#he’s permanently residing in my brain now i��m afraid

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven I: Sir(e)  (M)

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Namjoon x reader, some Jimin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: non-consensual blood drinking, mentions of death and abuse, obv blood and gore, very light smut, dry humping, ass grinding, dom!Namjoon is an ass man wbk, almost everyone being a prick, oc and Namjoon hating each other but then get confused

Word count: 9.6k

!Disclaimer!: As I’ve said before, I am not glorifying any type of objectification or abuse, and this has nothing to do with gender at all. This is meant to depict a fictional dynamic between vampire and Feed which obviously does not apply to a non-supernatural context in which case this would be considered abuse and toxic. I really hope this doesn’t offend/trigger anyone!! If you get confused, feel free to ask questions.

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

Death feels…

Alive.

The hum of classical music and hushed low voices permeate your ears as your senses gradually seep back to you. Faint darkness cloaks your vision. Your chest rises and falls in a soft slow rhythm. You’re breathing. Your heart is beating. You feel alleviated from the pain you’re so accustomed to. You feel revitalised.

You feel alive.

So this is the so-called Afterlife philosophers spend decades pondering and debating. How peculiar.

You try to lift your finger and find it moving at your will, the action feeling oddly smooth and effortless. Fabric brushes your skin, and in fact, a silk material envelops your body. Are you on a bed?

When your eyelids begin to flutter in attempt to open, the voices around you silence eerily in unison. You see a red-gold light at first, illuminating the dark room you find yourself in, the ceiling of which void-black. In your periphery, dim candles are flickering on your two sides, the warm glow of which spilling onto the lavish satin bed you lay atop, its size worthy for kings to sleep in.

Then something violently strong snaps within you, a string, a cord, of sorts. The sensation is not physical, it’s beyond that; it feels as though something has tied itself around your soul and is tugging at you towards it. This intensity is overwhelming, eating at your mind and core, urging you to follow this nexus that tightens its hold around you.

You sit up, gasping.

And face seven men.

Each the epitome of beauty in their own right. Each an ethereal glaze washing over them. Each staring at you with the most curious glint in their eyes.

No, not curious. Hungry.

“I…” Your brain is scattered from its sense. Where are you? Who are they? Are you dead or alive or both? “What…?” Coherent thoughts fail to form in your head and at your lips, the question dangles in the air like a weak sigh.

Processing as much as you can, you take a moment to examine the seven standing around the bed in front of you.

The one directly in front of you regards you with crossed arms, dressed in a suit of all black, mousy grey-brown hair swept neatly. When you meet his eyes, a chill shoots down your back for his irises have the faintest crimson glow to them. But what is more terrifying is not the strange hue of his eyes, but the way they are pinned at you as if he could stare into your soul and read your every single secret. There is an air of power and superiority that exudes from his tall stance. You’re beginning to think that this definitely isn’t heaven and he definitely isn’t an angel.

On his left is a pink-haired man, delicate to look at, soft features painting his handsome face. His eyes are kind but unreadable, juxtaposing the harshness of the one beside him. His shoulders are board, though he possesses no intimidation towards you. Something about him is so aesthetically soothing, magical to look at.

On the other side of the stranger in the middle slouches a smaller man, a bored expression worn on his face with his cheek bitten inside his mouth. His spiky head of hair so dark you can almost hear it whisper lullabies of the devil. When he looks at you, you feel him emanate a dangerous fury; it’s an ancient deep-rooted type of evil. Now, a flood of fear finally dawns on you.

Next to him, a dimpled grin greets you. Immediately you sense a rush of security at his warm expression, though you can’t help but think it’s a deceiving facade to lull you into his snare. There is a darkness lurking behind his crescent eyes that you don’t completely trust. He ruffles his hand through his wine red tufts, smile not once faltering in the most uncanny manner.

Standing opposite the bed from him is a devilishly handsome blonde boy, though you’re not sure if ‘boy’ is quite the right word when his lips quirk up at you mysteriously. He’s dressed luxuriously, like he’s some foreign prince, standing tall and proud yet undecipherable. An unknown force draws you to him, his beauty beckoning you like a lasso. When he brushes his thumb under his lip, you shudder.

Another boy approaches you, this one so stunning you jump back at his advance. “How are you feeling? Better?” As he perches on the side of the bed a hand’s reach away from you, you pause to take in this face wholly. Waves of silver sprouting from his head, mesmerisingly angular eyes staring intently into yours, a small button nose and plump red lips. It’s a frightening type of beauty.

Gulping as you find yourself out of air from the overwhelmingly powerful presence in the room, you force yourself to nod. You only realise now that you are changed into a clean cream cotton dress.

In the dark far corner, the last man leans against the wall, observing with a guarded, austere demeanour. You can’t see him well in the shadow, but you see the gloss of his long black curls flowing around his clenched jaw. He does not say anything, does not appear to have the intention of joining the others gathered around you. Just silently watching.

These seven men… No, not men.

Phantasmal unearthly creatures.

Because there is no way that these towering bodies and other-worldly faces are mere mortals.

“Who are you?” Your voice is a croaky whisper courtesy to your chokingly dry throat.

“The answer to that is worth an eternity, love.” The boy sat beside you smirks, brushing his silver locks to one side. “I’m afraid you don’t want to find out.”

Your mind is whizzing, trying to piece together your surroundings, these strangers leering at you almost lasciviously as if you’re some zoo animal. Trying to grasp at your last memories, you remember the scenes in flashes. His fist, her cries, blooming agony, then darkness.

A blood-curdling realisation hits you.

You’re not dead.

You can’t be dead. You’re breathing, blinking, moving. You’re very much alive. And tragically so.

“Where is she?” You make the move to get off this bed but is blocked by the gorgeous blonde. A wolf wearing sheepskin, you wager.

Silence dangles in the air like a man hanging from a noose, the familiar gnaw of fear clenching your chest so tightly you don’t think you’re breathing. Then, “She’s dead.”

Those words are flung at you like a piece of rag but hit you like an arrow through the heart. Spoken by none other than the frowning man in the middle, arms crossed and eyeing you with callous indifference as if he hadn’t just announced the death of your younger sister.

You expect tears to erupt from your eyes but they don’t, you want to scream your devastation and anger at the world but you don’t. Everything goes still, calm, inert. Almost as if you can’t feel anything. The pain in your heart spreads like cracking glass torturously slowly, infecting your every fibre with a bleak shadow.

The mattress dips as Silver clambers closer to you and strokes your cheek gently. His touch ice cold, yet nothing compared to the numbness of your mind, empty, devoid of all feeling.

“I’m sorry, don’t be sad.”

Don’t be sad.

You let out a breath that would’ve been a laugh if you currently had the capacity for emotion.

“Enough of this shit, just cut to the chase and tell her everything she needs to know so we can get on with it, Namjoon.” Impatient and hostile, the one with black hair and a permanent scowl scoffs.

Namjoon, standing out amongst the seven not in looks but in confidence and stature, is their leader, you suppose. When he speaks again, you’re not surprised that he is. His tone is authoritative, articulate, a severe presence that demands attention. Almost enough to make you forget about the grief you’re bottling up for one second.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, listen to me very closely as I won’t repeat myself. We seven brothers hereby are siring you as our Feed, all seven of us. You will now be bound to us until death shows you mercy and lifts your curse that tethers you to us eternally. Forget your past life because you shall reside here in our manor for the rest of your mortal life for us to drink your blood.

“Under normal circumstances, each of us possesses one Feed each, but in your case, we shall distribute you equally amongst ourselves. There are seven days in a week which falls perfectly align with our arrangement. On Monday, you shall be my Feed, Tuesday, Seokjin, Wednesday, Yoongi, Thursday, Hoseok, Friday, Jimin, Saturday, Taehyung and finally Sunday, Jungkook. You shall be completely obedient to your sire of the day and your sire only, and in return we shall feed on you only on the day of which you belong to us. Due to the vigorous frequency at which you are being fed on, we have agreed to feed as lightly as possible to sustain you. If need be, you will be healed with our blood.

“You shall refer to me as Sir and only Sir; the others will decide the dynamic they wish to share with you. Do not for a second forget that you are our subjugate, our inferior and our prey. The magic that yields you to us is powerful, thus you have no choice in this matter. Many before you have tried to defy during their early days as a Feed only to quickly fail and fall to submission as they should. Heed this as your only warning.

“Do you or do you not understand, Y/N?” When he finishes, he juts his chin high at you and sucks in the meat of his cheeks between his jaws.

The fire poker that is his glare sears into you, sizzling its mark into your pit of dread. None of what he just said makes an ounce of sense to you, and it’s definitely not because of your dazed state from your newly-regained consciousness.

Just who does this man think he is? And what in ten Hells is he going on about?

“No. I don’t fucking understand.”

Shock registers in all their eyes when you spit your bitter dispute at Namjoon. You swear there’s a glint of twisted excitement sparking from the redhead.

“I’m afraid you will have to repeat yourself. Sir.” You continue when none of them utters a syllable. “First, you tell me my sister is dead. I believe you. Then you’re spouting some speech about how I’m ‘sired’ to you all and you’re going to drink my blood every day of the week because I belong to you? Is this some sort of cult or is this Hell?” Looking around at them, they all seem taken aback by your outburst, stunned.

“Oh my… This one is going to be fun.” The blonde boy mirths at you, tongue gliding over his row of pearly teeth. It is now that you notice the sharp point of his fangs in place of his canines. You freeze.

“Isn’t she? I’m going to go mad waiting until Thursday. Can I have a bite right now? Just a drop so I know her taste?” He is bouncing on his toes, thrilled by the anticipation.

“Hoseok, hush.” Namjoon silences the boy’s fervour before turning to you. “Y/N, if you insist on defiance, I promise you endless suffering. Let me clear your confusion. We are vampires that rely on blood as our food. You are our chosen victim, our Feed. The supernatural sire bond will eventually click into place between you and each one of us, forcing a mutual loyalty between Vampire and Feed. This will be clearer as the days go on. I suggest you-”

“Right, vampires.” You interrupt before he can continue his nonsense. How did you end up in some vampire-worshipping cult? “If you guys are vampires, then I’m a freaking angel. You are all insane. I’m leaving, goodbye.”

Frantically crawling off the bed, you head in the direction of the door. If your sister is really dead, then what happened to your uncle? You hope he’s dead too. Either way, you have no home to return to, but still you need to escape these men for your own sake. You can’t escape one lunatic only to end up in the lair of seven more.

But before you could even step your bare foot off the bed onto the wooden floor, frozen fingers snake around your wrist like a venomous serpent and lock you in its clasp.

“You are an angel, kind of.” Hoseok chuckles and tugs you back onto the bed, you’re unduly aware of how close he is hovering over you.

“You’re also dumb as fuck if you think you can leave, did you not hear everything he just said?” The sourpuss beside him shoves at your shoulder not at all lightly until you sink onto the mattress on your back. “You couldn’t leave us even if you tried.”

“No need to be so rough on her, Yoongi, she’s confused.” Brows pinched in disapproval, the pink-haired man chastises softly, and to your surprise, this Yoongi just scowls but dips his head.

Pink seems to be kind, the only one here that appeals to your plight apparently, so you scramble on your knees over to his side for your second attempt to escape. But his gentle hand reaches out to stop you, hand raised inches away from your chest, preventing you from moving forward and slipping past him. There’s a guilt in his eyes that you cannot comprehend. Why can’t he let you leave if he is sympathetic towards you?

“She still doesn’t get it, hyung.” The beautiful blonde boy on your other side shakes his head with a pernicious smile. “We need to show her.” His appearance is a trap, you know that with absolute certainty as you look into the renaissance painting that is his face. Yet you cannot help the attraction that sings you towards him as he draws his finger under your chin, guiding you closer into him.

He looks over to Namjoon as if for approval, who only stares at the scene of him luring you into his grasp with an unreadable expression. At the lack of disagreement from others, his finger now traces down to your neck, wandering over your heavy pulse. You gulp.

“Taehyung…” Someone warns, yet the delirious state you’re in at the hands of this boy’s enchantment does not allow you to recognise who.

His eyes are the palest of blues, a cloudless summer day with a soft seaside breeze. Your gaze follows his tongue wetting his lips, then trailing his sharp teeth. How do his fangs look so real? They oddly suit him, painting a wild beastly image of him that is concealed by his soft innocent features until he opens his mouth to flash his whites. You’ve never seen someone as good looking as him. As all of them.

