#i saw it years ago so maybe its just gone to the ether

[spiderbirdo]

Does anyone know where to find that one tumblr post where it was basically kaito in detective Conan vs kaito in his own series and it's a compilation of gifs of kaito looking really cool in shinichis POV vs kaito freaking the hell out in magic kaito

[theprophetizaiah]

Achilles Come Down | Chapter 1: Pain As a Motive

Summary: Crowley believes Aziraphale died in the bookshop fire. Now, he's sending the armies of hell to avenge him. Based loosely on the story of Achilles and Patroclus.

Warning: None for this chapter! (Aside from some foul language)

Word count: 1.5k (this chapter)

All chapters should be available here! (I haven't written on Tumblr in many moons please forgive me)

To read on AO3, check out my work here!

Crowley burned in the hell he imagined he’d always belonged in. Ashes rained from the heavens. Burning paper engulfed his senses. Black smoke burned in his eyes. He breathed in his dead lover. Misery. Misery for the rest of eternity.

“Somebody killed my best friend!” he was somewhere between a yell and a sob. “Bastards!” Between fury and agony.

They spent the last 6,000 years toeing the line between best friends and lovers. Dining at the Ritz, feeding ducks, saving each other from mortal peril, you know, as friends do. Crowley would know him in any lifetime. From the weight of his step, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breath (it would skip and stutter when he had thought of something clever). The air around Aziraphale was always heavy, but not in the manner of suffocation. Rather, his aura was a heavy wool blanket. Warm, grounded, homey. The closest thing Crowley ever really had to a home.

Before the apocalypse, Crowley recalled their drunken ramblings. Amidst the whiffs of red wine, he remembered how he smelled. Like earl grey, oak, and bourbon: something his barber suggested. He also always smelled a bit like paper. It made the burning around Crowley all the more unbearable. Anthony J. Crowley, fallen angel and Duke of Hell, reeling over the doing of a foreigner’s god. Certainly not the one he knew, or maybe exactly the one he knew.

He laid in the flames, thinking through his new reality. This was a rare moment of clarity for the distraught demon. Who killed him: heaven or hell? Either reality had some sense to it. Heaven could, and would, excommunicate him for working with a demon. Permanent discorporation, or banishment to hell. Hell would kill him just for the sake of it. Just to say they did. Racking his brain, he realized Hell was unfortunately, his best chance of finding Aziraphale, or at least what became of him. Crowley slowly creeped up from the ashen ground. He was unsure how much time had passed, but it seemed that the flames had slowed. In mere moments, he stared between the two escalators. He chose downward. As the escalator carried him into the dank, dark corridors, his anguish gnawed at him, clawing its war from the inside out. He allows a single tear, and immediately wipes it away. Only the damned cry in hell.

Crowley had stopped fighting for hell decades ago. In the presence of his angel, he saw no reason for it. He saw no reason to fill the world with more violence. The humans were better at that anyway. After his bout in Edinborough, he was promptly tortured for the next several decades. Crowley never saw the face of Satan, but he would give it an ethereal, firm uppercut the second he had the chance. He lost faith in his leadership, in the art of mass scale temptation. He preferred the gentle temptation of his beloved. Of asking him out to breakfast, bringing him wine, planting seeds of heavenly doubt in his mind. He thought often about the Greek myth of the origin of love. They were alone together at the edge of the universe, a body of eight limbs, four eyes, and a flutter of feathers. Whoever Crowley was, it was a product of the angel. Whoever Aziraphale was, it was Crowley’s collateral. And beautifully so, their symbiosis carried on through the centuries. The demon had the fight pulled out of him the way the angel unshelved his books. Carefully and with gentle hands. 

But now that he was gone, this was war. If he had nothing, he would still have Aziraphale, but if he didn’t have his angel, he had nothing. His fury craved battle, to make them hurt the same way he did. His wrath could summon the very same fire that had surrounded him in the hours prior. If his beloved really was gone, then he would destroy the heaven that took him.

Crowley barely managed his way through the crowds of demons slowly but surely trudging their way through the crowded corridors of hell. After passing the rest of the high offices he comes to the door of the one and only Beelzebub. For a moment, he questions if he should even knock, let alone open the door. He wonders if any of this is worth it in the first place. What if his Angel didn't care whatsoever about him? What if he didn’t need saving, or worse, he was already long gone? But in reality, he knew that wasn't the case. He’d be damned, more than he is already, if he let Aziraphale die knowing that he could have prevented it. Crowley gulps and burst open the door of Beelzebub's office. Demons were typically not known for their politeness. Inside, he sees Beelzebub sitting upon their throne, legs crossed fancifully, almost as if they were expecting him. Crowley's stomach turns at this realization. 

“How's it going up there?” Beelzebub asks. Crowley puts on his best front and looks Beelzebub dead in the eyes and lies:

 “Fantastic,” he says. “The Antichrist is mere moments from inciting the Apocalypse.” 

Beelzebub smirks. “Wonderful. Great job.” 

Crowley shudders ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to feel a profound discomfort. He again looks to Beelzebub, “did you capture the angel? Is he here?”

Beelzebub looks confused. “What do you mean capture the angel?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley starts. “The other angel that has worked in my same jurisdiction for six thousand years. Did you capture him?”

Beelzebub purses their lips, seemingly scanning their memory. Alas, still confused. “No… Why would you assume that? Why would we let him in here?” They began to look vaguely suspicious of their colleague.

 Crowley pulled something out of his ass. “I saw that the Bookshop was on fire,” he blurted out. “I could have only imagined that it was demonic intervention.” Beelzebub chuckled. 

“It's not always hellfire,” Crowley stifles a laugh, just enough for Beelzebub to think it's genuine. Beelzebub speaks up once more. “Yeah, I don't know about the angel. We don't have ‘im here.” Crowley takes a moment and a step back. He decides to tell the best lie that he's ever told, aside from the fact that he was not madly, disgustingly in love with a forbidden fruit. 

“I want that slimy bastard gone forever,” Crowley spits. “I want that fussy dumbarse to not be anywhere near God's green Earth.”

“Well, I know that much… What are you suggesting?” 

Crowley laughs disingenuously, but trying desperately to seem genuine. “I think we need to raid heaven.”

Beelzebub looks puzzled. “But why do we need to raid the heavens if we have already conquered the Earth, Crowley?” they said. “Why would we postpone destroying Earth to fight this war first?”

“That’s exactly it… they’ll never see it coming,” Crowley says. “We can start with the archangels: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel… There will be no one left to lead their army in such short order. Then we let the Earth burn, and winning their holy war will be easier than dropping the antichrist at the convent.”

His voice grows raspy. Crowley takes a deep breath. “It'll let them know once and for all that their God means nothing.” Crowley sits down in front of Beelzebub. They seem a bit more intrigued. Crowley describes a plot more ambitious than any of his plans to date: to invade the heavens. To crusade his lover’s workplace by summoning a demonic army, comprised of hundreds of damned souls. He plans to force them through the Gates of Heaven to slaughter any angels in their sight. Beelzebub loved this concept, and was almost surprised Crowley came up with it. But, he did dream up the Spanish Inquisition, after all (or so they thought).

“Honestly, why not?” Beelzebub smirks. “If we're all going to be separated for the rest of time anyway, this would be a fun way to go out. If they want us to fight this war, we ought to do it our way. Hell fights dirty.” As the flies buzzed among their crown, they grinned the way a child would when they had come up with the perfect prank. Except this wasn’t a prank. It was the end of the world. Of Crowley’s, at least.

Beelzebub grimaced. Crowley laughed. “Well, I'll go talk about it with head office, and we'll get it sorted. I want it done by the end of the day today. That sound alright?” Beelzebub nodded in excitement. Crowley seems giddy with anticipation but not in the way that you would imagine. The anxiety pulsed through his veins. He was setting into motion the divine war days earlier than was planned, all for a fussy angel he drank wine with one too many times. But at the same time, he knew this was his reality. Crowley couldn’t pretend he didn’t love him anymore. Not when he could be dead. If heaven wanted a war, they were going to get it, god dammit.

[randomalistic]

MMMMM i just watched corpse bride and frankenweenie back to back . (Corpse bride was better .) their main characters are literally the same guy and they’re and both named victor LMAOO

SPOILERS. BY THE WAY.

In frankenweenie I’m a little disappointed that they did a fakeout death for sparky instead of having the Actually impactful message of “sometimes things are only here for a little bit, and then they’re gone” that THEY WERE SETTING UP BY THE WAY. THEY LITERALLY SAID THAT LINE. But OKAY I GUESS. !!!!!!!☹️ THEY HAD TO GIVE IT A HAPPY DISNEY ENDING !!!! But Yeah Duh it still made me cry because I thought it was gonna be more impactful than it actually was LOL and then at the last minute they’re like SIKE THE DOG IS GONNA LIVE FOREVER. Whatever. it was still cute. But like… missed potential man…. Just let the dog rest he’s literally falling apart the poor thang.

Worst part of the movie /LH they made the dogs kiss at the end. I’m so mad at this children’s movie for being light hearted and happy how could they (but also. What if they made it better. Kids movies can be deep and impactful. You know. Ok I’m done hating on the ending I swear ok haha. ……. )

OK FINEEE but I still enjoyed it, the science teacher Mr. Rzykruski was Actually the best part and I loved him so much. He was SO PASSIONATE about teaching his students, he just had a very Intense way of expressing it. But he is such a good person and a truly great teacher . I’m SO fucking mad at the town for getting him fired. THE TOWN LITERALLY DOES NOT DESERVE HIM. Maybe he’s the one that was only here for a little while and then he was gone …. The part where he spoke to Victor about how his experiments must be made with love and passion before he left . that was honestly the most genuine part of the whole film. I’m so glad they were able to depict that..

But erm yeah the ending was a bunch of weird frankencreatures the other Bitch Ass Kids made and they all fought and it was a little bit of a forced Kids Movie Climax but that’s ok. It’s ok. I swear I enjoyed this movie. I’m complaining because I care about it.

Holy shit corpse bride on the other hand they LET HER FUCKING DIEEEEEEE THEY DID IT RIGHT THEY DID IT THE RIGHT WAYYY OH MY GODDDDD THEY LET EMILY PASS ON AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND IMPACTFUL AND PERFECT. THE BUTTERFLY MOTIF HELLO??? Aham … Anyways.!!

Corpse bride surprised me a lot, I was expecting it to be gloomy the whole time BUT NO THATS ONLY THE LAND OF THE LIVING. THE LAND OF THE DEAD WAS SO FUCKING FUN I LOVE HOW VIBRANT AND SILLY AND GHOULISH IT WAS I LOVED THE SKELETONS I LOVED THE WITCHES IT WAS ALL SO SILLY!!!!!! incredible. Emily looks so ethereal when her gown flies through the wind those shots of her were like genuinely breathtaking. AND THIS WAS MADE 18 YEARS AGO! Ugh this movie is so good.

How could I not mention the music until now what is wrong with me the main melody is so beautiful and ITS GOOD ITS GOOD OK ITS GREAT. GREAT MUSIC

The character designs for everyone in the living realm are Fucking Insane in the best way possible. You just have to watch it okay please trust me.

They stretched out the pastor’s features as much as they could get away with . I don’t think he could get any longer and pointier

Anyways yeah great characters Amazing visuals and colors what the HELL!!!??. ALSO THE SKELEONS. The skeletons are the best skeletons I’ve ever seen maybe. these are Top Tier Goofy Skeletons. If you want something silly and fun and spooky watch this movie NOW!!!!!!!!????

THEY HAD GOOFY SILLY DANCE NUMBER WITH BONE SKELETON MUSIC YOU ARE GOONG TO LOSE YOUR MIND OVER THIS. Maybe The perfect Halloween Movie. (I am 11 days late)

Oh also The main villain was a little weak and I saw the foreshadowing coming from a mile away lmao but That’s Ok I think movies are allowed to have a silly goofy evil villain with 0 motives sometimes 💙 like why did he even show up to the wedding at the start . How was he planning all this. Am I stupid

Anyways they LET HER BE SO AWESOME. IM SO GLAD THEY LET HER BE AWESOME BECAUSE THIS WAS 2005 AND THEY EASILY COULD HAVE MADE HER WEAK BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!!!! I really liked Victoria as well I love how much she didn’t give a fuck about her abusive ass family. Yeah!!!! break out!!! Play the piano!! BE AS IMPROPER AND SCANDALOUS AS YOU CAN!!!! and Victor is a little pathetic at first. but in an endearing way. Awesome movie it’s actually a must watch imo .

Anyways yeah 🥹I enjoyed both movies and I think it’s very cute how frankenweenie was inspired by corpse bride so much . (This movie also had a dead skeleton dog lol) But yeah corpse bride is better Sorry💙 I might also rewatch nightmare before christmush. But closer to christmas .. ehee…

Also don’t even get me started on paranorman I think I maybe already talked about it since I saw it earlier this year but. Holy shitttttt……… please watch that too it’s genuinely fantastic and it doesn’t hold back. It WILL surprise you. and make you cry. I NEED MORE MOVIES THAT WILL SURPRISE ME. GOD PLEASE!!!!! I NEED IT!!!!!!!!

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[bokettochild]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like  Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

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

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

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

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “As in bi-curious?”

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

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

    ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

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

  He’s lying. You can tell.

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

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

  He’s angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

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

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

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

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

  “Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

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

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

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

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

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

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

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

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

  “You’re bossy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

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

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

        ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Thank you.”

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

  “Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

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

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

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

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

  “Last time you said that…”

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

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

  “Who is it?”

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

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

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

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

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

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

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

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

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

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

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yoongi, what-“

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

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

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

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

   Brother?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Why not?”

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

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

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

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

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

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

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

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

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

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

   ||\\

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

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

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

  No. He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m sorry.”

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

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

  “What, now? Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

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

  “H-How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

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

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “My place.”

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

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

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

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

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

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

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

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

  “Not even then.”

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

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

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

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

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

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

  Alright. Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “B-But the protocol-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

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

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

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

  “So you rebelled?”

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

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

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

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

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

  “Because of the devil, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

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

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

  “Then why?”

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

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

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

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

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

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

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

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

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

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

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

  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

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

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Can we go home, please?”

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

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

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

[livingalifeofasimp]

Hello! Can I request yan! Childe x m!reader marriage AU please?

♚ Yandere Childe x M!Reader ♚

I hope you like it ❤️

Warning : This content contains Yandere themes if you are sensitive please don't read. It's purely for entertainment purpose, arts and pictures are not mine only the content is.

🥀Soft hues of sunlight poured through your window. Another day that you are going to pass reading some of your favorite novels that you specially took out from your library. On getting  informed by a house servant that your parents are requesting your presence you closed the novel sighing and  made your way to the main hall. They always call when they want something or pass their decision like some imperial court, you don't remember making any mistakes so you guessed it's fine at least you won't get scolded. As the doors opened atmosphere around the room seemed quite off then regular days as far as you can remember.

🥀"Y/N won't you greet us we met after so many day", ah yes influencing families run just like this "Good evening Father and mother how have you been?".

🥀You father as usual holding that unmovable face while your mother has been somewhat considerate with a smile plastered on her face. You sat infront of them waiting for them to pick whatever dish was placed above the table.

🥀"How have you been Y/N? We miss you", they did? you thought giving her a quick smile. You father lifted cup filled with freshly made tea giving a sweet aroma, taking a sip he signed you to drink yours being trained for table etiquettes you took notice of it and sipped yours. He has been kind today doesn't he?.

🥀"Y/N we have found you a suitable partner" this was something unexpected you slam cup on table "Father I-", "It has been decided  2 weeks for now", your mother answered before you could questions. "This person is pretty good you see, better background than anyone you could pair with", you don't want to deal with this,why did they? Without your permission.

🥀"I don't won't marry just any person you put infront of me", "You do realize you are near by screaming, your older siblings are married too there is nothing like love if you are expecting it, besides they will do good to our family, marriages have been done for benefits since generations", "I and your dad have been married just this, there is no other way son".

🥀They said nothing wrong it has been like this maybe it will pass down like this too, but the least they could do is to let you see them before marriage. "What's their name? I should meet this person before marriage?" Your father stood up which shows he wants to end this conversation "if we could then we certainly will".

🥀Just before one week before marriage you got a extravagant gifts, you opened one of them hoping to find their name. After tearing all the decorations you saw a wedding outfit. It was nothing new for people to send such gifts for their partners your parents must have done that already, since you are never going to be excited for it. Your hands traced the outfit, it's really elegant, beautifully threaded, must be really expensive. Bright white showing purity, you searched for some letters as it's right attached with red beautiful blossomed roses binded as bouquet. Their creativity did impressed you to some content, as you proceeded to read the note written with beautiful handwriting. 

[ It's for you, this has been selected specially for you, I do hope you liked it sweetheart.

                          

                            - your one and only🥀 ] 

🥀This person 'one and only' seems interesting you laughed at what they address themselves for you. But Sweetheart reminded you of your ex, gave you a chill running down your for you still remember him.

🥀How much of a psycho he was, wanting to monopolize you, just so possessive doubting everytime you take your eyes away from him. You still remember how he reacted when you tried to break up with him, destroying all the stuffs he seemed like a maniac trying to control his mind after threatening you severally he resorted to crying, begging for you to not go. You don't know if it was genuine or was just one of his manipulating stunts. You couldn't trust him anymore when he wanted to restraint you from the world. He falled on his knees, hugging you by your waist chanting how you are only his and no one else, making you realize your decision was correct for both of you. But you are happy, now that he is gone everything is fine its not as bad as being holded by him in his suffocating arms and those aggressive demanding kisses.

🥀It was finally the wedding day, everyone was invited, they wished you a happy marriage, you don't even know many of them. These people holding on to their smiling mask hided their true self, thoughts raced in your mind as you stood infront of the mirror admiring the detailed outfit they sent for you. Your mother kissed your forehead handing you bouquet as you holded your father's arms ready to walk down the aisle.

🥀Even walking down the aisle your eyes hold ground, all those who were invited were looking towards you, how are they expecting you to react, there is no running from the beginning, you raised your face to look at the person you are going to marry. There he is, your eyes widened with surprise, shock and anger, you don't know what to feel, cold rushed in your blood freezing you after doing all that with you, what is he doing here? You slowed your pace thinking of running away, your past that you wanted to forget about was infront of you smiling. Could it be revenge? You father dragged you infront of him.

🥀"Childe" he holded your hands "I see you remember my name after all these years I am quite pleased", everyone must be thinking you both are having some lovely conversation. You tried to remove your hands from his "If you tried any move I will have all these people get killed by my men, either way you are going to be mine", your face moved involuntary his guards surrounded everyone.

🥀Childe dusted your outfit slightly "You are looking ethereal, just so wonderful", you couldn't believe your present, past nor your future. Childe put a beautifully designed ring in your finger just after the priest stopped his speech, you wanted to delay it as much as you can even after knowing you can't run away from your fate. Childe squeezed your hand to keep you moving not wasting any time to pull you by your waist in a kiss exploring your mouth while you tried to stop him, this wasn't what you wanted. 

🥀"Are you going to stare at me like with that adorable eyes of yours", your fingers tighten around bouquet " How crazy can you be?", growling as his fingers removed straying strands of hair behind your ear.

🥀"Don't touch me", your feisty voice made him pin your hands on window of the carriage "I wouldn't you are my dear spouse, I won't say that I am not upset for sure", it's the same feeling that you felt years ago there is no difference in his obsession it grew deeper. "Tho you should look forward for our night together", he peaked your lips before withdrawing. He proved his words when he said "No matter where you go I will bring you back, you are mine from the very start".

[usuallyapirate]

A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!" 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

 – Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon. 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land. 

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep. 

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace. 

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar. 

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.” 

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

[sapphicrowena]

through the cold i’ll find my way back to you

15x18 coda, 1.7k. read on ao3

The Empty isn't empty.

There's the entity itself, of course, smiling wickedly with the face of a friend lost long ago.

There's Billie, not dead but dying, her every breath a grimace. Her skin is mottled and horrid, and everything about her looks shabbier and more ragged in the not-light of this place.

And there's Castiel.

Castiel, released from the sickly cold grasp that dragged him here, on his knees in defeat and relief in equal measure. Castiel, an Angel fallen in more ways than one, already feeling the tide of his oft-felt misery washing over the joy in his chest but not letting it sink. Castiel, free of the burden he has been all too glad to carry for the last decade.

The Empty looks at him from a throne, and says with Meg’s voice, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I disagree,” Castiel says, surprised to find he still has a voice. “I think I should’ve done it years ago.”

The relief borders on euphoric. It’s every hunt-gone-sideways-but-still-survived rolled into one, every life saved, every battered and bruised word of prayer heard in the early hours of the morning. It’s a secret held for twelve years and released at the time it would do the most good for the world.

“There’s no way out of this one,” the Empty promises. 

“I know,” Castiel says, and he believes it. He’s not sure he wants a way out. He’s done his part.

“Are you going to be quiet this time?”

This is a difficult question to answer. For the first time, he feels no urge to argue. There is no survival instinct here. He knows he should, based on track record, be looking for a way out, at the very least. But he feels a kind of serenity in this moment, this afterglow of sorts, that distracts the part of him that would pick a fight in any other circumstance. 

He stands. He almost wipes at his knees, out of habit, before remembering that there’s nothing here to dirty them. There’s nothing here at all.

“I think,” he says, “I just might.”

The Empty says nothing, eyes cold and skeptical, and he walks away.

He finds himself at Billie’s side. She has nothing to prop herself up against, so she is on her back, pitiful and ruined, her scythe at her side. Castiel stares at it, and can’t help but wish she had left it behind. A weapon like that could be a real advantage in the fight to come.

“If you’ve come to gloat,” Billie says, pain tracing the lines of her face, “you can save it.”

“In a way,” Castiel says, and he doesn’t have any bitterness or ill will to give her, “I owe you a thank you.”

He should hate her. He should want to sit and watch her draw her last aching breaths. After everything she’s done - to him, to Dean, to the rest of his patchwork little family - she surely deserves what she’s getting. 

But he hears his own voice in his ears, hears himself say I love you and mean it in every possible way, and he can’t. He can’t hate her, because like it or not, she gave him that push. He will never see Dean again, and he can hate her for that, but he will make peace with that, eventually. 

He’ll have enough time here to make peace with a lot of things.

-

The Empty isn’t empty.

There’s Billie’s scythe, unmoved from the place it lay next to her before she died and disappeared. She took a long time to go, but she went, and that’s all she had to leave behind.

There’s the Empty, still using Meg’s face. Still awake. Still asking for some quiet.

And there’s Castiel, without a word past his lips since the soft, “Oh,” that left him when Billie vanished, just walking. He doesn’t have a destination, because there are no destinations here, and he doesn’t know if it counts as a journey without one, but he walks. 

He doesn’t stop. He could be moving in place for all he knows, nothing but void in all directions, but it doesn’t deter him. He walks and walks and walks, footsteps echoing off nothing, and he thinks. There’s not much else to do.

He thinks of home, of earth, and of the battle that might be still waiting to happen or already come and gone. He thinks of Sam and Jack and the world he’s left behind. He thinks of the Impala and how she purrs like a lioness and smiles like a shark.

Mostly, he thinks of Dean, but that’s nothing new. He would think of Dean even if he were dead and disappeared like Billie. He would think of Dean even if he were standing in front of him.

The Empty finds him, occasionally, or he finds it, or they find each other.

“Aren’t you tired?” it asks. From anyone else, those words might be comforting or empathetic.

In truth, Castiel is tired. He’s been tired for years. But he can’t - if he stops, he knows it’ll be for good. And he isn’t ready for that. He can’t let go yet. He’s not sure what it is he’s holding onto, but he knows it’ll be gone forever if he stops.

