in her cheeks.

With a huge shaky breath, Y/N opened her eyes again, fumbling with her body as if it scratched at her.

“Y/N, hey, Y/N,” Jimin grabbed her hands, much smaller and claw less, fitting into his easily.

Big, wide, fearful eyes met Jimin’s. “J-Jimin?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Jimin placed his head against hers, taking in a deep inhale that wasn’t of musk but of bloodied skin, of sorrow, or uncertainty. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, Jimin turned his head to place his lips swiftly on yours.

There was no reciprocation at first, worrying Jimin that perhaps, he’d pushed you too far too fast. However, he felt your small hand move past his neck into his hair, entwining with the strands to hold him against you.

He moved away from your face, reminding himself that you still needed time and space to learn physical love when your eyes, now bright with unshed tears landed on something behind him.

It took him a bit to register the utter silence, hushed conversation behind him and he turned to see that the huge statues that used to be the only decorations in the grotto were no longer there, instead right behind him stood a couple, too familiar.

“Mama! Daddy!”

Y/N fled Jimin’s arms, instead throwing herself into her parent’s arms. Jimin fell back from the impact; quickly picking himself up to see the pair wrap their tight arms around their daughter, tears streaking through dirty, muddied faces.

The man was tall, his wife regal as they still retained the glow of youth, having spent their lives inanimate. Their daughter may have grown in front of their eyes but there was near to no difference in ages, Jimin noticed. He turned his head, but the Wizard and his pack of wolves were long gone.

Y/N shirt and pants were also now tattered, too huge on her now smaller body. Jimin tugged off his coat, wrapping it delicately around her shoulders when a hand stopped him from moving away. He looked at the queen, small crown still perched into her mussed hair who smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, tugging him closer till he was hugging Y/N from the back as well, and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful at the gesture.

The moments, hell, the days after the…incident, or rather your birthday had been all muddles and stumbling through time. As a cursed monster, time had seemed to stretch, with you craving love and companionship simply because you’d been told that they would break your curse. The very notion of these emotions had become a means to an end.

You had so much to learn, you realized when you stepped back into a castle that had no broken ceilings, no gaping holes, no smears of dirt and growing moss. The stones gleamed, jewels sparkled, sculptures loomed, just as they had in your distant memories.

Everyone stared, even the members of your household who had lived with you forever. You supposed you weren’t the only ones in need of reacclimatizing.

Chamber maids and maids in waiting dragged you and your mother away almost immediately. You were washed, scrubbed, hair oiled and washed and scented, similar to the ball but only this time the gown they put you in felt too big, too airy for you. Your skin, used to being protected by masses of fur and hard muscles shuddered at the gauzes and weightlessness of your new things.

Mirrors and portraits, previously smashed or torn by your claws had been reinstated and you had spent hours just staring at the unfamiliar face in the reflection. You weren’t a child anymore; you weren’t the beast you were used to seeing in cracks of glass and shards of mirrors. You had grown into a young maiden and you had no idea who you were.

The resurgence of a bustling royal palace, with many of the staff setting out to locate their families had created a buzz. Kai, the hunter had been dragged away and Hyebin, his sister as Jimin told you had been tried for conspiracy for murder.

Of course, things hadn’t become hunky dory fast. Things still needed to be sorted out, a monarchy had to be established because the so called government that had put Kai in charge in the first place was found now corrupt, seeing how easy it had been to rile up the public on the word of one man with no proof at all.

You left your father to handle these matters. Your mother had something much more stressful for you to think about.

Whether or not you wanted to marry Park Jimin…

You knew he was in the palace somewhere, along with his father. He’d come seen you but there hadn’t been much conversation. You had been too unsure of your own self, of your new or rather old body and you wondered if Jimin liked you as a human as much as he had when you were a creature.

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin had said, once on a slow walk around the garden. Your steps were much slower now, smaller feet tended to do that but none of you were in a hurry. It seemed Jimin was as eager to know the new you as you were. “I loved you when you were covered in fur and I love you now, even though I must say I was hoping to introduce a few of my friends to my beastly fiancée.” You had smacked his arm, unsettled at the joke even though he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Don’t worry so much about this. The curse is past. No one and I mean it, will ever hurt you now. They’ll have to go through me.”

The burning sincerity in his eyes and voice left no room for you to argue or doubt.

And so, you shyly visited your parents that very evening, hand looped in your lover’s, asking for their blessing to marry him.

Your engagement to Jimin lasted longer than any a royal was supposed to have, stretching out for months as you relearned human life. You were taught to walk properly on two legs, carrying things with a tiara affixed to your hair. For days you would bat at your hair when the pins keeping it in place pinched or pulled at you.

You learned how to dress yourself, how to put on various forms of jewelry, how to take baths and resumed your studies and royal duties.

Suffice it to say, you were now missing your animalistic life at times, you were so exhausted.

However, Jimin was a constant, learning with you, talking you through the harder aspects, supportive, encouraging, and absolutely perfect. It was also getting hard to keep your hands to yourself when it came to your private moments.

Physical love was one aspect that you absolutely dreaded touching upon. You wondered if you would be good enough, if Jimin would find pleasure in you or if you would find pleasure in him. He did place chaste kisses against your skin and lips when he thought it was okay to do so and you had only found him losing control once. It had been late at night when he visited you and had read to you till you were drowsy. With only a mind to gently kiss you goodnight, he had leant in only to be trapped by your hands, trying to get as close as you could to him.

He’d gripped at you, trying to pry out of your touch but had melted fast, molding and pressing you to your mattress. You had felt him growing aroused against your pelvic bone, rutting against you, gasping when he pulled away, blinking and shaking hair out of his eyes.

“Now now, love, we have time.” He’d pecked your cheek, disentangling himself from you before almost limping out.

Soon enough, it was time for the main event of your life.

Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook returned in days time, bringing what was left or added to their families and they stayed on till after your wedding took place.

Jungkook had mellowed in the face of his parents being alive, fifteen years older of course but delighted to have him back. He’d wished you well, but not apologized for his earlier behavior – you didn’t expect him to either.

Your parents had gone above and beyond for the wedding, throwing the lavish event for the entire town and further to come attend. Your gown was created for weeks, Hoseok personally supervising the process so that when you walked down the altar finally, upon your teary eyed father’s arm; you erased all thoughts that you had been a monster for most of your life prior.

You left the palace for your honeymoon, following Jimin’s advice to leave the royal duties to your still young and hearty parents while you took some time with your husband, so you could acquaint yourself both to him and to the world that he wanted to show you.

You knew where to start the journey of course, with your groom’s lips twitching at the very first words that tumbled out during the ceremonial dance.

“Please,” you’d whispered, laying your head close to his heart.

“Anything for you, darling,” Jimin had whispered back, smile obvious in his voice. “Paris it is.”

Jimin might not ever get used to the feeling of you fitting into his arms, you thought to yourself, glancing at your now husband, ever so often.

He’d lifted you up into his arms the moment you’d stepped off the carriage, beaming about something called the threshold ceremony, carrying you through the doors of the French villa carefully.

“Satisfied?” You asked when he stood still, eyeing the windows in contemplation.

“I’m wondering if I’m missing something but I can’t think of anything as of yet. So yes, here you go.” He placed you down, letting you walk through the house while he watched over the servants who carried through your luggage.

A late meal later, you stood at the mirror in the bedroom, painstakingly pulling out the multiple pins from the up-do your hair had been twisted in, your husband peeking in with a mischievous grin.

“Having fun?”

“No,” You grumbled, your arms dropping from the strain. Jimin walked up behind you, beginning to quickly pull out the multitudes of metal from your hair that would make a magnet drool. “Why are there so many?”

“Look on the bright side,” Jimin muttered, delving deeper into your scalp, “For the rest of our honeymoon, you could be completely free from all of this, until of course we have to go back.”

You glanced up at him quickly, seeing the darkening expression brooding on your husband’s face as he dropped the final pins on to the dresser.

“I was thinking.”

“Yes,” you squeaked out embarrassingly.

“Well, we’re all alone now, so we don’t have to be worried about anyone walking in on us.”

You turned around completely, confused. “That’s what you were worried about?”

“Of course,” his smile flickered. “What else would I be worried about?”

Your eyes fell, feeling all sorts of stupid now. “I just thought…maybe you didn’t…you know, feel that way about me now.”

A finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face back up. “Love, I married you.”

“Yes but,”

“Mm, but nothing, come on; let me show you what I feel for you.”

Jimin’s arms, much stronger than you had given him credit for swooped under your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist swiftly. As a monster, you had never given thought to how powerful Jimin really was, but now when you were human, much more fragile than you were used to, he was blatantly flaunting his strength.

You couldn’t fault him for that.

Your husband dropped you onto the centre of the massive bed, arms balancing his weight over you. “Are you okay about this? I don’t want to force you into anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

“No,” you reached for him, winding arms around his neck. “I’m fine, I want to feel you. I want to learn this with you.”

Your eyes closed automatically when he kissed you, sweetly but strongly, tongue laving over your lips, slipping between with less to no battle from you. Your mouth parted easily for him, letting him plunder moans from you.

“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, pulling away before his eyes were widening. “Oh, I’ve never cursed like that before.”

His cheeks were so red, you couldn’t help but laugh. “No worries, I’ve never made someone curse like that before either.”

Jimin’s fingers trailed to the ties of your night shift. “Perhaps, we’re a bad influence upon one another.”

“Perhaps,” your breath caught in agreement, Jimin’s fingers pulling at a peaking nipple while his head lowered to suckle on the other. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, my darling wife,” his lips were curved wickedly when he resurfaced; sitting up to remove the cotton night shirt he wore and tugging off the gown from your body right after.