Seductively, Taehyung leans into your neck and buries his nose in your scent. When he sucks in sharply, you sense his craving, his arousal. You’re frozen in his clutch as his hand circles behind you so delicately, unsure of what to do with yourself, unsure of what he’ll do with you. Lips tenderly caressing your jugular, you shut your eyes, intoxicated by his touch.

“Left neck is mine.” He growls, the aggressiveness of which surprises you so much so that the words he speaks don’t manifest its meaning to you at first.

Then a scorching hot pain explodes in your neck, so violent that you shriek out and try to twist away. But something is latched onto you like a hook, two hooks in fact. When your open your eyes, you realise that it’s his teeth that are sunken inch deep into your neck, penetrating a dizzying agony into your whole body. After a still second, you begin to feel a pressure pulling out your blood like a vacuum. A tear trickles out the corner of your eye at the burning sensation.

What the fuck?

He is… drinking your blood.

You try to push him off but a strange force like phantom hands bind your muscles and prevent you from acting on your will.

The magic that yields you to us is powerful, you have no choice in this matter.

Holy shit, Namjoon was completely serious. These people aren’t a brainwashed cult, they’re actually vampires.

Years of abuse, all the wounds you’ve endured, are nothing compared to the agony embedded deep in your neck right now. Absolutely nothing. Streams of scarlet flow down your garment like a spillage of wine, dark and thick and an indulgence to the tongue. You’re helplessly grappling on Taehyung’s shirt, tugging him towards you rather than shoving him away. This supernatural spell, or whatever the fuck it is, is overriding and going against your every intention to escape.

Vision hazy, you vaguely make out the other faces watching you struggle under Taehyung’s fangs. And when you think this nightmare could not get more harrowing, you notice a change in their eyes. By that, you do not mean a shift in expression, a frown or a squint. It is an actual physical transformation: the black of their pupils incrementally diffusing into their irises like a drop of watercolour, then the darkness spills over to the whites of their eyes until they are wholly onyx clouds.

“Taehyung.” Namjoon demands, and a sigh of relief escapes you as the sucking in your vein ceases. But rather than telling him to stop, he simply orders, “Share.”

Share? Share your blood?

Then the rest of the five prowl to gather around you, and despite your vertigo, you will never forget how monstrous they look. Eyes black as void, ivory fangs elongating like unsheathing claws, nostrils flaring at the scent of your blood, their food. Chest heaving as if struggling to hold back from ripping you into strips of meat.

“Bon appetit.” Is that Hoseok who’s leaping at your collarbone?

When his teeth sink in, you no longer have it in you to cry out. And then another on your right neck. Your head feels as if it’ll roll off your neck, only held onto the rest of your body by a ligament and Taehyung’s palm. A strong hand yanks your arm up and places your wrist in his mouth. This one hurts even more than your neck as you feel his fangs scrape carelessly against your bone. A soundless sob leaves your trembling lips. Then someone is gently pushing your legs apart, sniffing up the inside of your thigh. You try to kick him yet instead your leg wraps around his back and draw him closer. His purring resonates into your core as he licks his ravishing mark before piercing your skin once more. Blood seeps out the corner of his mouth and run down your calf like the tears you release in vain.

“Oh Hell, I haven’t tasted angel blood in centuries. I’ve forgotten how irreplaceably magnificent this is.” Someone throws their head back for a breath, sighing their satisfaction at your opulence.

No matter how much you thrash against the force that holds you in their submission, nothing budges. Like skyscraping obsidian walls surrounding your every side. Shadow scions twisting around your limbs into a lock.

Y/N, if you insist on defiance, I promise you endless suffering.

His voice echoes in the rubble of your brain like a bell, clanging its nauseating truth into you. Your consciousness is sand falling between your fingers, you try to hold on but the grains are ungraspable.

Then finally, the one with pink hair comes near you. A pitiful expression worn that makes you wonder how absolute the evil that lurks in them actually is, or whether it’s tainted with humanity.

He stops, brushes your tear away. “Sorry.” Trickery of your ears would not be surprising, considering the irony of his apology as he hesitantly lifts your other wrist to his fangs.

You last one second after his bite before fainting, body going slump but held upright by the six vampires feeding on you. Your last thought being: how terrifying the devils of Hell live in such beautiful deceiving skins.

And also that you hope you fucking die this time.

In the dim corner of the room, the last vampire watches, taciturn, as his brothers devour every last drop of crimson liquid that misses their tongues. Eyes narrowing at their wolfish hunger and your fainted state. Then slips away without as much as a word.

.

You wake up painless. Skin unmarred and unbroken. In the same room, on the same bed. Yet your red stained night dress tells you that it wasn’t a nightmare. It was all real.

Everything is silent though the clockwork in your head ticks loud. You try to process how you’ve been captured by a brotherhood of vampires, blood-sucking vampires, who have chosen you to be their personal blood bag. Their ‘Feed’. And you’re now magically bound to them, a force locking you in place and unable to resist every time you try.

What the actual fuck?

How has your life thrown you from torture to torture?

None of this seems possible. Vampires are a mythical creature, a fable. You have to be going insane. Or perhaps you actually are dead and this is your personal Hell designed to torment you for the rest of your afterlife. Not that you know what you did to deserve all this.

But it had felt so real.

You touch the spot on your neck where you were bitten, goosebumps raising when you recall Taehyung’s fangs first puncturing through you as if you were no more than a peach. That pain, that shock, bathes in its immortality in your memory.

Namjoon, their leader. His dictation of the rules that they are enforcing on you, his vexingly arrogant tone, the way his eyes squint down at you. What is wrong with him?

Then there is your sister. Her death. The initial heartbreak launched into you like a missile, but then somehow fizzled away into a bittersweetness that sours your throat. You won’t cry. Death was a mercy for her, it’s surely better than your predicament right now. She was innocent, she was sinless, she was pure. She deserves death when living was a worse fate.

There’s no point grieving her loss, right?

There’s no point, you convince yourself. And so you lock her sugar sweet scent and toothy smile away in your heart-shaped box and toss the key into the ocean of your emotions.

You wonder how your uncle fares. The cause of your misery and suffering all these years. The one who showed you that you’re capable of the ugly emotion that is hate. You don’t want to think about him, your fists already clenching in anger at the reminder of his alcohol-ridden breath. You hope he’s somewhere captured in this place too, experiencing worse than what he put you and her through.

If you ever see him, you would kill him yourself. Not a single doubt about that.

All this misfortune in you and your sister’s lives stemmed from one accident that resulted in the death of your parents. Your life before, a distant reverie. You had been happy once, scarless and untraumatized. Now you’re damaged.

About to be even more damaged.

Your coping mechanism has always fluctuated between two polarities. Either you are a shell of a living being, detached and numb to all the blows, merely rotting to your expiration, or some days you are so full of anger at the unfairness of this universe, so much resentment at yourself, your uncle, and even your parents for leaving you behind.

Right now, you’re the former. Hit by a wave of anaesthesia, and you’re grateful for it because you know the alternative is the manic loss of your sanity.

Sitting up, you regard this room. It is dark and sleek in nature, use of deep metal and glass for surfaces rather than the wood you’re used to at home. No, not home. That wasn’t your home. The palette is monochrome, primarily blacks and greys, devoid of any colour, reflecting the bleakness of your mental state. The room is lit by candles beside the bed, though a multi-bulbed light hangs from the middle of the ceiling, switched off. Curtains drawn shut, you have no idea what time of day it currently is, nor the passage of time. Furniture is lacking, only a marble chest of drawers, a cushion-barren loveseat, a pot of fern which you presume is fake because what plant can grow in such dull setting, and a double shelf of books.

There are three doors, one agape that opens up to what looks like an ensuite bathroom, the other two in adjacent corners, ominously calling for you to explore. Whatever lurks behind them, you can sense it won’t be the Garden of Eden. Either way, you need to find a way out of this place.

You’re about to leave the bed and scuttle to listen at the walls when you hear two soft knocks before the closer of the two doors opens. To reveal an angelic face that you now know is nothing more than a lie, his silver hair glinting from the candle flames.

“Can I come in?” His voice is smooth, saccharine, higher pitched than you expected. Though this is your second encounter with him, you don’t remember your first too well due to the overwhelm.

Clearing your throat, you reply, “yes.” Why has he even asked for permission when he didn’t need it? It’s not like you have a choice in the matter, or any matter in here apparently.

The way he strolls in exudes a swaggering confidence, a charm that you would buy into if you hadn’t witness him transform into a black-eyed demon and feel his fangs enter your flesh. When he sits on the bed, crinkling the satin covers, you fight the urge to recoil away from his proximity. He is dressed in a royal blue velvet suit that flaunts his collarbones, and tied around his neck is a red choker, the colour of which flashes a reminder of your own choker of your own blood sewn around your neck.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself before, I’m Jimin.” At his outreached hand, you blink. So these creatures are capable of etiquette and decency.

Hesitantly, like a cat sniffing a stranger’s inquiring finger, you place your hand atop his. Almost jumping at its iciness. When he lifts it up to plant a dry delicate kiss, you yelp and withdraw harshly, not caring that your knuckles hit his nose.

“You’re a shy one.” Jimin chuckles at your reaction to hide his hurt.

“No, not shy. Just not easy and willing like you want me to be.” The venom is harbouring in your chest now, melting away your numbness into an acidic puddle.

“You have a bite to you.” He muses, more to himself than you.

“So do you.” All your hatred, for your uncle, for your life, for these vampires, you’re channeling towards him at this moment. You know it might not be completely justified, he’s not the worst one out of them. But do you need a reason not to be sour towards your captor?

His face softens, though it was soft to begin with. He doesn’t look at you like his prey, and it confuses you because that’s what you are to him. “I… am sorry. I hope you understand that I didn’t choose to be like this.”

It dawns on you right now, as you for the first time consider his point of view. He didn’t choose to be like this. He really didn’t… You have no choice but to be bound to them. But they also have no choice but to need to feed on you. A lion does not choose to be cruel to the zebra, it simply has to in order to survive.

A tiny fragment of your firepit of anger smokes into nothing.

When you don’t say anything, a hint of worry appears in his eyes. “How are you feeling though?”

Alright, you almost say. Because that’s everyone’s default answer to this question even when they don’t mean in, even when they’re on the brink of a mental breakdown bubbling beneath their skin.

“Weird. Confused.”

“That’s usual for every Feed at first. But trust me, you’ll get used to it.” His hand is smoothing the soft sheets and you can’t help the feeling that they’re longing to touch you.

“Every Feed… How many have there been before me?” The thought is chilling, to think that this is some cycle of ritual.

“Y/N, you have to understand, we are ancient beings, we have been around for millennia…” Jimin glances at you fleetingly, as if worried about your reaction.

Millennia…

You don’t know what you expected, but certainly not this. That truth is truly horrifying. Vampires have plagued this very earth you inhabit for not decades, not centuries, but millennia.

“I don’t want to confuse you with more information, I think this much is enough so I’ll leave our story for another time perhaps.” His consideration is jarring. How can he act this caring right now as if he hadn’t just fed off your blood? And may do so any second now?

“Okay.”

A silence follows your reply that you intended to be the end of the conversation. There isn’t much one can respond to okay.

You’re keenly aware of how his eyes explore you, searching your face as if it were a map to the treasure he has exhausted himself with hunting for. His desire, a thing that scares you, radiates despite him not doing much. Doubt is planted in your head, you’re unsure of how to feel as you toy with the lining of the bedding. Namjoon was so blunt, so disrespectful with his superiority complex, insisting you to submit to him. But Jimin acts as though he wishes to befriend you.

Or maybe it’s to instill a false sense of security in you, so easier to lure you into his den.

“We’ve never done this before.” Jimin speaks again. “Sharing a Feed. All of us at least. Taehyung and I have shared before, but this… I don’t know how it will work.” He scratches his temple.

“Namjoon said only one of you would feed on me a day but then…” The feeling of six pairs of fangs biting into you gives you goosebumps. You hate the weak whisper that is your voice. You sound pathetic. But when you see his guilt and pity-stricken eyes, you feel an odd satisfaction.

“Sorry… I think we all just got too excited. We haven’t tasted angel blood in almost two centuries.” When he notices your alarm, he quickly explains, “Right, you don’t know you have angel blood. Humans that possess the sacred touch of those celestials are extraordinarily rare, every creature of the night wishes to vanquish them for the fortune they bring. To us vampires, your blood is like… like ambrosia - food of the gods. The taste so euphoric that it drives us to the edge of madness with desire and greed with just one drop.”

Angel blood.

A girl as mundane and peasant as you has fucking angel blood coursing through her system.