“No,” he says. 

He keeps walking.

-

The Empty isn’t empty. 

There’s the quiet, boundless and permanent, a heavy blanket that presses in from every angle.

There’s the Empty, who hasn’t paid a visit in a long time, but still lurks at the not-edges of not-space.

And there’s Castiel, no longer walking. No longer thinking. Very close to no longer being anything at all.

-

The Empty isn’t empty.

There’s the quiet, shattered and jagged.

There’s Castiel, awake, and the Empty, furious.

And there’s Jack.

He is tattered and frayed and glowing like a pyre. He calls out, in a voice made of urgency, “Castiel?”

Castiel stands - he doesn’t remember lying down, or sitting up - and Jack’s eyes, burning with white light, find him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they last saw each other, but Jack doesn’t look any different to how Castiel remembers him - apart from, of course, the power that crackles at his fingertips and shines from his pores.

“How are you here?” Castiel asks. He stumbles forward, clumsy and forgetful, toward the sun of a boy before him. “This can’t -”

“We won. I’m here to take you home,” Jack says. His voice sounds like a thousand. Then, softer, as Castiel approaches him, “It’s over. It’s done, Cas, we won.”

The halo of light around Jack doesn’t burn like Castiel thinks it ought to. Jack folds into him, at once ethereal and impossibly human, and Castiel remembers what he’s been missing, all this time on his own.

Over Jack’s shoulder, Castiel sees the Empty, and his blood runs cold.

Jack lets him go and turns to face it, his shoulders square and confident. His jaw sets with a determination he could only have learned from the Winchesters. The kind of determination that says no, you move.

The kind of determination that Castiel fell from Heaven to learn for himself.

“Jack -” he warns. He can’t read the expression on the Empty’s stolen face.

There is a long moment of silence as they size each other up, a cosmic ancient and a boy-shaped god.

Then, the Empty speaks. It says: “You can have him. I want to sleep.”

Jack lays a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel closes his eyes.

-

The bunker library isn’t empty.

There’s one table buried in a mountain of books, another cluttered with bowls and candles and bones, and chairs toppled on their sides.

There’s a small crowd of onlookers, some cowering behind the shelves. Two throwing themselves forward into the action. One going farther than the other, looking like he hasn’t slept in a year.

And there’s Castiel, in love with him all over again.

Dean Winchester comes to a stop a foot away from Castiel. He stands there, his face a swirling, unsure mix of hesitation and relief and astonishment, and doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t speak for so long that Castiel notices the quiet isn’t just him. It’s everywhere. The room holds its breath, and Castiel holds his too, until the novelty of having breath to hold wears off and he can’t do it anymore.

He says, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s face splits into a watery grin. “Hey, Cas,” he says, and crushes him in a hug that pushes all the air out of his lungs.

Castiel’s hands land at Dean’s shoulder blades, snaking up his back to make a home out of rough fabric bunched between his fingers. His eyes close, and Dean holds him tighter, and there is nothing else in the world but this.

Into Castiel’s shoulder, where only he can hear, Dean says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not saying it back.” 

The words sound in Castiel’s ears and in his head. He doesn’t know if the prayer is intentional, but he feels that pull of longing and decides it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, just this.

“Dean, you don’t -”

“No,” Dean says, and he pulls back far enough that Castiel can look him in the eye. “I should have said it back. I should have said it - I should’ve said something a damn long time ago.”

There are hands on Castiel’s face. They’re calloused and hard from a life lived too unfairly, but they’re gentle as they hold him. Tender to match the eyes Castiel knows so well.

“You said - you said it was something you knew you couldn’t have,” Dean whispers. “But, Cas, you’ve had me. You’ve always had me. Ever since - god, who cares since when? You have me. I have been yours.”

The bunker library isn’t empty, but when Dean kisses him, slow and soft and worshipful, it may as well be.

“I thought -” Castiel says, when they part. “I thought you didn’t - I thought you couldn’t -”

Dean smiles, bashful and sweet, and Castiel falls and falls and falls.

“You were never the brains of the operation, Cas,” he says. “We both know Sammy’s the smart one.”

Dean kisses him again, and again, and again, and oh, how wrong Castiel was. There is a certain amount of happiness in saying it, in just being, but it is nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the having.

-

Dean Winchester’s bedroom isn’t empty.

There’s the pile of clothes on the floor, peeled reverently from their owners layer by painstaking layer, a phone charging in the corner, and the gun he keeps under a pillow.

There’s Dean himself, of course, sleeping soundly for the first time in years, maybe.

And there’s Castiel.

[vivifrage]

(This one is a Siriks Lives He Just Got Captured AU because @shadowtriad endeared me to him and now this catboy lives rent-free in my brain. I hope I got him right.)

4: Taken Hostage

The days stretched on, indiscriminate, in the cell.

They were interrupted sometimes, but he couldn’t say when in the day it was, or whether it was in the same day, another day after, a week after, what. The Exo had tried to bring a clock, show him the time once or twice at least, but the clock had been whisked away shortly after she left, and Earth timekeeping without the sun to double-check was a headache on top of his current, overarching, already massive headache.

How Eramis had withstood decades of this, he didn’t know. Whether she had recognized all the years passing, how much she missed, until she stepped outside into a changed world, he didn’t want to think about.

In comparison, he’d barely been in here (he knew that, at least), and he was already considering sneaking another one of the snacks the Exo had left him. The first had been good, but they’d been brought as some sort of… pity offering by the being who by all rights should have killed him, instead humiliating and dishonoring him like this. But his stomach was starting to ache, and he didn’t know when food would come next.

Maybe he would simply bite the next person to enter the cell.

The Exo was a relatively frequent visitor, so calm even when he growled and bared his teeth. (She’d laughed at that, once. Just a short burble of a noise. It was the first time he bit her, teeth scraping against her armored forearm. He hadn’t been able to open his left front eye for a while after she punched him for it.) She was likely, but biting her wasn’t even worth the revenge for capturing him.

Other Lightbearers stopped by sometimes. Usually they just hovered around the edges while someone else - staff, interrogators, what have you - worked, and put on their most threatening face. If he didn’t know what they were, he would have laughed at the little dolls trying to look scary. As it was, he kept his face hidden behind an arm when he snarled back.

Then, perhaps worst of all, was the House of Light. Usually one of their Splicers, gauntlet snap-snap-snapping over their arms, asking question after question. Or, at times, a Captain, much more blunt and to the point. Always accompanied by their Scribe. She rarely spoke, asking whoever she was with to clarify something or another, and listening to just that had made it plenty clear that she was young, hardly finished growing. But she scribbled note after note, hadn’t backed down at all after the first time he lunged for her, and when he’d looked her in the eyes, something uncomfortable settled in his stomach. He couldn’t place it, but it left him on edge until the Exo visited again.

...That would work. Bring the House’s meager nobility down a bit. Busy the Sacred Splicer, so-called Kell of Light, with worrying over his baby rather than getting in anyone’s way.

Said Kell hadn’t even bothered visiting his prisoner in person. Maybe he did have a more sadistic side, and was waiting for him to be thoroughly infuriated and ashamed with himself before coming in to dock him.

He didn’t know how much longer he sat there, seated on a bed sized for Humans, the couple of scruffy blankets he had piled in a poor excuse for a nest at his feet. He toyed with one of the snacks, listening to the wrapper crinkle, and ignored the hunger building in his gut.

But eventually, the door clicked and his head snapped up, fixated on it. He shoved the snack back into its hiding spot, crossing his hands over his lap. Watching, waiting, to see who came in the door this time.

It opened a crack, enough for him to hear Eliksni voices. So the House of Light again. Bringing question after question, no doubt, or maybe some new trick to dig into his memories and see what he knew. He growled, low in his throat.

He was definitely biting the Scribe. At this point, just for the grim glee of seeing her and whoever she came with squeal.

It opened more, just enough to admit, yep, the Scribe, as bundled up as she always was, like she’d spent so much time among Humans and their ilk that she was trying to hide what she was. Poorly, considering her secondary arms and the glow of her eyes, but still.

“It’s fine. It’s just to talk-” She turned to him and dipped her head. “Hello, Siriks- We’ll see how things go.”

A much deeper voice rumbled behind her, and a new hand replaced hers on the door, pushing it wide open. In the doorway stood a taller Eliksni wearing a purple mask, glowing lines tracing around his form. He kept two hands on the Scribe’s shoulders, kneading away. “If you need me for anything, I am right here.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll see you.” The Scribe gently pried his hands off her, turning so her back was to him, and stepped into the room. Nervous confidence filled her short form, keeping her head high and chest puffed but her limbs close to her chest, clutching her tablet like a weapon.

With a hand wielding a Splicer’s gauntlet, the other Eliksni tapped under his eyes, shooting Siriks a sharp glare.

The door closed, leaving him alone with the Scribe and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Shit. Shit. Fuck him.

That was her father, wasn’t it? Standing right outside the door, ready to rush in if anything went awry.

And he knew, he had been told, the Scribe of House Light’s father was its Kell.

Oh, he was fucked every which way.

If he did so much as make her shout a little too loud, sound a little too angry or afraid, he was dead. No chance to appeal, no chance to argue that he still knew things they didn’t (not that he would give them up, but it would buy him time to try and escape), no chance to even apologize for upsetting her. The Kell didn’t have to answer to any authority save perhaps the Vanguard, and he could lie to them. Whatever he wanted to justify killing him on the spot.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” The Scribe startled him, suddenly just out of arm’s reach. Close enough to be caught if he lunged, but her father was right there. She didn’t even seem to care, instead picking around at her thick, woolly cowl. “I am Eido. I’m sure you gathered that I am the Scribe of the House of Light.”

Perhaps it was for the best she already knew his name. It was like someone had tied a knot in his throat, and the only thing that could escape would be a growl.

She sighed; she wasn't even looking at him any more, too busy fiddling with the tie keeping her cowl and hood in shape. "I hope you don't mind if I take this off. It's warm, but if I didn't know better I'd swear someone wove prickles into it."

She met his eye, and said, deadpan, "To be honest, if you do have an opinion on it, that's your problem, not mine."

He managed to chuff. Oh, the Scribe thought she had some backbone to her, didn't she? Speaking like that to a Devils Baron. No wonder. She looked like she might be getting a Captain's Ether rations, when by all rights, at her age she would just be getting promoted to a Vandal. Provided she had the skill and tenacity to back up that overinflated ego.

"Anyways," she said, finally undoing the tie. The cowl slackened, the hood slipping back enough to reveal a lock of coarse, dark brown hair. She continued to unwind the length of fabric, folding it over her arm as she worked. "I do not plan to interrogate you as the others did. I'm here in my duty as House Scribe, not a notetaker. Which means understanding all involved points of view. Yours included."

The fabric fell away, and she stared back at him, barefaced. "If you will work with me, that is."

He couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.

There was no mistaking it. The eyes alone were easy enough to dismiss; a greyish blue was nothing spectacular. But the shape of her brow, her nose, jawline, mandibles, it all flowed together into a face he swore he saw in old pictures. The color of her skin and shell were almost an exact match, too. And her hair, wrangled into a thick braid - he could almost feel the coarse, ridiculously voluminous texture under his hands, hear ghosts of conversations marked with banter and dramatic stories. Not to mention her stature, the sound of her voice - now that he saw, it all added up.

He had seen one of her siblings, when he'd been able to search the wreckage. Trapped under dented metal, lower body crushed.

Late one night, decades later, Eramis had whispered to him about the other two, the ones they had never found and who must have died long ago. Including a little girl who looked just like her, and had a patch of thick, dark hair, trying to be fluffy even while egg-damp.

And she was standing right there, alive and well. Still the spitting image of her mother.

He had grieved for her and her siblings. He knew all too well the ways of war, he knew they were at risk. But that didn't change how his heart had sung seeing the eggs in their nest on the Sepiks-Fel. It didn't change how he had cradled them while he sat in the dark, shining a light through their shells to illuminate the dark, growing forms within. It didn't change how he had cheered them on when they wriggled and kicked while he watched, and traced a knuckle along the eggshell to see when they started responding. One had reached out once, when he did that. Had it been her? Was she the one who had pawed at the inside of her shell with a scrawny, underdeveloped hand, her egg the only thing between her and his palm cupped around where she patted?

Maybe it was. It was a one in three chance, after all, that it was her. Two in three that it had been one of her siblings, killed in the crash.

And she stared at him, unknowing. Stepped closer, close enough he could catch her scent and erase any lingering doubts in his mind.

It was her.

He was supposed to be her father.

He choked back a raging storm of conflicting feelings. Deep, white-hot rage that she had been taken from him, that he had gone all these years with her, her siblings, and her mother ripped away all at once. She should have grown up cradled in his arms, raised to be a proud Devil. He should have sung her to sleep, taught her everything he knew, taken her onto his crew.

But at the same time, she was alive and well. Cared for, educated, given such a notable rank. If she had ever suffered for anything, he didn't see any sign of it. And, all right, he doubted Misraaks would have taught her any sort of unpleasant biting tricks.

She was still the Scribe of House Light. She had still stood there, watched, and taken her notes through interrogation after interrogation.

But now she stood within arms reach, painfully familiar, the father who raised her waiting just outside while the father-who-could-have-been, the father-who-should-have-been, sat before her, imprisoned.

He swallowed down the keen rising in his throat. He couldn't even tell her.

[things-happens]

In Memory

Levi Ackerman x gn! Reader

Armin Arlert x gn! Reader

Erwin Smith x gn! Reader

Mikasa Ackerman x gn! Reader

hola 😎 i have a request for ya! which i do hope you like cause I literally spent hALF aN hoUR thinking of how it should go... anyWAYS, i’m gonna request it rn cause why not? .. anyways—maybe a hc for Levi, Armin, Erwin, Mikasa, and Pieck; their S/O’s favorite memories with them are playing in their mind. They wished it happened again. people thought they (they = pieck, levi, armin - yk)—people thought they went crazy. out of their mind insane. They do often smile, when they hear their S/O’s laugh. They cry when they hear their S/O’s screams. They couldn’t save them in time. they were now dead. // now do keep in mind, that this all happened weeks after their S/O’s death. they felt so useless at the fact that they couldn’t save them in time. the one they loved the most...

Note: I DELETED THIS AND HAD TO MADE THE POST so... please like and share thank you. Also I'm not caught up on season 4 but I know what has happened so I don't know Pieck's personality, I didn't want to get her wrong.

Prompt List

Mastlister

Summary: their s/o passed, they blame themselves and other and sadly cannot cope.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Feels and Fluff Words: a lot just a lot

Levi Ackerman (Sadderdaze)

Somethings never change for Levi losing the ones he loves left and right but why did he think that would change with y/n.

During the Battle of Shiganshina, Y/n was by Levi’s side the whole time.

They always was anyways, the lone survivor of Levi’s Squad after the 57th Expansion. Years ago, they vowed the loyalty for him then again 3 years later, till death did them part.

They both lead the group of soldiers to eliminate the Beast Titan.

As the Beast began to throw rocks everyone took covered in an abandoned town, after the first-round y/n and Levi resurfaced on the roofs.

They both noticed the beast was readying for another throw, yelling for the other to go bad into cover.

“GO BACK!” Y/N yelled into their cupped hands; they still couldn’t hear them.

Levi started to run to help them, only to be held back, y/n telling him there isn’t enough time.

Levi protested only for Y/n starting to push him back down to between the houses.

Suddenly, Y/n gave him a hard push on his back making him lad down on the ground. Looking back up to his love, their leg of in a now, missing part of the roof.

Levi quickly shot back up to help them out, grabbing their hands pulling as hard as he could.

“Levi… LEVI! Please take cover, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving you behind… not again.”

Levi had left Y/n in charge of his squad as he joined Erwin in the 57th Expansion. Nearly dying because of the Female Titan and protecting Eren.

Y/n pulled their arm away from him, giving him one final hard push in the chest right before the rock came pass them.

“I love you” they whispered.

As Levi flew back to the ground, he held eye contact with them all of his memories going through his head, knowing that this was the last time he would see of them, forever.

As for y/n, all their memories flew through them.

Late nights with Hanjie, mornings drinking tea with Erwin and Levi.

Levi… the night of their wedding, cake, slow dancing together, then stargazing. Oh, what they’d give to do that one more time with him.

Then they were gone.

Days later, everyone was concerned about the Captain. They could hear his cries and sobs when they’d pass his room. If you’d knocked, his cries would stop, and he’d stay silent till he watched your feet leave.

Every time Hanjie would open his door to bring breakfast or dinner, they could see the hopefulness in his eyes only for them to fall. Not like he ate till he was starving and knew he had too.

Years later, as Levi slept at night, he could still hear the whisper and cries of his love. That’s all he could hear ever, yet now he hid it well.

The nights he couldn’t sleep he’d walk through the halls of the fallen soldiers. In the middle of all the paintings, was Erwin. A gold frame shining in the moon light. Next to him was y/n.

They also had a golden frame and at the top were their favorite floor in their favorite color. Whomever painted it, Levi thought they did an amazing job.

The captured the brightness of their eyes, their gloss on their hair and the perfection on their hands.

Levi sat on his knees, lightly placing his hand on theirs. Wishing he could feel them just one more time.

BONUS:

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies…” Zeke sighed.

Levi looked down thinking about y/n for the first time since the battle. “I was popular enough…”

Armin Arlert (When Will I See You Again)

Most people admired Y/n relationship with Armin, never put a title on side thing but the two and others knew they loved each other.

And when y/n died… well it was hard on everyone.

Since Armin inherited the Colossal Titian he saw and heard y/n die with his own eyes or really with Bertholdt eyes.

They stood by Armin till the very end or what they thought was the end.

The two stood in front of the giant titan, directing him. The plan… they knew they were going to die but it was with Armin and that’s all y/n would ever want.

Bertholdt let out the burning steam, burning them alive. y/n’s eyes looked at Armin, they screamed and cried till nothing… black.

Armin on the other head was giving the Titan Serum, eating Bertholdt and becoming the monsters he hated.

From the second he woke from the shift, all he could thing of was Y/n.

Where are they?

Are they okay?

Then and dare he say naturally, the memories caved in.

Seeing through his predecessor’s eyes, he remembered his love burn to death. Hearing their caries and he saw them always looking at him.

He cried and blamed himself for their death, y/n thought they were dying together but Eren couldn’t let him live in peace.

“they died thinking they were with me.” He whispered.

He always tired to keep his resentment in around Eren and Mikasa, but everyone could here him scream in pain in the forest next to the HQ.

He used Bertholdt’s memories to see them together all the time, Sasha and Mikasa would become worried he wasn’t grieving well but soon like screams every night stop.

Instead, it was quite crying at night, which wasn’t any better for anyone.

Then they left to find the Sea, one thing that could make Armin come to peace with himself.

Reaching the ocean everyone would play and have fun their but looking down in the water, Armin could’ve sworn he saw his love looking back at him but alas he lost the sight as fast as he saw it.

He knew Y/n would and still is by his side everyday till death brought them back to each other.

Erwin Smith (My Kind of Woman)

Everyone knew Erwin as a very stoic man, a calm gentle giant but with a heart and will of Iron.

And that was true, but that was after someone not one would talk about.

Their name is Y/n, Erwin Smith’s great love.

In 845, the Survey Corps returned from an expiation, but most do not know what happened.

“Four abnormals on the right wing!” some one shouted

Erwin looked at y/n who was smiling but still looking out for themselves and others. They looked over at Erwin and smiled even wilder.

Ever since training, Y/n saw bright side of things. It was their idea to recruit the Underground rebels.

In all most a flash of lighting, rain pored down soldiers dying all around.

10 abnormals flailing around, killing and eating people.

Erwin stared behind him, watching his comrades die under his orders. Then he locked eyes with y/n as they jumped off their horse as a Titan waved its arm at her.

“Erwin!”

Y/n yelled hoping he would turn and help them, and he did, yet despite the connection they had…

It was too late, they were harshly picked and swished, screams reaching everyone’s ears. Held above the Titan’s mouth their blood poured into then as the life quickly left their eyes they were dropped into its mouth.

If it wasn’t for Levi, Erwin would’ve been died too.

Ever second since then he blamed himself, knowing if he was just a little faster.

He paid someone to make a painting of her for his office, they were his right-hand person, but others knew it was more than that.

He would cry as quite as he could for years till it was small smiles or few tears while in his office or drinking tea with Levi or Hanji.

They both learned not to question it as it was a normal thing for the man after five years.

The new recruits would ask about the painting of a random person in his office, he would say someone special.

Yet it’s been years he would still become choked up that night.

Mikasa Ackerman (i wanna be your girlfriend)

Mikasa and Y/n met in training, two people how just sat not needing to say anything to enjoy each other’s company.

Eating dinner, they’d just sit and watch everyone else bicker and talk, nothing needed to be said. Despite being Sasha’s sibling, the older one seem to get all the personality then again there was nothing wrong with the way they were.

Although being close to death of a many of times, they lived and slightly loved Mikasa and watched her grow into a beautiful women she was.

Over the years, y/n become more vocal not wanting to miss out on the moments they had left with everyone. They and Jean would bicker and laugh about dumb things, Connie and they would just sitting and reminisce on old times.

Then Sasha met Nicolo and well y/n had never more vocal about anything before.

“Oooooh the cook, he’s perfect for you.”

y/n would tease Sasha along with Jean and Connie, although Nicolo didn’t seem to mind, Sasha would turn redder than a beet!

Then the war came, Y/n didn’t leave Mikasa side unless it was to save their ether extremely brave or stupid sister.

As y/n and Mikasa run to Eren’s ad after killing the War Hammer Titan, Mikasa yells at Eren.

Y/n watches the two argue, as the War Hammer Titan stands tall and definitely not dead.

Y/n watches as it starts to shoot a crystal goop at them, Y/n wipps around slamming themselves into Mikasa, holding onto her and they both flay away from the now hardened crystal.

“thank you, y/n.”

Y/n only nodded, looking back at the crystal. Again, they themselves in danger for Mikasa but they knew if it came down to it, they would die for their family.

After the battle, everyone was on the air ship, Mikasa had left y/n with Jean, Connie and Sasha. They talked happy to see each other alive.

“You guys are really special to me.”

Next thing anyone knew, both Jean and Y/n heard rumbling from the entrance. Turning around they saw a little girl with a rifle.

y/n quickly realized she was aiming for everyone of the ship, mainly their sister. Running in front of the fire, trying to do the same thing they once saw Hanjie do years ago still the girl shot.

The bullet went straight threw y/n’s stomach; push through the pain they grabbed the gun from the girl. They butted it into the little girl’s head, knocking her out.

The adrenaline wore off, y/n put their hand on their stomach. Their hand covered in blood, they turned around to see their sister on the floor surrounded by their friends.

“Guys…” they dropped the rifle on the floor.

The word came out their mouth, everyone with tears in their eyes slowly turned to look at them.

Jean watched as the blood dripped from their suit on to the light brown flooring.

Y/n began to walk to them, waddling side to side.

Mikasa entered the room watching Y/n fall over into what was now a pool of blood. She quickly ran over, flipping them over sobbing.

Jean quickly applied pressure into the wound, but it was too late. Y/n looked up at Mikasa, their bloodied hand lightly touching her face.

Mikasa sat head on her knees, in between both Blouse graves. She could still here the raspy breaths, the yells of Jean telling them to stay awake and the laugh Eren let out seeing the dead bodies.

She’d cry at nights realizing she loved them more than a friend, she felt like a piece of her was now gone.