You lay naked under him, open for his perusal and taking. Your hand shifted up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover some of your modesty until Jimin caught up, taking your hands to place them right there.

“There,” His mouth opened, tongue rubbing over his swollen bottom lip. “Do you feel that? That’s what I feel for you. You don’t need to hide from me love, never ever. I have loved you before, I love you now and I will continue to love you more for all our days to come. Do you understand?”

You meekly nodded.

Jimin’s eyes flashed down your body, knees parting yours before his hand touched your bare core, running over the nub in circles. “Am I understood, love?”

“Yes-yes,” you gasped, neck falling back for him place kisses even as a finger slipped through inside of you, thick but gentle, stretching you just so.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Jimin removed his hand, placing the digit in his mouth, eyes still firm between your legs. Normally the lecherous look on any man would have you burst with rage but Jimin had you nearly quivering in anticipation, especially when he finally pushed down his trousers.

You had never seen a cock before, never having any contact with a human male, but you had to say Jimin’s was an impressive specimen. Thick in girth and flushed a sensuous red, the head throbbed in need before he was guiding himself to your body.

“Ready, love, I need you to breathe with me.”

Jimin dropped low on you, lips tugging and pushing at yours, his spare hand clasping your breast to distract you as he pushed in. your knee bent, curving over his hip as you gasped, eyes watering at the sharp pinching sensation deep within you. Your husband halted, waiting for the expression of discomfort and pain to pass from your face, fingers brushing away any stray moisture from the corner of your eyes.

“I…I’m okay, please move.” You told him, Jimin studying you carefully before he drew back, thrusting in experimentally. The first drags of his hips, followed by the slow plunges still made you bite down your lips, screw up your eyelids before you found your rhythms.

Jimin ended up with his hand at your nub, rubbing it in gentle circles, lighting sparks in your nerves with the motion of his lovemaking, your nails digging into your lover’s back and shoulder, trying to get as close as possible.

The first jolt of climax nearly made you cry out, burying your face in his neck to muffle the sounds when he followed, heavy grunts falling unabashed from his lips, hands twining with the strands of your hair to seal your lips in a clumsy kiss as he spilled deep into you.

Rolling over, with your head safely clasped in the nook of his arm, Jimin sighed contentedly, warm hand against your back.

“Jimin,”

“Yes, love.”

“So…what happens now?”

Your husband turned his head to give you a sleepy grin.

“Now we’ll live happily ever after.”

[some-dr-writings]

Korekiyo and Nagito x SHSL Military General

Korekiyo Shinguji:

·       “Simply beautiful.” Korekiyo found himself saying those two words often around The Super High School Level Military General. Everything about such a person was simply so, how could anything else describe them.

·       At first he had heard the rumors of you, the strict, stone cold, military general whom had taken over their entire class. With a simple snap of the finger you’d summon your entire class, utter one word and they were already off obeying your coded command. Your every movement was stiff, yet effortless. Everything had a deliberate purpose, even a twitch of the nose. You had such control over everything and everyone around you, all bending to your will.

·       Kiyo was content simply observing you at a distance, and yet a part of him wanted to disturb your space, to know you better. Though from a single glance he could tell idle chit-chat was not something you’d partake in, so he was fine. What did surprise him though was you approaching him.

·       “I need your expertise.” “AH! Oh… It’s you.” He took a deep breath, placing a hand over his heart. “You startled me. I hadn’t even realized you had come in. How may I help you?” “Anthropology, you study human beings, their culture and traditions, the origins of those, that is what you do, correct?” “Indeed, it is.” In one swift movement you took off your hat, holding it over your chest before bowing. “Please teach me. The better I understand people, I may better understand my soldiers and our targets. I must learn all I can to make conflict end with minimal damage to all sides. I must learn how to form people into as powerful, independent, a team player, and dependable as they can be so that they may survive, even without my direct guidance. That is my sole goal in life, would you assist me in my endeavor?” “… Simply beautiful. I would love to help in any way I can.” And that was how you had begun to regularly meet with Kiyo and visit him in his lab.

·       Any and all stories Kiyo would tell you or any artifacts he’d show, you’d always take detailed notes, dissecting them in order to find the humanity behind such fables, find what compelled people to do what they did. Kiyo could not but help to notice how you did seem to have a preference for specific tales, ones of trickery such as Odin and his many escapades. It was not for the aspects of humanity it explored, you seemed to simply enjoy it for yourself, something… quite rare.

·       All you did was for others. That selfish love of being the one to protect others or bring them joy, that part of you reminded him so much of his classmate Kirumi, so much so, he introduced you two, thinking you could get along well together, and that he was right on. You and Kirumi instantly clicked, often meeting with one another, exchanging advice and stories. You allowed Kirumi to assist you when you were leading your classmates in study or work and even went out of your way to seek her out. You both did what you loved out of this, assisting others and leading them into becoming their best selves. Seeing such a friendship blossom was extraordinary, especially so between two amazing individuals such as yourselves.

·       You seemed to change a little after meeting Kirumi. You were still stark and quiet, rarely speaking, but on occasion he found you’d just sit beside him as he read or went about his own business, both keeping to yourselves while still keeping one another company. Soon though you became more direct. “Follow me.” And that he did, even keeping in time with your foot falls. Soon he found himself on the field where Kaito, Shuichi and Maki were as well. “Oh, Shinguji’s your new sidekick?” “…” “Alright then! Let’s get to training!” Every evening there after you had brought Korekiyo to those raining sessions, strictly making sure he improved every day. Then you also took him to watch Himiko’s magic shows, play tennis with Ryoma, whom Korekiyo thought would not play the sport again till he spotted you speaking with the man, of course a person like you could lead Ryoma back to his old passions. You got Kiyo to regularly spend time with just about everyone, one day he’d be playing piano with Kaeda as he discussed the history of the piece they were playing, the next you and he were in a week long prank war with Kokichi.

·       “Here.” Kiyo looked between you and the clothing you had passed to him, most notably those boots. “Be at the front gate of the school dressed in these in half an hour.” Without another word you simply left. When he got to the gate you simply walked away from him to follow. You went hiking. “Winded already?” “N-No… Just… catching my breath.” “I know you can do better, keep up.” You simply marched on as Kiyo tried keeping up. Eventually you had reached the top of the small mountain. “Ah, the city.” You could clearly see it, along with Hope’s Peak. “Keep up hiking. Seeing the greenery should be enough motivation to keep going.” “Oh, you won’t be joining me? I may forget, you know.” “You will not. I train all those under me to be independent and be able to survive without me.” “… So, you’re saying you won’t be around?” “…” You didn’t speak for a moment, your gaze unwavering from the city with your arms crossed. “All day every day you simply tended to your books and artifacts or watch others. You care not for your own health. That cannot do. I… I wish you to survive and have connections. And I certainly believe you wish to live to see the beauty of humanity firsthand. That you cannot do when dead or bed ridden from lack of caring for yourself. Even if introverted, humans are social creatures, so you need to speak with others on occasion on topics other than your passions. You must learn of others, how they see the world in order to connect. Because of you and Kirumi, and others… I’ve learned that making connections is so vital, even if it will hurt in the end, some connections are worth making.” Finally, you locked eyes with him. “My country calls for me, I must protect them, but I… I wish to see you in particular… See you… thrive. Experience the beauty of humanity firsthand, no longer be a bystander. Become unrecognizable when next we meet, become the greatest person you can. Do not die, and do not stagnate. Keep improving and learn what you taught me.”

·       “I see, you shall be leaving then…” “… Hmm? What’s the matter, it’s unlike you to become so down cast.” “I have? Well… I love you. You are the most amazing person I have met. I’ve taken advantage of our time together, and seeing it… Y/N?” You still so stoically stood there, but your entire face was flushed pink. “you… love me… I, y-you can go on, why did you stop?” He laughed. He laughed in that almost strange way only he did. His eyes were half lidded, and you saw the crow’s feet in the corners. He was so clearly, gently smiling, you felt as if your heart would beat right out of your chest from the mere sight of it. “Adorable.” “I…” That blush only darkened and darkened, as you had instinctively taken a step back, fearing being so vulnerable in the moment, yet… liking it also. You… you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable like this, or at least so rarely did, you had almost forgotten the feelings. You buried your face into your hands. Kiyo simply took your hands into his own, gently leading them down so he could see that slightly wobbly smile, and the red that so elegantly dusted your cheeks.

·       Not even a week later and you disappeared as if you had never even attended the school. Despite the years that had passed Korekiyo made sure to stay connected too his high school classmates. Kiyo had taken to traveling with Rantaro who was searching for his sisters, Shuichi who was putting his detective skills to use in searching for them, and Kirumi who acted as Shuichi personal maid believing with the right assistance he could become a truly amazing person. They were a rather fun group to travel with. In the evenings when time permitted, he and Shuichi would do some exercises and reminisce on the training they had done in high school. Any time they found themselves in your home country, Kiyo couldn’t help but wonder how you were the whole time. Kiyo and Rantaro would often chat through the night when in your country, Rantaro of his sisters and Kiyo of you. They also spoke of the travels they had taken before high school. Being with them… it was simply amazing, and Kiyo was eternally thankful for all you had done for him, and he was the determined to not disappoint your expectations for when you’d meet next… you just had to meet again.

    Nagito Komaede:

·       Many were confused to see the Super High School Level Military General always hanging around Nagito; you never spoke with him, you didn’t even seem to like him, you were just always near him, even when he left campus you still followed him. Eventually rumors had begun sprouting up that the pair of you were in a relationship of some sort, but even that didn’t make sense. If any asked, you never said a word. Some asked Nagito but even he didn’t know, he just accepted the fact that you were around now.