You want to laugh. What good does this stupid ‘sacred touch of the celestials’ if it not once protected you from the evil and adversities in your life? ‘Brings good fortune?’ Where the fuck has your good fortune been hiding then?

“I think I’m the one being driven to the brink of madness here,” is what you say instead of lashing out at him. “There’s no way. Why didn’t you get my uncle then? If I have angel blood then so should he.”

Your uncle with angel blood? The biggest joke this universe has played on you yet.

“No, it doesn’t work like that. The angels choose the selected few, born with a holy purity that makes them weep.” There’s a mockery in his tone when he describes those beings, as if they’re his archnemesis. “It requires the Heaven’s approval to imbue angel blood into an earthly being.”

You force a swallow. If the angels really chose you to carry their essence, where had they been when you needed them the most? What use is the angels’ good faith when they’re not there to guard you? You have so many questions, but you don’t know whether to trust his answers.

“Where are the other people with angel blood?” Why does it have to be you, you mean. Why always you?

“We’ve sought your kind our whole existence. You have to understand that your blood is like a drug to us, it’s a compulsion drawing us to find you. In our lifetime, we have sired a lot of the angel-blooded, probably hunted you so much that the angels are angry and decided to gradually relinquish this rite. We thought you were extinct, actually. Until we picked up on your scent and found you.”

Jimin finally gives into his inhibitions and holds your hand in his. This time you don’t flinch away, yet you’re unsure why. When his thumb caresses your knuckles, something in you jolts. His touch is so gentle, so unlike what you’re used to, and so unlike how he dug into your veins. You kind of want to cry. Because it’s been so long since anyone has shown this tenderness towards you.

Clearing your throat, you say, “And now I’m yours forever.” Until you suck me dry.

He senses the bitterness in your tone, your reluctance to belong to them. He seems hurt. It sends you down a whirlpool of confusion because he shouldn’t care.

“Y/N, I just want you to know that…” At the sincerity of Jimin’s voice, you lock eyes with him. “I can’t speak for my brothers, but me personally, I will never intentionally cause you unnecessary harm. My Feeds… mean a lot to me, I view you as more than food. I value and respect you, and though you may not for a long time, I wish for you to value and respect me too, one day.”

Resentment is a tiring emotion, it is a poison to your soul more than anyone else’s. You don’t want to hate him, or any of them. His words move you in a way that makes you almost believe that he isn’t a monster. Maybe he isn’t. It’s not their fault they were born like this.

And so you take your first step towards acceptance. Perhaps this is your future now. You hate everything about it, the pain, the submission, the restraint. But what other life have you got? There is nothing for you to go back to.

All of a sudden, Jimin twists his head to the side and freezes. You study his stunning profile, how he seems to be listening intently at what sounds like silence to your ears. Then the third door to the room swings open. Namjoon’s entrance is one like a villain’s in a horror film, with church organs playing in the background and a sinister flash of lighting. He looks taken aback at the sight of Jimin but recovers quickly as he frowns in disapproval.

You take the chance while his attention isn’t on you to assess him entirely. He’s dressed in the same all-black suit, albeit shed the blazer, and you wonder why they are all dressed like they’re ready for a banquet in their own home. Or maybe this isn’t their home and you’ve just made an assumption. His hair is less neat than before, spiking up on the sides as if he has been running his hands through it in exasperation. Stern expression seeming to be permanently worn on his face, he enters the room without asking. The discrepancy of him and Jimin does not surprise you.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon demands. So it appears that his rigid tone is used not only on you, but also his brother. It’s insufferable. You almost take a step back to square one, forgetting Jimin’s offering of peace.

When his eyes narrow at your hand in Jimin’s, the smaller male quickly release you. “Hyung, I was just checking up on her. No need to get so possessive already.” Jimin is pouting almost exaggeratedly, his previous sincerity towards you quickly dissipating into a rather comical persona. You wonder which one is a facade, which one is really him.

“Possessive?” Namjoon scoffs and stops in front of him, his height towering over the both of you. “You’re the one to talk when you have to worst temper out of all of us. If roles were reversed, and I was visiting our Feed on your day, I think you’d come for my throat.”

Jimin glances over at you at Namjoon’s exposing words. After your exchange, you can’t really imagine him with a temper at all, let alone the worst one. But these vampires have shown to be masters of disguise afterall, why should it shock you? You feel a part of the bridge Jimin was building between you crumble away. You shouldn’t have trusted him so quickly.

“I’ll leave then.” He doesn’t argue, which you guess proves that Namjoon’s point rings true. Jimin spares you one last weighty look, trying to convey to you that he had meant what he said, before leaving you alone in this dark room with the tall vampire.

Namjoon is quiet, assessing you with that dagger-like stare of his as if you’re a child who’s just doodled all over the wall with your crayons. It almost makes you shrink away, but your defiance grows bold with him, more than anyone else. You meet his eye with the same harshness he doles.

“It’s Monday today.” He says. It’s an ordinary sentence otherwise, but now it holds a meaning. You’re his Feed today.

You don’t know who out of these vampires you prefer, but it is definitely not Namjoon. He doesn’t have to say it, but you can tell by the disdain in his eyes that he does not see you as more than his next meal. Even if Jimin was pretending, at least he spoke to you with decency.

“For future reference, I would rather you not associate with anybody else but me on the days where you are mine.” The way he articulate certain words accentuates his snobbish attitude that you want to punch out of him.

And I would rather you not suck my blood or magically link my life to you until my death, you want to say. Your rage is returning at an accelerating rate.

“It wasn’t my fault he came into my room.” His brows draw at your snark.

“He won’t be doing so again. Also, refrain from using that tone with me.”

“What tone?”

You’re being especially difficult, and you pride in the way his mouth twitches in annoyance. A man of his character is easy to tick off. He moves his hand towards you and you flinch abruptly, the memory of your uncle’s raised fist fresh in your mind, in an instant reducing you to the scared girl you have been for so long. His hand ceases its motion midair.

When you meet his eyes, they are wide in alarm, as if he hadn’t expected such a reaction from you.

“I- wasn’t going to hit you.” His voice low, he lets his arm drop to his side.

His words perplex you, his softer tone even more. If you didn’t know better, you would say he looks slightly abashed. Guilty even.

Namjoon clears his throat at your silence, glare hardening once again.

“You have a sharp tongue, girl.” Tutting, he walks over to the bookshelves with his hands held behind his back like some professor.

“You have sharper teeth.”

His head whips back at your retort, then in a blinding speed you thought not humanly possible, he closes the distance he had walked from you, appearing a finger-length away in front of you. You stagger back on the bed.

“Don’t make your life difficult for yourself. As I’ve said, address me by Sir when you speak to me, and speak to me with respect, as you would to authority. Those are simple rule to abide, but if you knowingly continue to choose to break them, I have the capability to make your stay with us a living nightmare.” There is not the slightest humour in his eyes.

His threat would instill fear in anyone, except you have heard it all before and so it brushes past you like an autumn breeze. Brazen, you stand up on the mattress, the leverage allowing your height to surpass his as you look down at him.

“My life already is a living nightmare, Namjoon. It has been for a while now so your threat means nothing to me. You want me to speak to you with respect, but why the fuck should I? Your brother Jimin at least looks at me like I’m a human being. You talk to me like I’m no more than your dinner served in a dress. You want to hurt me? Go fucking ahead. Kick me, slap me, strangle me, burn me. I’ve had it all before.” Words tumble out of your mouth on their own accord, driven furious by his contempt. “You think you can command me to be your little bitch? Think again, because I will never,” you take one step closer to him, “ever respect a self-important cunt like you as long as you look down on me like that.”

The fury in his crimson irises brews quietly. Namjoon’s jaw is clenched so tightly his cheeks hollow inwards.

At the back of your mind, a small ounce of regret and fright registers. You have just yelled your wrath at the face of a millenia-old vampire, one who’s supernatural abilities you have not a single clue about yet. He could kill you right now, but you know he won’t. Many things are worse than death. He needs you alive, but only barely, enough to be his blood bag.

Still, you don’t cower as he pulls you by the wrist towards him, so hard that your foot missteps and you fall onto him as your knee gives way, inherently grabbing onto his shoulder for balance. Your faces are inches apart, closer than you would ever want to get to this monster. But what terrifies you more than your ill fate is how handsome he looks this close. His strong features carve into your core and you hate it. His musk fills your nose; he smells clean like cotton.

Your upheavance seems to have unleashed a cold storm from him. His silence is more frightening than when he speaks. But now that you are set on this path of defiance against Namjoon, you must commit to it. Can’t back down right now.

Then he brings your wrist to his mouth, grip not painful but tight enough, his eyes never leaving yours just as yours are locked on his, in a quiet battle between his dominance and your rebellion. If you look away, you let him win, you let him know that he has a hold on you.

So you watch as his sinks his sharp teeth into your pulsing vein without so much of a blink. The agony is a motherfucker, so intense your head dizzies immediately and your hand clenches spastically. Yet still, your eyes remain on him, even when your throat is itching to whimper at the pain. Does it hurt less the second time around? You would have hoped so but it doesn’t. If anything, because of the anticipation, it hurts more.

Namjoon doesn’t feed for long though. He doesn’t need to, this is no more than a show of his power. When he releases your wrist, blood oozes out of the two holes down your arm, dripping off your elbow onto the sheets.

You notice that his chest is rising particularly hard. He is trying hard to control his thirst. From Jimin’s description earlier, you gather that it isn’t easy for vampires when it comes to angel blood. It must be driving him insane right now. You don’t know how to feel. Perhaps empowered, but also afraid.

The black of his pupils is beginning to spread like the had done when they had all transformed earlier. He quickly turns away and take several steps back. Faced with his back, you slump down onto your knees in the mattress, trying to stop your bleeding wrist in your clutch.

“Fuck you.” You spit, though it comes out less harsh than inteded as a hesitancy holding you back. Provoking him is not a good idea right now.

His shoulders are rising and falling heavily as his breathing deepens. The sound of blood splattering from his chin onto the wooden floor fills the air. Right now you’re filled with uncertainty, of what is going to happen and what you should do. Is he vulnerable right now? Or is he more powerful after feeding on you? Do you make a run for it? Or do you keep your mouth shut and stay here?

“When will you listen, girl.” The deepness of his grumble stirs a wild hot sensation in you that you don’t understand. He is still facing away from you, heaving. You watch his closed fists clench tighter.

“I told you. Never.”

“How can you expect me not to lose my head when you oppose every single word I say?” His head hangs low, shoulder blades poking out at his black shirt.

“How can you expect me to willingly let you drink my blood for the rest of my life? Especially when you talk to me like that?” You train your voice to be more reasonable, less attacking, because you feel the danger lurking beneath his skin that he is trying to control.

“Just obey. Make it easier for yourself.” Watching your blood continuously flow out of your fresh wound makes your head light. You will bleed to your death if he doesn’t heal you, however he does that.

Still, you consider his suggestion. You could just obey, accept this as your life now - a Feed for seven vampires to take their turn with you. You thought your uncle had beaten all the self love out of you, but maybe after all, you still value your own worth. Submission has a disgusting taste. Or maybe it’s just that you want to anger one of them so much that they in the heat of the moment kill you, so you can finally meet your long-awaited death.

“I won’t.”

Everything is still for an ominous pause following your refusal. Cautious, you watch his strong back, unsure of his next response. Though there are no open windows or doors to the room, you feel a gust of cold air breeze past you, sending a flare of chills on the sides of your neck.

When Namjoon slowly turns to face you again, black wholly consuming his eyes, fangs protruding from his gaping mouth, still dripping with the red you paint, you know to be scared. You don’t have time to scuffle away when he whizzes to you with that impossible speed of his again. And in a blink of an eye, he is before you, knees hitting the edge of the bed. Panting, growling, yanking your throbbing arm up.

Namjoon before shifting is an insufferable prick. Namjoon after shifting is an unrecognisable beast. Well-spoken manner, pristine appearance, air of arrogance, all gone.

As he bites into your wrist again, you can’t hold in your shriek this time, not when the wounds he had pierced are still burning and bleeding profusely. You almost cry for help in your desperation, but remember that there’s no one to help you here. In this house are seven vampires, and you.

But then something feels different.

There’s a tingling in your chest, not quite enjoyable but also not unpleasant. Before you can grow accustomed to it, it accelerates like the heart-lurching pull of gravity, and squeeze your whole body into a tight compression. You feel as though you’re racing through space, yet your body is unmoving, slouched against his form.

Then, tug.

Something is pulling you. Someone is pulling you.

You look around through your half shut lids from exhaustion but see no one except the two of you.