During dinners Mikasa would push her food around till she couldn’t sit and not laugh or sob. Armin had become worried of her, but he knew she just needed time.

[aka-indulgence]

So. This was a.. detailed dream I had a week or more ago? the one I referenced in an ask... and I feel like writing out that scene because hoo... so many thoughts

--------

It was dark.

Night had fallen. It was late, most people have gone back into their humble homes and gone to sleep.

That wasn’t the case with the castle. Guards stood... well, guarded near the front gates, and near all other entrances on the ground. Not to mention, the ones making regular rounds inside the castle itself. All to keep the royals safe from anyone who wanted to get in for one reason or another. Theft, murder, sabotage....

...kidnapping...

Anyone would have a hard time just attempting to get in.

...

A raven watches from the distance, tilting its head this way and that, surveying the castle.

It flies, with its feathers as black as the night sky, no one sees it. And who would take another glance at a bird flying around?

It perches on the railing of a balcony on the second floor of the castle, looking down at the guards that stood vigilant at their stations. Inside, there was nary a soul passing by.

The raven hops down from its rest- suddenly becoming enveloped in shadows and darkness. Its form warps, and where the raven was now stood a tall imposing figure as the shadow’s creep away from him.

A grin would be first to come to attention if anyone was there to witness it. A cloak covered most of his body, apart from his hands and face, where you could see that this man was a skeleton. His hands weren’t made of flesh but instead finger-like phalanges, with “palm” made entirely of bone that resembled a human’s, with tendon-like shapes connecting the fingers to the base of the hand. His head was not a head as you knew it, but instead a skull. It wasn’t shaped in how you’d expect a skull to be either, more rounded with less edges.

But if you thought that’d make him look less scary, think again. His sockets were empty, empty of emotion. The grin he wore was nothing short of uncanny, as he approached the doors to the inside of the castle.

The door shuts with a quiet “clack” and he looks around. When he doesn’t see any guards he runs quietly from one hall to the other.

He’s silent, his footsteps not making so much as a whisper, a thud, against the floor.

Every time a guard or more comes by he slides into the corners and walls, hidden in the shadow, covered by the darkness. He smiles to himself. He could kill these guards if he wanted to, but that’d be such a mess... when others find the body, more would come, and that would make his little trip so much more difficult than it needs to be.

He bounds across the carpeted floors, where he didn’t have to be so careful about the sounds he’s making. Sliding by hallways like the wind, taking detours into various rooms whenever he needed to; a clear map of the castle in his head, heading towards his destination.

were there always so many guards walking the halls? Sans, the skeleton in black, thought to himself as he sweeps to the right, near a support. then again... i never had to worry about being spotted by them before.

Ah yes... old memories of when he still lived in this place. Even after all these years, he still remembers where everything is, just like he remembers all the little scars that litter his phalanges.

And it’s come especially useful now... as he ascends a flight of stairs, passing by unsuspecting men who were supposed to be protecting something... someone very important... he finally spots a familiar wooden door.

He doesn’t waste time, only making quick looks here and there before he darts to it from the landing, opening the door and quickly making his way inside.

He would’ve closed the door immediately if he didn’t also the one he’s been after for so long now.

The light of the torches outside, coming in through the crack of the door falls almost perfectly on your face, highlighting it. You had your hands under your cheek, your eyes shut, a small smile on your face. You seemed to be in such a peaceful sleep... your eyelids fluttered a little and your brows knitted from the sudden light of the outside.

Sans slowly, brought his hand back to find the door and quietly pushed it close, unwilling to glance away from the fair maiden his eyesockets had fallen on.

“oh... (y/n)...” He sighed lovingly, his grin turning just a little bit warmer, making his way towards your bed; his cloak brushing the floor.

He bends his knees so his chest was to your bedside- to take a closer look at you.

it’s been so long since i’ve seen you, love... He reaches out to touch your face, but thought better of it, his phalanges flinching. He might wake you up with contact... he didn’t want to alarm you.

Instead, he brought his hands down to the thick blankets that covered you. Of course, you were still so... fragile. Unlike him. You couldn’t stand the cold... not as much as him.

His turned his head, seeing how the blankets were draped over your body, he could see just a little bit of how you were shaped. His eyesockets trailed up, and settled on your hair. They reflected a bit of the moonlight that was quietly glowing through the windows. It looked somewhat shiny... like silk.

He looked down to your face. The tips of his phalanges sank a little into the bedcovers, seeing just how soft your skin looked. It’s always looked soft to him, but now? Now it looked almost ethereal under the pale light. Your brows had relaxed and with the little, innocent smile on your face... oh, it’s like he was falling in love all over again. His grin widens dreamily, and his sockets go down to your hands. They were under your head, but one had moved to the pillow, giving him a look. They looked so soft too... so soft and delicate compared to his hands of bone. So small too... he wanted to brush the tips of his fingers against the back of your hand, he wanted to kiss your knuckles, he wanted to-

...

His grin falls.

He’s... always wanted to hold your hands.

Back when he was still a proper member of this castle... when he was still one of the king’s mages, often times advising him in anything magic related. Whenever he thought of the perfect partner to spend the rest of his life with, it had always been you. He wasn’t really sure what started it. Maybe it was seeing you walk around the mezzanine so often as he was discussing with the other mages around the table below. Maybe it’s because of how sweet your smile looked. Maybe it was the way you were always so friendly to everyone, including the servants. He’s not sure. He’s always found himself staring at you whenever he saw you. Watching how your dress flows around you, the little movements your hands made when you were talking, listening to the sound of your laugh. He’s only talked to you once or twice, and he’s sure you’d forget about him...

There were plans. When the mages were looking to be betrothed, some had already known how taken he was with you (though they didn’t know to what extent). The lord had seemed interested too, as having such a powerful magic-user in the main bloodline would be ideal.

And... and then...

“YOU AREN’T WORTHY OF HER!” A voice booms through his skull, echoing from the past.

He found out how to use dark magic, and found himself to be quite skilled in it. He always thought light magic was fleeting... they had this way of slipping away from him whenever he used it. It never felt... powerful enough. But when he used dark magic... it was exhilarating. He’s never felt so much before. He knew it was taboo... he knew it was feared... but what is fear but something people don’t understand?

He saw potential in something everyone has always had an aversion to. Dark magic is dangerous if it’s let out of hand, if the user doesn’t know what to do with it. But he was learning. It came to him easier than it did with light magic. He was trying to use it to the benefit of everyone. And how did they repay him?

“Sans of Snowdin! Is it true you have been dabbling in the arts of dark magic?”

“y... yes... but! i swear to you brother! i only have the kingdom’s best interest in soul! i-i-”

“SILENCE mage! how can you say such a thing when you have been using such vile magic?””

“i... i’ve learnt how to use it, to control it! dark magic has aspects light magic doesn’t h-have, i could use it for good! i wasn’t trying to do anything treasonous!”

“That would sound honorable if we could believe you, Sans. Dark magic cannot be good. It’s in its nature. Normally we would try to purify the being corrupted by it but... you knew what it is, Sans. It is so sad to see the king’s finest mage turn out like this in the end.”

“n... no! you can’t... you can’t exi-!”

“Sans.” The lord stood. “I hereby exile you. Think of it as mercy, you could have been executed.”

The only thing on his mind was you... you were going to be his, he was so so patient... he waited for his bride, he was going to be happy with you, please...

“And to think I thought you worthy to marry my darling (Y/n)...”

“no... no!!”

They denied him your hand. They denied him you. He wasn’t trying to turn against them... he was loyal to the king..! And they cast him aside for using forbidden magic...

Your gentle hands... your warm embrace... your sweet smile...

Everything he was denied.

Tendrils of shadow danced across the ground as Sans bared his teeth to those who betrayed him. People he once called brothers... all turning against him when they found out he used dark magic in his lonesome.

“they could never keep me away from you, love...” He murmured, as he stood to his full height, and reached towards you. A hand took the blanket from his side and brought it under you while the other cupped you from the other side, picking you up, cradling you. He made sure the blanket was tucked around you properly, so you wouldn’t be cold.

“my sweet beloved (y/n)...” His hands shook, as he finally allowed himself to brush your hair away from your face, shivering as he felt your skin under his fingers. “you’ve always belonged to me. always... and i’ll love you with all of me. you’ll be safe with me, love...”

It’s apparent Sans got lost in the way your body settled in his arms, the sleepy sounds you made as you got comfortable. Turning your face to the warmth, cheek against his cloak, one hand gripping onto the cloth.

Because he didn’t notice the approaching footsteps, jolting when he heard the sound of a knock.

“My lady....” came the voice of your maid. “Is there something the matter? I hear voices in your room.”

Sans didn’t know what to expect- but in hindsight he should’ve guessed the maid would open the door without your answer. You’ve always been much more open with the workers in the castle, openly casual and making friends with all of them; though he didn’t know you saw your maid as more of your caretaker, and told her to come in your room if she thought something was wrong.

The door creaked open and light flooded the room, before settling on Sans. She made a gasp and Sans could see the color drain from her face when she saw the monstrous figure cradling you in its arms.

She saw him grin, not saying a word. Nor did she, as the next thing she did was to turn around and all but scream for the guards.

Many came running- but they were too late. When they came back, with the door still ajar, no one was inside. Not a trace of the monster or the lady was left, except for the way the bedsheets were messier than usual and that it lacked blankets. All was almost too quiet, apart from the almost silent wind blowing in through the now open window, the curtains lightly waving in it.

[smortbokuto]

Guilt.

warnings: my shit writing, fluff?? angst to the fucking bones, major character death, mentions of death, implied cheating.

pairings: ushijima x oikawa, iwaizumi x oikawa.

a/n: enjoy my trash <3

summary: realizations always hits in the end yet hits hard. Oikawa regrets his actions and will keep regretting for his whole life..

word count: 3.6k

Sequel

❛19th January, 2023.❜

Key rattled in the keyhole as he turned them open, the voice a bit to loud for the mood. creaking the door open of his once shared apartment, with him. putting down the umbrella, which had frozen dews decorating its covers, he raided the area with tired eyes.

The windows, dusty and tainted, allowing slight light to bleed into the room, the dusty floor, marked with different stains, being illuminated. the couches covered with a pale cloth, preventing them from getting dirty. the shelf in the other corner were properly visible with spider webs all over. the rug, that was once sparkling clean now looked like had hardened mud and slit all over.

taking off his overcoat and hooking it over the rusty hooks embedded over the wall with torn off wallpapers just adjacent to the entry. nostalgia had hit him like a boulder falling over something much smaller and frail, completely crushing him as he saw all the unevenly hanging frames with them. smiling. happy.

why, why? why. why?! why??

padding into the room he scrunched his nose in frustration at the creaking sound of the wooden flooring. god, he was so used to the marble ones now. this was so annoying. so weird.

why was he even here? ah, in a week new residents will being coming here to start a new life. just like how they both had started 6 years ago...

'hope they don't end up like me' he made a mental note to wish the new family his best wishes for their journey they were going to go on.

sighing he strode towards the shelf. the lights flickered for a tad bit longer than they were supposed to. smoothly he started to pick up all the frames, empty, with photos (memories), or broken, and tossed them into the box he had brought along. what of he left them here? will the new family know about his sins of the past? he doesn't know.

moving further inside he kept picking up all the small items of misery (memories) and tossing them into the box. he wished them to burn to ashes. Oikawa just couldn't stand the pictures, the letters, the small items, gifts, souvenirs he had received by Iwaizumi in the past. with a white face he kept collecting all the stuff from room to room in a way to wipe away the remnants of the life they both had created.

cursing mentally as he stood in front of the last room, bedroom. a place where they shared everything, emotions, bodies, love, everything. entering the room he took a deep breath, eyes tight shut as he felt a suffocating gust hit his face. his breath hitched in his throat as he saw an all too familiar room. he could see his 'wasted' years in this room, doing everything and anything.

he worked upon collecting all the stuff he wanted to get rid of. he wanted to get rid of his existence. he was so close to it. he could start a new life. a free one. just a bit of fuel and a spark of flame.

after what felt like ages he felt content with the filled boxes with all the soon to be burned memories.

free? free. free!

a satisfied breath left his lungs, turning into a hazy white puff as it mixed into the chilly atmosphere of the room. the sun had already gone down with the rise of a crescent moon hanging in the sky with gloomy grey clouds. an indication to a snowy day that comes along.

snow?

his heart pang in the traps of his ribs at the thought.

┊a smiled crept on the shorter male's face, face flushed in soft hues of pink as he scrambled out from the warmth of the bed, dragging his feet towards the glass window that were draped with soft white silk curtains.

"Toru, wake up." he had called out to the sleeping male, curled up in the bed who just groaned at the call of his name.

"what is it?" voice raspy, he drawled out.

"it snowed! its so pretty outside." he chided, his morning voice heavy yet a hint of excitement laced with it. ┊

snow. his favorite time of the season. Iwaizumi's happy season.

clicking his tongue, that had the room echo with the voice he tried to forget the small memory he reminisced just now. distracting himself he looked around the room for the last time.

'nothing should be left behind..'

nodding to himself he stood up from the bed edge he had been sitting, leaving the room. once and for all.

free.

free?

his leg hit the nightside stand, the dusty lamp disbalancing and falling down. ignoring he broken pieces he picked up the head of the lamp to keep it back only for his eyes to get stuck at the small opening of the drawer.

nope.

opening the drawer slowly his eyes widened at the slightly stained hardcover diary comfortably lying caged in there.

he knows. he knows too well to not reach for it. to not open it. to not trace the pages with the tips of his fingers. to not read the date entry.

yet, he did it.

❝7th December, 2018.

today it snowed. it looked so ethereal outside. today is special for me. its the first time it snowed while my living with Toru. I wish to see more days like these with him.

-Hajime.❞

The first entry of the page.

"tsk, what's the point to write it down?" the brunette vocalized his thoughts. the thought of writing something so trivial sounded so stupid. why would he even to take the pain to write it all?

and so he flipped to the next page.

smoothing out the page he hummed as he felt Iwaizumi's clear writing under the cold touch of his fingers. so selfish.

he read all the pages. all the dates. all the events.

their first slow dance together in the dim living room on a summer evening, their first time on a rainy night, their first fight on a mid autumn season and how Hajime wished to fix it as soon as possible. everything was there in it.

it was always about them. never him alone. oikawa was always a spotlight.

humming in satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, he will be free. glad at the fact that iwaizumi didn't hold a grudge against him in any of these small snippets of life jotted down neatly in a captive of pale pages and hard covers.

pages fluttered as he flipped to another page. his brows furrowing as he found the page blank.

flip. then another and another and another. all of them were blank. pale and empty. his heart clenched and stung at the empty pages. it felt like a void of emotions. not his emotions but his long ago lovers'.

he flipped again, pupils dilating slightly as he saw a new date entry. but his stomach churned as he read the date.

❛11th September, 2020.❜

A whole year? from writing everyday, why was there a pause of a whole year? he flipped back to the previous empty pages. the pages weren't torn then why a year gap?

'unusual..'

but he shook away the feeling and flipped back to the new entry that he was yet to read.

❝I miss him... he has been working so much. i am happy that he is doing something he loves but its been long since we had done anything like we used to do...❞

a rush of guilt travelled through the span of his veins. he had fell out of love weeks before this new entry. but- did Iwaizumi knew about this fact?

┊8th July, 2020,

"will you tell him about us?" a gruff voice spoke, lying on the same comfort of bed that oikawa shared with iwaizumi. the respective owner of the voice stared up at the naked form of the brunette who was indulging himself in smoking and puffing out his lungs. a try to erase out the smell of sex? maybe.

"not yet..." oikawa slurred out as he puffed another heavy thick smoke into the traps of the four walled room "..he is too blind in love to even think about me doing such thing."

"you are not being fair with him." the voice spoke again after silence covered over the room.

"listen," he was pissed. oikawa was pissed at the accusation. he knew it was right, the accusation but he didn't want to accept that. the fact that he had fell out of love. "it's literally my life and my lover, i don't need your opinion about it, Ushijima."┊

guilt filled his system at the thought about how sick and vile his move was against someone who loved him unconditionally.

if only he had tried harder. harder to be a better person, a better partner and a better human. but he didn't. pathetic.

feeling the guilt pump up in him he flipped the page again. empty, blank, pale pages. again.

❝17th November, 2020.

Its still the same... he returns late home. we don't eat our meals together, our talks are short and have no emotions that it used to carry. i miss it. i miss it all. i will wait.❞

"why? what the fuck are you trying to do here. Hajime? are you trying to give me a guilt trip?" he voiced his deafening thoughts. how selfish of Iwaizumi to take such a step against him. his own lover.

"its working. so stop..." his voice wavered. was he really qualified enough to be labeled as a 'lover' for Hajime? after what all he had done to the other man he deserved it.

"stop. I don't deserve it." he does. he does deserve it. he knows it too well.

he flipped. then flipped. sobs raked his body as he read all the different dates all throughout the winter season of that dreaded years, 2020. he read Iwaizumi's thought, insecurities on maybe he was not good enough for Oikawa and how maybe he was done with him but staying with him out of pity.

He flipped to the page where an all too familiar date was jotted down. He remembers everything. every action he had taken that might have ruined iwaizumi bit by bit.

┊9th April, 2021.

the keys jingled as they clashed with the glass key holder in the porch area. the brunette ran his fingers through his hair and sighed out tiredly. 'work' was exhausting.

"hey." a low voice greeted him at the end of the hallway.

"hi, have you eaten?" oikawa replied back as fast as possible not wanting to hear any questions from the man standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"he shorted man shook his head. "i was waiting for you."

"i was out with my friend after practice, we have already eaten. you should eat too." he didn't know the heaviness of the words he had thrown on the other male.

"oh, that's fine." Iwaizumi smiled as he tried to take in and digest whatever was thrown over him by the taller male. "by the way, i got a present for you. it's kept in the bedroom."

"present for what? what's the occasion?" oikawa was quick to whip his head to the direction of the other male, who had his back turned at him as he fumbled around the kitchen.

there was a silence, an awkward and a heavy one.

Oikawa, now anxious, took a step forward "hey, ushijim- Hajime, what's the present for?" shit. shit for fuck sake he messed up.

"hm? what?" displaying an act of not catching he turned to face oikawa, the soft smile never faltering his features.

oikawa was quick to repeat the question. to which iwaizumi casually told him it was their anniversary.

"it's okay, you have been working a lot." he had stated.┊

maybe if Oikawa was true to the man. maybe if he had tried harder to love him more and in a correct manner he wouldn't be reading this. maybe if he had given iwaizumi what he had deserved.

❝9th April, 2021.

oh, i was right... it hurts to know i was not good enough but maybe i deserved it. i hope he is happy with this other guy he is with.❞

his heart dropped to his stomach. why was he accepting that? he knew when he had uttered out that other mans' name then why didn't he confront? why did he stay quiet? why didn't he ask him to leave?

why? why? why? why?!

and then no answer to these why's.

his body went numb at how blindly Iwaizumi stood there for him even knowing he was an option. second one.

flip.

flip.

flip.

he sobbed more as he kept tuning the pages. few pale blank empty and few with dates and entries were he was not good enough for oikawa and he could have been better.

"Its not your fault. its not. stop!" finally breaking down he sobbed into the diary, staining the pages with his tears.

❝19th July, 2021.

i was... diagnosed. glioblastoma (GBM). it was undiagnosed all this time and... how will i tell this to Toru?❞

"why?! why are you still thinking about me??? you were-" too much. thats the right word for what he was feeling at the moment. how could he still love him and think about him even though he was practically dying? just why?

all the memories flooded in. all the years of time they took to build a loving relationship only for oikawa to burn it down in one day, over a fucked up reason.

it could have been so easy if iwaizumi had confronted and cut ties then and there only. he was being selfish.

there was a strong urge to just burn the diary there only and act like it all never happened. it was so easy to do it.

but,

can he really do it?

no, he is ought to drown in all the pending guilt and regrets that had been filling up all his holes, draining into his system till it was overflowing. he has to suffer.

he flipped yet another page.

❝27th August, 2021.

i have regrets. i don't want to carry them with me to a new journey. I wanted to love oikawa the way he deserved. i wanted to be him only. its selfish, i know. i was supposed to propose him on our anniversary. i was supposed to care for him and grow old and gray with him. it was all about him. it will always be about him. i love you Toru... i always will. i will be leaving soon. i want to watch you from the sidelines but i can't, not anymore. i will look at you and cheer for you still. be happy, okay?❞

was this really how it was supposed to end?

"why? why didn't you ever tell me about this?" his breath came out ragged and labored. it didn't matter right now.

❝16th September, 2021.

i still love you but i can't burden you with what i am going through not when you are finally happy. i happy that you can confine in someone now. i love you and i always will.❞

those were just mere words written over dead pages by someone that didn't exist. not anymore. then why was it affecting so much? why did it feel like all the words were the boulders that kept stacking on and on over Oikawa's lean body?

there were so many whys and no one to answer...

his last memory flashed before his red puffy eyes.

┊18th September, 2021.

the balls smashed hard against the gym floors. sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

hair hanging over his forehead oikawa flopped down on the floor. leaning back on one arm as he sipped harshly through his bottle. he let out a satisfied hum as his thirst was satiated only to stop mid tracks as he heard a muffled vibration coming from his bag flopped beside him.

rummaging and fishing the phone out as easy as any other task but when he saw the familiar number flash he was hesitant. nonetheless he answered only for his throat to go parch at the not so familiar voice reporting something he could never imagine of.

"you were on Mr. Iwaizumi's contact. he is in emergency right now. he had collapsed during his regular visit here so please come here as soon as possible." the line was dead then.

hastily packing his stuff he ran out the doors and reached his car. his mind running miles per hour. questions filling his head up to a level where it was hard to breathe.

reaching there he grimaced as the smell of countless death and sterile filled his senses.

"are you Mr. Oikawa?" the voice came up from behind as he was filling up his entry at the reception. whipping his head back he met a man, much older than him, in white coat who looked concerned and... sorry?

"yes. yes i am. what happened?!" he trailed behind the doctor like any lost puppy would do with a stranger who was friendly enough to pet it only to get kicked in the guts.

the doctor stopped after few rooms passed. sighing he removed his glasses and hung them over his chest pockets giving it a company with two pens that were sitting comfortably in it. "he is, uh, critical. he used to come here for treatment due to his frequent headaches. today was different. he collapsed while we were going through some tests. looking into it, there are multiple organ failure right now. not much is left for him." it felt like the world has come to an end. the floor beneath hem felt like it had moved, eating him alive.

pushing past the doctor he entered the room. eyes blowing up at the view he was welcomed to. a man, so strong and healthy, tied to all sorts of machines, a tube, a mere fucking tube, helping him breathe.

"Ha- Hajime...." he could only whisper out softly. but only to response.

he looked so pale, so lifeless, his heart barely even doing its only job. it was cold to touch him, the normal warmth was not there anymore. even after trying to warm up his hand he couldn't bring the missing warmth back again. not anymore.

"please- please tell me what happened.."

there was a heavy silent. a deafening one. nothing was audible other than the faint beeps and slowed breathing of the man on the cold bed of the hospital.

he was not going to leave like this. he is not that pathetic and weak to just die on his lover. not before he could tell him he loved him and he always will. no matter what.

but?

he can't speak.

now what? love is something that doesn't need to be conveyed through words.

his cold thumb brushed over the warm knuckles of the man standing beside him. he looked like he was falling apart. oikawa's brown warm gaze widened as he looked down at iwaizumi. he looked like he was taking his last breath. he looked like he was ready to start a new journey. he looked happy. his eyes showed nothing but love. it kept showing love as his eyes dilated and stilled. the touch still reflected love even if it went limp and cold.┊

another sob. then another and another and another. he sobbed there. curling into himself. all the tears tasted like guilt and regret. none of them were salty.