·       “… Weapon, I can hold my tongue back no longer.” You spoke! Nagito was amazed! In your following him around, you had also dragged him around so that you could do your own work and though that Nagito saw your command in action over and over again, but with your gaze locked to his own, that sharp voice resonating deep within himself… the experience was unlike any other. “Am I to see you as human, or a weapon, I do not know any longer.” “Oh? A weapon?” “Yes, a weapon.”

·       Nagito felt his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart pounding against his rib-cage in a steady pace, like a taiko drum. It were as if his other senses had gone numb, they existed only for you, your intimidatingly kind visage, your solid unwavering voice, even touch, he could only feel the barest, slightest bit of your body heat. There was only you… So, THIS was the power of the Super High School Level Military General. No wonder all listened and heeded your every last breath.

·       “Clearly you hold no self-worth, always calling yourself ‘trash’, always doing everything you’re told by others you see as superior, us ‘Ultimates, beacons of hope’ as you’d phrase it. You have no drive or ambition other than pleasing ones you see as great… That…” You simply stared at him for a moment, you just didn’t move at all. “… I find myself compelled, compelled to take you under my wing, get you to see yourself for how truly amazing you are, and yet I too fear that. If you gain personhood, you would become the most dangerous weapon the world has ever known. You don’t just have luck, you can influence it and predict it to an extent. If you gained self-worth and ambition and decided to use your talent you could destroy the world single handedly. If you wanted too, and yet you are also just as dangerous in your current state. In this state you’d willingly go along with any and all who’d wish to use you as the weapon you are, and with no substantial will of your own, you would be used without fuss and all the while not worry about any destruction you’d cause, believing hope would overcome any despair or tragedy no matter how great. So… to attempt to give you will so you’d be less likely to be manipulated by others, or leave you as you are so you grow no ambition of your own. That is what I cannot decided. As I see you now, I know not what you think, if you gained any ambition what you could possibly want. My goal in life is to protect everyone, even my enemies, and you… You are the greatest threat I have ever met. Your ‘luck’… the travesty it could cause is worse than any atomic weapon I know of and I must be rid of you.” “… It sounds like you could solve this by killing me. Nobody could use me than and I wouldn’t be able to want to use my luck.” Many would find it strange just how matter-of-factly Nagito had stated that, and yet, being around him for so long you were not surprised.

·       What… what happened? Nothing about you had changed, and if you had, it was so subtle Nagito did not notice. He was terrified. Something in him screamed to run and hide, yet he was frozen. “Life is never to be weighed lightly. From the tinniest flea to the smartest and biggest whale. Life is never to be spoken of, let alone treated of so flippantly. Even that of your most despised and hated of enemies… At times, death is the only option, but if there are others that exist, they must be taken into account. Life… Life is the weightiest thing in existence. Never underestimate the impact the death of any single creature can have on everything. All life matters, even yours, though you yet to see it. You may deny it but heed my words. You matter. You matter more than you can ever realize. So, should there be a way to defuse the catastrophe that is laying dormant, only building more the longer you exist, I WILL find out how.” That terror that entrapped him faded and he felt as if he were gasping for breath after almost drowning. “You, I yet know what to do with, but for now we shall be retiring to my room so I may go through with planning.”

·       Then you turned and walked away. Nagito followed, in aw and amazement at you! You were truly a force to be reckoned with, simply astonishing! Though he didn’t believe he deserved it, if you saw fit to exchange so many words with him, he was truly honored. And he could not wait to see what decision you’d come too; he was quite looking forward to see what you were going to do to him.

·       “I need more data. I can not come to a conclusion. We shall proceed as we have before.” Despite saying that, things were never quite the same after that day. You would talk to him on occasion. Not much, but those brief exchanges were captivating none the less. Nagito became your assistant of sorts, keeping count as you did pushups or other exercises, or tidying up and cleaning so you could focus on more important things such as training yourself or others, perhaps even cooking or bringing you food so you didn’t have to interrupt that mental exercise you were trying out. Always being around you, he was kind of forced to pick up some of your habits in order to keep up, like trying to keep pace on your morning jogs. It became a sort of challenge for you to protect Nagito from his bad luck. You tried your damnest to stop the chaotic results no matter how small, whether it affected others or not.

·       Despite how Nagito always went on and on about how he was trash, you were impressed with how smart and capable he was, even going over military strategies with him. This quickly spread to other things. You started playing board games, seeing if your strategizing could out do the boy’s good luck, even playing luck-based games to challenge yourself into finding some strategy, even if it were underhanded. No matter what you tried though, Nagito was unflappable, much like yourself. Playing games with him became your favorite pastime- TRAINING! It was training… not for fun. Though relaxing is important, so plaything with him served a dual purpose… yeah, th-that’s it.

·       It was late spring on the cusp of summer. “Hey! Y/N! That’s thirty laps!” You waded in the water for a moment, catching your breath before allowing the crashing waves to push you to shore. As the gulls cawed you marched up the shore across the reds, purples, and oranges of the setting sun behind you so beautifully reflecting off the sand. There Nagito stood, a towel draped over his arm, a small bowl of ice cream in each hand. “A small burst of energy before I can get you a more calorie rich meal. “… I thank you.” Nagito simply passed you a bowl before patting your face with the towel, then wrapping it around you… Sometimes he wondered if you always had that light blush on your cheeks. He had been with you for so long, it was difficult to separate how you looked back when you first had met to now. He thought he’d remember, but he just wasn’t quite sure. Though he found himself deliberating on this because it seemed that blush was spreading… “Something the matter Boy? You’ve been staring for a while, and just… kind of holding the towel over my shoulders.” “a-ah! So, I have! I, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I just love yoooooouuuuu-” Oh no. “Your face! I love your face!... So much!” Internally Nagito was screaming about how he just let that slip out despite how he just so calmly smiled like this was an everyday occurrence. Truly, he was a mess of a person. “Y-you too?” Then you squeaked, realizing what you just said. And there you both just stood starting at one another. “Dinner, we’re supposed to get dinn… dinner…” “Y/N?” “Boy, how long have we been dating?” “Huh?” “We’ve been inseparable, and… we do more than train like watch movies an… stuff, so…” You then just walked away. “W-wait, Y/N!” “I can’t speak, I’m eating ice cream!”

·       Even after years the pair of you were still inseparable. The only time you seemed to be apart was when you went to war, but no matter the distance or trials you faced, you’d always return to him. As for Nagito… he thought this was for the best, after all, you were a humanitarian, if realistically possibly you’d protect life, so a person as dangerous as himself always under the watch of someone so amazingly strong… always protected by you from the world and even himself… the thought sent his heart a flight.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Romanced Companions react to dreaming sole’s death

(Got a little carried away with my sexy synth men also..slight tw for gore/death)

Cait:

Dreams always sucked for Cait. Wether they were products of her hazed psycho-jet fueled delusions or just merely her sober mind, they never were good. Instead of dreaming of flying or stuff like that..she dreamed fucked up stuff.

For instance, without so much as an explanation she saw you..you who loved so much, lifeless.

Though she was subjected to such a disturbing dream, she woke peacefully from it. Well..peacefully meaning she didn't scream as the dream faded away. She wanted to. Oh god she wanted to scream, but she was still consciously aware of your sleeping body. So, relying on her faithful cure- she'd reach over to the night stand and take a swing of whatever drink she had before promptly grasping you in her muscular arms for the rest of the night.

Curie:

She tried so hard. She tried so very, damn hard. You had stumbled into your shared home, beaten to a pulp and unable to breath without gasping and wheezing. Instantly she'd jump to her feet, taking you to her makeshift clinic room, feverishly quick to inject you with as many chems she could to stop your pain...all for naught.

With a pained smile on your face, you left her. Your eyes sliding closed just as she screamed.

Suddenly she was ripped from what she thought was reality, being met with you, but instead of being broken and dead..you were just asleep.

She whimpered softly, nuzzling into your arms as she tried to forget all about the horror she just endured. Damn, she didn’t like this whole dreaming thing very much.

Danse:

Night terrors were a usual for Danse. It was just an unfortunate side effect of his ptsd, one he learned to cope with over time. His waking life wasn't much different after all, it was normal for him to watch people he was close to fall at his feet, usually because of a command he ordered. However things seemed to change when he grew close to you. Terrible nightmares seemed to slowly transform into sweet dreams of the life you and him created together, even once dreaming of a little child in his arms with you by his side.

Unfortunately tonight was very much so different.

It was a great fire fight, similar to the one he met you in. However instead of you crusading in guns blazing, the tables turned rapidly, effectively giving him some sort of whiplash. The next thing he knew, he had black robes on, similar to that of the courser you had slain months ago.

Pure terror arose when realization hit.

There you were, on your knees in front of him. Those loving eyes filled with fear and your nose obviously broken, blood streaming down your lips and dripping off your chin.

"M7-97, your orders stand." An unfamiliar voice spoke to him seemingly from nowhere.

Without any hesitation, he lifted the strange white gun in his hands, aiming right at your chest. Only stopping long enough to hear your breathless plea, before pulling the trigger.

With a sharp gasp he woke up, uncontrollably being thrust into a pathetic fit of sobs. Without meaning to, he actually woke you up, still unable to contain himself even as you brought him into your embrace. He'd only muster the strength to grab onto your arms, holding onto you for dear life as he cried out, blubbering out an explanation.

It was unlike him and a piece of him felt so very ashamed.

Deacon:

He was motionless. Just as he had seen your hazy, bleeding body in the confines of the hellish nightmare that woke him from an other wise restful sleep. Your presence, living that is, beside him had never felt so wonderful- and that truly was something considering how much he enjoyed your embrace. Being able to watch your chest rise and fall with each sleepy deep breath brought him down from the high of his fear, allowing him to focus on the rhythm- which slowly but surely brought him back the ability to rest.