Another tug. And you realise it’s not physical. There is a knot tying in your chest right now, and you faintly recall an uncannily similar experience when you had first woken up here. Like a cord, a rope violently pulling on your soul.

Is this… the so-called Sire Bond they spoke of that permanently fixes you to a vampire?

Glancing up gives you the answer you seek. Though his eyes are pitch dark, there is an indecipherable difference in them, something so minute yet so significant in the way he is staring back at you.

Namjoon stops feeding.

And inhales.

Exhales.

You tremble because you feel the animal that is his desire embrace you like a mist. During your encounter with him, both times when he had fed on you before, not once did he express desire even remotely unlike his brothers. Yet now…

His fingers around your wrist suddenly feel gentler. Stunned, you glare at each other, studying the other’s response at the tether binding your souls. Both your angers seem to fritter away into smoke.

Why do you feel… a hunger? A yearning for his touch?

Without realising what you’re doing, you wipe the back of your hand across his wet chin, your blood smearing into sangria stains. He lets you. You study his face, he studies yours. He is so infuriatingly handsome, you notice. You almost want to…

No, you do want to.

But why? What is wrong with you? Why are you wondering how his lips feel when they are red with your blood that he’s forcefully drinking?

You shudder because you see him glancing down at your lips too. You see the turmoil in his brain, the confusion from the twitch of his brow.

Then he firmly places his hand on your waist and bring your body to his. Though his touch is ice through the fabric of your garment, your skin feels warm. Scathing, in fact. This time when he sucks on your bleeding wrist again, it feels less aggressive. More… Intimate. You watch Namjoon’s eyes shut slowly in a state of euphoria, entranced by your taste. It doesn’t really hurt anymore; the sting is ever present, but now it is accompanied by a pulsating pleasure entering up your arm and running into your every fibre. His hand snakes around your back until you’re completely pressed onto his chest. Your own hand reaches his sternum to create space between you out of instinct but you find it stopping at his pectoral, your fingers curling over the firm muscle.

He leans into your touch, and you grapple onto his chest because your head is spinning, both from the supernatural bond coiling around you and the continuous loss of your blood.

After one last gulp, he releases your wrist from his mouth, but doesn’t let it fall to your side, instead carefully guiding it to his shoulder, urging you to circle your arm around him. Though his eyes are still obsidian and he’s still in his shifted beastly state, vulnerability is splattered across his face. This isn’t Namjoon from before. This is an entirely different being whom you don’t recognise.

Lifting his arm to his teeth, he rips into his own wrist, the puncture of his skin almost like a crunch of an apple. Your gasp is muffled when he places it against your lips, offering his blood for you to drink. To heal you.

The metallic taste you expect is absent. In its place is the juice of a fruit so fresh its sweetness cures your thirst and ailments. You don’t hesitate to swallow the fluid pouring onto your tongue. So now you know how you must taste to them.

Simply divine. Like drops of Heaven.

Though it must be magnified by miles for them. You are not even a vampire.

You watch him watch you drink his blood like it is some erotic ribald scene, the intensity of his glare shooting a flame to your core. And when your tongue licks at his skin to lap up the spilled droplets, he lets out a grunt and leans into the crown of your head. With his fangs still extended, his nose roams your hair, breathing in your scent that he is craving, but in a different way from thirst.

As Namjoon removes his arm from you, depriving you of his blood once more, you feel your bite wounds itch ferociously. When you look down at them, you see that your skin is sewing itself back together. Until it is once more porcelain-smooth. Not a single mark save for the crusts of your drying blood.

Unbelievable.

You are too shocked to even make a sound.

But that is quickly overruled by a different sensation - Namjoon’s lips brushing the tip of your ear. Your sharp inhale arouses him, you feel it stiffening at your hip. Holding your jaw firmly, he pulls away to look at you. And what an unholy sight you are: an angel-anointed girl with the blood of a vampire slathered across her snout.

There is a carnal glint in his onyx pools, you catch it the very moment before he kisses you. Hard and fast. Full of a desperation that has the bond between you winding you closer to him. You taste your own blood in his mouth, and it is bland and regular compared to his, but somehow the idea of your bloods mixing on each other’s tongues excite you. There is a hint of a voice in your head screaming at you to stop but you banish it. You have never felt a stronger desire than right now, in the arms of a man you hate.

Falling back onto the bed with his frame hovering over you, you allow him to guide your lips, wield you, mould you. When your hand reaches to cradle his cheek, he grips both your wrists and pins them above your head, holding them in place with a single hand big enough to encircle them both. Even in this monstrous inhuman state, his need for dominance eclipses the rest of his character.

You feel beside yourself under his kiss. So sensual, driven by lust. This isn’t you, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything other than how much you crave Namjoon this very moment. When he grabs onto the flesh of your ass, you forget how much you had wanted to hurt him just minutes ago. And when you feel the tip of his fangs scrape gently against your tongue, you forget yourself altogether.

With a growl, he pulls away from the kiss and flips you over onto your front as if you weigh no more than a feather. Swiping your hair to one side, he grazes his teeth along your neck. It tickles more with the thrill of knowing that the could bite down anytime. You think you want him to. His hands ride up the flimsy material of your dress, it’s bumpy calluses exciting you. Then he puts his weight onto your ass, grinding his hard member into your crack with only mere layers of fabric separating you from his meat.

“Sir...” The word tumbles out at the peak of your moan mindlessly. You are truly not yourself.

At that, you feel his hefty cock pulse on your rear. Namjoon’s body falls onto you in defeat at your name for him as if that one syllable alone had slain him. His fingers wrap around your wrists again as he continues to grind furiously into you. The strap of your dress has slipped off your shoulder, and he takes your skin between his lips, brushed by his hot velvet tongue.

A familiar warm slick is pouring out of your cunt, wetting your panties and the crotch of his trousers. You need him so badly you want to sob. Your core is twisting and throbbing for him, aching to be stretched out. This isn’t enough. His cock sliding between the cheeks of your ass isn’t enough. You need him thrusting into you like this from behind.

“Fuck me, please!” You know his self control is ebbing away into oblivion like yours. You can’t wait any longer.

But then he sits up, so abruptly that the bed creaks loudly. Your whole back feels barren without his contact. You quickly twist to look at him, in time to see the black of his eyes slowly retreating to reveal white, then waning back to their normal crimson-tinted irises in a blink.

Instantly they are enshrouded in confusion. Disbelief.

Namjoon has shifted back to himself in an instant. No longer the demonic desire-driven vampire who was just pushing his stiff member between your ass.

“I-” He chokes.

Your high gradually rides down its hill as well as clarity begins to fill your cup once again, clearing away the fog of your vertigo. Your senses, your own self creeps back into your body as you register what was going on. Breathing heavily the both of you, for a dreaded second, all you do is look at each other.

Then without another word, he speeds out of the room like lightning, the echo of the door slamming shut after him startling you.

You blink and he is gone.

Leaving you wondering what the fuck had just happened.

And what the fuck had you done to each other.

❦

@serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh

❦

03/10/2019

© Copyright 2019

[newstfionline]

Headlines

Images of brutality against Black people spur racial trauma (AP) Since Wanda Johnson’s son was shot and killed by a police officer in Oakland, California, 11 years ago, she has watched video after video of similar encounters between Black people and police. Each time, she finds herself reliving the trauma of losing her son, Oscar Grant, who was shot to death by a transit police officer. Most recently, Johnson couldn’t escape the video of George Floyd, pinned to the ground under a Minneapolis officer’s knee as he pleaded that he couldn’t breathe. “I began to shake. I was up for two days, just crying,” she said. “Just looking at that video opened such a wound in me that has not completely closed.” Johnson’s loss was extreme, but, for many Black Americans, her grief and pain feels familiar. Psychologists call it racial trauma—the distress experienced because of the accumulation of racial discrimination, racial violence or institutional racism. While it can affect anyone who faces repeated prejudice, in this moment, its impact on Black people is drawing particular attention. The unfortunate irony is that the very tool that may be helping to make more people aware of the racism and violence that Black and other people of color face is also helping to fuel their trauma.

Critics question `less lethal’ force used during protests (AP) When a participant at a rally in Austin to protest police brutality threw a rock at a line of officers in the Texas capital, officers responded by firing beanbag rounds—ammunition that law enforcement deems “less lethal” than bullets. A beanbag cracked 20-year-old Justin Howell’s skull and, according to his family, damaged his brain. Adding to the pain, police admit the Texas State University student wasn’t the intended target. Pressure has mounted for a change in police tactics since Howell was injured. He was not accused of any crime. He was hospitalized in critical condition on May 31 and was discharged Wednesday to a long-term rehabilitation facility for intensive neurological, physical and occupational therapy. His brother has questioned why no one is talking about police use of less lethal but still dangerous munitions. “If we only talk about policing in terms of policies and processes or the weapons that police use when someone dies or when they are ‘properly lethal’ and not less lethal, we’re missing a big portion of the conversation,” said Josh Howell, a computer science graduate student at Texas A&M University. The growing use of less lethal weapons is “cause for grave concern” and may sometimes violate international law, said Agnes Callamard, director of Global Freedom of Expression at Columbia University and a U.N. adviser.From 1990 to 2014, projectiles caused 53 deaths and 300 permanent disabilities among 1,984 serious injuries recorded by medical workers in over a dozen countries.

Coronavirus Global Death Toll Passes 500,000 (Foreign Policy) The coronavirus pandemic, about to enter its fifth month this week reached two grim milestones over the weekend: More than 10 million people have been infected with the virus and over 500,000 have died of it. Europe has seen the most deaths of any continent, although its overall caseload is declining. The situation in the Americas is more concerning: Two countries—the United States and Brazil—account for roughly 35 percent of all COVID-19 deaths worldwide and both countries are still seeing new cases in the tens of thousands daily.

Virus hits college towns (NYT) The community around the University of California, Davis, used to have a population of 70,000 and a thriving economy. Rentals were tight. Downtown was jammed. Hotels were booked months in advance for commencement. Students swarmed to the town’s bar crawl, sampling the trio of signature cocktails known on campus as “the Davis Trinity.” Then came the coronavirus. When the campus closed in March, an estimated 20,000 students and faculty left town. With them went about a third of the demand for goods and services, from books to bikes to brunches. Fall classes will be mostly remote, the university announced last week, with “reduced density” in dorms. Efforts to stem the pandemic have squeezed local economies across the nation, but the threat is starting to look existential in college towns. Communities that have evolved around campuses are confronting not only Covid-19 but also major losses in population, revenue and jobs.

Band’s pandemic diversion leads to every-night gig in park (AP) What started as a way for two musicians to get out of the house during the pandemic has turned into nightly concerts at the boathouse in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park—with fans who expect them to play three to four hours a night, seven nights a week. “One day I came here with my guitar out of nowhere, to just get some fresh air. And people just started coming over. And then they were like, ‘Thank you!’ And then it took a life on its own,” said Alegba Jahyile, leader of Alegba and Friends. Jahyile, a Haitian raised in New York who plays guitar, drums and bass, recalled a woman who cried at one concert. “You made my day,” she told him. “It’s been a terrible week for me and my family. Listening to you, singing, I felt the joy, I found a little bit of serenity, of peace to my day.” The area has steps that are good for sitting. It’s also adjacent to a grassy hill where people can bring children and dogs, spread blankets, plop down lounge chairs, and picnic while listening to the music.

World Food Program warns of ‘devastating’ pandemic impact in low- and middle-income countries (Washington Post) The World Food Program (WFP) warned Monday that the socioeconomic repercussions of the coronavirus pandemic will be “devastating” and could trigger food shortages for millions of residents of low- and middle-income nations. In the countries in which the organization operates, the number of people suffering from hunger is estimated to rise by more than 80 percent by the end of 2020, in comparison with pre-coronavirus times. Latin America and Africa are among the most heavily impacted areas. “This unprecedented crisis requires an unprecedented response. If we do not respond rapidly and effectively to this viral threat, the outcome will be measured in an unconscionable loss of life, and efforts to roll back the tide of hunger will be undone,” WFP Director David Beasley was quoted as saying in a release. “Until the day we have a medical vaccine, food is the best vaccine against chaos.”

Iceland’s president wins second term (Foreign Policy) Icelandic President Gundi Johannesson won a second term on Saturday in a landslide victory. Johanneson won 92 percent of the vote, while his right wing challenger Gudmundur Franklin Jonsson received just 7 percent of the vote. The Icelandic presidency is a largely symbolic post, although the president can exercise veto power over legislation.