"why did you tell the doc to not tell me about the disease???" he cried out. his lungs burned. they begged him to breathe but he couldn't.

regrets were there. guilt was there.

"i am sorry i was so selfish."

he thought he could be free of them. he was tied down. forever. no matter what.

maybe if he loved him properly. maybe if he loved him the way he deserved.

maybe if he loved the man named Iwaizumi Hajime.

too late.

[magicalsalamander]

Flowers that Speak Poetry

Pairing: BTS Seokjin  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Fluff | Angst | Smut | Alien | Childhood friends | Tattoo artist |

Summary: Butterflies are one thing, but flowers and butterflies bring prosperity. The Butterfly, a servant to the Flower Inn, home to Anemonas of Anisum, was your home and it was all you knew. However, home for you lied across the yard into the next. In the shadows, Jin painted with needles on bodies, but for you, he painted with brushes butterflies on your skin. Like the butterflies, your heart fluttered when you were with him, but he always called you a child and treated you often as such. However, will your heart always be able to flutter when another offers to buy you from the Inn?

Warning: Rated Mature; explicit language, war imagery/mentions, species-ism(?)/racism(?) -alien vs humans, mentions of alcohol and consumption, slavery, prostitution, tattooing is illegal, trafficking, bullying, abandonment, insecurity in body image, death of minor charactors, it’s alien, dom/sub implications, possessive behavior, soulmates(ish), virgin reader, unprotected sex, fingering and riding.

Words: 25.6K

A/N: Story inspired by the story Mademoiselle Butterfly by Ogura Akane but with its own twist. I’ve read this story when I was younger, and it’s been a favorite for a long time, so I wanted to pay homage to it. I really recommend you read the story after you read this, please. I’m sorry for the delayed release AND GOING UP UNEDITED. Header image edited by me, but I don’t own the photo. Thank you for reading!

masterlist | moodboard

*UNEDITED*

Unceremoniously the wooden screen door slid open, rattling gently as you peered inside inconspicuously. You had heard shouts, even from within the Flower Inn, and felt the tickling need to check it out. Within the living room, the man lying, who had been making a hideous face in the light of pain, startled as he caught you suppressing a laugh. “HEY! Who are yo-ugh!” Grunting at the pain you giggled harder at his inability to complete his thoughts. “Brat, don’t laugh!” He finished that shout with a yowl as the needle pricked him deeper. You covered your mouth suffocating another chuckle.

Ironically the appearance of the customer was exactly as you predicted. He was burly, older, scared from civil battle, maybe not from the capital because of the slight tone in his scream. Human men were always the type to wail like a woman in labor while getting tattooed.

The tougher they are on the outside the weaker their inner heart is.

With a heavy sigh Jin pressed down on the man with his free hand harder, knee jerking to hold him but pausing. “Please don’t move.” The man whined grumbling unsavory words underneath his breath relaxing for a moment before Jin continued to poke the remaining ink of the needle into the outline.

You glanced at the tattoo as Jin turned and dipped his needle tipped stick back into black ink. “Don’t disturb me. I’m in the middle of work right now, Butterfly.” You already could imagine the lighthearted glare he wished he could’ve spared over his shoulder at you. You blatantly disregard the warning tone and carried on as if he hadn’t spoken. Lowering your white canvas apron, you had been using as a makeshift coat, you shook off the droplets of rain on the porch then slipped it back on knotting it in the front. You smoothed out your linen navy skirt, before you placed a docile hand over your chest and bowed forth dramatically. You softly apologized to the customer in your sweetest tone then you relaxed against the doorframe.

Heavy rain fell off the black clay tiles of the roof creating a sporadic cascade of water. The stone steps leading up to the porch were stained a dark grey as water pooled on their surface. The dark wood of Jin’s home appeared darker, but the white walls even brighter as the grey clouds looming over dispersed light. Borgo was archived by old buildings built from when the first humans settled on Anisa seven hundred years ago. You had heard that humans, your species, came from a planet called Earth. The planet itself was gone, but the few human languages spoken was the only true remainder of old Earth on Anise. Guerrian was quickly replacing the old tongue with the new regime’s customs.

Jin was a man of his work, requiring peace and quiet—then there was you. He was used to your shenanigans, they never phased him anymore; fourteen years of familiarity tends to create a tolerance for chaos. He raised a brow expectantly at you, but you held his gaze as you further relaxed against the doorframe, slumping into your spot in spite. You might even grow roots there if you so felt like it. Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes, he returned to his work receiving a hiss as he began tattooing again. A small smile pulled at your lips in your small victory.

You took a deep breath in, falling into a natural rhythm you had with Jin. The crisp, autumn air was causing the tip of your nose to inflame in response to the chilled, wet air. It was refreshing compared to the air within the Inn. Something about this air was completely different from just over the fence. Even the way the rain hit his roof was different. You smiled at the tree that sat in Jin’s yard as most of the leaves had turned auburn. It was as if they had absorbed the molten heat from the previous summer and it left a scar in place of the once vibrant green. It was all we had to hold from the blistering summer as it had long past and it only reminded you that winter was quickly approaching. You wondered if Earth had similar seasons like you do on Anise.

Turning away from the yard you asked habitually. “Can I get one next Jin?”

“No.” Short and sharp.

You chuckled under your breath.

For now, you were content to sit and watch his wide shoulders that narrowed to his waist as he meticulously worked on the tattoo. Jin’s work was always incredible, to think it came from him poking a needle in and producing a masterpiece. A dragon, so Jin called it, curved around the man’s back with the face of the beast between his shoulder blades. You remember seeing the dragon piece in his sketchbook and having to ask him what that was. Apparently, it was an ancient Earth beast that used to roam. He had proven it with an old book he had that his grandpa had left him that had all types of creatures that used to live on Earth.

You changed your mind after that, you were glad you didn’t live on Earth or ever saw it.

It was when the man shifted his head, burying it in his elbow suppressing groans that you noticed his hair was cut short. It was a fresh cut. Would this man’s tattoo heal in time? Your chest squeezed at an even more churning though. Would Jin ever have to cut his hair short too? The large tattoo meant that he feared the red letter more than the needle. You knew it though, the fear was inevitable, weren’t all young men when they neared thirty? If they lived long enough to see it that is.

You brushed the thoughts away, physically dusting yourself off with shooing sounds to accompany it like you were warding off evil. It was no use worrying about that when there’s no letter in hand.

Jin finally spared a glance over his shoulder, the customer sighing in relief for a short break. “Butterfly.”

You froze, the look he gave you had your heart doing somersaults; his gaze wasn’t unique or uncharacteristic, it was simply him existing, but his cordial calmness gave him this ethereal command. Butterflies within your stomach fluttering to their content enticed by the honey tone of his voice. His black hair was parted but the strands curved and hung off his forehead outlining his honey skin. The long, lilac robe made that went to his knees if he stood was made of silk, the white collar that formed a V from the crossing of the lapels framed his neck. His black pants accompany the ensemble made of the same material of his robe. He told you his outfits were traditional. It was what his grandpa wore, so would he.

You couldn’t help the tinge of heat that rose to your cheeks as he called your name again and you met his raised brow.

For sure he had caught you staring.

“They’re calling you.”

“No, they did’n—.” Your lips formed a pout, although the motion didn’t clog your ears as you wish they had been.

From next door, the Flower Inn, Cherry was out in the yard shouting, “Butterfly! I can’t believe I’m standing in the rain for this girl! Butterfly!”

Your shoulders sunk.  

Cherry’s voice grew louder, “BUTTERFLY! I swear to the gods if you are at Kim’s and not doing YOUR CHORES—!” Her booming voice sent a shiver down your spine and you were at attention immediately not caring to hear the rest of what she had to say. There was only one Anemona you feared and that was Cherry… second to the Mistress, and if she found out you were here…

You shot up from your spot!

“I’ll be back later Jin!” You paused struggling to pull your apron back over your head. ”Bye Mister! Come back safe!”

The man receiving the tattoo found it upon himself to chuckle and waved at you as you scurried across the yard holding up your skirt to keep it from getting wet while still holding your apron over your head. You hopped over the fence with slightly struggle nearly tripping as your skirt caught on a branch of a bush. They could hear murmurs between you and Cherry as you shouted, “I’m okay! I’m good—no, I didn’t trip Cherry. All good! Ah, wait, Cherry! Stop pulling me, I’ll come willingly—!” Resounding giggles filtered through as you wiggled out of her grabbing your ear. You ran towards the Inn with Cherry shouting about you running off again.

The man rested his head on his forearm chuckling lightly. “She’s cute. Is she an Anemone?”

Dipping his needle in the viscous ink he let it drip off like his smile. “No, she’s a child.”

The customer laughed, “A child? She looks ripe to me.”

He winced, convulsed in pain, then shouted colorful profanities he couldn’t understand.

Jin finally moved his knee up and gently placing it on the man’s lower back only using only some strength. His black eyes evolved as his pupils bursted orange. “YAH, I said don’t move! How many times do I have to tell you. Don’t make me tell you again!” He dug his knee in a bit for emphasis.

The customer whimpered burying his face further into their elbow.

------------------------------

Fits of giggles were loud through the screen doors as loud grunts and boisterous drunk laughter followed. You dropped the serving tray back in the kitchen staring longingly outside the kitchen window. The cooks were busy with their backs turned and other servant girls were on route. You eyed the fresh pastries on the table and quickly slipped a few onto a napkin and tucked them away in your apron pocket. They were so warm as if you had put a warm stone in your pocket. The thought alone made you shimmy in place.

Quick on your feet you dashed out of the kitchen. You peered down the hall waiting for signs of stirring, but quickly you realized it was clear. The multicolored lanterns hanging from the ceiling were bathing the hall in warm light and flickered as you sped by. You crept down the hall down towards the servant’s quarters; your newest escape route after getting chewed out by Cherry. Your feet were light on the polished wooden floor that was so glossy it twinkled thanks to your handiwork. A small smile pulled your lips imaging the smile from Jin when he takes a bite. Should you have swiped more?

Eyes widening you plastered yourself in a crevice against the wall behind a dresser as an Anemona stumbled out of a hosting room with a customer. The customer’s cheeks were red and high in happiness as he drunkenly laughed. His pupils were dilated and red, all the same, but you missed it in his sudden movement. In a blink of an eye he had her pressed up against the wall on the other side of you. They shared a lasting kiss, sounds emanating from both of their throats and your cheeks would’ve flushed if it was the first time you had seen it; being twenty-three you had seen more than a pure eye could handle over the past decade and some. You waited for them to stumble down the hall towards her room. You sunk further into the shadows as the dresser jostled as he stumbled. In a husky laugh he pressed her up against the wall breathing hotly on her neck. Curiosity got the best of you as you leaned over gripping on the dresser as you peered over. Your eyes widen as big as saucers. You recognized her, one of the thirty Anemona that worked at the Inn, but what was her name? Was it, you scrunched your brows…Daisy? No. You wrestled through the countless names, but none felt right. You weren’t close to anyone though. Cherry was the only one you spoke to regularly. Well…spoke to was a loose term around these parts.

You slunk back as her eyes flickered about his face. He attempted to whisper but instead spoke loudly. “Let me buy you, Lily.”

She twirled the hair at the nape of his neck with well-manicured fingers, “What can you give me Sir?”

“I am a Guerra of ranking! I can give you anything. Get you out of this Inn, of Borgo, and into my palace.”

She giggled. “Palace? You live in the palace?” He hummed sinking into her neck and taking a loud sniff. She pets the back of his hair, “Buy me then. I want it all.”

He growled full of lust, “But first let me see you in your room.”

She giggled taking his hand as they raced by you, his figure appeared like a large shadow in his haste as they whisking away upstairs towards the second and third floor rooms. You couldn’t remember which one was hers. At some point so many women had passed through these walls that you didn’t bother learning their names. Especially when a man would moan it in ecstasy. You knew they were all going to be bought by someone. You sighed heavily when their footsteps disappeared. Third floor, they went to the third floor.

You may not have known her name, but you knew of her. Had seen her face countless times. You knew she was in love with the boy who worked in the kitchen, the one that made the pastries. You caught glimpses of them when they thought they weren’t being seen. After you leaned against the door one day, catching him with a dreamy expression after she left the kitchen. You struck a deal with him; he’d make extra pastries just for you as long as you kept his affair a secret. Suddenly the pastries in your pocket didn’t feel so warm. You couldn’t lift your gaze as you stared at the floor feeling almost paralyzed. In this world, your world, moments like these you’re reminded you have a debt to pay. There wasn’t room for choice. You had a debt to pay just as much as everyone else.

Anise was a planet you used to call home until it was torn apart. It was constantly at war as you had heard from the whispers of elders and retold stories of their parents. Years ago, your father never returned after he was forced to cut his hair short. His red letter on the table as his hair surrounded it. He joined the army to fight in the uprising against the Guerra, quietly leaving that night. It was your mother, two siblings and you until your town was affected by the war. Guerra were known as true warriors, a fearless and fierce race. No one knew of them; galaxies far and wide had never heard of them until they began integrating and conquering planets. Quickly they became the feared from the edge of the universe, but what was even more unnerving that they looked human like.

You remember in flashes the night when they came to Silva, of them in packs, tall, ominous shadows with red pupils, swords and fist a light as you huddled under the window with your family. You remember seeing the flames reflected in your mother’s eyes, before it felt too warm where you hid.

Your mother took you and your siblings and escaping Silva, but in the new town your mother grew a debt despite working herself to the bone trying to feed you and your siblings. You were the oldest. Clearly you can recall the warmth of her hand, the grey sky, and the damp soil as she walked you through the town of to the merchant. With tears streaming down her face as you pleaded with her, she promised to come back for you. She promised, but promises were never forever.

The merchant took you to Anisum, the capital overtaken from the humans by the Guerra a hundred years before you, even though you put up a fight. She was going to come back for you, but how was your mom supposed to find you if you were in Anisum? You don’t remember much besides the hunger pains, the cold nights in Winter as you sat in back of the horse drawn cart next to other young human girls and boys. The cart pulled up next to places across the capital and into nearly every district. The kids dismounted as the merchant bargained with the shop owners or people. You were the last in the cart. In the district of Borgo, the merchant pulled up an Inn, the Flower Inn, the building silhouetted in darkness from the twilight hours, but from the windows of the three floors emanated light. The entrance door clanked open as the heavy doors swung open and the Mistress stepped out onto the street. The merchant nodded and she quirked a brow. Your head was tipped back her index under your chin as she looked you over. She said nothing about your runny nose or tears slipping from your eyes. Her gaze was chilling as it was unreadable and stoic, yet you couldn’t stop crying. Quietly she turned and placed a few coins in the merchant’s hand, then the merchant shoved you out of the cart. You struggled to get up, your weak knees and limbs were tired. The wheels of the cart turned as the merchant left. The Mistress went inside and your elbow was yanked until you stood. You gazed at the person picking you up, although at the time you had no idea, it was Cherry, a human who just a few years older than you. “Come inside, it’s cold. There’s much work to do.”

You nodded wiping your face and you followed her inside Flower Inn.

Although at the time you were none the wiser, but you grew to realize where you were sold to. Borgo, the city of the forgotten, where the humans are of the servant class and the Guerra gain pleasure. It’s the only district between the divided land of humans and Guerra where both species roam freely. The Flower Inn was no stranger to pleasure, entertaining and catering to Guerra and wealthy human alike, as long as they had money they were welcomed.

The sound of giggles brought you from your memories. Your eyebrows knitted as you sighed at the reality of the rhythmic thumping coming from the ceiling. You’re going to have to do extensive laundry after the amount of council members that decided to visit tonight to celebrate something you couldn’t bother to remember. Emerging from the shadows you crept down the dimly light hall until you snuck into the shadows again and slipped outside. Chirping from nightcrawlers greeted you in symphony and the cold night air had you shivering instantly. You looked up to the night sky the two moons shining bright in the east and the third, just a small after image, in the western sky. Feeling a chilled breeze, you pulled your arms tighter around you uselessly. The night air always dropped towards freezing, temperature dropping dramatically as soon as the sunset. You worked fast across the yard as you made your way into the neighboring yard, breath near visible. The tree in his yard was your guide as the green leaves glowed golden softly. The midrib and veins of the leaves had a bioluminescence, coming to life at night from the stored solar energy during the day. It was the only tree in Borgo that did that, it was like it was alive. Like his tree, scattered warm light was visible from the frosted glass of his screen doors and windows. You instinctually smiled, he was still awake. You nearly jogged up to his porch, kicking your shoes off before you climbed up onto the porch leaving your shoes on the stone steps. You opened the never locked door without prompting finding Jin sitting in front of a table on the floor painting another sketch. Warmth instantly embraced you like you were sitting in front of a furnace.

“Jin, I’m home!” You teased.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

You sighed slipping down next to him. “Thanks for the welcoming. It’s great to see you too Jin.” When he didn’t humor you, you continued on a small rant resting your chin on the table. “They’re already drunk. At this point those men are searching for something else besides alcohol. I could hear the coins dropping form their satchels with every fake giggle.” You rolled your eyes, “Tell me Jin, are men that simple that a single laugh can empty a man’s wallet?”

He laughed at that breaking his concentration, causing you to smile at the squeaky sound. You quickly fished out the goodies that were still steaming. “I brought you some Junq tarts.” You handed him one before you took one.

He grabbed your wrist faster than your eyes could process his movement as you brought the pastry to your lips. His hand was stained black from his ink. Your eyes flickered from the treat to his with your mouth still wide open. He glared at you, “Did you eat, or did you skip again?”

Your mouth clamped shut as you blushed. You tried ignoring his question by still attempted to bring the pastry so sweetly calling your name to your mouth. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he plucked it out of your hand setting it away from you, including his. He’s learned from experience. You whined defeatedly rubbing your wrist dramatically. “Fine. No. It got too busy I didn’t have the time.” The Mistress had informed you and all other staff an hour before the arrival of the Guerrian government officials. To say you were busy was an understatement, and your stomach grumbled loudly against your will in convenient timing. A pastry wouldn’t kill you, but Jin always wanted you to eat properly. He laughed as he got up, adjusting his silk, blue robe taking the treats with him as he went to the kitchen to prepare you a meal. He grumbled, “Now I have to start a fire.” You longingly stretched out your hand as you watched him take the treats away.

You were nearly drooling when Jin had placed food in front of you. You looked to him with gleaming eyes and thanked him for the meal. That was another thing Jin was great at. He could cook a delicious meal out of the simplest ingredients. His meals were worthy of being served at a royals table. You moaned at the first bite of food as the bite of braised meat and rucke grain nearly melted in your mouth. He gazed at you with a smile before he picked up his brush and began painting again. You nearly shoveled the food in your mouth choking on how delicious it was. He patted your back, “Slow down, there’s more in the kitchen. No one is going to take your food.” Your cheeks flushed as you sipped on water clearing your throat. You nodded and began asking him about his day. You ate slower, keeping conversation with the background being accompanied by soft hum of distance music from the Inn.

After nearly licking your plates clean, not leaving a single grain of rucke, you rolled over onto your back snatching a cushion to rest your head on. You watched Jin as he carefully dragged his brush on the paper, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You felt content, you could fall asleep. Fighting off sleep you sat up, all be it slower because of your full stomach. Softly you called to him to gain his attention, “Jin~Jin, Jin-ie.” You held out your wrist and forearm for him. “Draw something for me.” He sighed taking your hand gently into his, the stains of ink only randomly on the tips of his fingers. His long, slim fingers grazing over your soft skin almost medically, but you brightened thinking how delicate he always was with you. His hands were always warm, but it was just something that was always true for him. Your heart was racing, and you tried your best to suppress it.

“The usual?” You nodded.

He dipped the brush and began carefully painting. It sent a small shivers down your spine as the cool ink touched your skin.

You had met Jin fourteen years ago when you were nine and he was thirteen. The house was originally owned by his grandfather, but he had passed six years ago. Jin took over the family business, continuing to practice although tattooing was considered illegal; In Borgo, anything went, as long as the officials who cared didn’t catch you. Customers still came.

The first week at the Inn, Cherry pushed you out the entrance tossing you a satchel of coins with a list of things to pick up from the market. Feeling lost you trudged your way towards the street following the makeshift map Cherry had drawn out for you. Confused at the simple line drawing, you paused when out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of movement coming from the house across the Inn. As you peered over the fence like a bandit, you saw a boy sitting on the porch hunched over a floor table. He looked to be very concentrated in what he was doing. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you wanted to see what he was doing, but you underestimated the strength of the fence. It collapsed forward into his yard and you screamed, faceplanting into grass and bushes. Startled he dropped his brush and rushed over to you helping you up, nearly fishing you out of the bushes. He laughed once he realized you were okay. You forgot about your pain as you were surprised by the sound of his laugh. It was unique and it reminded you of when you polished the floors. Your face had blade of grass and dirt stuck to it. He crouched down then brushed it off. You felt like a brief zap of static shock zip through you at his soft touch. When your eyes met his, your heart skipped a beat, his near black eyes were captivating. He was handsome and if your face wasn’t flushed before it was then. Immediately you wanted to run from embarrassment, but he introduced himself with a full smile. After a confession of why you were lurking at his fence, he showed you what he was working on. It was a sketch of a butterfly. Your eyes lit up and immediately. He watched you carefully as you turned to him holding the paper. “It’s beautiful.”

Butterfly…it all started with a butterfly.

After persuasion and consistent pestering, you wanted a picture for yourself. Instead of giving you a sketch Jin would practice painting butterflies on your arm. A simple design his grandfather gave him to do over and over again. His grandfather always emphasized the basics; a foundation was important. Over the years it became more intricate as Jin became more skilled, but it was always a butterfly for you. You would come back to the Inn and the other girls began calling you Butterfly. Your real name was to never be spoken at the Inn, it was to be forgotten, erased…except Jin knew of it. He was the only one that knew you were Y/N Y/L/N, Butterfly.

Just being by his side…you were happy.

Your forehead was nearly resting on his. His scent was surrounding you like a warm embrace, a mix of the smell of ink and something floral. He looked up and your faces were only inches apart. You held his gaze, his eyes full of unspoken adoration. Your eyes dipped to his lips as he licked them, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. You missed the rose gold color blooming in his pupils as he closed his eyes. He pulled away placing the paint brush back onto the holder. “There.”

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you played it off by checking out his drawing. Had he thrown another log into the oven? It was two butterflies that were fluttering towards you. It was beautiful. You looked up and Jin was already watching you, eyes black but with glimmers of gold that must’ve reflected from the lantern on his table. Your eyes flickered to his lips again before you looked down at your wrist. Surely were imagining what you were feeling just now.

“Thank you Jin.”

He hummed, flicking his eyes low as he waited for all the emerging and existing color to drain before letting go.

A smirk bloomed on your face, “Now, about the Junq treats.”

He laughed, a devious expression setting on his features as he looked up. You knew that look. You saw it coming before his comment. “What do you think held me over in the kitchen while I cooked for you.”

Your jaw drop, “No. No you didn’t Jin! You didn’t! You didn’t eat them all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“JIN!”

Muted sliver of silver and golden light peeked through the door as you cracked open one of the sliding doors. Jin was sound asleep on his floor futon mattress with a single arm strung out from his thick, pink comforter. Pink due to a mistake you had made, but that wasn’t for discussion. The back of his hand stained black from dried ink with splatters on his forearm. Like a serpent it slithers back into his comforter as he groaned in protest when you opened one door completely letting in the bright afternoon light into the once dark room. Particles of dust floated through light that illuminated him before you pushed both doors open. He flipped over on his futon away from you, covering his face back into his pillow and pulling his comforter over his head. Tussles of his hair was still poking out like weeds.  