Gage:

He’s a raider. He’s been one since a young age. Death, macabre visions and gore in general never bothered him the slightest, hell, he even started to enjoy it. At least he thought he did...that is until the lingering sight of your own demise came to him in a far too vivid dream.

Snapping his eye open, he’d instantly check the side of the bed next to him where he knew your motionless form still lain. It wasn’t like him to feel such dread. Seeing as you were still asleep, he felt no shame in acting upon his sudden instinct to squeeze you in a desperate embrace- burying his face into your chest and holding on until finally a much better, dreamless sleep took ahold of him.

Hancock:

Now was a good of a time as any to take a nice relaxing puff of jet.

His mind never really was restful, even without the influence of chems it always seemed to go places he despised. This couldn’t have been anymore true as it for some reason conjured the sickening picture of you in his dreams- holding your bloody midsection with a wiry grin before collapsing.

Sighing, he’d try to get rid of the image, huffing quick and continuous puffs so the chem would do its “magic”. At least you were still right there next to him. That much was all he wanted.

Macready:

He already had the trauma of seeing his ex wife die once before, hearing her screams as she was torn apart by ghouls...to be met with the same scene again, only you in her place- it was good enough to wake him up with a furious yell coming out of his lungs. Effectively waking you as well....

When asked what the hell happened, he’d blink away his newly formed tears and explain what had happened. It was one of the few times he allowed himself to cry like that, so unbridled.

Maxson:

He was a frequent sufferer of night terrors, always has been since a young age. However, very few compared to the pure horror he endured as he dreamt of your demise- the dream disturbing him the most because it was him who did it. Without his own control and screaming as his hands clasped around on your throat...

It was his silent tears that saved him from enduring the sight any longer, rousing him to awareness just to where he could blearily look at your peaceful slumbering form. Some more tears would slip past his sorrowful eyes as he immediately engulfed you, pulling you close to his chest so he could savor the feeling.

If you were to wake up during this, he'd just mutter some bullshit about being cold, sniffling as he did.

Nick:

It was horrific.

Every now and again when he'd allow himself sleep, he'd be haunted with the reoccurring vision of his pre-war conscious seeing the dead body of Jennifer Lands, his fiancée. The dream used to disturb him, a strange clenching in his chest but never had it truly made him feel horror.

That is until one night, you in his arms, he had the same dream. Only this time instead of Jennifer's bloodied face laying on the asphalt, it was you. His present love, the one he felt true love for. Everything was the same, the same clothes, same thugs standing above your lifeless form- only it was your beautiful face.

When he woke, he awakened with a hallow like sensation in his mechanical chest. Why would he ever dream something like that? How did he dream that?

Regardless of whatever conclusion he'd come to, he'd sigh and stroke your hair with a shaky hand- vowing to you in silence that he'd never allow such a gruesome fate befall you. He just wouldn't.

Old Longfellow:

Damn he hated dreams. His ex-wife never seemed to leave him in peace, haunting him in some new disturbing way every other night or so. However not even her ghostly sick smile could compare to the visage of your demise.

When had he been so disturbed he didn't quite know.

Regardless he'd wake silently, his ocean colored eyes scanning the room and only softening when he deemed it safe from troubles. With a shake of his head he'd lay back down onto the pillows, looking over to your peaceful expression and then deciding it was okay...you were still here...everything was going to be okay.

Piper:

She'd wake both you and herself as she shrieked in her sleep, effectively scaring the crap out of you as you clambered to a sitting position. Still rattled from her vision..she, she saw you..she saw you get shot..fuck. She'd breath heavy, her chest heaving with each sharp inhale.

After a while she'd calm, hugging you oh so close. It would be a while before she could go back to sleep, but so long as you were in her arms she'd feel a little better.

Preston:

He'd actually end up waking you up before himself, thrashing around and grunting as his face scrunched into a pained expression. He regularly had nightmares, usually based upon the massacre of Quincy. This one was different.

Shaking him awake you'd be met with tear filled chocolate eyes, his lip quivering the moment he processed who he was looking at. Within seconds he took you down into his chest, squeezing you tight and silently crying.

You would just have to do your best to comfort him.

Sturges:

It wasn't very common he'd even remember his dreams, and even when he did they were hardly ever coherent thoughts. Normally they'd just be random "blips" of color or scenes that made little to no sense. How he wished that his normal dreams would've been the case tonight.

Still, staying true to himself, he only had a few flashes of scenes- but what he could piece together was awful. One moment you stood with that kind smile of your's, two glasses of mutfuit juice in your hands- one already extended out to him. The next thing he knew, deafening whizzes of bullets rang through and you no longer where standing...instead you were face down....and...oh god.

His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his ears as tried to come down from the sick rush the nightmare gave him. He wasn't one to lose his lunch, but now he really felt like puking. As he came to and began to calm, he willed himself to look over at you, rolling onto his side so he could properly see you.

"Oh..sweetheart..." he whispered, not loud enough to wake you up. Sighing he'd lay down again, resting his head on your chest as he stroked your hair- that might've woke you up but..eh, oh well.

X6-88:

Death was quite literally in his job description. He'd seen copious amounts of people die. Be it explosions, torture, or even his own bullet shot between their eyes. It never bothered him a bit, at least not enough to make him care much less feel sorrow for the poor sons of bitches.

That is..until he dreamed of your death.

It was so painfully vivid. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through his synthetic veins as he ran. His target right in front of him, ready for his execution. With a systematic like approach, he raised his laser pistol, aiming right at the back of the head before pulling the trigger.

But...when the "target" fell, bile quickly rushed up from his stomach. There you were, those eyes he loved so much lacking any light and gazing emptily up at the sky, a burned hole through your forehead.

Just like that he was released, shooting up with enough force to send the ragged blankets down his body. Wide silver eyes darting around the room as he processed the unfamiliar sensation of pure terror racking his body. Whenever he looked at you..your sweet face so calm and...thankfully..unharmed, he could relax. Steadying himself he'd sigh, laying back down restlessly, staying up the rest of the night so he could just take you in. If that dream ever became a reality......

Well, he prayed it didn't.

[ktheist]

saving grace | 2

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 5.2k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

three days later, you’re stuck in the garden, holding a teacup in one hand and an unsettling urge to let a vexed frown make home on your features. as soon as yoongi’s letter arrived the morning after the last day of the celebration, your mother had speedily organized a tea party. invitations were exclusively sent to a selected few - namely those with an uncanny ability to light the matchstick of rumors throughout the city.

“lady ___, you’ve grown into a fine woman. when i last saw you, you were but a child crying over the countess forbidding you from having another cookie!”

“it’s been two years since you debuted into the society, hasn’t it, lady ___?”

“oh my, that’s an important time span between being legally introduced to the society and finding a marriage prospect, speaking of which, is it true? that the duke of cralon has taken a liking to the lady?”

“well-”

“of course,” your mother speaks over you, a pride-ridden smile gracing her lips, “only my ___ would be able to tame the beast of war though i was quite worried since there hasn’t been an official proposal from the duke but alas, he must’ve been busy attending to matters after returning from the war - in fact, he’s coming today to discuss arrangements about moving into the house of min and starting lessons as the future duchess.”

the ladies begin to whisper among themselves in pairs or groups of threes while your mother hides her satisfaction behind the cup of tea she brings to her lips. in truth, yoongi never mentioned anything about moving into his manor nor was there any talk of a ring - since it’s a faux engagement, you would feel enlightened if there weren’t any extravagant spent on you only to blind the eyes of others.

“lady ___ is quite lucky to have her face as a saving grace and capture the duke’s eyes,” krystal’s modulated tone sends the ladies quietening down.

if she hadn’t been the daughter of a marquis, her brusque nature would have landed her at the far end of the table where those with a lack of influence and benefit to the hostess, would be arranged to sit.

while she praises your beauty, she criticizes it being your only good fortune.

you catch a glimpse of isabelle’s apologetic smile from next to baroness armwell. only a few of the ladies are here with their mothers while the rest are acquaintances of your mother and noblewomen you choose to avoid in a social setting.

“i have my mother’s genetics to thank for that, lady krystal.” with that, a disarming smile blooms on your face. having nothing to argue after your plain admittance, she reverts her attention to the stirring the cup of tea in front of her.

“oh my, not only is lady ___ beautiful but she’s also humble!” one of the ladies chirp while the others chorus in agreement.

it is a few empty praises and gossips later, almost as though the stars and planets have aligned for this exact moment, the raucous of reigns and wagons echo from somewhere outside. that must be him.

you’re about to stand up and excuse yourself to welcome yoongi when the familiar heat of watchful eyes makes you turn to the one person you know would be sending telepathic messages to stay put, let him come to you.

the deadpanned expression that slips on your face is unconcealable but not at all effective in telling your mother how unnecessary and subtly rude it is to have yoongi come all the way to the garden and become a showcase to these women.

nonetheless, you sit with your back straight and ready to bolt as soon as the butler announces yoongi’s arrival. clad in his black and yellow uniform that reminds you of shimmering gold underneath a moonlight, yoongi’s naturally expressionless face lights up into the most amicable smile when he sees that you’re not alone, “ladies, apologies for intruding your tea party.”

“oh my,” marchioness seastein, lady irene’s mother, murmurs from next to you.

judging from the woman’s fixed gaze - as though she can see nothing but yoongi - you doubt she’s aware of her blatant ogling. not that you have any right to stop her.

“your grace, it’s been awhile,” you dip into a curtsy.

when you let go of the fabric of your dress, a gloved hand slips into yours before a pair of warm lips presses against your knuckle. this time, it’s not just marchioness seastein that starts fanning herself.