Britons are fatter than most in the rest of Europe, says PM Johnson (Reuters) British Prime Minister Boris Johnson said on Monday Britons were significantly fatter than people in most of the rest of Europe, admitting he had lost weight after contracting the novel coronavirus. Speaking to Times Radio, Johnson said: “I have taken a very libertarian stance on obesity but actually when you look at the numbers, when you look at the pressure on the NHS (National Health Service), compare, I’m afraid this wonderful country of ours to other European countries, we are significantly fatter than most others, apart from the Maltese for some reason. It is an issue.” “Everybody knows that this is a tough one, but I think it’s something we all need to address.” Johnson did some press ups to show he was “as fit as a butcher’s dog” in an interview with the Mail on Sunday newspaper, just months after he fought for his life in hospital against the coronavirus.

French court convicts former PM Fillon of embezzling public funds (Reuters) A French court on Monday found former French Prime Minister Francois Fillon guilty of embezzlement of public funds in a fake jobs scandal that wrecked his 2017 run for president and opened the Elysee Palace door for Emmanuel Macron. A French court on Monday found former French Prime Minister Francois Fillon guilty of embezzlement of public funds in a fake jobs scandal that wrecked his 2017 run for president and opened the Elysee Palace door for Emmanuel Macron.

Hard times even for homeless (Worldcrunch) Speaking to German newspaper Süddeutsche Zeitung, anthropologist Luisa Schneider described one homeless girl she’s followed. “Before the crisis, she was able to study and wash in cafes or libraries. Neither is possible now.” Schneider expects more Germans to sleep on the streets in the coming months. “Many networks have now collapsed. Even homeless people who used to support each other are now losing sight of each other.” In France, government authorities and NGOs were able to accommodate 177,600 people with shelter during the lockdown period, reports Le Monde. The government has invested more than 2 billion euros helping those without homes, including requisitioning 13,300 hotel rooms. Yet France’s emergency phone number for homeless assistance remains overwhelmed, with over 200 calls on average daily and many unable to secure a temporary housing situation. And as the country continues opening up, it is unclear how long the special accommodation period will last.

Polish election (NYT) Polish President Andrzej Duda failed to win enough of the vote in Sunday’s election to avoid a runoff, according to exit polls, forcing him into what is expected to be a tightly fought contest with the liberal mayor of Warsaw Rafal Trzaskowski next month. Although Duda came out ahead on Sunday, analysts expect that to change in the runoff election in two weeks, as opposition voters whose support was split in the first round unite around Trzaskowski.

Russian state exit polls show 76% so far back reforms that could extend Putin rule (Reuters) Russian state opinion pollster VTsIOM said on Monday that its exit polls showed that 76% of Russians had so far voted to support reforms that could allow President Vladimir Putin to extend his rule until 2036. The nationwide vote on constitutional reforms began on June 25 and is being held over seven days as a precaution against the coronavirus pandemic. If approved, the changes would allow Putin to run twice for president again after his current term expires in 2024.

Militants attack Karachi stock exchange, killing at least 3 (AP) Militants attacked the stock exchange in the Pakistani city of Karachi on Monday, killing at least three people—two guards and a policeman, according to police. Special police forces deployed to the scene of the attack and in a swift operation secured the building, killing all four gunmen. There were no reports of any wounded among the brokers and employees inside the exchange and a separatist militant group from a neighboring province later claimed responsibility for the attack.

China forces birth control on Uighurs to suppress population (AP) The Chinese government is taking draconian measures to slash birth rates among Uighurs and other minorities as part of a sweeping campaign to curb its Muslim population, even as it encourages some of the country’s Han majority to have more children. While individual women have spoken out before about forced birth control, the practice is far more widespread and systematic than previously known, according to an AP investigation based on government statistics, state documents and interviews with 30 ex-detainees, family members and a former detention camp instructor. The campaign over the past four years in the far west region of Xinjiang is leading to what some experts are calling a form of “demographic genocide.” The state regularly subjects minority women to pregnancy checks, and forces intrauterine devices, sterilization and even abortion on hundreds of thousands, the interviews and data show. The population control measures are backed by mass detention both as a threat and as a punishment for failure to comply. Having too many children is a major reason people are sent to detention camps, the AP found, with the parents of three or more ripped away from their families unless they can pay huge fines. Police raid homes, terrifying parents as they search for hidden children.

Thailand opens its borders to some (Worldcrunch) Thailand will allow pubs and bars to reopen on Wednesday and plans to let in some foreign travelers after recording five weeks without any community transmission of the coronavirus, a government official said. Pubs, bars and karaoke venues will be able to operate until midnight as long as they follow safety guidelines such as ensuring two-meter spaces between tables. Foreigners with work permits, residency and families in Thailand will also be able to enter the country, but will be subject to a 14-day quarantine. Visitors seeking certain types of medical treatment such as some cosmetic surgery or fertility treatment could also be allowed into the country.

Balcony churches: Kenyans find new ways to worship in lockdown (The Guardian) The children hang over the balcony railings on Sunday morning. In the parking lot below, a four-person band test microphones and practise harmonies. A moment later, the group fills the Mirema apartment complex in Nairobi with music: “I’m happy today, so happy. In Jesus’s name, I’m happy.” The Rev Paul Machira, a tall, slender beanpole of a man with greying hair, leaps around energetically, encouraging the balcony worshippers to join in prayer. Sporting green overalls embroidered with his nickname, Uncle Paul, the 43-year-old has been traveling around apartment complexes across Nairobi, bringing his balcony services and Sunday school to families since the Covid-19 pandemic closed down places of worship in Kenya on 22 March. Pairing dance moves with their tunes, the band encourage children and their parents to spend the hour dancing and praying together. When Machira realises that a crowd has gathered on the balcony of the apartment building next door, he shifts to a “360 service” to include those neighbours. Machira’s services are by invitation only. He says that the group have had to skip services because some of the neighbours have objected to “noise-makers” in their complex. Machira’s group have been booked for as many as four services in one day before. This popularity means that they sometimes have to split into two, renting an additional van and musical equipment to cover more ground.

[mythicamagic]

Terracotta Teeth - Chapter 8

During a long drive to Tokyo, Kagome’s car is totalled by a monstrous silver dog. She now finds herself stranded in a remote village, where the residents appear kind, if slightly distant. However something or someone seems a little too keen on making her stay, permanently.

Rated M for later chapters

Horror/Romance/Drama

You can read this story on Ao3, Fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here  Chapter Two - here  Chapter Three - here Chapter Four - here   Chapter Five - Here   Chapter Six - here    Chapter Seven - here   Chapter Nine - here

Purgatory ~

Treading the nostalgic path down to her old school in a haze, Kagome walked amongst the sea of students. That uniform that she'd worn almost every day only made more memories resurface. She glanced behind her dimly, seeing an afterimage of a boy struggling to keep up, a football tucked under his arm.

'Hurry up, squirt. I don't want to be late for my exam again.'

He just smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry! But hey, it's not like you want to go in the first place. I'm doing you a favour.'

Kagome blinked slowly. The image was suddenly gone. Turning, she continued on, still dragging her feet. Souta always made her late, it felt only right to do so.

Of course, she was much too old to be going to school. Kagome walked there for an entirely different reason. As the school bell sounded, signalling the start of first period, she walked across the courtyard. Opening the door to the archery range, she stepped inside like she belonged. It almost felt like she did. Taking a bow and lifting out an arrow from a quiver, Kagome tested it's weight on her fingers.

She'd used to practice all the time.

'I'm not too shabby with a bow, if I do say so myself!'

'Don't puff up with pride so much, girl! Only pigeons strut like that!' Grandpa huffed fondly, turning a page of his newspaper.

Kagome's lips curved up, the action hurting her face. Exhaling, she notched the arrow, taking aim. Letting it fly, a soft 'thunk' sounded out as it met it's target.

A little off bullseye.

She turned, shouldering the bow and taking the quiver of arrows with her. It would do. She wasn't going hunting.

The scenery passed by in a series of blurred images. Kagome barely noticed them, staring straight ahead. Brain on autopilot. Sitting like a passenger in her own body, she tried to suspend her mind free of all thought. To not think about how stupid this was. About her family. About burning shrines or silver demons. But the memories she'd pushed away for so long refused to leave, sinking inside her insidiously. Kagome's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She was almost grateful when something thudded onto the back of the truck. Kagome gasped, lurching forward and slamming her foot on the break. Slowing to a crawl, she whipped her head around, glancing behind her through the window. In the open topped cargo bed, silver caught her eye. Fur danced in the breeze. The inuyoukai sat down, staring at her as she slowed, pulling the truck to a stop on the side of the road.

She watched him through the murky window, swallowing. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him. Red eyes stayed locked with hers, until he quietly huffed, shifting down to lay his great head on his paws.

Kagome's lips thinned, and with a sigh- opened her door. Climbing out, she walked around the side of the pickup truck, the road completely silent. Opening the latch to lower the back of the storage side revealed his large form.

"…You may as well come and sit with me in the front," she murmured.

His ears pricked, tail sweeping out. The dog demon lifted his head and tilted it slightly.

"Let's not make this a big deal," she turned, walking back to the drivers side. Returning to her seat, she shut the door. I hope he didn't notice the bow and arrows...

She'd hidden them under a cover. Of course it was pointless to hide them if he'd followed her to the school as she'd suspected.

"You are not as frightened as I'd expected," came a velvety voice at her ear.

Kagome turned to look at him in the passenger seat. "Should I be afraid?"

"Perhaps normal humans would be," he uttered, shifting. She noticed he wore normal attire, rather than his old traditional red and white clothes. In the small space, he felt that much more real and close. Thinking back to her conversations with Souta, and how clear his voice had been over the phone, she sincerely hoped the demon was not imaginary.

She started the engine, glancing at his deceptively handsome, calm features. "You've been following me," she murmured. "Why?"

"I like following you."

Kagome didn't have it in her to be alarmed as she pulled away from the side of the road. He said it like it were a natural occurrence. "Normal girls don't appreciate getting followed, you know."

"We established just a moment ago that you are not a normal mortal."

She touched her neck. Normal. She certainly hadn't felt like it since the graveyard. "Koga…he told me everything," blue eyes shifted to him carefully. "Is Rin alright?"

Silence flooded the small space, before she was rewarded with the rich cadence of his haunting voice. "She is well. Is that why I have found you heading towards my village? You are returning for her sake?"

Kagome focused on the road, biting the inside of her cheek. "Sort of. I'm guessing you followed me out here to drag me back?"

He nodded, intent gaze never leaving her. He had no interest in the world outside when she was the only sight he wanted to gaze upon. "At first this one intended to take you before you found out about what happened to your family. But Rin's condition detained me longer than anticipated. I was too late to prevent you knowing," he inclined his head slightly, as though apologising. "This one could only observe afterwards."

Kagome's eyes widened, tears stinging her eyes as something slammed it's fist into her abdomen. It made her nearly buckle with the onslaught of emotion. She quickly blinked, trying to restore her suddenly blurry vision. "You knew the whole time, didn't you?" She murmured faintly. "About my family. I guess you would if you've been following me for a good year," she laughed, the sound strained and pathetic in her ears.

She summoned her bravery and looked at him, hot tears running down her cheeks. "In your own way, I think you were trying to be kind by not telling me."

His palm closed over her shaking hand on the steering wheel. "Pull over," he said quietly.

Kagome only did as asked because her body was shaking too much to do anything else. Stopping the car, she closed her eyes against the onslaught of tears, trembling.

Feeling his hand shift to her shoulder, sliding behind her to pull her closer- she jolted and slapped it away. "Don't touch me," she grit out, shying away. "Please don't, I don't have anything left. I can't afford to latch onto you just because you're being nice right now!"

Sesshoumaru stared at her silently, clawed hand still outstretched and hovering uselessly in the air.

Kagome looked away and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "You want to know why I'm really going back to the village? It's not for any honourable reason- it's not to save people or help you. I just need something. Anything, to distract me right now. I'm just looking for the next thing that can function as my pills. Something to make me stop thinking about them, picturing them!" She sobbed, continuing to hear the phone call. The sound of the authorities telling her to sit down, because the news might be a shock.

She remembered her friends faces at the university, slowly becoming more concerned as Kagome heard the words scramble over and over in her mind.

'There was a terrible accident…'

"I'm alone…" she realised quietly, tears dripping off her chin to land on her knees. Her aunt had taken her in, but the older woman was practically a distant relative. It was more like sharing a house with a room-mate.

"You are not alone."

Kagome numbly turned to look at him.