“Kim Seokjin, it’s noon already! Get up.”

He groaned, voice husky from sleep. “Nooo.”

You left the doors purposefully open, letting in the cold air even though it was causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. The cold was one of the only way you found you could rouse him from sleep, Summers were always more difficult and you had to get creative then. He groaned tucking himself deeper into his comforter on the futon, weeds disappearing. Your nose scrunched at the strong smell of alcohol. You picked up dishes and empty bottles of alcohol before you dropped them off where they belonged. You knew he had his friends over the previous night. It was rare that all his friends could visit. When he had told you they were coming you were excited. As usually he rolled his eyes at you mumbling to himself. The six of them always treated you like a sister and brought souvenirs from their travels. You were too busy the previous night working. Correction. You attempted to sneak out but were caught red handed by Cherry. You were monitored for the rest of the night and had to help clean up all the hosting rooms as well as punishment.

You really needed a better method.

With your hands on your hips, you poked at his back with your foot nearly rocking him. “Yah! Get up. It’s noon! You have to get up.” He just wiggled with your shoving. Frustrated at the lack of progress you got on your knees attempting to yank the blanket off. “Jin, wake up! You have to start the day. Don’t you have customer’s today?”

Suddenly he rolled onto his back and grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. With a late scream he dragged you down onto the futon next to him. His very warm breath tickled your face as he moaned. “Sleeeeep.”

Your face heated and your heart was beating fast. You swallowed as you tried pushing against his firm chest. That was something interesting about Jin you had never seen him exercise, yet from the glimpses you got of his arms during the summer, he was built and toned. He slowly began slumping over you holding you down. He was heavy. He nearly was laying on top of you as he held you within his embrace tighter. He didn’t budge as much as you tried. You felt like you were going to combust from your heart alone, but was he running a fever? You froze as he tucked his head into your neck. His lips were grazing your skin. He huffed hot air onto your neck. “Sleeeep, Butterfly, pleaasse.”

“J-J-Jin.”

He lifted his head up from where it was tucked in your neck pouting. You couldn’t help the chuckle as you cupped his cheek stroking just under his eye. He made a sound that was akin to a purr. Even when he just woke up he was still handsome. He blinked sleepily at you and you saw a flash of yellow in his eyes. It happened so quick you nearly missed it, but you couldn’t second guess it.  

“JIN!” A booming voice interrupted as the door opened. The man gasped closing the door immediately, “Sorry! I didn’t know you had someone over!”

Jin inhaled deeply before he got up, mumbling angrily, “No one will let me sleep today.” You laid their blinking hand still in the position it was stroking his cheek. You hadn’t even realized you had cupped his cheek. “Jimin, it’s okay. It’s just Butterfly.” You winced. Your hands slowly curled and lowered to your chest. It shouldn’t have hurt; he always called you a child and treated you like one. You brought your knees to your chest before you sat up.

Jimin opened the door again and peeked inside his brown hair making an appearance first. His eyes formed half-moons with his short smile as he greeted you and you politely returned it. He was one of the six. Jin was an isolationist, but somehow, he had a close tight knit group of friends. Out of all of them, Jimin was the least you knew about. He was enigmatic only coming in and leaving as far as you were aware.

“Why are you here Jimin?”

“I have an appointment.”

Jin raised a brow, hair still a voluminous bird’s nest. “What?”

Jimin chuckled, eyes turning into halfmoons. “Ah, you’re finally showing your age if you can’t remember last night. Lay off the partying old man will ya.”

A playful growl bubbled in Jin as he yapped neck elongating to spit out a monologue. Jimin continued cutting him short, “I’m actually late, but I knew you’d still be asleep. You agreed last night that you would finish my tattoo.”

Jin grumbled, rubbing his face to dispel sleep, going along with it. “Alright, alright, let me get set up.” He looked over to you, “Butterfly, can you make some tea for us?”

You nodded and made your way over to the kitchen. You missed the glance that Jimin gave you as you walked past him.

You sighed as you brewed tea, his words echoing in your mind. The way he was looking at you earlier had your heart fluttering, but now it was flatlining. You were just a servant at an Anemone house none the less. Jin…was different, it was evident in his facial structure. He was gorgeous and he could have any woman he wanted. Of course, he wouldn’t want a, a—child like you.

When the water was boiling you dropped in tea leaves and watched them sink. Standing there for a moment you let it steep. Placing cups on a tray and the kettle you brought out the tea. With practiced ease you maneuvered like you always do at twilight hours. Jimin was already sitting in the cleared room at the floor table. You placed the tray on the table and began serving with both hands. Jimin stared at you as you poured him tea as well as an awaiting cup for Jin. He couldn’t help admiring your gentleness.

“Thank you Butterfly.” You looked up at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes that had him returning it.

“I’m taking my leave.” You gathered the skirt of your dress as you closed the porch door behind you without sparing a glance.

Jin came back in the room with jars of ink and tools. Jimin raised a brow as he sipped loudly at his tea. “Is she okay?”

Jin quirked a brow not catching on as he set up his inks and needle. His eyebrows scrunched in contemplation before settling, “Mhmm-yeah, why?”

Jimin shrugged, setting his tea down. “I guess it’s just been a while since I’ve seen her.”

It was quiet except for the ceramic clinking and the tapping of tools as Jin maneuvered.

“You know Hoseok has his eye on a girl in that house, but you know how his parents are. They’re trying to push a girl from the upper side, some sort of alliance thing.”

Jin hummed as if to say he was listening, but his head was still throbbing lightly from the hangover sitting in. He looked around and sighed in relief seeing the tea cup as he took a large gulp.

“—it’ll only be a matter of time before she becomes an Anemona.”

“What?” Jin questioned tuning in to Jimin’s chatter, setting down the empty cup.

“Butterfly. It’s only time before that Mistress makes her one too. Human women are now becoming a commodity. The human population is dwindling and the Uppers are seeing to it by buying them.”

“No.”

Jimin shrugged, “That’s a shame—she’d earn a lot if she did. She’s grown up really well. Maybe I—.”

Jin glared at him, burgundy tinging within his pupil, “Don’t you dare. I know what you do with women.”

Jimin chuckled his nails clinking against the ceramic cup. “Why not? She’s grown and can decide for herself.”

Jin glared, opening his jars more intensely than necessarily. “She’s a child! she doesn’t need you and your playboy ways to taint her.”

Jimin laughed nearly falling over. “Child? When are you going to stop using that excuse. I mean Jin, do your eyes work properly? She’s far from being a child anymore.” Ignoring the glare sent his way, Jimin continued, but near mumbling it. ”Honestly, she’s prettier than any of those girls in that house, you know it. She could open her own Inn if she wanted.”

“Why don’t you buy her then?”

Silence answered Jimin back as he had expected. Jin curling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Alright, ready. Lay down.”

Jimin eagerly removed his jacket and shirt exposing the crane tattoo that was partially done on his back. Jimin settled down excited. Jin wondered for a moment how he wasn’t hungover, but then quickly he remembered Jimin’s tolerance level was unmatched. He can’t even remember what happened last night. Humans could always consume fermented drinks as if it was their job—especially Jimin.

After mapping out the rest in his head, Jin dipped the needle into black ink swirling it around for a moment. He moved over to Jimin, pressing down harder than necessary and stabbed into his skin. “OU-OW-OWOWOWCH—shhh---HHH!” Jimin cried out, teeth clenched and lower lips wiggling.

Jin shrugged, smacking his friend’s arm as if he hadn’t put extra force into the prick. “Don’t move.”

Jimin glared at him before yelping again. “JIN! THAT HURTS!”

You hung up the last of the laundry as you hummed a tune Jin had been humming recently to keep yourself awake. You hadn’t slept well last night as nightmares had clouded your dreams with shadow men with red eyes and images of your mother being pulled away by them disturbed you. It all was in flashes and you can’t remember much of it, but each time you closed your eyes again it played again.

You hummed louder to yourself.  

Snowflakes fall down

And get farther away little by little

I miss you (I miss you)

I miss you (I miss you)

How long do I have to wait

And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend

To see you (to see you)

To meet you (to meet you)

You smirked at the thought of when you had caught him mindlessly singing it as he cooked dinner for the both of you the other day. Yoongi had been working on producing the piece and had come over to show it to Jin weeks before, you just happen to be there. You wiped the sweat from your brow, the sun was beaming down strong in the sky. All the ice had melted, and the flora and plants were anew—spring had arrived.

You paused as you picked up another clean piece of bedding then shaking it out. You felt their stares before you met their upturned chins as Anemonas walked by. You stared wistfully; they were gorgeous with dresses made of silk like fabric that you were sure was expensive and hair carefully done so that there wasn’t a stray strand. They looked like they’ve never cleaned or worked a day in their life. They walked with poise and grace that only high tiered Anemona could ever poise. It almost seemed like they were gliding across the floors. They were beautiful and your hands were calloused.

They smirked and near snorted when they caught you staring. You turned away continuing to adjust the fabric, but your ears were still alert. You barely picked up the whispers between them.

“That’s the one that bothers the artist? How pitiful.”

“Doesn’t she know her place?”

“You think he uses her?”

“Have you seen him? He’d never go for her. You’re more suited for him.” They giggled as they kept walking.

Your expression flattened but you worked to keep your face neutral as if you hadn’t heard their remarks. You had swallowed all those feelings, even Jin’s, and let things return to normal. You could swallow your feelings if it meant you could keep being around Jin. As they passed you turned back around and hung up another blanket.

As long as you could be next to Jin, you were happy. That’s all you need.

As you were about to place the remaining last clip you heard stomping coming from the hall. The Mistress was in her slip, it was rare to not see her fully dressed. You watched curiously as she nearly jogged down the hall, her face angry and for once you were glad it wasn’t you on the receiving end of that expression. You laughed at the thought. You turned back and hung up the rest of the laundry still carrying the melody.

Passing by the edge of the cold winter

Until the days of spring

Until the days of flower blossoms

Please stay, please stay there a little longer

----Later

An hour before sunset you were in the kitchen sorting and polishing cutlery. You were talking to pastry boy as he was sneaking small bits food to you. Lilly may not be here anymore, but he still gave you treats. As you popped in a treat savoring the sweet flavor, the kitchen door swung open. Clattering from other various staff sounded as everyone shook. You nearly choked as the Mistress gaze searched the kitchen instinct to run kicking in. Her fiery gaze landing on you. On reflex quickly you swallowed the treat as if your life depending on it. She strode up to you, small, slim figure cutting through the crowd like a knife. Her long black hair flowed wildly around her pale face, but the motion couldn’t compare to her wild gaze. “Come with me now!”

Just when you thought you had evaded her wrath for a day. You wiped off your shaky hands on your apron and bowed, “Yes, Mistress.”

She looked around the kitchen to wide eyed staff, “Get back to work.”

Silently you followed her to her office. She nearly collapsed into her wooden seat but still attempted to do it gracefully. On an exhale, “Butterfly.”

You stood in front of her desk kneading the dirty skirt of your dress. What had you messed up so bad that you were being called to her office? You quickly recalled all recent events. Was this about you stealing pastries? No, you do that all the time. Or was it when you accidently walking in on the couple? Look, you hadn’t eaten and you were a bit tired, they should’ve locked the door. On second thought, maybe this was about you–.

“You shall serve tonight.”

Her statements cleared your thoughts. Your head whipped up jaw slack. “Mistress? I-I believe you are mistaken. I’m not a—.”

Her nostrils flared, “Silence.”

You sealed your mouth.

“An honorable guest has requested you, and this is an offer I cannot refuse. I owe his father a great deal of a favor. You will serve.”

She stood up, face softening as she saw your eyes gloss over. “Butterfly, you are no longer a child.” Your hands scrunched in the skirt of your dress tighter. Those words clung to you like oil. So much was happening your mind was racing a million miles per hour. You’ve watched for years and could probably do it all blindfolded, but that doesn’t mean you wanted to. You didn’t want to.

She began to slowly step closer to you, speaking much softer than before. She played with a loose piece of hair as she tilted her head almost. “Oh Butterfly.” Your eyes lifted until you met hers until they lowered again. “Do you remember that night that I bought you?”

You nodded once.

“I saw something in you, and I only invest in potential. All my girls are of the highest standard. Now I expect to reap those investments back. I saved you, so now save me this favor.”

A knock at the door sounded with two older retired Anemonas coming in after. They were the ones who took care of the styling and dressing of the girls. With a wave of the hand the Mistress commanded, “Get her dressed and ready.”

With a minor bow they surrounded you grabbing your elbow. You felt defensive tightening up. “Come along dear.”

You wanted to argue, but what could you?

You had a debt to pay…just like everyone else.

You didn’t argue as they washed your body with luxurious soaps that made you smell as the others did. You didn’t argue as they twisted and pinned your hair in a specific way. It was as beautiful as you had seen on the others. Or how they painted your face to their liking, red lips being the point. You slipped on the tight slip, then into the silk burgundy skirt that had gold embroidery skillfully woven into it to appear as highlights when the fabric moved. Pulling it up you realized the skirt had two slits in the front just apex at the top of your thighs creating a panel in the front. The bodice was a halter that followed the design of the skirt as they laced you up from the back as you held the bodice up. Finally, with a last heave the dressed forced you to stand upright, they tied it off in a large bow. They finished it off by adoring you in golden bracelets, anklets and hoop earrings, which felt like shackles to you despite their statement of luxury.

As you sat at the vanity staring at your reflection the Mistress came in, she was similarly dressed in her own gown. From the vanity assorted hair pins were displayed. Humming under her breath in approval she picked up a gold pin with a ceramic multi petaled flower at the end. From the flower were string chains of pearls and a butterfly. With ease she slipped it in your hair then placed her hands on your shoulders softly. “You look beautiful, Butterfly.”

You couldn’t recognize the person in the mirror. It was you, but it wasn’t at the same time.

“You will serve Mr. Park tonight. He is the son of the Guerrian Collation Ambassador for Human government. Treat him well.”

Your stomach sunk even further. This person was so high ranking why would they want you? Your eyes slowly looked up to her, “Yes, Mistress.”

Anemonas came into the room and they paused nearly crashing into one another as they stared at you. You wanted to curl in upon yourself, but your dress didn’t allow you. One who you recognized from the when you were doing laundry earlier. Her eyes scanned you, what you didn’t realize was stunned in surprised before she quickly hid it. You hadn’t had the chance to learn their name, nor would you want to. Her voice was clipped, “Hurry girl, he is here now.”

Your legs feel like jelly, but somehow stiff as you walked. You had little practice in the stilted shoes they wore, but that wasn’t why your limbs were stiff. Walking down the hall brought a new feeling to you. A door slid open as Cherry stepped into the hall before pausing. Her eyes widened, “Butterfly?” You held her gaze before you looked back in front of you. She stepped out into the hall watching as you descended the stairs to the first floor. She clenched her fist and quickly turned down the hall.

The girls ushered you and hissed harshly at you. “You cannot mess this up! Do you realize who he is? You! Cannot! Mess! This! UP! Do you hear me?”

How had they known his face? Apparently, he had been here before, but why had he requested you? Had this person seen you serving drinks before? Why you? Why you! You tried to be as discrete as possible, a no name servant among the Flowers. So…why you?

As you had watched Cherry done before, you swallowed your nerves as you steeled your face. Passing the first host rooms the people within were already laughing as their shadows danced on the paper screen door. Night had settled comfortably in the sky, three moons just near peaking. You counted the seconds that passed with each clatter of coins falling from the adjacent room. The laughs being the refractory period between drops. The lanterns above didn’t feel bright enough to guide you forth suddenly and you were running on pure instinct. Pausing at the last room you waited in front of the screen door. Your hands were trembling as you assumed stance that you’ve seen a million times.

The girls opened the sliding doors in unison, and you took a stable step forward that even surprised yourself. “Thank you for having me tonight, I’m Butterfly.” Slowly you raised your head to increase the tension. Playing coy was always the game. At the other end of the table as they lower a ceramic shot glass from their thick lips, his eyes were brazened as his chin jutted out knowingly, the sharpness disrupted by his big smile. He was sitting alone in the room, the largest room available, with a buffet displayed before him. Your eyes widen as you realized who Mr. Park was.

Jimin.

Jimin…was a son of the ambassador? Your mind rattled through memories, although few, that you had spent with him. He had never acted mighty, never flaunted his wealth around you all. How come you never noticed before? It explained so much at the same time, the enigmatic nature especially. Snapping out of your stupor at this moment he was a customer, not Jimin. Softening your eyes into something you had seen the other girls play. “Good evening, Mr. Park.”

He laughed, eyes forming half-moons. When you still didn’t move, he saw the conflict in your eyes. He urged you closer to him with an open hand. “Please, Butterfly, call me Jimin—it’s just me.” With a smirk that revealed his white teeth there was a glint in his eye. “I don’t bite.”

“If that is what you wish.” His eyes roved over you as you strode over to him. The panel of your dress somehow remained perfectly in front of you, but you felt vulnerable with your legs and arms exposed. You shuffled over to him and sat down on a cushion next to him.

He chuckled again, completely amused by you. “You look like a doll dressed like this.”

Jimin was a handsome man, any girl would be lucky to be his suitor. However, he…he wasn’t Jin. You’ve never thought of him as anything more. You felt neutral towards him, this must be how the other Anemona felt. Remembering their words, you automatically put on a face hoping the hollowness was concealed. You giggled covering your mouth with your hand. He smiled lowering your hand from your mouth, “Don’t cover it. You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, he was so close to you, faces nearly touching. Your mind flashes back to when Jin had his face this close to yours two moons ago; how your hand reached for his then, but your hand now remained trained at your side. He wasn’t warm enough.

You sat back, “Would you like me to play you a song Jimin?” His eyes lit up. You entertained, keep conversation, played an instrument, all be it not as well as he was when he took it from you. He blamed it on Yoongi for your lack of ability. It was odd, you felt comfortable but something in the back of your mind was niggling at you. He drank, but very little, when you asked why he confessed, “I want to remember my time with you. I want to remember it all. Does that bother you?”

You suppressed the flush and shook your head. He laughed as he had been all night. Yet, his eyes were sincere and full of adoration. He took your hand and held it gently in his as he looked down at the exposed skin of your forearm with a soft smile grazing his lips. “Did Jin draw that?”

You wanted to pull back realizing that your skin was still stained. You nodded. He grazed the faint butterfly with his finger.

“I always ask for a real one, but he refuses every time. He says I’m too young.”

Jimin huffed, forcing air from his nose to suppress the snort. “But we are the same age and I have one of his tattoos.” Your heart winced at that, it’s true. Another reminder of how Jin saw so little of you, how he didn’t see you the same. Jimin continued seeing your expression have fallen slightly, “A Butterfly shouldn’t be kept in this cage, when her wings are so beautiful.” It’s quiet as he carefully transverses the image. “I want to buy you, Butterfly.”

You tensed up under his delicate touch. He smiled at you dropping your hand to your lap, “Of course, I won’t force you. I never force my women; you must know that. I am man, no feral Guerrian.” He smirked at his own joke, but you sat there stunned, missing the insinuation. The wind had been knocked out of you. This was far from anything you had imagined would happen tonight. He tipped your chin with a crooked finger forcing you to look at him. His eyes were full of adore. “I’m serious, Butterfly. Think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon for an answer.”

He got up and adjusted his clothing, “Thank you for tonight Butterfly, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked out of the room and you sat there dazed. Minutes must’ve passed before you got up but stumbled on your feet. You clutched the table, food nearly untouched as you focused on breathing through your nose. You kicked off the annoying stilted shoes. Never in your life did you think you were going to be bought. You got up, feeling better with your feet touching ground.

You flung open the screen door jostling Anemonas who had been lingered outside the room as you came out. They rushed up to you when they found their ground. “Butterfly! What happened? Why did he leave?”

“You didn’t make him happy did you? No man leaves happy without going upstairs at least once.”

Another asked, “Did you scare him away?”

Cherry pushed through the crowd coming up to you and instantly pulling you into an embrace. She held you tightly as your hands loosely reciprocated. She pulled away but still held you with shaky hands. You had never seen her upset, but you missed the look of concern. Your mind couldn’t focus. “I’m so sorry Butterfly. I tried to convince her to pull you out. She said he requested you. I tried even asking Hos-,” she sealed her lips cutting herself off. Her grip tightened again, “What happened Butterfly?”

You felt like the walls were closing in.

“Butterfly, answer me! Talk to me!”

Over the chaos you answered all their questions. “He wants to buy me.” You couldn’t motivate yourself to have an ounce of happiness in it.

Nameless girl of the hall was the first to speak, “Park Jimin? He wants to buy you? Yeah right.”

Cherry shot her a glare silencing her as the Anemona rolled her eyes. You nodded.

The other girls shrieked in excitement, “Congratulations Butterfly!”

No. No. No! This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You pushed out of Cherry’s embrace and past the small crowd. Their excitement and happiness died out when they realized you weren’t excited like they were. “Butterfly! Butterfly!” Cherry took a few steps after you before she stopped. She sighed, she knew exactly where you were going, but this time she didn’t have the heart to stop you.

Your feet gained speed as you jogged faster and faster towards an exit. There’s only one place where you know to go.

Your feet were freezing, but you didn’t mind the numbness as you ran across the yard and into another. Oddly you felt unclean, tainted and disloyal as you could still feel Jimin’s light touches on your skin and see his smile behind your eyes. Your feet were gaining traction, but the weight of the material of your dress weighed you down. It felt like you were running through water to get to him. Your hair restricted movement and the makeup made you feel stiff. The tree was faintly glowing, the recently fallen leaves in his yard still barely pulsed. You reached the familiar porch with the warm amber light flickering from inside.

You slid open the door and opened your mouth to speak but immediately clamped it closed. A woman was lounging across his floor completely nude from the waist up with her back to you. Her back was covered in a partial tattoo, art you recognized. She turned over to look at you, chest on full display and her face was just as gorgeous as her salacious body. A smile bloomed further solidifying her beauty. “Wait your turn, sweetheart.”

You blushed and suddenly the sliding door slammed closed nearly clipping your nose. Jin pressed in behind you hand still on the frame sealing the door shut. “Get out!” He was seething. “Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my house.”

You recoiled back at his tone and words. He had never yelled at you before. You turned around slowly. Her body clearly still in your mind as you came face to face with his chest. His robe was loose as he wasn’t wearing an undershirt, splatters of dry ink was on his collarbones. You swallowed as you looked off to the side.  

His eyes widened as far as they could stretch. He hadn’t realized it was you on his porch, he thought it was someone trying to sneak inside. It wouldn’t be the first time an Anemona from the Inn had tried to. “Butterfly?”

You hadn’t heard him call your name too engrossed in your thoughts. Gorgeous was the only word that came to mind and the tattoo that was on her back was eerily familiar. You couldn’t help to compare. She was a woman to him. Your lower lip began to tremble as tears were beginning to build in the corner of your eyes. You dipped your head. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Your voice wasn’t as stable as you spoke. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

He heavily sighed removing his hand, but still standing close to you. “You know not go in when I have clients.”