“___, it seems you forgot about what we talked about that night at the palace,” yoongi’s crimson eyes find yours with a sort of melancholy but as the duke owns two sides - one for the public and the other for when you’re behind closed doors - you’re unsure whether he’s truly saddened by the formal unfamiliarity you display.

regardless, you weren’t that flustered girl from that night. and you can’t let such scandalous intonation leave this place.

“my, how could i call you by your name so freely when we’re not even officially engaged?” throwing your gaze to the golden encrusted teacup, you shyly pull your hand to your lips and in the midst, catching your mother’s approving smile at your delicate front.

sending prayers to the goddess to be whisked away from this unbearable atmosphere, you almost let out a sigh of relief when yoongi chuckles, “i did not know my ___ harbors such worries. shall we go look for engagement rings now? i’ve made a booking at whitlace.”

that warrants a round of whispers from the ladies and a pleasant nod from your mother. nobody in this kingdom hasn’t heard of whitlace. it’s a boutique that sells only the high quality jewelries and are frequented by only the richest of nobility.

“your- yoongi, you didn’t have to!” your exclamation may have been dramatic but perhaps that is what saves you from spending another minute in the eyes of these noblewomen.

the elation coursing through your vein after finally being able to leave, clouds your better judgement. it is only once you’re in the carriage that bears the house of min’s double dragons and the carriage begins to shake gently five minutes into the ride, do you finally come to your senses, “where... are we heading off to, duke?”

the aforementioned man is already staring at you, wine red eyes piercing through your soul as he sits across from you. arms crossed over his chest, “you used me.”

it doesn’t take a genius to understand what he means, “it was my mother’s idea to have you come and meet me in the garden but yes, i did use up one favor that you owed me.”

when his stare doesn’t lighten, you find yourself involuntarily lulling your head to the side as though looking at him from a slightly different angle would give you the answer you’re looking for.

he must have noticed too when his stiff shoulder line finally sags, eyes fluttering shut as he exhales silently.

“it seems i finally understand why you wish so strongly to be consulted beforehand,” the confession hovers in the air like the white clouds that dots the sky. plainly meant without any hint of malice. and perhaps, it’s the never-before-seen innocence that urges you to explain yourself.

“if you think i’m punishing you, your- i mean, yoongi,” you correct yourself at the faintest pout that appears on that gentle visage, “then you’re mistaken-”

“i know,” he throws a troubled gaze out of glass window, “you’re not that kind of woman.”

in the midst of the gentle shake of the carriage and his hair swaying to frame his features, you wonder what exactly the type of woman he sees you as.

but you swallow the question that teeters on the tip of your tongue as you too, avert your gaze to the moving scene on the other side of the window, “very well.”

x

for the first time, the silence you share with another person does not make you want to barge through the door and escape. since you could walk and talk, your mother has been hiring tutors to help you with academia and etiquette lessons as well as host garden parties to help you make acquaintances with the other ladies of the noble households.

before you met the crass boy that talks too much and lack the refinement of a noble, you did think that those ladies you gathered with were your friends. but you couldn’t raise your voice at them without being branded rude. couldn’t talk about the state of other kingdoms without being side glanced as if you’re teetering over areas of interest that doesn’t suit a lady of a noble house.

but seokjin was inevitably a boy. you appreciate that what you couldn’t mention to the ladies, you could talk freely with him.

secretly, you yearned for a friend who you could rave about the latest fashion and jewelries without being shut down and revert the attention to what high-end dress their father and mother bought for them.

that is, until you met isabelle. she did not share your sentiments about how repulsive and superficial these gatherings were. that they were mere means to survive in this social world. without an influence, one is regrettably nothing. but she wasn’t one to jump in on the bandwagon of badmouthing one of the ladies behind their backs when they’re not there. though, she did nothing to stop it either. unlike you, she had no stance in anything.

perhaps that was why you wouldn’t allow yourself to become more than acquaintances but less than friends to her. but if and when yoongi acts and baron armwell is exposed for his crimes, she would be done for.

perhaps it’s the guilt that eats at your conscience. perhaps it’s the part of you that values the camaraderie formed between you and isabelle. but either way, you say, “yoongi, the warrant for baron armwell’s arrest should be ready right about now, yes?”

his stare remains indecipherable but his lack of refute gives you confidence in your assumption, “i’d like to use that last favor you owe me.”

if baron armwell is caught, then the warehouses would be seized by the king in compensation for the losses incurred from his thieving. then, the armwells would have nothing to sustain them. and their gambling-addict son can’t be relied upon to do something about it.

“isabelle has been learning the ropes of managing the warehouses,” with hands crossed over your chest, you lean back against the carriage, the picture of the timid but apt lady’s smile flashing behind your eyes, “if baron armwell is arrested then most likely, the warehouses will be seized but if isabelle or the baroness confess to the baron’s crimes...”

“-then they might be able to keep the warehouses and only source of income,” the man finishes for you.

“yes,” you find yourself nodding, “she may not know what her father’s been up to but she’ll learn to accept it to save her poor mother and get the king to send her brother into a rehabilitation center so he won’t continue gambling what’s left of the money they have.”

you can’t be the one to tell her because it would be oddly suspicious that you’re the friend she told her family secrets to and your supposed fiancee is the one who will be arresting her father. and there’s no telling which path she’ll take even if it was you who told her. but, it wouldn’t be a problem if one of your vassals is the one to approach her.

“could you give me time to make her come to you instead of arresting the baron?”

the moment that he takes to ponder on your request sends tremors down your spine. no matter how many times you force yourself to meet those calculating scarlet eyes, you can never get used to the feeling of having your dress stripped off to expose every part of you.

“you wouldn’t accept my help even if i offered, would you?” he finally says - unexpectedly so.

something tugs on your conscience as isabelle’s azure blue eyes flash at the back of your mind - those same eyes will be filled with tears because of you, “no, i have to do this myself.”

“very well,” he nods, a trace of reluctance clouding his eyes, “but you don’t win wars alone.”

it takes a moment for you to register his words and the warning that comes with it. politics is a different kind of war with words as weapons, “you don’t win wars through brute force either.”

the silence that befalls the carriage not unexpected. there are few people who’s ever seen holding a conversation with the duke. though he’s accrued a large sum of inheritance from his title, enough to threaten the royal family, his family’s lack of interest in the throne has allowed the previous king to turn a blind eye to the ducal house’s lack of presence at important events. or rather, that was exactly the reason the previous kings sighed in relief when they heard the min family.

“...quite a formidable opponent.” it’s not the untimely untterance after the conversation has ended that catches your attention, but it’s the faintest trace of smile on his face that makes your eyes widen in surprise.

“your grace?” you almost regret speaking at all because the smile disappears into a frown for the longest moment before the realization hits you, “sorry, you told me to call you by your name, yoongi.”

“as long as you know,” he doesn’t seem as displeased but the smile is gone as he shifts his eyes out to the window.

the carriage has come to a trot. the sight of the street and vendors lined up along it coming into view. though you’re still sitting across from each other, the invisible distance seems to evaporate into thin air. and for some reason, though you don’t notice how or when the silence’s changed into something comfortable, you find yourself wanting to break it. just so he’d look at you - he always does when’s speaking to you. and perhaps that smile you’re starting to think is from your imagination, would come back.

and what’s better than to blurt out a mindless wonder as to why he led you to his carriage where the footman who stared at you with mild surprised. greanted, his master came back after not even 15 minutes of being inside the manor. yoongi’s answer is a straightforward one - as the man himself.

yoongi doesn’t mean to steal you away from your home nor does he actually have a slot booked at whitlace.

“it looked like you were suffocating in there,” he simply says, wine red eyes fixed at the window, but a heartbeat later, he turns to you with wide eyes, as though he’s just thought of something, “unless you wish to go there - i’m sure count wynver wouldn’t have any objections to a duke dropping by without notice.”

“actually, there’s somewhere else i wish to visit but never got the chance to,” you divulge, the smile on your lips somewhat freer than you expect to be.

“alright,” lifts an eyebrow, that faint smile on his lips making him appear like a playful youth than a feared overlord and confirming your state of sanity, “but you’ve used up all your favors, this time you’re owing me.”

“fair enough,” the line of your shoulders jolt in a shrug, your much noticeable smile on your lips.

x

just as the palace holds a celebration for the returning knights, so does its people. the streets seem livelier than ever with merchants busily trying to attract customers, laughter echoes from every corner and knights bearing the royal family’s uniform clicking their heels together and standing in salutation until yoongi gestures for them to be at ease.

“the crown’s changed but it doesn’t seem like anything else has,” you assert, returning mrs. rutherson’s smile. it’s been three years since leslie’s introduced you to these people who cared for her before she came to serve you.