The gold of his eyes glowed fierce and bright. "You are not alone," he uttered again in a viciously low tone. "The humans who took you in after your families demise failed you. They didn't seek to help you. But this one is here. I have been here, and will continue to be."

She sniffed, holding her arms and drawing her knees up. "Why…?"

The demon looked away slowly, as though he loathed to do so, gaze clouding with remembrance. "Perhaps it is not for any honourable reason, but I remember first laying eyes on you."

Searching with single minded intent may have sounded obsessive or serious, but the process of finding Rin a priestess did not feel so to Sesshoumaru. He took his time travelling, keeping in contact with the village and making certain Rin was well. Aside from that though, he flew across the country at night, travelling to the nearest shrines and then moving on from there. Sometimes he found priests instead of holy women, or mikos that were too old to be his companion. Some that had too little spiritual power to strengthen the barrier of the village.

Other times were far less easy to explain away why they were unsuitable. A young woman had been sweeping the steps of a shrine outside of Tokyo. She had desirable features, a quiet baring and kind demeanour. For all intents and purposes, Sesshoumaru could have approached her and set out to take her to the village.

Could have.

Something made him continue on, renting a car once he got to Tokyo and travelling from shrine to shrine by day. Sometimes it was the same, and he had no discernible reason for passing over them.

He stopped at a burned down shrine. The once proud structure had been reduced to ashes and waste. He walked around it's ruins, taking in the quiet devastation that was so like his own fallen home.

Learning what had happened, he'd focused on the headlines of the newspaper article on his laptop while sitting in a coffee-shop one afternoon. Apparently a woman and her son had died in the fire, an elderly relative of theirs passing away a mere few days later. Some suspected he'd died of heartbreak, but the old man had been sick in hospital for a while.

A daughter remained alive, the sole survivor of the Higurashi shrine. She'd been staying onsite at university when the accident had occurred. Sesshoumaru stared at the picture of the young woman with dulled blue eyes in the article. Obviously the press had taken it without permission.

She looked how he felt. Something unnamed had stirred within him.

Sesshoumaru set out to find her the next day.

It took some time to track down Kagome Higurashi. She'd been taken in by her aunt that lived many hours away, and Sesshoumaru had to do some digging to find out exactly where. When he finally arrived the sky had dimmed into bursts of lilacs with the chilled dusk. He kept to the garden, looking through the large dining room window while in a smaller version of his true form. He hunched low but listened keenly, hearing scraps of conversation.

A middle aged woman was seated at the head of the table, an air of awkwardness about her. "How are you enjoying the soup?"

"Oh, it's great, thank you."

Spoons clinked against the sides of bowls, and he heard the tell-tale blow of lips on steam.

Her voice sounded kind. Sesshoumaru couldn't see her clearly from the angle, so decided to focus only on listening.

"I suppose you're used to better cooking at home- ah! Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, it's fine." Kagome cut in gently. "Mom's a great cook. I wish I'd inherited her skills, my dishes are always either too bland or too strong."

The awkward air surrounding her aunt only seemed to double. "Yes...she was a great cook."

Sesshoumaru's ears pricked when Kagome's spoon paused. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but distress fanned briefly into her vibrant scent. He inhaled and blinked, feeling it be smothered. The miko seemed to fold her pain neatly, smoothing over the crinkles and tucking it away.

"May I please be excused?"

A chair scraped back and footsteps took her to the kitchen. Paws shifted as Sesshoumaru padded closer, changing into his humanoid form and taking to the trees when she made her way upstairs.

The first time he truly set eyes on the miko, she was laying on her side. Knees drawn up to her chest, she held a phone up beside her pillow. She had doleful blue eyes, and hair that spilled chaotically in long tumbles of dark waves. She pressed something on the device and held it to her ear.

'Hi there, I'm not here at the moment. Um- could you leave your name and number and I'll phone you back as soon as possible? I think that's how it works- Kagome, how do I-'

Full lips tugged up into a pained smile. Sesshoumaru watched while the girl pressed the return call button again and again, listening to her mother's voicemail. He did not think himself a man of feeling. He was not a man at all, but demon. However in those minutes, his instincts roared to life, having remained dormant for years.

Something recognised her pain as an experience long ago felt. He remembered standing in the crumbled foundations of his own home. Recalled the scent of blood soaked ash that had festered in his lungs and never really left.

Her distressed scent called to him, to the point that his claws sank deep into the branch of the tree, splintering. He wanted to look at her. Face to face. Wanted to see what that agony looked like reflected back at him like a mirror. And yet a part of him knew their experiences were not the same. He should not steal away a woman just because he felt a connection.

"You did it right the first time, mom."

Sesshoumaru's gaze turned back to the girl lying on her bed. She stared at the phone, a hazy smile on her lips. The call button was pressed once more.

'I think that's how it works- Kagome, how do I-'

"I explained it before, just talk when it prompts you and hang up when you're done," an airy giggle escaped the miko. Her blue eyes had strayed far away, a faint, tenuous tone to her voice. "No, you're not getting better. You're allergic to technology. Souta, tell her."

Gold eyes flickered as he watched the girl carry on a conversation with herself. She only seemed to get more emboldened the more she continued. Soon she was happily comforting herself with their imaginary voices.

And then it clicked for the demon. He didn't need to look her in the eye, face to face, in order to know. This girl was just like him.

Kin.

There was kin in that room. She lay alone and isolated, but he would not let things remain so. He would find a way to forge their bond in blood and flesh so that neither would be separated and lonesome again.

Sesshoumaru sat for the remainder of the night, listening in silence. He did the same many nights after.

After finishing an abbreviated version of the story, Sesshoumaru's gaze slid back to Kagome's shocked features. "This one has not wanted to leave you since, illogical though it is."

Her mouth opened and closed. Wide blue eyes continued to stare. "But I-" she swallowed, eyes lowering. "I don't even know what's real anymore…"

She inhaled sharply when her chin was seized, tilted up by a warm, firm hand. Slit pupils bore into her. "This one is real, flesh and blood. Just as you are."

His thumb strayed, sliding up and smoothing over her bottom lip. Kagome made a noise, frozen stiff. A long, sharp nail pried in-between her teeth, forcing her mouth to part. "I will not be parted from you again- no matter how you choose to run," he uttered in a hushed rumble. His claw scraped over her tongue lightly, dragging his thumb over the blunt of her teeth.

"You will have to destroy this one first if you intend to escape again. Be it with teeth and claws...or bow and arrows, miko."

Kagome jolted, heart stuttering in alarm and hammering in her rib-cage. She remained frozen even as his face drew nearer, until all she could see was magenta lids and burning gold. And then his mouth was on hers, stealing a searing kiss that left her mind reeling.

The demon pulled away after a moment to rest his hand on the steering wheel, looming close. "You walked willingly into my jaws tonight, Kagome." He reminded her quietly.

Kagome glanced in the mirror, seeing herself in the drivers seat. That's right, she had. And without much of a plan. She really was a dumbass.

"Jerk..." she whispered, breath halting.

"Hello again, Kagome."

The faint greeting had instantly given her pause. Searching Rin's gaze for any judgement, she instead found an empty, placid look. It was almost as though the girl had expected her return. Kagome glanced at Sesshoumaru as he exited the truck. No doubt it would shock the girl if she knew the decision had been Kagome's.

"Hi Rin," she greeted softly. The drive into the secluded village had certainly been...strange. She hadn't thought she'd be returning under any circumstances, let alone free will. The little girl stared up at her, lingering in the threshold of Sesshoumaru's house.

Kneeling down, she gestured to her own cheek. "You okay?"

The little girl nodded mutely, a melancholy look in her faded brown eyes. Kagome's brows drew together. Reaching forward, she clasped her small, freezing hands in her own warm ones. Unlike before, she forced herself to push past the instinct to rip her hand away.

"You don't have to worry. I'm going to...make things right. What do you think? Can we be friends again?" Kagome asked, looking into her eyes to try and convey her meaning.

Rin's eyes gained a little more life to them, and she nodded eagerly. Kagome followed her gentle tug inside, glancing behind her to catch Sesshoumaru's interested gaze. She inwardly winced.

Strangely, the days eerily slipped back into a routine. Sesshoumaru continued to chaperone her around the school, though not as intently as before. Kagome remained calm, suspending her mind when it wasn't needed.

She hadn't been able to find her pills in her bag.

The first thing Kagome worked on in private was drawing up a map of the village. In the late hours of the night, she crept to Rin's room and asked for any possible locations Sesshoumaru may have hidden the sword Tensaiga.

"Obviously it's planted in the earth somewhere no one ever goes," Kagome mused in a hushed voice. The map was spread out over Rin's bed like a cover. The little girl crossed out various locations with a red marker. "Only Sesshoumaru knows where it is right?"

Rin nodded slowly, "I think since a few of us...wanted to break ourselves for good, he knew not to tell us it's location."

Wincing, Kagome looked at the map in the faint night light. Placing her hand on her stinging neck, lithe fingers brushed the bite marks. Frowning, she felt her attention be tugged towards the marks of raised land. The hills thickest with trees slightly beyond the school. Kagome tapped her finger on the unmarked area.

"I'm guessing nothings over here?"

"No. Some of us have tried to go up there in the past, but Sesshoumaru says the ground is unstable. Lots of landslides."

Kagome scoffed. "Convenient," she prodded it. "I'm heading there next chance I get to check it out. See if you can buy me some time by distracting your father."

"What if you're caught?"

"I'll just say I'm trying to escape again," she shrugged. Pausing, a guilty look flitted across her expression. "Rin, this is what everyone wants. Isn't it?"

Unfathomable apathy gazed back at her. Rin nodded slowly, sighing and wringing her hands. "I've spread the word over the past few days. Everyone is in favour of it and will help in any way they can. Even Sango."

"R-really?" Kagome paused. The burning embers of a shrine wafted over her nose briefly. She breathed in and viciously pushed down the swell of feelings. "She...wanted to bring her brother back, didn't she?" Her voice wavered, becoming fragile.

Rin nodded, folding up the make-shift map. "Kohaku was one of us. But sensitive, almost too full of emotion. He was a wonderful friend, but...he couldn't take it anymore. He fled outside the barrier and became dust. The wind carried his remains away before Sesshoumaru could bake them into clay again."

The miko shivered and rubbed her arms, hearing Souta's carefree laugh resound in her mind. Rising, she took the map and turned. "Right. Good thing we're gonna help everyone so that they don't have to worry about that again!" She forced cheer into her tone.

Saying a hasty goodnight, she stepped out of Rin's room and slid the door shut. Bringing a hand to her pulsing heart that throbbed with little squeezes- she quickly padded to her room.

Rummaging roughly through her bag again, Kagome threw it down when she predictably found nothing. She needed something. Anything. She couldn't stand the memories. They kept trickling in without warning, triggered by stupid things. How was she supposed to guard against them when the mere mention of Sango made her remember her own little brother? Even a cringe inducing pop song over the radio made her recall Mama swaying around the kitchen, spatula in hand.

Kagome held her arms, bowing forward. She began to tremble, teeth clenching-

"You are not alone."

She blinked slowly, exhaling. It felt...underhanded. Slowly rising, she walked with fragile steps to a certain door. Knocking on it gently, she couldn't bare to raise her head when it slid open.

Kagome's hands squeezed into fists. "I'm sorry," she murmured. I'm sorry I'm such a coward.

"Did I ask for an apology, foolish woman?" He uttered quietly.

Feeling a warm palm settle on her cheek, Kagome blinked away her tears. It felt nice. Real.

Please hold me.

She followed Sesshoumaru into his room and tried not to feel despicable doing so.

All Hallow's Eve arrived.

Sesshoumaru made no mention of any plans to strengthen the barrier. Kagome attended to her duties as a cleaner that day just as always. She figured if he was going to try something, it would be that night. Her heart continued to flutter like a caged bird in her chest. Her body hummed with new aches, particularly in-between her legs. A few fresh bite marks lined her shoulders and lower back.

They didn't feel unpleasant.

Kagome glanced at him while dusting the shelves. He sat at a desk, reading calmly. She bit her lip, considering.

Just as she opened her mouth- Rin burst into the classroom, panting wildly.

"Father!" She gasped, eyes wide. "It's Sango!"

Sesshoumaru looked up, raising a brow. The book shut with a sharp snap. "What is it?"

"Sh-she's uh-" Rin glanced at Kagome, swallowing, before turning back to him. "She's on the school roof. I think she's going to break herself."

The chair lurched back with a distraught scrape of it's legs. Sesshoumaru strode to the door, glancing at Kagome, who remained frozen. "Remain here. Do not leave under any circumstances," he rumbled.