When you hadn’t responded he called your name again, but you refused to look up. He knew something was off, he curled his finger and placed it under your chin. You slowly raised your head, eyes still downturned. He stepped closer nearly whispering your name full of concern. “Butterfly, look at me.” Taking a second you finally raised your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to look away until the hair pin poking from your hair caught his eye. A small golden butterfly was dangling amongst other jewels. A small smile was tickling at his lip before his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes traveled down to the dress you wore, your figure was on full display teasingly by the tight fabric. Your bare legs exposed; the slits dangerously high that almost your entire hip was out. It had him feeling some type of way as he felt his eyes warm as he devoured your being. Why? Why were you dressed up like this, like an Aneomona? A snarl in throat was barely audible at the thought of someone else besides him seeing you like this. Had someone? The threatening sound blooms as  his mouth opened to ask when a breathy voice inside called him. “Jin, Darling?”

The tears you’ve been holding back were threatening to break again. Of course, of course he had someone else. Held someone else. His words that he had always told you ring in your ears, those girls, as well as Jimin’s recent ones. The veil was pulled as you saw the landscape clearly. You were a child to him. He had never looked at you otherwise. You were mistaken all those times. It was only you who had been feeling this way towards him. You had been trying to hide how much it hurt you, but this was undeniable.

You bowed your head, not daring to look up as a tear slipped down. It stung, but you couldn’t bear to wipe it. “I’m sorry.” You raced past him your long dress caught under your feet as you stumbled and caught yourself on the tree. The fallen leaves pulsed brightly as you disturbed them before they looked like falling stars settling back down. Heaving you collected the skirt of your dress and disappearing into the shadow and the dark night as you ran off.

He jogged forward, bewildered as he stood at the edge of the porch as you disappeared. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Ji~~n.”

Heaving a sigh, he hesitated, something pulling within him to go after you. He turned around grumbling under his breath in a different tongue. He opened the door and closed it behind him with a bit of force. The lantern hanging on the porch swayed on the closing of the door until the wax tipped and the light went out.

Nauseum swirled in your empty stomach, but you couldn’t bear to eat. Jimin would be coming soon. Your mind was foggy yet chaotic with many incomplete thoughts. You felt torn mind and heart; your stupid heart wanted to see him while your mind told you not to. However, you weren’t one to listen to the latter. Standing up on sore feet you make your way through the halls, girls you passed in hall looked at you with envy. You didn’t pay them any mind as you let your feet carry you with the muscle memory. Your feet crunched in the grass as you walked. You paused, the ground under your feet cold, you swallowing thickly, what if she was still there? Would she still be there? You had never seen someone come out of his room before last night. Your stomach churned with all the maddening thoughts. You swallowed it again though. That was none of your business. You were going to respect it, even if you didn’t like it. He was still Jin.

As you entered Jin’s yard your eyes widen, the porch door was already open. Your eyebrows furrowed; he was never up this early. It was always your job to wake him up. You paced slowly with your hands folded in front of you as you peered inside. Jin was sitting at his table already sketching with a steam cup of tea. You crept closer and sat on the edge of his porch. You knew he knew you were there, but he said nothing to acknowledge it. She wasn’t there.

It changed nothing though.

Sitting alone with yourself last night you realized a lot of things. You were twenty-three and if you ever wanted anything for yourself you couldn’t depend on Jin for the rest of your life. You couldn’t watch him be with someone else. You couldn’t watch him smile at someone else. You couldn’t watch him…love someone that wasn’t you.

The Mistress was right and this is how you’ll pay her back.

You were going to leave your childish self behind, even if that meant leaving him behind.

You crawled up closer and sat against the door frame taking a deep breath, holding the feeling before it slipped away. You couldn’t be sad. You didn’t want tears to be the last thing he remembered you by. One last time you asked. “Will you give me a tattoo Jin?”

Without looking up from his paper, “No.”

You smiled, a genuine laugh bubbled and lasted until your stomach began to hurt. In a way that was an answer you wanted. Maybe you didn’t want a tattoo to remember him by, but those words that he’s always told you. Not treating you any differently.

He finally looked at you with an odd expression of concern. Why were you laughing? None the less it made him smile.

Catching your breath, you turned away from him and gazed out at the yard, the morning light flooding and the dew sparkle on the grass in the garden was quite beautiful. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves of his tree creating a beautiful distortion on the grass.

He bathed his brush in the ink as he stared at you. You were too quiet. You had been off since last night. It sets his spine straight as he remembers what you looked like last night. The way you looked had replayed in his mind all night as he worked on that woman’s tattoo, even after he kicked her out.  “Butterfly?”

Your eyes had become glassy without realizing it and you wiped at the tears that were forming. You smiled wide, “Ah. Sorry, just remembered something.” You recounted, “Remember when we first met and how I broke your fence? And somehow you let me still come around even after that?”

Placating his earlier feeling he chuckled recalling the memory. The image of your once smaller being coming into mind. He stared at you for a moment, then taking a sip of his tea. You were still you. That thought made his smile widen. Nothing had changed since then, that was still the routine.

Feeling brave you looked over your shoulder enticed by sound of his laugh like a butterfly attracted to a beautiful flower. You took in that moment where everything feels like it was going in slow motion and you could count the lashes on each of his eyes. He was ethereal, almost too good for this planet, as he is. His features handsome, golden in the morning light.

You turned away from him. “Jin, I—someone bought me.” The confession spilled from your mouth like vomit.

His brush stilled on the page, ink pooling as the paper soaked it up willingly as he stiffened. You looked over your shoulder, quietly waiting for him to say something. You both held each other gaze. His eyes narrowed before he began painting again. In a tone too casual, “Don’t joke around Butterfly.”

“I’m not. I’m leaving today.” You didn’t know how to handle it from here, truly not even having expected yourself to have the gull to come over.

“Butterfly,” Jimin was making his way over towards you crossing the yard. He was dressed smartly in clothing you had only seen worn by wealthy humans. He was showing his true colors now that you knew. Jin furrowed his brows at the appearance of one of his best friends. Normally he would be glad to see him, but something felt off at his appearance. He had no appointments. Jimin was all smile as he came to stop in front of you. His eyes near sparkled as he greeted you. “Good morning, Butterfly.” He then turned towards Jin who was just watching. “Morning Jin, you’re up early.”

Jin nearly tossed the brush at him, even making the gesture. Jimin flinched out of reflex before Jin put down his brush. Seeing Jimin wasn’t just stopping by he stood up and walked until he stood at the edge of his porch right next to you. “What are you doing here Jimin?”

Jimin’s smile bloomed further crinkling at the corners. “I’m here to hear Butterfly’s answer.”

His eyes narrowed at Jimin. Your heart was pounding hard in your chest. Jin questioned, a low undertone of a growl in his voice. “Answer?”

Jimin stepped closer to you, his polished shoes crunching under the grass as he shifted on his feet. He grabbed your hand gently. “What is your answer Butterfly?”

You paused purposefully waited for something, an objection, a scoff, a laugh, anything. It was silent. It was silent except for the thoughts within your head screaming for something yet, the silence from him was louder than any scream, any thought you had. You resisted looking at Jin. You already had your answer. You decided this. You wanted this. You wanted had to do this. You wanted—this. “Yes.”

Jimin pressed a quick kiss to your hand, his plush lips soft. Your face and body heated up to a near sizzle. That was something you had never expected.

Jin’s visage was rumbling beneath barely containing control at the simple gesture from Jimin. He looked up to Jin before meeting your eyes. “We should be on our way Butterfly.”

“Let’s go home Butterfly.” Nodding you took his hand and slipped off the porch.

You paused, “Goodbye Jin.”

He said nothing staring at you as you realized he wasn’t going to say anything. You turned expressionless, matching his. You let go of Jimin’s hand  going back towards the Inn.

Jimin and Jin stared at one another, a certain tension in the air. Jimin’s face suddenly softened as his smile returned as he bowed to his friend before he followed in your direction.

Jin watched as the wind blew by messing up his hair, wisp of his bangs covering his eyes that had turned red. His hands clasped behind his back speckled like they were stained with dry ink.  

The steam from his cup was flowing freely from the cooling tea. He found himself glancing up at the clock on the wall. His fingers rhythmically drummed on the table. He looked up to the clock again and found the small hand had only moved a minute. He had even left the screen door open. He had finished all his clients for a day. His wrist was sore with how many clients he had been taking on. He debated if he should cancel all his clients for the following day.

He checked the clock again and realized yet only another half a minute had passed. He heaved a sigh.

What was keeping you? Where you busy? Had they finally scolded you for the last time? He knows that you found a new route as you recounted your story of it in full detail. His customer had to hear the story that day too, but somehow, they were engrossed in your story. He laughed brushing the hair out of his face. He pulled at the strands, when had his hair gotten so long? You would trim it for him. Maybe he would ask you to trim it for him ton—.

It hit him hard when the sound of the clock ticking drummed in his ears, the memory hitting him.

You were gone.

You had been gone for weeks.

He sighed heavily as he stood up and went to the kitchen grabbing liquor. On his way back he opened the porch door, his body running too hot even for his comfort. He gripped onto the doorframe as he stared at the tree in his yard. It no longer glowed, it had been fading and fading until tonight, it no longer glowed. It was spring it was supposed to be thriving. He placed his hand over his chest and rubbed it in a circle, eyes turning amber. He sat down opening the bottle as he set up his ink block and opened his sketchbook to a new page. He took big gulps of the fermented amber liquid as the rucke flavor covered his tongue.

He had seen you at the marketplace. He had seen you with Jimin as you were perusing the shops. He found himself watching disregarding the shop owner trying to bargain with him. You had nodded along to something Jimin had said. You chuckled as Jimin raised a hideous dress to you then holding it up to him with a brow raised. He had never seen his friend so friendly with a woman. Jimin normally never was seen out with a woman, especially during daylight. The distance between you two was too close for comfort. Speaking of clothes, you were wearing a new dress, not the normal blue canvas one you always wore. Your hair was shinny and were well taken care of, rather than your normal tied up and messy, carefree taming. You were almost unrecognizable, like that night you came to him when he was working. By your gait he knew it was you. He could pick you out of a crowd of a thousand if given. It was almost intrinsic, you. 

He took another gulp of the beer, feeling looser as the liquid cooled his being. His eyes grew similar in color to the liquor as it filled him. He dipped the brush in the ink letting the black ink drip into the block. The way Jimin placed a hand at the small of your back and leaning into you played over in his mind. Swirling his eyes grew darker taking on a red hue before it morphed into hot iron.

Violent strokes scrapped across the page as the hair of the brush made a resounding slap as it hit the scroll canvas. His hand working sloppier as his hand got in the ink of the canvas blending in with his changing hand. Stroking forward, gliding it around as if on autopilot he created. He hooked the brush on the stand as he blinked blearily at the sketch. The alcohol already running heavily through his system. Exhaustion took over him as the buzz was shutting him down. He slumped over hand holding the paper as he sleep overcome him. His lips smacked.

He had painted a butterfly.

You stared at the starless sky having spent the evening watching the sky turn from your windowsill daybed. The three moons had all shifted into the east sky nearly overlapping one another You felt restless. You weren’t allowed to do much, if anything. Jimin insisted he had servants to do things. He was confusing, had he not bought you to do the same? You were having a hard time adapting to his way of life and expectations. His life was completely different from what went on in Borgo. Tall, pristine white buildings with black tiles filled every street in the heart of Anisum. The roads were paved with stones versus the dirt you were used to. People used their given names. You hadn’t realized Anisa, the whole world was…so large. The heart was different as people were more standoffish and selfish, but the same could often be said of Borgo. But there you knew people, there was a sense of community even though everyone was different. Even those who came in from neighboring planets held this air of stature. It was the first time you had seen others from different planets as they government didn’t allow them into Borgo. You saw starship stations, things you had only heard rumors of existing. Of course you had seen them in the sky, but they were so much larger in person and up close. Beings of all skin color, stature and shape filled Anisum.

There was so much, but it felt hollow. This wasn’t home.

There was an ache that comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments.

Knocks sounded at your door and you sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Jimin entered and shut the door behind him with a winning smile on his lips. You matched it in greeting. He strides over to where you were, hands clasped behind his back, a habit he had when he was in front of other officials, but this felt mischievous.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

He sat next to you gazing out the window. “The moons are beautiful tonight, what’s not to be happy about?”

Quietly you nodded. You enjoyed Jimin, he had been nothing but hospitable. He was sweet to say the least. You found out you had a lot in common with him and found yourself build a friendship. Yet, you didn’t feel…

“Are you happy Butterfly?”

Your cheeks heated and you tried swallowing the truth. He had been watching you this entire time you were lost in your thoughts. “Yes, I’m quite happy here.”

He laughed, face contouring comically. That was something you appreciated was he never put up the same pretense around you he had with others here. “Butterfly. I can see your unhappy.”

Waving your hands, “No! No really I’m—!”

“Butterfly, Butterfly, calm down! It’s okay, it’s okay!”

You hung your head in shame. You couldn’t look at him. You felt guilty admitting it even to yourself. You should be happy. You have everything now. All…you…ever…wanted.

Jimin leaned forward elbows resting on his knees. “I want to do something for you. Will you let me?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. You weren’t one to deny him feeling burdened by his kindness. You didn’t like the way the feeling from earlier intensified, he was up to something. “Okay.”

He smirked up at you with a sly smile. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

His chest was rising and falling slowly as he draped his arm across his face. He wanted to pull up his comforter but in his drunken stupor he had only managed to lay his futon down last night. He had slept with the porch door open his body was feeling overwhelmed by an odd fever. His body was tingling with restlessness setting his joints steely. It had made him snappy and alcohol had been a hasty solution to the agitation in his veins. The slight hangover was still drumming in his head and the unsettling feeling in his bones returned. He let out a heavy sigh.

A shadow casted over him and a laugh tickled like a clear bell in his ears. His arm that was draping over his eyes fell away. He let your voice soak in, your words, the way your eyes meet his and didn't turn away. You were smiling down at him, a halo of light behind you. “Jin, it’s noon.”

He kept staring at you. He blinked closing his eyes for a few moments before he opened them again. You pinched his cheek and his face scrunched. “Did you drink too much again? I warned you not to drink so much.”

“What are you doing here?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

You pouted your lips then it fell into a smile in your signature tease. “I want a tattoo.”

“No.” He grunted, rolling over.

You quirked a brow eager for the challenge. “Today, I’m a paying customer.”

“No.”

You hummed nonchalantly, unaffected. “The ones you drew for me never lasted; I want this one to last.”

He sat up on his side and pushed off walking towards the kitchen. You grabbed his hand before he could get out of reach. “Jin. I want this.” You tugged, Please.”

He pulled his hand out of your grasp. “No! No matter how much money you give me I won’t. You…you, you’re a –.”

You finished for him, “Child?” Instantly you felt defensive.

He had the semblance to look embarrassed. “Yes...a child.”

You had been doing a lot of thinking in the past few weeks; amplified last night since Jimin implanted this idea in you of what you’d say to Jin when you first saw him, but this had been something you had been holding in, wanting, for a long time. A breeze blew by shivering the leaves of the tree in his yard and it carried hints of Jin’s scent. Floral but inky, yet the accompanying scent of alcohol was distasteful. You scoffed, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “Over and over again you’ve called me a child and told me not to get involved! But you know better than anyone else that I was never allowed to act like a child.” Ironically you were feeling flushed as he kept eye contact. “So, don’t get involved, treat me like everyone else —a customer. I’m not the Butterfly of the Inn anymore.”  

Your chest was heaving slight as you released all your suppressed emotions. He sat there for a moment before he got up. His blue robe billowing about him as he walked away. The silence always hurt more. A pang of hurt filled your chest. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be when you saw him again. You wanted to him to see you differently. See that you had done things on your own. You sat there, hand hanging in the air. Footsteps returned back lightly thumping on the floor into the room as he stood in the threshold of his kitchen with his jars. Your brows furrowed then it struck you why he was there.

“What do you want?”

You smiled eyes lighting up. Your stomach was doing somersault in excitement. “You know what I want.”

He nodded setting down his supplies and sorting them out. “Where? On your arm like always?”

You shook your head taking in a deep breath. “On my back.”

His face was neutral, but his ears were a burning red. He cleared his throat. He took a moment before he nodded. Your fist clenched on your lap in excitement, it was finally happening.

Your heart was beat so fast. Your pride suddenly was asking to be swallowed. You had never been nude in front of others despite seeing nudity your whole life. Especially in front of Jin. You hadn’t really thought of the real implications of what getting a tattoo on your back entailed. Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“Did you changing your mind?”

You bristled at his question. You weren’t going to change your mind! Taking a deep breath and in a single motion you pulled your robe down and let it pool at your hips, while still clutching your hands over your bare chest with your sleeves. You decided to forgo an undershirt today wearing a thicker robe coat to compensate, but you wore a skirt as the robe wasn’t long enough to be a dress.

His jaw clenched as he tried to not clear his throat at the sight of your bare skin. He closed his eyes for a moment allowing the color to diffuse.

“Lay down.”

You carefully maneuvered and you laid down on the futon. It was quite eye opening how vulnerable and nervous you were feeling. When you settled, he only then moved. You flinched at the unexpected feeling of his large warm hands on your bare back. You both lacked to comment on your reaction. With his index he started at the top of your next and with his thumb of the same hand marking the end point, he inched his fingers counting how many he stretched. It was a simple touch, but it had your shoulders moved closer together as his index and thumb met at the small of your back. “Relax Butterfly.”

You nodded resting your face on your forearm.

The ritual began as you heard him open up the ceramic jars. The scarping of his wooden wire whisk as he mixed the ink fast then slow lifting at the end as he checked the consistency of the ink as it dripped off. The sound of fabric crumpling as he rolled up his white sleeve of his undershirt forgoing his blue robe. The first prick had you hissing through your teeth. You finally understood his customers wholeheartedly. He chided you, “Stay still.” A sound akin between a whine and aggrievance answered him, surprisingly putting a small smile on his face at your reaction. Your hand clenched and fisted the futon underneath you. He found it oddly endearing. Eventually you fell into his rhythmic pricking and the pain dulled out and was tolerable. He was gentle with feather light touches and pricks. Hours passed as he quietly painted you.

His needle was set on the table closing the session. “Done.”

You felt immensely sore, but immensely content at the same time. Carefully sitting up you carefully held your robe over your front as you looked over your shoulder. He was already staring at the four butterflies that flew up towards your neck starting at your lower back in varying sizes. You realized that was the first time you were truly seeing him. No pretenses as you looked at one another. He looked different. His tan skin somehow darker although you were sure he sat inside all day. His eyes having this shade under them that wasn’t there before. He looked ill. While he was tattooing, he must’ve dropped ink on himself, his hands were stained heavily, fingers nearly completely stained black. He was normally a clean worker, never or rarely staining himself. His eyes looked different, almost as if they had a golden hue like the setting sun. He stared at you, but they remained there with noticeable difficulty. Before you could inquire on his wellbeing his gaze tore away from your spine as he moved to close the jars piling them on the tray. His voice was strangely thick, “Clean it well.”

You twisted around facing him fully. “I’ve missed this.” You scooched closer to him stopping just short of brushing your knees to his. “I’ve missed you.”

Proximity was vital to him now as the fever within him returned. A cramp settling in his stomach at the dulcet tone of your plea. “Butterfly—.” His voice had depended as pleaded with you. The fact that he didn’t pull away made you believe in your favor. You ignored distance, holding the front of your robe together with one hand as you reached forward, hand instinctually wanting to cup his cheek. It felt like you were imagining things as you thought Jin was leaning towards you as well. Your fingertips grazed his cheek and the feeling washing over him in local pleasure but his stomach swirled stronger in contrast.

The spell was broken as knocks sounded at the front door before followed by echoes of it sliding open. Jin’s whine were concealed. “Butterfly! Are you done?” Jimin’s voice echoed down the hall.

The feeling disappeared from the air as Jin turned away from you. You didn’t answer Jimin as you stared at Jin who collected his stuff. He got up and the air had dramatically cooled around you as he began walking away towards his storeroom. You pulled your robe back up feeling vulnerable again. His blue robe crumpled on the floor reflected the light beginning to illuminate softly from the leaves of his tree outside. Your words had him pausing. “I have no more excuses to see you anymore. I can’t pretend I miss the Inn. I can’t make detours to this street from the main market without it being more obvious. Or say I want to see Cherry without glancing over and hoping your door is open.”

The tree outside shivered as the wind passed by.

Night was coming soon.

His footsteps continued.

Tears fell from your eyes, but as quickly as they fell, they dried. You tied the knot of your robe tight around your waist. You pulled out the satchel of coins and dropped it on the cleared table not caring to count or ask how much. Slowly getting up on sore legs as you walked towards the front door. Familiar pain can still made you nauseous. As you turned down the corner of the hall Jimin was waiting for you at the front door, hand extended out to you.

Eyes rimmed red and with the saddest smile you walked towards him with your own hand extended.

He sees it all, especially the way you don’t pull away or recoil this time when he holds your hand. There’s no reluctance or hesitation and somehow it makes his hold much looser this time after he can see the dullness behind your eyes. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He had thought this would be the answer. “Are you happy now Butterfly.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jin appeared at the door silently, you hadn’t noticed but Jimin had. Jimin glared at Jin upset at the outcome. He couldn’t believe he was standing there after so calmly when you were clearly upset. Why was his friend so stupid and blind. Jimin neutralized his expression and it turned coy. It was his last coup before he gave up trying. Jimin stepped closer to you, near face to face as he leaned in to whisper loudly into your ear. Daringly he placed a hand on your hip as he pulled you closer to him. “Will you let me see it later Beautiful?”

You nodded not hearing his request despite his proximity and touch. Your mind was elsewhere.

Eyes glinting, his hand was still on your hip. “Let’s go home Butterfly.”

Your feet felt planted as if they had been molded, but uprooted as Jimin gently pulled you alongside him going towards the tall gate. You took a breath then a step towards. Your head swam with regrets, why couldn’t it all turn back to how it was. Maybe you still were a child yearning for him even after such clarity. The ink in your skin didn’t make you a woman. You were still you and he still didn’t want you. They say once bitten, twice shy, but I think for it's more like forever shy. Tears built in the corner of your eyes again, you felt stupid.

You reached the gate Jimin pushing it open until you were jolted by a sudden tug and onset heat. Jin twisted you around pulling you out of Jimin’s touch vicariously pushing Jimin away. You were face to face, a breathtaking sight as his figure towered over you. His eyes were fiery red, pulsing, replacing his black irises. His face feral with something wild you had never seen his gentle feature morph into. He seethed, “Don’t.”

The subtle smirk that Jimin had sent you had been the last straw. He had been holding back, composing himself for so long. He allowed Jimin to mess around, even buy you from the Inn, telling himself you were better off—safer that way. The last thread holding his senses together snapped as unadulterated anger filled him. The tattoo he had just given you was so intimate—his—and it was only his to see. You…you were only his, and all of you was for his eyes only.

You stared wide eye at him. “Jin…your eyes.”

You saw his face shift into horror as he realized he had let himself slip. He dropped your hand like he had been burnt. He brought a shaky hand up to his face as he began to stumble backwards rapidly. His eyes flicked to yours petrified. You blubbered, “Seokjin, you—.” He turned on his heel and ran back into his home, stumbling before he disappearing down the dark hall.

Your mind raced completely bewildered by the situation, yet as a sense of familiarity settled in. Those eyes. Flashes of those eyes. You had seen them in him before, but you had brushed it off as a reflection of light, the sunset, anything but…what you think it is. Those eyes belong to only one thing, the same ones that were outside your childhood home, the ones in your nightmares. You had thought it was just that though, a figment of your childish imagination, anything but real. But they’re just human like…weren’t they?

Jimin got up from the ground and jogged over to you. A heavy sense of guilt in his stomach, Gods, this wasn’t how it wasn’t supposed to turn out.  “Butterfly.” He shook your shoulders when you didn’t answer him. You blinked and looked at him.