“you would think riots would be breaking out all over the kingdom but because of seokjin’s status - a maid’s son, the people seem to be more accepting of the ‘half-bred prince,’“ that’s the name the aristocratic faction calls him and sometimes the royal faction as well, “granted, the first thing he did as king was distribute seeds to the people to prepare for winter.”

seokjin rose to throne by taking his father, the previous king, and his brother, the crown prince’s lives with the help of bonyth, the rival kngdom of cearis. the two have been in a tense political relationship since the last twenty five years due to their similar economic backgrounds.

and because of that, his position is vulnerable as the royal faction must feel that they’d been betrayed by the sudden siege while the aristocrat faction has been divided into two sides. one sees this as a chance to strengthen their influence by supporting the new king and the other is wary of his connections with the outside world - some believes he’d sold the kingdom to bonyth and that cearis is now an unofficial territory of the bonyth with seokjin acting as the puppet king.

a familiar voice rasps, bringing you back to the present, “you spoke as if you detest the king for blackmailing you yet you say his name so naturally. i’ve also never heard of you praising someone so generously”

it doesn’t take a genius to know the unspoken words that comes with his assertion: it makes one wonder what your true relations are with each other.

you don’t know where yoongi’s loyalty lies. in the beginning, making seokjin think that you have the upper hand to crush his already vulnerable position by pretending that yoongi likes you, seems like an easy task. all you needed was to gain yoongi’s trust that you can attain any kind of information he needs in exchange for his presence. the matter of why seokjin is offering a marriage with the 12th prince of aflar was buried by your tip off about baron armwell but it all goes to naught because of one slip of tongue.

out of all the time you could say that foolish king’s name, it had to be when you’re with the duke. the knight who slayed thousands of enemies on his own in the battlefield. yet also the same man who listens to you while you talk with a faint smile.

and perhaps it’s because of that side of him that allows you to find the ease you need to respond, “the house of ___ has never chosen sides and because of that, i grew up learning to give credit where it’s due but criticize what is ordinarily wrong. as for my using his majesty’s name...” you pause, shifting through the possible excuses that could be of use until you find one.

you could tell him that you couldn’t accept seokjin’s rise to the throne so you’ve been using his name when talking about him in private and only now did it slip up. or you could tell him you’ve been head-butting since you were sixteen and him, eighteen.

but a considerable amount of time must have passed while you ponder on your reasons to make yoongi clear his throat, “it seems you too, have your secrets.”

at that, you crane your neck in search for his eyes, only noticing now that you had your head lowered in reluctance.

“raise your head, i’m not going to force you to tell me,” the gruffness of his voice is strained, “and people are watching and i’d rather not have my name slandered by another one of those baseless rumors. grim reaper and beast of war is enough.”

so he knows the versions of him spoken from people’s mouth. without realizing it, you find yourself gazing into a pair of distraught crimson eyes. except this time, they’re glancing around warily and not gazing into the windows of your soul.

“then, yoongi,” when they do capture your gaze, they’re not as terrifying as you found them to be but the idea you’re about to propose is absurdly embarrassing, “since we’re already rumored to be engaged, you should hug me to show that it was just a small quarrel and that we’ve settled it peacefully.”

a dust of pink spreads across the man’s face and ears as you watch his eyes widen in surprise once your suggestion registers. but your own cheeks are not without their own heat.

his arms that band around you are strong yet gentle. it takes you back to the first dance you shared at the palace. he holds you as he did before, like a porcelain doll that would break under the slightest pressure. except this time, there’s no music and the distance between you is nonexistent as you tell yourself that there’s no other way to hug without having your cheek pressed against his chest.

x

when you return, your mother swings the door open at the clamorous sound of the hooves and horses neighing. yoongi escorts you to the door, dipping into a bow with a hand on his chest in greeting to your mother and in parting to you. neither of you say a word but your face still burns like the sun is blazing inches from you and yoongi still sports a faint shade of pink.

“so? how was it? did you get the most expensive jewel in the store?” the question your mother shoot as she follows you into the hallway is met with a meek, “we didn’t go whitlace.”

unbeknownst to you, after you retreat to your room, your mother and leslie share a smile. though one is of utmost delight, the other is glad that you’re home. it seems you’ve been out for too long.

“did you see that?” your mother quizzes, “they may not have gone to whitlace but something must have happened to make them act bashful and shy to each other when they pretended to be so at ease this morning,” her lips curl at as a thought crosses her mind, “perhaps, they-”

“madam,” leslie smiles, “it’s time for dinner.”

that was a week ago.

“it was just a hug!” you cry out, cheeks warm like the sun that shines over the mansion and pours through the window of your room, “and it was to help him mend his reputation even just by a little, why do i have to get so worked up over it?”

“oh my, i was about to wake you up but it seems you don’t need my help, my lady,” a fluttery voice echoes from next to you.

it takes a moment for you to take in the woman’s unfaltering smile and her round brown eyes. another moment to register that perhaps the reason you couldn’t hear yoongi’s footsteps the first time you met wasn’t because he had inhumane strength but because you’re terrible at noticing your surroundings - because you’re so sure you’ve been awake for ten minutes and if she’d walked in any earlier, the normal thing to do was to announce once’s presence... no?

“leslie!” this time, the cry that escapes your lips is of a different nature. namely a chilling kind of surprise, “when did you get here?”

the woman’s head lulls to the side, searching through her memories. “since thirty minutes ago, i stepped behind the curtains to wipe the window because i didn’t want to open them and disturb your sleep until it’s time for you to wake up.”

“i-i see,” you assert, cheeks hot from the embarrassment of getting caught venting into nothing but the air.

“oh, and congratulations on your engagement with the duke, my lady,” her voice echoes off the walls whilst her body disappears into the closet, “his majesty is terribly kind as to let you throw the engagement party at the palace. or could it has something to do with the fact that it’s his cousin’s engagement?”

nodding mindlessly as you rub the sleepiness from your eyes, “yes, he’s very-” your mouth clamps shut, “wait, what engagement party?”

x

a letter arrived just this morning bearing the golden crest of the crown. rather than a notice to let the lady who’s getting engaged, know that she may hold the engagement party at the palace - it’s an invitation to said party dated three months from now as if he was hosting his own engagement party. seokjin, that good-for-nothing king. he’s done it this time.

begrudgingly, you trudge towards the carriage you told leslie to have ready by the time you’re done with breakfast.

“good morning,” the coachman shoots you an unsuspecting smile, “to the palace then, my lady?”

his voice echoes from the small window across from you. a compartment that allows you to slide open and make communicating with the coachman easier. it seems your visits to the palace have been so frequent that even the coachman would expect you to head there whenever you’re not out with leslie.

sighing, you internally put a stop to the war waging inside you. if it had been a month ago that’d he’d pull something like this, you would have marched straight to the palace and into his office, demanding him to retract the invitation.

but then, a month ago, you weren’t caught up with the rumor - which you suspected to be spread by seokjin - about marrying the grim reaper of the kingdom.

“no,” with a hand on your throbbing head, you recall the conversation you had with yoongi in his carriage - to consult before one of you acts, “to the duke’s residence.”

x

“the king has stirred quite a mess,” yoongi asserts. the golden engraving of the same letter lying in your drawer lying on top of the mahogany table he’s at. his office is as big as your room with a wall-sized window behind the table, allowing the rays of sun to pour into the room and cast a halo over him. somehow the sight of his wine red eyes glowing sends a hot shiver down your spine. the urge to hurl yourself away is still present but your shoulder line is at ease and so is your heart.

“i’m sorry,” your head hangs low in, eyes unable to meet his. not after you’d been the sole cause of this, “this is all my fault if only i hadn’t asked you to pretend to be my lover. i’ll go to the royal palace and-”

“___.” yoongi’s voice slices through the otherwise silent room. you can see him stand up and step out of your periphery.

his voice had always been chillingly cool. it’s impossible to tell how he feels. the first time you met him, you thought he would be the kind of man that spoke with swords and listens less to reason but the more you got to know him the more far off your assumption seemed to be.

a man who conceals his emotions and strikes when you least expect it, is a much dangerous adversary.

a pair of polished leather shoes comes to a stop just inches from your knees, the owner’s legs crossed as he leans against the edge of the table, “i can’t let you do such a thing. do you know the law states that a lie told to royalty sends you to lifetime imprisonment?”

the bottom of your lips begin to feel sore from having trapped between your teeth as worry flood your bloodstreams. a whole different riddle all together would be seokjin. just when you thought you have him figured out, he pulls out a wild card that gets you biting your nails while anticipating his next move. yet mortifying as the circumstances has turned, if you were to go back in time in the alley next to the orphanage, you would without a doubt, take the hand that asks for your support.

“i’ll be fine but you won’t,” you meet the steel gaze of the duke’s but instead of feeling like you’ve been stripped naked of your clothes, you see the curious wonder in those eyes. as though his search for the deepest part of your soul has come up tails, “he’s going to use this as a chance to show them that you’re on his side - it’s not a matter of who’s pretending to be whose fiance anymore. the day you step into politics may come but not because of.”

the silence stretches on as his eyes pierces into you when you’d looked up in the heat of the moment.

“if we don’t go, it’ll give the opposing faction a reason to start a riot because it’ll be direct indication of the house of min standing against the crown but...” he states smoothly before trailing off. as though he already knows the workings of politics despite spending a portion of his lifetime on the battlefield.

“since he rose without any noble house’s help - not those publicly known at least - we don’t know which one is the opposing faction.”

“for a king who didn’t receive any education to prepare him for the throne, he’s quite aggressive with his assertion of power.” you can’t help but raise your eyebrows at the complimentary tone that wraps around yoongi’s words.

but you push away the thought of him being one of those unknown households that supported seokjin in the background - if he was seokjin’s ally, it would make better sense if he stayed in cearis instead of joining to war.

“but if we attend,” those red eyes captures yours - it’s no secret what he’s thinking because-

“the house of ___ will be indirectly announcing its support for the king as well.”

judging from the long standing reputation founded upon by your great ancestors, you attending your own engagement party held by seokjin would be equivalent to chopping down the ancient tree of impartiality towards the crown and its fellow nobles. but if you didn’t nip the seeds of war at its bud, there’s no telling what would befall the kingdom if riots begin to break out, orchestrated by a faction with less to lose.

“neither option is favorable. if se- his majesty is dethroned and another puppet king is placed from either one of the factions, it’ll only showcase cearis’ political vulnerability to the whole world and give other nations a reason to wage war against us. not to mention the civil war that might break out beforehand.”

it is a second after you finish, do a sigh leaves yoongi’s mouth. a hard line gracing his lips but his eyes softens with something unfamiliar.