She could only watch, swimming in confusion while he left. Rin glanced back at her and nodded firmly, before hurrying after him.

Snapping out of her state of worry over something clearly false, Kagome automatically left the room. Peering around the corner into the hallway, she checked it lay empty. When it remained quiet, she speed-walked away. Taking the stairs two at a time, she continued until she were sprinting to the back exit and further still into the cover of the trees.

Picking up a pack, along with her bow and arrows Rin had stashed for her in a tree trunk the day before, Kagome hurried up the forest trail. Autumn tinged leaves scraped and lashed at her exposed knees. She cursed her penchant for skirts. Damn comfy clothes would make her catch her death before she found the stupid sword.

Oddly, the bite marks on her neck kept throbbing. Every time she stepped a certain way, the feeling would either fall faint or grow into a fierce ache. It felt much like when she'd looked at the map. Letting it guide her, Kagome poured everything into sprinting until she felt herself move uphill. Her ears popped after awhile of trekking upwards and Kagome breathed out, catching herself from falling.

Holding a stitch in her side, she stopped, panting hard. Glancing behind her on the incline, the village peeped out through the vast trees, somewhere below her. Spying the school, she felt mild worry. Had Sesshoumaru given chase already?

Turning on her heel, Kagome decided to keep pushing on-

Something slammed into the back of her head.

Pain assaulted her senses. Yelping, Kagome lost her footing.

Someone scooped her up, a cold hand supporting her legs as she felt herself be jostled. Resting her cheek against something, her vision swam. Closing her eyes helped. Kagome tried to regain her bearings even as she sank further and further into the comforting waters of darkness.

Tasting something metallic on her tongue, Kagome dimly realised her mouth must be bleeding. Coming to slowly, she groaned. Groggily opening her eyes, blurry shapes of dark murky browns and a single blaze of harsh orange made her wince. She blinked rapidly, squinting. The room came into focus slowly.

The bright orange turned into a single light hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Dark browns and shadows made up the strange circular walls of the room. There were no windows or other sources of light in the claustrophobic room.

Kagome's stomach dropped the moment she lay eyes on them. Clay pots lined the walls, some sloppily made. Something else was covered by a white sheet, propped up against the wall, but she couldn't make out what. Sitting up, Kagome noted the bed felt like a normal house bed, not the slab she'd seen Rin lay on in the workshop. In fact, the whole room looked different from the workshop. It felt like the time her class had gone caving. Sweat pricked the back of her neck. Was she underground then? Judging by the circular structure of the uneven, earthy walls, it could certainly be a cave or cellar. She didn't know, she wanted out.

Kagome made to move off the bed- only to feel a harsh tug yank her in place. Looking down at her wrist, she found a plastic cable tie had been tied around it, binding her to the bed.

Her breathing was starting to pick up now, chest rising and falling quicker. Tugging, realised both hands were bound to either side of the bed.

"S-sesshoumaru?" She tried calling out weakly. "H-hey, where are you? Let me go, please. I didn't even do anything yet!"

Glancing behind her, a long passageway stretched from the room, down around a shadow drenched corner. Figuring that to be the only way out, Kagome yanked her wrists up, tugging at the ties and trying to find a sharp object to rub the binds against.

Lifting her legs revealed them to be unbound, and she shifted onto her knees, gritting her teeth. Tugging with all her might at the strong ties, the material dug harsh red rivets into her skin. Kagome tried sliding her hand gradually out of them but the cable wouldn't budge around her wrists. Gasping out in pain and exertion, she whipped her head up.

Footsteps were drawing closer, echoing down the passageway. Kagome sat down, heart thundering in her chest. Sesshoumaru had never gone this far before. For some reason, she hadn't thought he would. He'd never locked her in a room, in fact her escape attempts never seemed to vex him. So why now? Why imprison her like this?

Kagome glanced at the clay pots with wide eyes.

Dark strands of hair caught the light first, before red overalls were bathed in the orange glow. Kagome stared at him in surprise.

"Inuyasha?"

[swoonnu]

Lotto - Two (M)

Character: Chanyeol x reader Genre: Angst Warnings: Strong language, implications of sex Words: 3701

Three years, 36 months, 1095 days and 26,280 hours. That is how long it has been since you have seen him.

Three years ago, you married a man you did not love for the sake of your family and today, as you watched that man cook you breakfast, you felt a surge of love settle in the pit of your stomach. Over the 26,280 hours of being married to Junmyeon, you had grown to truly care for him. He was a beautiful man that did not belong to the family he was born into.

Your father died last year around New Years, leaving you the sole heir to his fortune. Junmyeon was there to hold you when the cries threatened to break your bones. When the sadness threatened to destroy you, he brought you temporary peace. The mourning had become the most painful experience of your life and he was there to put you back together. Yet, you could not provide him a child. For 3 years, you had tried but to no avail. You felt broken and useless. As a woman, that was your duty; to provide your husband a child and yet, you couldn’t do the one thing you were designed to do.

So instead, you found comfort in your newly found career. For the 25 years of your life, you learned everything your father took the time to teach you. You wanted to make him proud and this was the only way you knew how.

Your office, his office, sat on the top floor of the casino and hotel. It overlooked the city at the most beautiful point. Sunsets from the 34th floor made your heart swell. Your marriage was content; your career was easier than you expected and your life was simple but you felt restless. While you had grown to love Junmyeon, you heart earned for more and as the reason for your recent heart ache walked into your office, you were reminded why you suddenly felt restless.

Chanyeol had returned to your business after your father’s death. At first, you were hesitant to allow him to return to your life but after he showed his willingness to help, you allowed him.

Black adored your figure, an overwhelming sadness filled your lungs. Your husband sat next to you, stroking your hand gently. The room filled with people you did not know but all offering their deepest sympathies. They said the roads were icy and the driver couldn’t control the car. The night you received the call, your entire world fell apart. The world became the most suffocating place and you wanted to hide away.

The tears threatened to spill like an overflowing swimming pool but you held them back, for the sake of keeping face. You weren’t allowed to break down.

“It is okay to cry, darling.” The loving gaze of your husband did little to comfort you but you accepted the attempt with loving arms.

“Excuse me, but you have a visitor. He said he is an old friend.”

Before you could respond, his tall frame came into view. His sudden appearance forced the once held back tears out. On instinct, you stood and folded your arms around him in an attempt to crush the sadness from your bones.

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The words repeated like a prayer against your hair, crashing into your nervous system. “I should have been here sooner, I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes finally met his and he was just as beautiful as the day he left. Your heart hurt, hurt for the loss of your father, for the man standing in front of you.

“Why are you here?” Your husband’s sudden voice brought you back to reality and you dropped your embrace almost immediately. You suddenly felt embarrassed for your heart aching for the loss of contact. All you wanted to do was reach out and be held by him. All you wanted was for him to suffocate the pain that you felt behind your rib cage.

“I’m here because even after everything, I was her best friend and she just lost her father,” Chanyeol spoke clearly and you felt your heart swell a bit more.

“She doesn’t need you.” You weren’t sure if he was jealous or if he was trying to protect you. Either way, you looked at Junmyeon with confusion written onto your face. He was attempting to push away the one person your heart wanted comfort from.

“Don’t do this here, please. He can be here, it is fine. I cannot deal with this situation and everything else. If you’re going to cause a problem, you can leave. If not, you are welcome to stay. I need to be alone.”

As you walked from the two men, your tears began to fall and you wanted to run as far as you could from everything. So, you did, you ran to the only place that made sense to you. The city lights speckled across your tear strained face. The sadden galaxy written into your soul as you sat in your office.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Your eyes diverted themselves from the scene to the man standing at the entrance of your office.

“I told you to stay away. Why’d you come back?” Defense was the only emotion you could comprehend. Your heart ached for him but your senses told you to push him out. “Y/n, I heard about your father and I knew you’d need all the love you could. I wanted to be here for you.”

“I don’t need you Chanyeol. I have my husband for that.” Your voice spoke with more strain than you bared to admit. While the truth was, you did have your husband for that, you knew it wasn’t enough.

“Look, I did not come here to cause you any more pain. I came here as a friend and because, well, I wanted you to find out from me before you found out on Monday.”

“Find out what Chanyeol?” The anger in your voice became evident.

“Your father gave me a place back in the company before he died. He called me about two months ago. I had been running my own company abroad and he liked what I was doing. So, he asked me to come and work for him again. I hesitated because of you. I did not know how I would be able to handle it. And then I got the news that he died and well, here I am. I came here because I wanted to see you, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. For everything.”

The anger threatened to spill from the pit of your stomach, you stood before you even realized it. “He did what? What position? My security again?”

He laughed and you realized in that moment how much you missed his laugh, “Chief Finical Officer. I am pretty sure you don’t need a security detail; you can take care of yourself.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “CFO?! He never needed that position before, why now?”

“He said he wanted help, he did not go into detail but he always knew I was good with business choices. I’ve grown a lot over the years and I am very good at running a business. He asked if I’d be content with working for him and watching you with Junmyeon and I said yes.”

“Fine, whatever. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’ll see you Monday.” And with that, you walked from your office.

Junmyeon had been the support system you needed. After the death of your father, Chanyeol attempted to console you but you denied his attempts. Unless it was business related, the two of you did not interact much. He made your heart yearn for me, your body reacted to him from memory you were too afraid to let go of. He had created a home within your heart long ago and time did not erase it. Your attempts to build a permanent residence for Junmyeon were crumbling foundations the moment Chanyeol returned.

As he sat opposite from you, listening intently to the meeting you seemed to make no mind to, you were reminded of the times you two spent together all those years ago. Working alongside him had made your heart restless. The moment he returned, you were sure you still loved him. But you were still married and he had done the one thing you wished of him, he moved on. He no longer fought for you, he no longer attempted to steal glances from you that held all his hopes.

The meeting ended without a word from you, no one seemed to mind. The board members addressed you like you were a child, they heard your voice but did not listen. No one seemed to care what you thought, except for Chanyeol. There was a time when you’d raise hell and demand them listen but now, you were quite sure where that woman fled. The day your father died, he took the person you were with him. As the rest of the board members left, Chanyeol stayed behind.

“What’s going on? Something’s bothering you, I know it. This plan will work, don’t worry. We’re going to get the funds to build it. I promise you.”

“Yes, I am aware how sound this plan is and I am fine.” The last few weeks you had been annoyed by his presence, you could not explain why but you felt like you needed to run as far from him as possible. “Y/n, I know it’s not easy but let me help you. Please. As your business partner and as your friend, I am here to lend a hand.”

“You’ve helped enough, thank you and I’ll see you in the morning.”

The way he was looking at you threatened to force your lips onto his. Your eyes lingered on his plump lips longer than you wanted them to, internally you hoped he did not notice.

“Y/n, I am not here to hurt you. I want this business to be what your father hoped it would be. Even with our past, your family helped me in more ways than I could ever repay you. Your father gave a stupid kid a career and you, well you gave a stupid kid a reason to live. You know your father contacted me after the wedding. He told me he believed more in me. You probably don’t know this, but he offered to pay for my college. He wanted to see me succeed. He knew how much I was hurting and he honestly wanted to help me. He explained to me why I could not be with you and that my life was meant for more but he told me he understood the love I have for you more than anyone knew.

Have. Present tense. That is all your brain understood, have.

“He was a hopeless romantic.” You laughed at the memory of your father, always writing love letters to your mother. Even though he would force his goons to hurt others who interfered with his business, to his loved ones, he was the kindest man you had ever met.

You two stared at each other silently, neither knowing what to say or do. Your eyes lingered to his lips once more, this time he noticed. You watched as his tongue danced across his bottom lip. You held your thighs together in an attempt to suppress the feeling that was washing over you. Your palms felt sweaty and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

“You still affect me in a way you shouldn’t. The moment you walked back into my life, I wanted you. My heart is betraying me. I married another man, I pushed you out of my life. And now, all I want to do is fucking kiss you and I am so annoyed. Chanyeol, you should leave.”

But he didn’t. He moved closer to where you were sitting, “Do you really want me to?” You shook your head, the only response your body could make. “Y/n..” He spoke softly as he pulled you from your chair, “Tell me to stop.” His lips parted as they inched closer to yours. Again, you shook your head as his lips crashed against yours. It was as if the last three years did nothing to silence the screaming that was now taking place in your heart. Your lips molded against his, the memory ingrained into your system. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, awaiting permission to enter. You allowed him as your tongues melted against each other, each aching to make up for the lost time. It was only when you needed air that you pulled away.