Jimin looked at the house then back to you, “Listen Butterfly. I’m sorry Butterfly I-I—I.” You scrunched your brows, did Jimin know? What was going on.  “I just didn’t expect it to happen like this.” He pointed towards the house. Frustrated he grunted and he ran his hand through his hair, really, he didn’t expect this nudging to come this far.

Yoongi’s cup of rucke was sitting just out of reach next to him as his fingers pressed the keys of his lap piano. Jungkook and Taehyung had taken it upon themselves to freestyle a song with slurred lyrics that weren’t lingual. Alcohol being the influence had all seven of them giddy, giddy too after seeing eachother after a while. After the meeting they brushed away all the blueprints. They had gathered around the floor table that was filled with empty and partially filled bottles, glasses, and plates Jin had prepared. Jin only hosted gatherings because of his ability to cook and the other naturally decided on their own his home was the epicenter of their gatherings. Taehyung had brought new ink for Jin in his recent travels in the system. Namjoon had brought political gossip what was going on in the higher courts. Jin, along with everyone joked upon a cheer cutting Joon’s monologue short about the shortcomings of the government. He thought they had closed the meeting already. Jin held up his cup, “To the next King, Namjoon!” Simultaneously despite the others partially listening cheered along.

Namjoon blushed mouth gaping like a fish. “Guys-alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll stop! But don’t come complaining to me when you can’t fuckin’ keep up next meeting!” The man absolutely blushed nearly dropping his ceramic cup of alcohol from snorting and dismissing the cheer. Even Hoseok, who was calmly laying on the floor as the first few sips had already rendered him chill, suddenly sat up and clanged his glass along with everyone else. The cheer didn’t diminish just to taunt him. It enticed them to sip more. It had always been chaotic when all of them gathered.

The porch door was propped open letting in the breeze and aerate the room full of men alike. Over the music of Yoongi was playing there was a light under hum of music coming from the Inn. When the room quieted Jin smiled at the siren like call. His ears were red, skin had been crawling with patches of ink and from his chest a light glow emitted shining through his shirt, robe long ago discarded and Jungkook was wearing it. He had been partially shifting all night. “Butter~~fly”

Jimin rolled over, hearing the murmuring coming from Jin. As he listened closer, he could hear the name Jin was mumbling. The urge to tease overwhelming him as he propped on table next to him. Jin rarely drank, only when they came over, usually too busy to bother with it and the effects.

“Jin, where’s butterfly? Why isn’t she here?”

Jin blinked slowly as he huffed out an answer, “Cherry probably.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the name before he slumped back down onto the floor.

Scooching closer to Jin, he unnecessarily whispered. “Hey, hey Jin!”

“Hmmm?” Jin’s eyes had closed, his brain signaling slowing down as the alcohol flowed through his system.

“Did you tell her yet?”

A shout of howls around the room picked up as a betting game had picked up. The arguments of who and what were the rules always took up the most of the time before the game even started.

He hummed scrunching his face not hearing Jimin clearly. “What?”

Jimin spoke loudly, “Did you tell her about you—you know?”

Jin’s head shot up, eyes fiercely glared at Jimin, pupils turning ember and suddenly sober. “No!”

Jimin pouted, clearly tipsy as well, and senses not picking up on the change in Jin. He scoffed, annoyed. He had been watching Jin for the longest time. He had known him since they were young. It was painful watching the two of you run circles around one another. You were painfully obvious, but painfully oblivious to the obvious. Jimin was naturally whiny when he was sober, but alcohol tended to intensify it. “Why won’t you tell her, she’s going to find out soon enough?”

“No!” His fingers gripping hard and scratched the surface of the table. Anger bursted like a flame, but his focus was still fuzzy, as he racked his brain for the right response. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh come on Jin.” Like a candle sparked Jimin got up using the table as a stabilizer.  

He stumbling towards the porch, passing the others who were slapping down cards and calling out counts. Yoongi was still playing his piano, although the beat had slowed down significantly. The others payed him no mind. Jin kept his eyes on him. A coy smirk pulled at Jimin’s lips, a single brow arched in taunt. “If you won’t tell her because your too pussy to do it. I’ll do it. It’s easy. Watch.”

Jimin had pulled open the porch, “Butterfly, I hope you hear this, Jin’s a—.”

Jin was up within seconds as he dashed forward and spun Jimin around pinning him to the wall. The force was hard enough that the wall shook. Jin’s pupils were dilated and irises completely red. A black veined hand was wrapped around Jimin’s throat. “Don’t. You. Dare!” He seethed the command through his teeth.

The room had grown silent all of them staring before instantly sobering. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jungkook stood up, black veins and red eyes emerging in all three. All three gathered the strength to pull Jin off Jimin. Although Jimin never lost his smile through the ordeal, laughing. He had dangled the bait and Jin caught it willingly. Jungkook was the strongest of the group, but Jin’s strength rivaled his often. The other two supported by maneuvering them off Jimin safely. Barking but not biting immediately the alcohol his Jin’s system hard as he slumped into Jungkook’s arms mumbling like a child. Taehyung held onto Jimin as Namjoon ordered Jungkook to lay Jin down, “He’s had enough.”

Taehyung supported Jimin as he brought him back to the table checking on him. Jimin waved everyone off, he was fine, Jin would never actually hurt him. Jostle yes, but never hurt. Hoseok checked him over before rubbing a knuckle to his head, “Ai-gu, you know better than to tease him about Butterfly when he’s drunk.”

Jimin giggled drunkenly as he brought his liquor up to his lips. “Are you guys tired of it too?”

He looked around and all of them had the same hesitant expression. “I don’t like secrets.”

Yoongi grumbled as his playing picked up again. The tip of his fingers dark too, but they began receding into his usual pale skin color. “Children in men’s bodies, all of you.”

The lot of them laughed.

Jimin’s eyes shifted over to Jin who had been haphazardly laid on his mattress already fast asleep. An idea popped in his mind, the fun wasn’t over.

Jimin held up his shot glass, “Cheers!”

Glasses clanked, “Cheers.”

Your mind was racing, all the denial, all the fears came to life. ”J-Jimin?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Butterfly.” Jimin was uncharacteristically unkept and bent out of shape as he raced to explain.

The stake felt like it had dug deeper in your chest hearing that. Fourteen years…fourteen years and you never noticed he…wasn’t quite human? Guerra were human though, right? The eyes made you believe different. The images you had seen in your youth made you feel that you had just seen the surface. You had never imagined that he was…one of them. How….how had…you not known?

Who was Jin really? What…what was he?

Jimin had expected Jin to stop him the day he bought you, but Jin did nothing, as usual complacent when it came to you. He didn’t mean for it to come to this confession, just—a confession. He ran his hand through his hair a few more times before running his tongue over his lips. He held your shoulders, pleading with you, “Butterfly, I’ve made a mistake that I shouldn’t have. I just…I just didn’t want to see you in that Inn anymore either. You belong here. Here with him. Not with me, not at the Inn, here you belong here. I could see it, always have, the look you both give eachother. He’s scared right now, more than you are and he needs you. You’ve always wanted answers, now it’s here in front of you.”

He spun you around until you were facing home. Jimin pushed you forward again. “Go.”

You regained traction before you face planted and with a step forward you walked back towards home. With a hand on the doorframe you glanced back and Jimin nodded assuring you. You were trembling you didn’t know what to expect. A loud inhuman groan that sounded like a growl echoed from within. You turned around ready to run but Jimin stopped you turning you back, “Don’t be afraid! He won’t hurt you. He’ll never hurt you.” Holding onto that you took it to heart. Jin had never hurt you. You took a shaky step forward before you found your feet walking you inside. For Jin, you could do this for Jin.

The atmosphere felt different as you carefully walked forward hands trembling. You had seen that color in his eyes before but ignored it. The time Jin had pulled you down with him coming to mind as you saw specks of gold and red in his eyes. Maybe you did on purpose, the truth was heavy. The dark wooden floor echoed the sound of your footsteps in the near empty hall, the tall white walls felt endless. Deep shadows had settled in, but you knew exactly where to go. Standing at the sliding door of the main living room you could hear the sounds rumbling from within. Your hand reached for the ajar door. You needed answers, you wanted answers despite your churning stomach. You pushed open the rest of his main room door and stepped inside. He was heaving in the far corner of his room, nearly engulfed in the shadows.

“J-Jin?”

An unsettling growl erupted from his throat. “GET OUT!”

You swallowed the fear that coursed through you at the unfamiliar hostility, physically refraining from stepping back like you had wanted to. This was still Jin. He was still Jin. You weren’t going to run away now. You closed the door behind you. “Jin, please.”

He growled louder turning slightly exposing his face that was still partially obscured by the shadows. He began turning and exposing himself slowly from the shadows. His white shirt was soaked through in sweat despite the temperature dropping rapidly as he turned around. Black strands of hair were stuck to his exposed forehead as his head was tilted back exposing his neck, lips parted as he heaved. His eyes were feral, red and fully dilated, as his brows knitted, and you could assume from frustration. He didn’t want you to see him this way as it was difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

“Are you alright?” You struggled to keep your voice stable

“You need to go now!” He commanded. The room because of him felt smaller than you remember, despite being in here not long ago. It was as if his being was an extension of the shadows as it crept the whole width of the room. His jaw clenched trembling with restraint.

“No, I’m not leaving.” You stated with confidence you weren’t sure. “I can’t, I can’t keep turning away and taking no for an answer.” You swallowed the words almost stuck in your throat. “Who are you? Why…why didn’t you tell me? Is this…is this why you kept pushing me away?” Tears began pricking at the corner of your eye.

The coal in his eyes returned with a sense of vulnerability accompanied by a ring of gold before it dissolved. He was silent, but you weren’t going to allowed it. You were tired, tired of rejection and being left in the dark. You tried reaching for him, “Please, Jin.”

“STAY BACK! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” He tossed his head back with a vicious snarl. Moment by moment he began to look wilder and more deranged as he shivered backing further into the corner. “Leave!”

“Jin your scaring me.” You retracted your hand back holding it to chest as if it would protect yourself. Jimin said he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew Jin wouldn’t hurt you.

He heaved strenuous breathes, imploring you, “You should leave.”

He appeared to be in a lot of pain and it was concerning. Reason caught up to you. Should you get Jimin? Jimin would know what to do. But you didn’t want to leave, what if he collapsed. “No. Let me get Jimin, he can help.”

At that he faltered, and he let out a high-pitched whine. “NO! Don’t go near him!” He couldn’t control it anymore. It was taking over. He had been resisting it for so long, trying to hide this part of himself from the world—from you. But you-- were the trigger. His knees caved and buckled until he collapsed knees spread hands in front of him for support. “I can’t—I can’t control it any—!” He let out another high pitch whine that turned into another vicious snarl. His nails scratched at the floor scrapping and causing curls of wood to coil in its trail. He sat up with flinging his head back as his spine arched. His bones began cracking and snapping as they reformed and elongate. You watched in horror as his skin shifted and his physique grew and filled out. His shirt tore as his already wide shoulders and chest expanded; pieces were hanging by the thread. His pants ripped at the outer and inner seams but remained on in his kneeling position. The sound of cracking and snapping had stopped; his already tall height had increased by at least another foot. His muscles grew and shoulders were impossibly wider to accommodate for his shifting into a giant.

Moonlight illuminated his kneeling figure that poured in from the frosted panes as night finally settled in. His name sat on the tip of your tongue just when you thought it was over. Instantly his tan skin then erupted in dark spots like ink soaking into a canvas. This part seemed to not be painful as he made no sound of protest. It began at his fingertips until it simultaneously became one and replaced his skin color with a color akin to charcoal migrating up his hand and forearm; it paused at his elbow and through the tears and holes in his shirt you could see the dark color began to branch off like veins over his upper arm as it trailed up. It looked like armor but engrained in his flesh as it settled.

Hidden under his sleeves it reappeared, creeping up his neck like veins. The pigment crept up his neck and over his jaw and marked half his face in an uneven crawl of black pigmented veins. At the same time his chest glistened as his torn shirt billowed around him as the veins began to trail on his chest towards his heart. Over his heart under his skin a circular patch began to glow white hot as Jin let out a guttural groan. It morphed and looked like molten fire was underneath and the shadow veins began encasing around it connected the fire to the rest of his body. It pulsed alongside his heartbeat.

Jin’s jaw suddenly unhinged open in a silent scream. From the pulsing core in a single hard pulse the fire like molt spread the molten glow replacing main shadow veins that were adjacent to major veins. Large strips over his arms were filled until it ended at the tip of his middle finger on both arms. A similar fire vein began creeping up his neck next to his jugular, over his jaw and up over his eye until it stopped at his hairline. It appeared like a molten scar down his face.

He had fought off the shift so long, only allowing small episodes, but he hadn’t shifted fully in years. It was overcoming him in such a powerful wave he had never experienced before. His sweaty black hair hung in tendrils front of his eyes as he heaved. The shift was complete.

This…this was your answer. This…was what a Guerra truly is. This was Jin.

This whole time you thought you had imagined that, a child’s rendition of a Guerra, a monster. You had thought they were only human like, but in all truth you were unaware of what made them different. This being hiding under a sheep’s skin. It was simply an apartheid to you. A giant shadow with glowing red eyes. The fire, the heat, it all made sense. You had seen them before and it wasn’t your imagination. Jin was…the word slipped from your lips. “Guerra.”

His head lifted eerily slow until his eyes met yours. When he opened his eyes blearily one was glowing red and the other, the shadowed was gold like the vein.

“Are you afraid?” In a strained voice he asked. “Want to run now? Now that you see the monster that I am.”

You shook your head side to side hands clenched at your chest. In all truth you weren’t afraid, not like you were earlier. The imagination and unknown were more terrifying than the truth. You knew the history, what they had done to your family, but that…that wasn’t Jin. He was still Jin. “No.”

Parroting you, “No?”

You slowly walked towards him despite the soft growls he emitted with each breath. In this form his senses were heightened and he could hear your heart beating hard in your chest. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. His senses heightened in this new form. It smelled so sweet and enticing. He remained still fighting his baser self. You slumped down onto your knees in front of him. From this close up he looked even more formidable as if he had manifested from the cracks of Anise. Sweat began beading at your hairline from the heat he was radiating. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra. I just—you lied to me. You never told me about this. Why? Why did you hide this from me?”

He shook his head, growling under his breath in an attempt to scare and evade you.

Feeling bold you reached forward placing your hand over his.  The simple touch had him shivering as he attempted to control the feeling of power thrumming through him. The inky skin felt calloused at contact, but oddly smooth when your smaller hand twined over his hand. His growling ceased as your simple touch had him slumping slightly forward towards you and it eased the tension in his being; tamed in an instant by your simple touch. You had so much control over him and you didn’t even know it.

His voice was deeper than you were used to as he spoke. “I had to hide it from you Butterfly. I’m not the only one Tae, Kook and Namjoon are Guerra too. We all have to hide it because of me—because of my family.”

You controlled your expression regardless of how much that additional fact hurt as much. They had hid it from you too. You kept quiet waiting for him to continue. When he reopened his eyes after taking a moment of silence, they sought yours in an act of bravery; pain swirled with the burgundy and it gripped your heart.  

“The Guerra used to fight in wars against the Titans to protect the universe—even humans. We are peaceful people, it’s in our blood to be protectors. Papa had told me that we were until the new rule took over and our race became…murderers. Invading planets, colonizing and destroying isn’t how we were supposed to be.”

You sat back on your feet trying to take your hand back but he didn’t let you. He tightened his grip around your hand and you returned the feeling to assure him you weren’t going anywhere.

“My family were personal guards for the royals for generations, but when my father saw that humans were being killed senselessly he couldn’t support stand by the regime anymore. It wasn’t who we were, Guerra—we don’t hurt. We don’t hurt unless someone hurts us or our loved ones.” He voice shook hurrying his words and making them almost indescribable. His thumb was running over the back of your hand in an act of self-soothing. He licked his lips before he began, knowing what he was about to say would probably hurt you, “The war.”

Your hand squeezed his back at the mentioning like he expected. His hands itched pull you into him, protect you from the truth, but for now he had to be content holding you like this; because you may not want to much longer. His head tipped down and his long, black hair curtained over his face. “Our parents…started it.”

Your eyes widened impossibly. Panic settling within you as the painful grip his eyes wrapped around your heart squeezed. “Jin, what? What are you saying?”

He shook his head, strong voice pulling your attention back center, “Listen Butterfly, I know this is a lot, but I need you to listen. You wanted to hear it, and I’m telling the truth.”

“Tell me.”

“Kook’s dad was also a guard with my dad and they both worked together to gather evidence against the regime. His mom was a maid in the palace and would sneak letters to Joon’s dad who worked for the universal courts. They were building a case against the regime.”

“My father found out the regime had been planning a genocide. A full take over Anise to erase all the humans. My father had Kook’s human mother spread the word amongst other palace maids and it spread quickly outside the palace. Kook’s dad was a Guerrian guard too and called his friend, Joon’s dad, who was a member of the universal courts and told him of the conspiracy. They warned people, but it was too late, the war had started and they captured my father. They killed my father and Kook’s…my mother died sacrificing herself to save me and Papa. This house was my mom’s house before she was sold off to the palace to work. Tae’s family was upper Guerrian, an old friend of my parents, who were entrusted to help us escape the palace and come here.”

The face of your mother comes to mind. The face of your father you had lost to the red letter. Your siblings. The ones who came in for tattoos. So many people had been lost.

“After the war the courts made it illegal for Guerra to shift to protect the humans, but there was so much….destruction, so much pain left. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He slipped his hands from yours as he looked at his hands with detest. He clenched his fist and the core on his chest brightened. “The war may be over, but its not for me—for us. There’s another uprising soon and the regime plans to strike again. The regime still has plans and if they found out, that a Kim and the others involved in the coup had survived then they would come for me—and you if you were with me. I’d be killed on the spot.“

Tears flowed freely as you sobbed. It explained so much and filled so many gaps. Your heart ached immensely you had no idea he was holding in so much. There was so much you had no idea about, yet the underlying emotion of fear was present. You could lose him, there was another war on the horizon. You could lose him like you lost everyone else. You could only whimper his name.

He sighed and smiled as he wiped your tears. You were too kind with a heart that was too big. It was something he had always loved about you. His hot hands cupped the side of your face, they were so large it curled around the side of your head. “I did this to protect you. You are not safe with me, Butterfly.”

You leaned your head into his touch with your hand going over his and the other on his wrist to hold him to you. You hadn’t realized how much he was holding in and how painful it must’ve been. He had the others, but you know the loneliness he must’ve felt not having his parents and to suddenly carry such a heavy burden. You didn’t have words for how badly you felt for him, but you knew you felt so much. You felt brazen and nothing mattered anymore that everything was out now. “I love you Jin. I don’t want to be without you.”

Hearing the words he feared the most he pulled away from you. In the haste of his motions his torn shirt fell off him like scraps further exposing his shadowed body. Molten veins were pulsing faster along with his core mimicking his heartrate, but the most intense radiation came from the scar like vein that transverse his face. They were glowing at you as his expression scrunched. “You don’t get it! I can’t drag you into this. They’ll kill you too Butterfly. They’ll kill you!” He stood up and your face barely came up his knees. His torn pants were hanging loosely around his waist, and you could see more of the veins shadow and molten on his body through the rips. Shifting on his heels he began backing away from you. He felt the need to defend his one last secret he had been guarding carefully with his whole soul for years. His tone flat, “Leave. Leave and don’t come back.”

His words were like a catalyst causing you to stand up. There was much to fear in life, but you were exhausted letting it be the ultimate hurdle. You were afraid of the future, but a future without him was terrifying. He backed up with every step you took forward to maintain that vital proximity. “I don’t care!” You shouted over his rambling. Tears streamed down your face again. “Don’t, don’t make me leave again. I can’t do it again. None of this scare me, nothing scares me more than not being with you. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra, or that I could be in danger by being with you. None of that compares to the pain of being without you! I was miserable at Jimin’s. I couldn’t—can’t stop thinking about you. Everyone, everyone threw me away, even my own family, and the only time I’ve felt like someone cared was when I was with you. Don’t… leave me too…please. I love you.”

Each declaration chipped away as him like he was taking bullets. You could see his face soften as his resolve was crumbling. It was minute but you caught it, you knew him like the back of your hand. It was the same one before he always caved and did whatever you asked. You moved forward going on your tippy toes as you grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him down to you forcefully. Your lips met skin, but it wasn’t his lips. You had missed his lips and had planted your lips against his chin. You pulled away sitting back on your heels but your hands were still on his shoulders. You head dropped as disappointment overwhelmed you. “Ha, I’m still a child after all.”

He tipped your chin back, his red eyes meeting yours with so many intense emotions love, sorrow, adoration, and fear. You were fearless, always doing whatever your heart desired. You were braver than he could ever be. He was afraid just as much as you were, but here you were jumping into his truth with no gripes. He held you there, held you in his eyes as if the world was within yours. With each second that passed, his feelings of guilt and remorse began to leave him. “No.”

He dipped down capturing your lips in a gentle press hoping to convey all his thoughts. All air left your lungs and it kicked your heart into overdrive. He gently moved his lips against yours and you could only describe his mouth against yours as a furnace. You were unsure of what do as you had never kissed before. Coming to your senses you began moving your lips against his plump lips softly and hesitantly. Skinship was casual between you too, but this level of intimacy was new to you. A low, drawn out groan that held a mix of relief, happiness escaped him as he felt you reciprocated. His hand that was under your chin shifted as he gently cupped your neck. Although you didn’t want to you pulled away for air overwhelmed and unprepared.

“Butterfly,” he whispered huskily against your lips. The air around you grew warmer if possible and heavier around you, and it felt familiar yet new with the desire that began to well within you.

He dipped down and picked you up as if you weighted nothing, his strong arms barely flexing in the motion. Earlier he had to strain and lean down and hunch over to meet your lips. You naturally wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. Jin’s body had always felt overheated to you, but it meant safe and security. It had your body heating up with arousal. He mumbled to himself almost, “You’re so small—so precious Butterfly.” You wanted to refute, you were quite average for a human, but he gave you no such chance.

“Jin—mpf!” He chased your lips this time with unrestrained desire and furiously that had you gasping and glad he was holding you securely to him. Your nails scratched unwittingly against his thick neck and tangling your fingers in his wet hair causing a long, low groan to rumble from deep in his throat. The vibrations sent desire thrumming through your veins. If this was what kissing was like you were upset, you hadn’t done this sooner. His tongue poked out and swept over your bottom lip before he took it between his teeth. It had you moaning tightening your grip in his hair that had him reciprocating the sound. He had greater lung capacity than you and it was evident in the way his voracious kissing never let up. Everything was happening so fast, but you were willingly falling in. You escaped his lips and when you pulled away there was a borderline animalistic growl he released. You couldn’t help the chuckle you released at his sound. You rested your forehead against his and holding his cheek. Teasing him back, “So precious.” He lightly tapped your thigh catching onto the gest. You pecked his lips as you giggled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathes mixed and he was staring at your puffy and bruised lips. Prideful that it was his doing. “Mine.” His hands tightened on your legs and slid up your tights trusting you to stay put. He gripped and kneaded your hips and you gasped at the possessive touch. A wave of heat went up your spine as you shivered, calling his name. A smirked pulled at his lips, he liked the way that sounded. His lips continued as he kissed the corner of your mouth moving to your jaw. His mouth trailed down until he pressed searing, sloppy kisses on your neck suckling and leaving marks behind. A needy whine that melted into a moan left your lips as he scrapped your hypersensitive flesh with his teeth.