“somehow i hate the fact that i knew you’d decide to choose the peaceful way out even if it meant sacrificing yourself,” a gloved hand slips under yours, thumb grazing your trembling knuckles.

the lips that presses against your skin sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. but more than anything, your heart swells with a sort of emotion you don’t dare speak of - the implications of his words are as clear as your reflection in his eyes.

but i won’t let you hurt yourself in the process.

x

note. shout out to the realest @fanfuckingfic​ for hyping up this series i lov you b!! also taglisting @mingrasschoi (can’t tag) and @ayujmi​!!

[curekibouka-writing]

Dream On (Twst one-shot fanfic)

Summary: May the finale begin but do not let it end

Word count: 872

A/N: “The last character in your gallery is trying to kill you, will you survive?” was the prompt I came across. I had Silver and Lilia of all people in my gallery so… I wrote a thing *nervous laughter*

The wind skimming over your scalp, the air stabbing at your lungs, the twigs snapping beneath your feet, and in the center of it all, the heart still thumping in your chest, as if conducting this sickening symphony of escape.

Sickening it may be, you still could not let it end.

As if you had a choice in the matter. Despite not seeing who they were beneath those hoods, the vivid memory of green flames whizzing past right next to your ear served as a threat declaring that you were only alive and kicking because they were letting you.

A chill ran down your spine. You threw your head back, relieved to find that it was but the breeze of dusk. You did not dread the darkness, you could navigate this forest like the back of your hand. After all, you and those of the thorns often rendezvoused here in the embrace of greenery.

You could see it even now, the entrancing hue of the silver moon in the midst of trees, those beautiful locks of your dear friend...

You froze. A silver sword at your nape.

All was still, save for your quivering breaths.

“How... did you find me...” you beseeched, your gasps louder than your words, “...here?”

The assailant pondered, withdrawing his sword just enough for you to turn around. “We’ve met here before,” he answered in such refined words, “once upon a dream.”

Beneath the hood — moonlight gleaming in his hair as always — a most lovely sight to behold in the nigh of night. Only, his ice-cold glare spoke of a different tale.

“Silver...!?” the word formed at your lips before your mind managed to register it. It was too occupied with the option of spinning around and fleeing, which seemed in your reach.

Seemed.

“My, how ill-mannered of you to depart without so much as a word, kufufu~”

A barricade of black thorns bursted out from the ground. You recoiled in alarm, only to find your feet trapped by enchanted, misshapen twigs. “Wha— Lilia!?”

Lilia seemed almost entertained by you being caught unawares, “Hm, it appears we caught ourselves a rather dense child. I thought (he/she) would’ve guessed from my flames.”

“Please stop it, father,” Silver interjected, “I thought you said we should avoid frightening (him/her).”

“It was meant to be a warning!”

“...”

They were... speaking like they usually do, like how they spoke with you in this very forest on the occasions they walked with you...

...once upon a dream?

Were those nights but a dream? Was that it? All the memories, the hearty chuckles, the merry times and the kind words, all fabricated? All something to wake up from?

“Either way, let us make haste. Our time is far from ample,” you heard Lilia said. In compliance, Silver readied his sword.

Your strength slipped away. You couldn’t recall why you ran in the first place, you knew from the start — from the green flames — that you had no chance, you only ran along with the rhythm of the symphony.

This was it. Now you must wake, or was it sleep? Not that it mattered.

And yet, as your miserable self glanced up in fear, trembling with every movement, you were greeted with such gentle, sympathetic eyes.

Those were eyes of your beloved friends, eyes in which you had found comfort time and time again. And you abhorred how you still sought that comfort in them even now.

Why? Countless questions you wished to ask, yet none of them found a way around the lump in your throat. Aah... you truly hated this, you had held it in this whole time, only to be undone by eyes lacking even the slightest bit of bloodlust.

Silver averted his gaze from you when an almost inaudible whimper forced its way through your lips. The sword in his hand now but a ship without a sail, its direction no longer certain.

And then Lilia sank it, a hand on the hilt, gently pushing it downward, “Fret not. Let me take over.”

Fire, thorns, what fearsome magic would it be this time? You lowered your head, resigned, prepared to hear a spell or chant of some sort as your demise drew near…

The dried leaves on the ground rustled as he knelt down, leaving the symphony on an abrupt imperfect cadence. You flinched reflexively when he leant closer, until his forehead was against yours.

“We harbour no ill-will for you in particular,” he caressed your head, his touch ever so benign, as if a father soothing a child who scraped their knees on the ground, “We simply have some... priorities.”

“I am… truly sorry,” he whispered, followed by a soft kiss on your forehead. It felt like a perfect cadence.

He rose to his feet, the moonlight tracing a halo around his figure. You squinted, trying to make out his visage. Perceiving sincerity in his eyes, you smiled, somewhat relieved.

Thank goodness, it was not a dream after all.

You blinked, and your eyes never opened again.

“Dream on,” Lilia turned away, “somewhere free of thorns, of flames...” he paused, the burden of yet another soul weighing down his shadow, “and of villains such as myself.”

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

The End

[enigma-im]

Working for the Weekend Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Orc x Female!Human Warning: Fluff, finishing courting, big cock, sex, penetration, fingering, orc on human

Word Count:3209

Part 1

                    Finishing the courting --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I manage to convince Matilda to work later on Saturday so I can have the night off. It didn’t take much to persuade her after I told her why. She is a real friend to help me get laid. I work a little earlier, it already after sundown now. I want the hours so Ritz doesn’t accuse me of being lazy.

I nervously wipe the bar counter for the hundredth time, even taking time to wipe the stools. My brain running a mile a minute at the excitement about to happen. Azhug didn’t tell me where he was going to take me or if I needed to bring anything. I guess I wouldn’t need to if he is taking me to have sex. Or as he calls it 'finish the courting'. Just thinking about it that way brings butterflies to my stomach. It's not just a quick lay but a commitment, what more could a girl want? Big strong strapping young orc claiming you for a night of pleasure that serves as a promise for nights to come, that’s a dream come true if I'm being honest.

The bell chimes above the door with a startling ring. With way too much eagerness I look over, nearly cracking my neck in the process. Azhug walks in with a confident stride; back straight, shoulders relax, and wide steps. Our eyes meet as the door closes behind him, the only thing coming to mind being 'Damn'. He cleans up nicely, looking more appetizing than when I first met him. I can't help but stare, not that he seems to mind in the slightest.

"Close your mouth darling, you're gonna catch flies," Matilda chuckles. Blushing with a giggle I glance down at the bar top a bit embarrassed. I nibble my cheek to stop the girlish grin wanting to break free. Fuck, I'm way too excited about this.

His footsteps become more attention-grabbing as he nears the bar, stopping right in front of me. Looking up with the stupid girlish smile I tried to fight I attempt to think of words. I gain no knowledge on how to speak when I see his grin, not cocky or smug but genuinely happy.

"hi," I greet with a squeak. Where did my brain go? Perhaps blood flowing elsewhere is to blame.

"Hello Emma," he says back. The low timbre of his voice sending chills down my spine. Man, I am a Cumbrian today. Not that his voice hasn't always held my interest but I wouldn't go as far as to say it made different parts of me more interested than others.

Without any more words, Azhug grips my waist and lifts me up and over his shoulder, resting his hand on my rear. He turns and walks confidently out the bar then into the night.

"See you tomorrow, Emma," Matilda laughs. I wave before we exit, the door closing behind in a finality sort of way. No turning back, not that I would if I could.

Azhug marches up the road, cutting off to a path leading into the woods. We pass hundreds of trees until I finally bothering asking where we are going.

"This way," he answers as he palms my rear.

"Well I gathered that much, but where does this way end," I rephrase. Instead of answering he instead pops me on the ass.

"Too many questions," he jokingly scolds. I chuckle and just enjoy the ride, admiring his toned back as I do.

We make it to a clearing towards the top of a hill, the area plateauing into a small open space. Once he gently takes me off his shoulder I get the full view.

"Oh wow," I gasp.

The clearing ends not with more tree but a stiff cut off to a beautiful view of the mountains. The sky is clear and decorated with a few stars, perhaps as the night continues it will be littered with the twinkly bits. The area is just barely illuminated by the moon cresting over the peaks, making the scene more captivating with it nearly full visage.

"Do you like it," Azhug timidly asks from behind. I can't bother with words yet so I merely nod. With the Emma seal of approval, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around my middle while resting his chin onto my head. The view somehow gains more beauty as I share it with him, holding his arms and leaning back into his chest.

"Great choice," I mumble," can't imagine a more beautiful sight."

He hums," I can think of a few." I wait for his answer but as he doesn't provide one I glance up at him. He stares down at me with such want it's almost suffocating. I find myself reaching up and cupping his face, bringing him down to press my lips against his. It's gentle, which anyone would find shocking coming from an orc. The tenderness of his touch as he tugs me closer to his chest is startling arousing. Never been a softy but I can't help but adore the romantic environment mixed with his gentle hold.

His touches become a bit more enthusiastic as I turn to his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to feel more of him. His hands wander to the small of my back before he gropes at my rear. I sigh, breaking the kiss. He wastes no time trailing his lips down my cheek to my neck, licking the flesh before sucking to leave a mark.

"fuck," I arch my chest into his. My nipples harden under my shirt, scratching against the fabric with every inhale. His fingers knead my cheeks with an excited growl. Before I can think straight I find myself on my back in the grass. He towers over me, his face still buried to my neck. I sit in for the ride, carding my fingers through his hair before pulling a fistful back. He grunts as he rests his forehead to my shoulder, taking a moment before sitting up.