 “You should have stayed away.” He smiled and nodded, “Yes, I know.” Again, his lips met yours but this time it was less heated than the last. This kiss was sweet and soft, his way of telling you he was still in love with you. “Chanyeol…” Your voice broke as you whispered his name across his own lips, sending a shiver down his spine. “Take me.” He looked at you with wide eyes, “Here? Now?” You could not suppress the laugh that bubbled in your stomach, “Please.” You sounded more desperate than you wanted to but as he wrapped his strong arms under your body and placed you on the conference table, you did not mind. “Wait.” The break of contact made you whimper but as you watched him lock the door, you were welcomed with his hands onto your flesh.

The way his body molded against yours made you want to cry as if the three-year absence had not taken place, it made your restless heart settle. Your body strung over the table, your clothed breasts against the wooden surface. The world seemed to disappear as you felt him soothe your sadness away. Broken promises and breathy whispers across your back as curses left your lips. You felt euphoria burst at the seams as white flashed across your irises, stars dancing themselves in your line of vision.

“Chanyeol..” Was the only word that left your lips, like a mantra that threatened to ruin everything. You felt him slow his movements, his high chasing yours. He stilled for a moment, heaving breathing against yours back until he reluctantly pulled himself out of you. Your legs felt too heavy to move, all you could do was sit back in the chair and look at him. He looked beautiful, his hair a mess, his lips swollen and pink from friction.

“You should leave.” The words left your mouth before your mind registered what you had said, he looked at you with soft eyes as he pulled himself back into his slacks. “Please, just go.”

“Y/n, I still love you. I never stopped. I tried. I met people, I dated. I even bought a ring for someone. I never gave it to anyone, I sold it and broke up with her. Because you were still there, in my thoughts. I buried myself in my work, that is why my business became what it is. I had no other choice but to find something else to occupy my thoughts because you dominated them. I thought of you with him, having his children and being happy. I wanted that for you but I wanted that with me.”

You stood to straighten your clothes out, “I can’t have his children.” The response was not what he expected from you. “I’m broken.” You pulled a compact mirror from your desk, in hopes of remedying the mess he made of your makeup. “You can leave now.” He shook his head, “You are not broken but you are still just as stubborn.”

A knock on the conference door brought you two out of the wordless stare that occupied your faces. He unlocked it and left without a word.

The following days brought little-to-no interaction with Chanyeol and yourself. He stayed in his office, you stayed in yours. Work had done little to distract you from the urge to touch him whenever you two were in the same room. Fate had decided that your soulmate would never be yours. That you belonged to someone else. Someone that you had grown to love and care for but someone who was not meant for you. You had not thought of the consequences of your encounter with Chanyeol until Junmyeon turned to face you one night in bed.

“I know you still love him. I know your heart belongs to him, always has. I am not a blind man, Y/n.” His sudden outburst made you drop the book you were reading, “it’s okay, I understand. I’ve always understood.” Before you had a chance to respond, he turned his back to you.

Four months later, you caught her in your home. You came home early in hopes of avoiding Chanyeol. To your surprise, Junmyeon was already home but he was not alone. She was beautiful, you had to admit. He attempted to defend the scene you had walked into.

“No, Junmyeon. It is okay. I’ll leave you two alone.” Your eyes met his, the look he was giving you was unreadable.  You packed a small bag and drove back to your office. You had no place to run, so you stayed the night in the penthouse suite. For weeks, you lived between your home and the room at the hotel. You would return home to get more things before returning to the hotel. You occupied your time with work.

“Y/n, can we please talk.” Junmyeon’s voice broke through your concentration on the 20th day of you two not speaking. “Listen, I am sorry for everything. I did not mean for this to happen.”

“Stop, it is okay. I understand. You deserve to be happy. I don’t make you happen, I haven’t for a long time. It is okay, my father is not here. We can get a divorce so you can be with her. I think she suits you well.” “I did not mean to hurt you.”

The next day you brought him divorce papers. The divorce was amicable, the business relationship between the two families depended on that. You were not hurt as much as you should have been. You simply thought of it as an end to a chapter, not the end of your life. You had not seen much of Chanyeol since the day in the conference room months ago. He had made no attempt to speak to you unless it dealt with the business. But you had finally worked up the courage to face him, to love him.

Your fingers trembled against the door to his office, hesitating much longer than you wanted. After a while, you finally let yourself tap against the wood.

“Come in.” As you let yourself in, you noticed he was not alone. A woman accompanied his side, “Oh, I did not know you had company. I am sorry.”

You hurried to let yourself out but before you could exit he was standing next to you. “What is it Y/n?” The look on his face made you want to kiss him, he looked happy. Content. As your eyes met his briefly before moving to the woman that sat by his desk, you noticed the reason for his happiness. A small silver band sat on the ring finger of her left hand. Attached to the band sat a single, simple diamond. She was too busy looking at something on his computer to notice you were staring, but he did. “This is Bora, she is my fiancé.”

She stood to give you a small smile, “Nice to finally meet you Y/n. I have heard so much about you from Yeol.” You smiled as you shook her hand, “Nice to meet you as well.” Your eyes finally met his, this time hurt had attached itself to your features. “I am so sorry to interrupt. I will be going now. It was not important.”

As you turned to leave, you felt his eyes fixed on your back. You grasped the letter in your hand firmly as the door of his office shut behind you. Your hands fumbled to crumple the piece of paper before it was forced into the trashcan in the hallway. You felt your lungs burn, your heart began to race as the tears strung themselves onto your cheeks. You wanted to run, to run as far from the building as you could. But, you had nowhere to go. You had no home, you had no one to comfort you.

Chanyeol stepped from his office as you disappeared into the elevator. He reached into the trashcan and pulled out the paper you had tossed away.

Dear Chanyeol,

I have spent my entire life preparing myself to be his. I was told from the moment we were children that Junmyeon would by my husband. It was our destined path. I felt content with that choice made for me. Until I found you. The moment you kissed me, I knew my life was meant to be with you. I remember the night my father threatened to murder you. You were so stupid back then, thinking you could take from him without harm. Little did he know; you took his most precious thing, me. I remember the first time you made love to me. You had made yourself home inside my bones that night. I knew I loved you then. I wanted to marry you, I always wanted you. I begged you to be happy without me, I regret those words now. I am so happy you came back into my life, I finally feel home again. My divorce was not painful, it freed me to love you fully. I want us to be together like it should have been from the start. If you’ll still have me, please accept my apology for attempting to let you go. I love you, I always will.

 Bora grabbed at his elbow, pulling his gaze from the paper. “Are you alright darling? What is this?” He pushed the paper into his pocket, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

[nursingdebriefed]

She was 42.

That’s always the first thing that I say when recounting this story, the last line that repeats through my mind at the end.

Warning: this ones sappy.

They say everyone has that one patient that sticks with you. That one sad story you never quite get over. I’ve had patients die, I’ve been in codes, I’ve seen people go from bad to worse and leave knowing I’d never see them again because we were sending them home to die. Dark stuff. But to be honest, thats part of the job most of us can compartmentalize pretty well. Maybe not at first, but eventually. For the most part. But she was 42. And I wasnt even a brand new nurse at the time, I was use to seeing this stuff, It wasn’t my first rodeo.  But she’s the one thats stuck with me. Her name still makes me feel a pit in my stomach. Rethinking her story still brings tears to my eyes.

She was always so polite, so respectful. She was Indian, and kept a book on Buddhism by her bedside that she would read when we weren't in the room. She’d always put it down when anyone walked in though. She’d ask how my day was, what medication I came to give her. She said thank you for everything. That never escaped me- we dont get ‘thank you’s’ a whole lot.  She was always smiling.  She was in for a blood clot. Probably a side effect from the medication she was taking for her brain cancer. We didn't really talk about her brain cancer much in report- she wasn't getting chemo here, the doctors weren't including updates on her status in their progress notes, we all kinda just figured it was an outpatient thing or was under control. She seemed asymptomatic enough. She had a little boy turning 1 and another one who was 6. A friend would bring them by every other day to see her and she would light up. Her friends clearly adored her- and she’d gloat on about them too. “We’ve been friends for five years, I just love this girl” She’d say and her friends would blush. They’d laugh and talk for hours and take turns holding her children. I would smile and give her her medication and join in on their jokes sometimes. Before I left she always said thank you.

Then one night I came in and told her according to protocol, we had to get her ptt labs drawn every six hours while she was on a heparin drip, and we couldn't use her line. She nearly hyperventilated. At first she tried to explain to me that she couldn’t do needles. She had had some experience. As someone who’s been getting chemo for months I was confused, but the more she tried to explain the more anxious she got- she was reacting like someone who had ptsd and I had just said the trigger. It was so bad that I left and called the doctor and asked to make an exception to protocol- to use her line to draw her labs so we didn't have to use needles- and when I came back into the room she was lying in bed silently crying.

My heart broke a little then. She had always seemed so happy, so strong. But now, in the middle of the night, she was scared, and without her little boys or friends or husband around, she allowed herself to break a little. I dont ache with empathy often, but my heart hurt as I sat on her bed with her and held her hand. And just let her cry. encouraged her silently to let it all out- because I dont think she does often. Then she began trying to tell me something. At first I thought she was just choked on her words- she kept breathing in sharply like people do when they ugly cry- but the words never came. Even when the crying stopped and her breathing went back to normal, the words didnt come.  She couldnt get out more than “um” and “I..” and at first she looked confused. And then she looked afraid. And I quickly went from empathizing friend mode to nurse mode. I began preforming the NIH stroke scale on her (a way we test to see if someones having a stroke). She had complete expressive aphasia (thats when they cant say anything but can understand what you’re saying). And knowing about the clot in her leg, and the heparin drip she was on, a stroke caused by a clot or a bleed weren't too far fetched. So I called rapid response and soon enough another nurse was there with me, preforming the same test, then he decided to call a code stroke.

We rushed her down to CT. She began silently crying again and kept looking at her phone screen, a picture of her two boys. “Its going to be okay” I kept telling her. She was scared.

As we got her on the CT bed the CT tech asked what side she was weak on. “Neither, she’s just aphasic, no weakness” I answered. She rolled her eyes and called the radiologist saying “its not a stroke, but I”m sending you a scan I need the impression of.” Me and the rapid nurse staring at eachother, clearly annoyed. Soon enough we were back on the floor. The MD was there now, and said he thought she was having a stroke that was still evolving and not showing on the scan yet.

I left the shift that day worried, but not overly so. I work on a stroke floor, people recover from strokes all the time. Aphasia is not usually permanent especially in someone so young. But when I got back that night, she wasn't better. She still couldn’t speak and now she was constantly crying. She now had expressive and receptive aphasia- she could no longer understand tasks I would ask her to do. She slept most of the night- but when I had to wake her to give her medication she would start to panic and cry again, like she forgot momentarily that she couldn't speak, and had to remember again every time she woke up. I tried to avoid waking her. 

I was off for a night after that, and when I came back she was on a new floor- the cardiac floor. Apparently she got a chest tube. I went down in the middle of my shift to check on her and ran into her nurse, who was also a friend from my residency, Logan. “How’s she doing?” “She’s on comfort care.” I was shook. She had gone from completely independent, alert, sweet and talkative when she came in, to completely unresponsive. She laid in bed flaccid- eyes deviated to the left, unchanging to verbal or painful stimulus. She had a massive stroke. And my heart broke a little more as Logan told me that her husband brought in her 6 year old to say goodbye that day, and had left the room with him in his arms, crying uncontrollably. This was not expected. I went in to see her and found her husband silent at her bedside. I explained to him that I was her nurse on the 7th floor, and he just nodded and gave a slight smile. I went up to her and grabbed her hand, which hung lifelessly to her side, and tried to keep tears from welling up in my eyes as I said hello, and that I’d been thinking about her. She showed no sign of hearing me or knowing I was present- her eyes stayed deviated to the left and her hand felt cold in mine. When I said bye and walked out of the room, I’m not sure I could remember a time I felt heavier.  She died the next day, on her babies 1 year old birthday. 

She was only 42. And she’s that patient I will always remember, the story I will always hurt when retelling. She’s the one who taught me how important it is to empathize, to really know your patients so you can tell the second something is a little off.  She reminded me of frailty of the present moment, how we cant take these seconds for granted. Because It could all change in the blink of an eye.  I heard once that the present moment is the only moment that touches eternity- that it is in the present that the Lord moves and speaks. If we are constantly focused on our past or worried about our future, we’ll miss it, we’ll miss the joy and blessings of being in his presence in our everyday little moments. All that matters is these little seconds we live in now. This is where his grace resides. 

I wont take them for granted.