He sits upon his knees, watching me through lidded eyes. He trails them down my body, paying particularly long glances at my chest. Once he looks down at my hips he licks his lips. He splits my thighs so he can settle between them, holding my legs high on his waist. He yanks me closer, laughing as I yelp in surprise.

"eager aren't we," I chuckle. His large hands glide down my legs to palm my hips and thighs with unrestrained vigor.

"I have wanted you all week, pity my self-control because I have none now that you are in my arms," he huffs as he reaches up to begin unlacing my shirt. Fiddling with the thin laces with his large fingers. Losing patience he grabs the barely parted fabric and rips it down the middle. Mine now uncovered breast jiggle with the force.

"very eager," I mumble in wonder. He hums in agreement as he gingerly gropes. Squeezing and massaging the globes with affection. Bringing his mouth down he takes a nipple to his tongue, licking and sucking the harden peak with a groan that matches my own. My cunt throbs with need as he pulls my teat with his teeth. I pet along his head while he leaves hickies along my chest, marking me with pride.

His kisses trail down towards my navel, stopping at the hem of my pants. His chest rumbles with an excited hum, pressing a kiss to my crotch before he curls his fingers into the clothing. Slowly, as if unwrapping a present, he drags down my bottoms with a grin I have no excuse but to adore. Seeing him smile more today than I have since I meet him is comforting. Once my untrimmed cunt is in full view he waste no more time ripping my pants off, discarding the clothing without care.

"This belongs to me now," he grunts as he cups my crotch. I buck against his palm, not being able to resist the pressure he holds against me. My slick coats his fingertips as he slides his middle between my lips. Then dragging them up to the little nub, gently circling it as he watches me. I try to hold my hips down, not grinding them into him with abandon just yet. Just enjoy the moment before it reaches out of my control. I huff as he strokes me faster, enjoying my panting breath and sighs. He leans down to kiss me as he presses two fingers inside. I groan into the kiss, shoving my tongue into his mouth as he thrust in and out. Curling his fingers as he leaves before pushing back in, trying to press his palm to my clit as he does.

I fall back against the dirt, parting from his lips to breathe properly. "Fuck," I grunt as the heel of his hand grinds against me. I buck into his finger as I groan into the night. I feel his cock through his pants, slightly humping my thigh as he watches me. I moan and curse as his fingers work their magic. I cry out as the pleasure starts to crescendo. Wildly meeting each thrust with a shout. As soon as I reach my peak my body stiffens, stopping my flailing with a choked gasp. He helps me ride out my climax with a quick short thrust of his fingers, laughing when I let out a long 'fuck'. As I relax he removes his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick clean.

"Better than your ale," he hums as he licks the juices off his palm. A tremor runs down my spine, making my stomach clench as I watch him. Nearly falling apart again as his licks himself clean.

"Too bad we don't sell this at the bar, imagine I'd be seeing you more often," I joke.

"I prefer my own private reserve," he growls with a sexy grin. I snort, chuckling as I give him a once over. My eyes trail down to his shirt, finally noticing his way too clothed body. That has to be remedied immediately.

"shirt," I reach up and tug on the bottom," off." He chuckles before grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling up. I bite my lip with delighted glee as his stomach is revealed. The slight pooch with the trail of hair guiding down into his laced pants. I continue to watch as his broad and powerful chest comes into view, his chest hair thick and wavy. I sit up and pet over his pec as he discards his shirt. I feel his heartbeat under his warm dark skin, beating strong against my palm. I lightly trail my nails down to his nipple, flicking the nub with my thumb as I pass. His hot breath brushes over my arm but he makes no other moves as I explore.

I sit up completely, pulling my legs back from around his. I run my fingers down to his happy trail, slowing my pace to a crawl when I near his pants. I look at the tent, stuck between wanting to tease and wanting to grab him now. I look up at his handsome face, smirking at his parted lips. Keeping our eyes locked I unlace his pants, grinning when he sighs with the slack. I reach in and curl my fingers around his shaft, licking my lips as I do.

I give him a soft squeeze," this is mine now," I throw his words back at him. We both grin like idiots but his turns lustful as I pull him out his pants. I drop my eyes to his impressive length, little intimidated by his width. I pull his foreskin back, getting a better look at his leaking tip. He is a big man, though he is smaller than other orcs in height his cock makes up for it in full. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure how well he is going to fit in me.

Noticing my trepidation he rest his finger below my chin, lifting till our eyes meet. "You alright," he asks with furrowed brows.

"y-yea, I'm good," I try to convince," just… you are very big." I rub my thumb over him, catching some of his pre on my finger. His stomach tenses.

"it will fit," he answers confidently. I look between his eyes, doing my best to put on a brave front.

"Are you sure," I ask as I glance down.

He lifts my head again," I will not hurt you." he holds my gaze, solidifying his confidence and truth. I smile sweetly up to him. I trust him.

"Then what are we waiting for," I grin. I lean down and kiss the tip of his cock," going to give me the ride of my life, I'm sure." he groans, his head falling to his shoulder. I don't bother with any more foreplay, falling onto my back and curling my feet to the hem of his pants. I push it down to his knees with my toes, watching him with a devilish stare.

"Bless is me," he mumbles. He falls to his hands and kicks off his pants before leaning in for a kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck as our lips meld together. He pets along my sides and down to my hips with one hand, keep himself balanced with the other. As his tongue licks along my front teeth he pulls my body closer to his. I feel his hot cock poke against the cleft of my thigh. I gasp as the sudden feeling, his tongue intruding more as I do. His hips adjust so he can settle himself between my lips. He nudges forward, grinding his cock into my folds.

"big boy indeed," I chuckle before delving my tongue into his mouth. Azhug thrust along me, his tip sliding smoothly over my clit. We buck into each other, almost lost in the experience. We gasp and groan between kisses, groping and petting along each other's bodies.

"Please," I whimper without thought, "please." he huffs as he rests his forehead to my shoulder, looking between our bodies. I watch with him as he grabs his cock and presses his tip to my entrance. The fear and anticipation battling inside me as he shoves forward. His tip alone feels like a tight fit, his huffing and groans agree with me. I breathe deep at the stuffing feeling, my hips rising to alleviate the sting. He presses on, inch by inch burying himself inside me.

"Fuck," he cries as he turns his head to kiss my neck. His tusks scratching under my jaw. He continues on slowly, nibbling, and licking me as he fills me to the brim. I try to remain relaxed, clawing at his shoulders and pulling his hair. He is a big boy. The stretching stings but I wouldn't say it hurts. A strange feeling almost comparable to my first time with a man. The strange stuffing mixed with the sharp aches of being stretched for the first time. His hard breaths and caring kisses hold back any pain, making the feeling almost desired.

With a large sigh, he bottoms out. His balls rest against my ass and his chest settles against mine. He waits with controlled breaths. I pet his back, relaxing as I listen to him. My tender breast brush against his chest, I feel his warm exhales tickle the hairs near my ear, my clit aches with need as I'm stretched over him. I buck against him when the need peaks for a moment. He chokes on a gasp. I undulate my hips, feeling the all too familiar pleasure.

I tilt my head towards his and lick along his ear," move for me." he doesn't need to be told twice. He pulls out before bucking back in sharply. I choke on a cry, closing my eyes as he thrusts into me. Finding his tempo I follow his with my own. I meet every clap of our hips with a grind of my own. Squeeze him as he leaves then crying as he enters.

He rests upon his hand and watches me, his other holding my hip. His eyes are lidded and his mouth opens with heavy breaths. His body jumps with each hard thrust of his cock. I get lost in his eyes but can't ignore the beautiful grind of him inside me. I cry out to him, whimpering and moaning. He smiles that alluring smile before he sweeps his hand from around my waist to where we meet. He slams into me harder, all too happy to watch my eyes clench up in pleasure. His finger finds and circles my clit, bringing everything to a new high.

"Az-Azhug, Fuck," I cry," please." he chuckles, continuing his strumming. I pull taut like a bowstring as I reach my peak. My head slaps back into the dirt as my back arches. My insides clench around him as I cry out. His smile falters as does his hips. He falls onto his forearm as his pleasured moans meet my own. I grip his arms firmly, my nails digging into his skin. I scream his name as he groans mine.

As I ride the waves I feel him stutter," Emma." he bucks in wild short bursts before stilling as I feel him release his hot load. The warmth feeling divine accompanied with his drawn-out grunts and groans. I come back to myself to watch him fall from his high. I pet up to his arms and to his back. He tilts sideways, pulling me with him. We fall to our side, him bringing me close with safe arms.

"Doing alright," I ask as I pet his chest. His eyes are closed and his lips parted. He is still trying to catch his breath. He bucks his hips once more before he pulls out. Our combined fluids dribble onto my thigh with a tickling sort of feeling.

"I need a moment," he answers. I chuckle before cuddling into his side. He wraps his arms around me more snugly, resting my head under his with a content hum.

We sit there in the dirt for a while, just holding each other and relishing in the post-sex glow. Soon we settle on our backs and look at the full sky. The time allowing the stars to come out to give us a beautiful view. He pets my shoulder with his thumb as I give a quick kiss to his chest. we both try to fight sleep.

I at some point I fall asleep in his arms during the night, not waking till sometime later when he lays me in a bed. I look around confused at the new environment. Seeing a wardrobe and a large chair in the room.

"Go back to sleep," I hear Azhug grumble from behind me. I turn in his hold and look up at his closed eyes.

"where are we," I mumble as I too shut my eyes.

"My place," he softly answers. I hum before falling asleep with him. Safe in my mate's arms to begin the rest of our lives together.

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