He panted against your neck, unable to hold back his thoughts. “This is wrong.” Despite his protest his tongue poked out tasting your skin. He showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. Your hands squeezed his muscular shoulders holding onto him tighter. You felt small and vulnerable against this expansive figure. You whispered into his ear as you leaned forward. “If this is wrong then I don’t want what’s right.”

He pulled his face from your neck and met your eyes with a look you had seen customers give Anemonas—lust. You knew he saw the reciprocal want there. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me Butterfly. Do you know what you’re doing to me, what you do to me?” He rested his forehead against yours pecking your lips, all for himself so he wouldn’t succumb to the ravenous urges. He had surrendered fully to you. He adjusted you in his arms pulling you closer. In the action your chest brushed up against his and your crotch pressed against his member that had been forming. You mewled tucking your face into his neck at the arousal it sent through you. He chuckled at the cute reaction. He knew you were a virgin. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You shook your head, “I want this. I’ve waited for you long enough. I want all of you.”

He was back on you. He kissed you deeply weaving one of his calloused, inky hands on the back of your neck so he could deepen the kiss further. Night had settled in encasing everything in darkness with the lanterns unlit in the dark room, but you both hadn’t noticed the change. He was radiating a bright copper light from his being. It was enough to cast a mood light as if he was a lantern burning. You didn’t realize he was moving too lost in the feeling of him. The futon was still laid out from your session. Carefully he sat down with you straddling his lap, the whole time he was aware of your back. The skirt you wore had ridden up so far it was exposing nearly all your lower half. He chuckled when you whined as he broke the kiss, the irony. He teased nosing around your temples then neck taking in your scent that was getting sweeter. “You couldn’t stay away could you, Butterfly? You couldn’t listen to me huh?” You mewled as he squeezed your hips. His hands trailed up falling in the dips and curves of your body.

When his hands began to caress your sides, you felt as if your heart was beating outside of your body. It drummed manically, alive only to the sensation of his touch. How long had your body craved for this? Imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on you like this? Even his touch above the material of your robe was enough to suffice and have you feeling manic internally. You felt him everywhere, his palms burning their way to the skin. Over your robe his hands cupped your breast, thumbs rubbing over your nipples. They hardened under the motion. Your thighs squeezed around his muscular ones as you moaned. Your arousal was building as you felt your core stirring.

“I’ve thought about this before.”

Something in your stomach flipped. “R-really?” You stuttered as his warm hands kneaded harder. He kept his eyes on you while he kneaded and pinched at your nipples watching your reactions.

He chuckled lightly, “There’s so much I want to do you.”

“I want to touch, kiss every inch and hold all of you and feel you bare against me.” You had never heard lewd words coming from his mouth before.

You wanted that too. You reached up and undid the knot of your robe and let it fall from your shoulders. You held your hands over your chest, what if your chest wasn’t too his liking?

As if he could hear your thoughts, “Your beautiful my little human.”

You flushed at the nickname and pulled your hands away from your chest, trusting him. You allowed the sleeves to completely fall off you, robe forgotten. He went for your waist instead of grabbing at your breast like you expected. It was always what the men at the Inn did. They always groped at them as if they were drowning, but Jin held your waist still so gently. The looked mesmerized as if he had never seen a more beautiful sight and it had your heart skipping a few beats. “Beautiful, Butterfly.” Your eyes met, and you felt no shame, only love.

“Touch me.”

His hands caressed your abdomen with featherlight touches, although the slight callous to his hands were a welcoming friction. His fingers cupped your breast fully spilling into his welcoming hands. He massaged lightly and pinched at your nipples. Light pleasure traveled into your lower half filling the reservoir. His mouth accompanied his hands. His tongue delicately brushed against your right nipple. Your back arched into the feeling. His tongue felt hot as he teased it around the nipple before his lips encompassed it and he suckled. He took his time tasting you as he moved to your other breast when he felt the other had been marked enough and nibbled to tenderness. He looked up to you and his blazing, wild eyes had you moaning, he looked like he wanted to devour you.

It didn’t sound real to his ears the soft sounds of your moans and mewling. It had him wanting it more, and louder. He released your breast with a soft pop and his mouth was lightly glistening with his own saliva. While holding your unfocused gazed in his he trailed one hand down your navel finding your center over your skirt as he cupped you. You gasped, “I want to see all of you.” He had his hands dipping into the waist band of your skirt and tearing it along with your underwear. It ripped like wet paper as he tossed them somewhere in the room. “Jin!”

You whimpered instantly surprised by his strength again. In that moment you were reminded you were with a Guerra. You tried closing your legs but because of your position it didn’t allow you too.

“Don’t care, need you.” He didn’t want to afford having you moving off him. He inhaled taking in the scent of your arousal and his eye color deepened from red to a blood orange. “Gods, you smell divine.” He whined, suddenly pleading with you, “Please, butterfly, let me touch you. Please.”

You couldn’t resist, as much as you felt shy you wanted to feel him. You wanted it too. You nodded. He shook his head, “Say it. I need you to say it.”

“Touch me Jin.” You got out breathily. He groaned, enjoying the sound of it coming from you.

One finger dipped between your legs and ran up and down your slit. His touch was hot and it didn’t take him long to switch to two fingers coating both of his hands in your slick. “So wet for me little human.” You flinched every time he ran his fingers over your clit. He was so Intune with you as he quickly picked up on your reactions and what had you mewling as he swirled his fingers over your clit in a circular motion. His other hand had trialed back up and was groping at one of your breasts in time with his other hand. His mouth latched onto your neglected breast biting softly at the nipple before he suckled it to soothe the ache. You were drowning in euphoria at his simple touches. “So sensitive.” He commented out loud unaware he was even speaking. You moaned as he played with your body expertly.  You had a moment of wonder. How did he know how to touch you so well. How did he know the female body so well when you hadn’t seen or heard of him having any partners? You pushed against his shoulders as your breast made a resounding pop out of his mouth. You combed his hair with your fingers, “Did you?”

He looked up, breathing hot air over your nipple unwilling to part with your body. You resisted the urge to flinch at the tingling feeling. Gulping, embarrassed by your insecure feelings. “Did you…with her, that woman that night?”

He was lost in the furrows of lust it took him a moment to register what you were asking. He laughed sitting up straight finding your eyes level with him. You hated that he was laughing, but he placated you quickly. “No.”

He spoke honestly, “I’ve laid with women before, but I never enjoyed it, not like this. Nothing will ever compare to this, to you. I never loved them. It was to rid myself of my urges for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I only want you.”

Oddly, you didn’t care that he had others, because right now you were here—and going to be forever. You froze in his lap, did he, did he just say he loved you?

Tears pricked at your eyes again, “You love me?”

He smiled, “I do.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you were bubbling over with happiness as a stray tear fell. You pressed your lips to his and he returned the gesture eagerly laughing lightly at first at your excitement. Your bare chest pressed together and it felt so good feeling his bare skin. You felt like melting. His head tipped down exposing his thickened neck as he moaned. The veins on his neck looked like rivers of fire and deep canyons in where the shadow veins took place. You wanted to kiss it like he had yours. Your lips pressed gently over his and it had his eyes rolling back. The fire river like veins that trailed adjacent to his jugular were sensitive. His hips twitched rubbing against your bareness and it had you clutching at his shoulders tightly as you moaned louder than you had before. He made a similar nose under his breath. Egged on by the sound you kissed his neck generously until his skin was damp. You were surprised that despite the change his skin tasted like skin. Although there were hints of smokiness to him now along with his natural floral scent.

He allowed your hands to trail around his chest and large shoulders feeling his skin. His skin felt so soft until you reached the inked skin that felt slightly calloused. One thing that always had struck you odd was that Jin never had any tattoos, now you understood why. His bare torso was a sight to behold and the shadow and molt designs were predatorial. You let your hand trail down his chest and settle over his crotch. A strangled noise left him. He let you experiment and run your hands over the bulge. “Let me see you too. I want to see you Jin.” You were curious, you had seen human male client’s nude before on accident, you wondered if Guerrian anatomy were similar. You assumed as much since their non shifted form was human-like. Just from the outline you already had an idea he was large. “Please. I want to make you feel good too Jin.” You were too cute to resist.

From underneath you he used his hands and ripped his pants apart and tossed the flaps around. He wasn’t wearing undergarments. His length was standing erect against his navel. When you finally saw it you felt a mix of emotions thrill, anticipation and fear. The length and thickness was intimidating, but his large size must be normal for a Guerrian. Surely, he was much larger than the males you saw at the Inn, but that may have been down to your inexperience. His cock was just a bit darker than his natural skin color, but at the thick base the inky pigment ombred into his skin color. On the shaft smaller capillaries of fire ran up the shaft to the tip. Two, large, adjacent shadow and molten veins ran on the underside of his cock leading to the bulbous tip and disappearing into the slit. The tip was leaking thick fluid that was almost gelatinous.

Late at night when service was done sometimes the other servant girls would stay up and talk in your room. Some tips and trades were exchanged that weren’t recipes that they had gathered from Anemonas. Pulling from your bank you grabbed the base of his cock and your fingertips barely touched and it already felt heavy in your hands. It swelled slightly growing firmer in your touch.

“Ah-fuck, Butterfly!” You retracted your hand thinking you hurt him. His cock made a resounding slap against his stomach as you let go. He grasped your wrist, “No, don’t stop, it’s okay. It-it feels good.”

You nodded grasping him again and his expression scrunched. Your small hand felt great, even though your grip was loose. It was you touching him and that already had him on edge. He felt like he could cum any moment.  

“Is this good?”

He groaned, nodding, gods, you were so innocent and it made him wan to defile you even more.

You ran your hand up and down the shaft using the precum that had leaked over the tip to coat him in his own esscence. Out of curiosity, you brought up your fingers coated in his precum to your lips and wrapped your lips around his fingers. The salty, bitterness that greeted your taste buds was a harsh contrast to what you had imagined. The girls always in the throes of it had moaned how good they tasted. It wasn’t bad, just unexpected. You are swallowing every little drop of precum from your fingers.

He lost it as if awakening the feral Guerrian part within himself he had been controlling. He grabbed your hand as it reached for his cock again. He grunted, huffing through his teeth, “Next time.” You whined trying to reach for him again, his grip tightened on you. His eyes were blown out wide, “Butterfly. Next time.” He kissed your pouting lips. “Right now, I want to feel you.”  

You shifted over his crotch, but his hand found itself between your legs again. You looked at him questioning. “I need to prepare you to receive me.” You blushed at your eagerness then nodded in understanding. Switching back to one, his finger circling your entrance carefully. You could hear yourself, sticky as you coated the pad of his finger, and you fidgeted, wanting more but still feeling nervous. On cue, he slipped the digit inside you. Your velvet walls squeezed around the intrusion and you winced. His fingers were smaller than his cock, but way bigger than your own fingers. You whined, but he pressed kisses to your lips gently pulling you in a passionate make out. His finger began moving deeper within you and he swallowed each of your noises. “If you can’t take my fingers how are you supposed to take my cock, little human?” You panicked thinking he wasn’t going to put it in you. “No, Jin, I can take it. I can take you.”

He smirked, but underneath he was also a bit concnerned. You were so small compared to his current figure. If he was in his human form there was only a small difference, but he couldn’t shift back now. You grinded against his hand sending a wave of pleasure overriding the pain. The dulcet sound encouraged him, to continue prepping you. This time your walls accepted him sucking his finger in with a desperate need, locking him in placed. He explored you a little, dragging and rubbing inside you, trying to stretch you for what was to come.

“Let me add another finger.” You nodded as you felt him pull his digit out and press another finger up to your twitching entrance. He pressed in and the initial sting hurt as well as the push inside. He rubbed your hip with his other hand in soothing circles. Shifting his hand around he pressed at your clit with his thumb rubbing similar circles. You moaned into the touch as his fingers began to sink into your cunt. He began pumping his fingers into you and the reserve you had been building was soon becoming too much. You had no idea this could be so pleasurable. The woman at the Inn never bragged that sex was this great, always stating it was dull at most.

“Jin? Jin somethings happening, something’s coming.”

He captured your lips increasing the pumping of his fingers and circling around your clit. “Come for me Butterfly, come all over my fingers.”  

Your walls clenched around his fingers and suddenly you were bursting, creaming all over his fingers. He slowed his pace down a bit until you whined. Both of your eyes were blown out and unfocused already despite him still not having his cock in you. The pleasure was already so good. Your scent of arousal had flooded the room and it was making his brain hazy. He pulled his fingers out of you and popping them into his mouth. He groaned at the sweet taste of your essence. It was like junq and cream. It was just as sweet as the rest of you. “My fucking gods Butterfly you taste so good.”

You were panting body still twitching over him. Oddly you didn’t feel exhausted but you wanted more, you wanted more of him. As if he could sense it he captured your lips pressing you for a lasting kiss mixing your tongues. You could taste yourself on his tongue but you didn’t mind it. “Butterfly, I want to lay you down, kiss every inch of you. Taste every inch of you. But for right now, I want you to ride me.”

You nodded and with his help you hovered above his tip, letting him settle against your opening. He moved his cock against your slit collecting your previous cream. “Do you want my cock little human?” He asked still keeping a seductive tone, but he was worried, holding your hips in place.

“Yes, I want this.”

You took his cock from his hand and brought it up to your entrance. You were trembling slighty but you pressed down letting your hips fall. His fingers were definitely smaller than his cock, but you were glad he prepped you. He watched you letting you take him at your pace. The sting burned and you felt like you were going to rip as you kept taking in his tip. With the head in you paused chest heaving at the tight fit. You struggled, feeling a little foolish. He was strong as he was supporting your whole body weight with a single arm while he leaned back on the other to get a better look at you. He groaned at the way he watched your pussy suck in his cock and it disappeared in you. You paused with just the tip of him in. You were so tight holding him in a vice grip. He felt like a young Guerrian again, he felt like he could come at any second but he fought hard against it. With encouraging words to distract himself and to help you slowly you sunk fully onto him to the base. His cock was so hot, hotter than the rest of his body and it was throbbing within you. Unable to resist anymore he pressed his hips upwards sinking further into you until his whole cock was in you. You cried out loud back arching as you could feel him all the way in your stomach.

You felt heavenly. He pulled you closer to by the waist and encouraged you to wrap your arms around him. The slight motion had you whining but he hushed and assured you. His lips found yours, unable to resist, as his tongue and yours moved against one another.

“You don’t belong in anyone else’s arms but mine.”

You squeezed at his shoulders.

“Ready?”

You nodded and with the help of his hands on your hips he dragged you up to the tip of his cock. On the drag down moans tumbled forth from your parted lips, mouth dropped open at the intense pleasure. His grip on your hips tightened as he helped you repeat the action and soon you were riding him. You were fucking him  He moaned your name. Hearing him use it in this context set your body alight. He proved to you just how much he liked what you were doing, no matter how inexperienced you were by being vocal. You hadn’t expected that from him as he was normally quiet and introverted.

“Turn over for me.”

Carefully you twisted in his lap and the noise his cock slipping out of you was sloppy enough with the mix of both of your juice it had a flush rising to your cheeks. You allowed him to move you so that your back was facing him. Gently his fingers moved over your freshly tattooed skin. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the center of your back, one for each butterfly. You were gorgeous in his eyes, nothing could compare to you. “My Butterfly.” He kept moving you until you were on all fours, ass up and bent just right for him. With his other hand he brought his cock back to your entrance and pressed inside you. It had you moaning at the new feeling and it felt he was going deeper inside you. Slowly he maneuvered so you could get used to it before he was pounding into you. You felt encompassed by his large being. Your elbows collapsed under you as your face was on the mattress. You turned around looking over your shoulder. He looked delirious as he pumped himself into you. It had your walls clamping down on his length. He grunted losing himself in the pleasure.

“Gonna cum Butterfly?” You nodded. He reached around your front fingers finding your clit. It had you mewling and squirming. He pressed down onto you nearly laying himself over you as he kissed your shoulder.

“My good little human. Mine. All mine.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore as you came. His cock swelled slightly, molten vein within you brightening as he neared his end. A high pitch whine escaped you as he increased his pace. “Jin! Oh my gods, Jin!” He thrusted harder and deeper inside you. He was lost in the pleasure. His pace was becoming sloppy as he came coating you walls in his thick cum. He twitched above you as he kept cumming, filling you fully with his seed.

You whined as you collapsed underneath him. His cock slipped out of you, but you both didn’t care about the mess. He fell next to you on the mattress, both of you were heaving. Turning you over carefully onto your side so you were face to face with him he brought you into his chest with his hand draped over your waist. You were beyond sweating and overheating, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be in his embrace. Your hands rested on his chest. He dipped his head down and your lips lazily worked against one another.

Pulling away, you blinked sleepily. His eyes were trained on you with a similar soft expression.

“I love you.” In a raspy voice that sounded heavy with sleep, he confessed.

You giggled pecking his lips. “I love you too.”  

You blinked as light shined in from the porch resting the urge to tuck yourself back into the comforter. You turned over onto your side sitting up, pushing the hair back from your face. Inhaling deeply fresh air. You look towards the source of light that ultimately woke you up coming in from the porch. You promised yourself it was only going to be a short nap, but the sky outside was already darkening.

Jin’s wide shoulders were hunched over as you could see one of his arms moving. You crawled over towards him. He had set up station on the porch as the weather had gotten much warmer. When you reached him you wrapped your arms his waist plopping your chin over his shoulder. You peeked his cheek, “Hello.”

He hummed twisting his head around to peck your lips quickly. “I didn’t want to wake you, you were sleeping so good.”

You groaned but it was endearing to him. You planted your chin back on his shoulder. He held your hands tightly still. His black inked hands with the fire veins exposed freely as he worked.

“Something came for you.”

You perked up at that. He let go of one of your hands and dug into his robe coat pulling out a letter. He held it between his fingers. “It’s for you.”

You lit up at the sight of the letter. Had Cherry written you? You wondered if her and Hoseok had finally tied the knot since they moved from the city. You crawled around front and sat yourself in his lap and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You flipped it over a few times, it had your name on it but it was addressed from a place you didn’t recognize. For sure this letter wasn’t from Cherry.

“Who’s it from? Are you sure this is the right Y/n?”

He propped his head on your shoulder like you had earlier. “It’s right.”

You pulled at the side seal and dug your finger in ripping it open. You pulled out a letter and quietly read it over. He tightened his grip around your waist as you were the quietest you’ve ever been. Your eyes grew bleary and tears began to slip down your cheek. You turned around in Jin’s lap, hand shaking, “How? How did you?”

He smiled wiping your tears from your eyes. “I had to do a lot of research, but I found her. I sent her a our wedding picture. She sent her blessings and this letter for you.”

You were ugly sobbing as you pressed your face into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. Your mother hadn’t forgotten about you and was very proud of you as she wrote in her letter. She was proud of all you had done for humans and Guerrian alike. In the letter she said she had tried looking for you but wasn’t allowed into the capital all those years ago. She never stopped thinking about you. With the liberation and breaking of the apartheid after the two-year war a few years ago, she was finally free to come to the capital and she wanted to meet you. Your siblings are doing well. There was nothing about your father. But this letter, that’s more than you could’ve ever asked for.

He held you tightly in his arms. When your tears dried you leaned back and pecked his lips. “I-you’re—I-I love you so much.”

He smiled and captured your lips with his, “I love you too.”

You smiled clutching the letter closer to you. Shyly you pulled back holding out your forearm. “Paint one for me?”

He took your arm and pecked the skin, “Anything for you Butterfly.”

The ink was always cold, but his warm hand was enough to counter it. With a last stroke he painted a butterfly on you. You held your arm up to the sky that was painted in an array of colors welcoming the sunset.

Everything was alright.

Copyright 2020 by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Ways Comes Ch 11

Killian hissed as he rolled onto his back, feeling as though he’d just been hit by a freight train. Mary Margaret was here, his mind informed him as he blinked slowly and tried to right himself. Mary Margaret was here and she used magic. How was that possible?

Wait. His heart stopped. Did she say daughter? Pushing himself up off the ground faster than was advisable, Killian got to his feet just as Mary Margaret removed one of the crystals keeping Emma in her cage.

“Stop!” Liam shouted, his hands flying up to freeze the room.

Nothing happened. Mary Margaret opened her arms, a wide, watery smile on her face as she stepped forward to embrace Emma. Killian couldn’t see Emma’s face, but he saw the half step she took away from the older woman, saw how tense her shoulders were. Before Killian could move forward, before Mary Margaret’s arms closed around Emma, and before Liam could try to blow something up this time, Emma shimmered away.

“No!” Mary Margaret cried, her hands clawing at the air where Emma once stood. “No, no, no! I am not letting this happen again.” Setting her eyes on them, their hazel color burning with determination, she barked, “Scrying crystals—now!”

“I’ll try to follow her,” Tink—how long had Tink been there, standing in the corner?—said before orbing out of the attic.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Liam asked what Killian was thinking. Their bodies were bruised, their attic trashed, Mary Margaret was rummaging through their storage like a mad-woman, and their white-lighter had just gone to find Emma with no explanation as to why. Catching Will’s eyes behind Liam’s back, Killian found his younger brother just as at a loss as he.

And of course, because things weren’t getting hectic enough around here, Nolan ran through the door. “Is she here?” He asked, wildly out of breath, as if he’d just ran a marathon. He looked at his wife who was still busy ransacking their home, and then to them. “Is she?”

Running a hand down his face, Liam growled, “I’ll ask this once more—what the bloody hell is going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” Mary Margaret snapped. “But first where are your scrying crystals. We need to act fast before she gets too far.”

Liam threw his hands up in the air and turned to pace. Killian looked at Will, who shrugged, obviously at a loss.

Shaking his head, Killian opened the chest full of their maps and crystals, “It’s all over here, love.”

Mary Margaret lunged for him. She just barely missed knocking into him as she knelt beside the chest and pulled out a map of the city and the first crystal she could get her hands on.

Looking up at Nolan, Killian found himself asking, “Did you know your wife was a witch, then?”

David swallowed. His breaths were still shallow and there was a fine sheen of sweet on his skin. Still, his eyes were clear and sharp as they bore into Killian’s. He nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Will asked.

“I gave up magic a long time ago,” Mary Margaret muttered, her eyes still steadfast on the map before her.

Will rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“David,” Liam snapped, his voice hard and firm. Killian had to stop himself from flinching. “What is going on?”

Shaking his head, the detective huffed out a laugh, “A lot.”

“Dammit,” Mary Margaret swore. She stood up and threw the scrying items back into the chest. “I can’t find her.”

“It’s okay, Snow,” David quickly pulled his wife into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Tink’s on her trail right now .We won’t lose her again.” David sighed, then looked back towards the brothers. “There’s a lot we have to tell you. So,” he looked around and frowned, “is there anywhere we can sit?”

After moving their party down to the first floor, with Will scurrying off into the kitchen under the pretense of making tea, Killian and Liam found themselves sitting across from the Nolan’s in awkward silence. “Alright, we’re all comfortable now.” Liam leaned forward, staring David straight in the eye, “Start talking.”

David winced and looked at Mary Margaret. They were silent for a moment, as if having a private conversation that only they could hear, and then Mary Margaret spoke up, “I used to be a witch.” She blinked, then broke her gaze with David and turned it onto them. “I mean, I guess I still am, but I used to be a practicing one, when I was younger. Before I met David.”

Will returned carrying a tray of mugs. When he handed one to Mary Margaret she nodded her thanks and took a sip. “I was like you boys. I brewed potions, wrote spells,” she paused to wet her lips, “I vanquished demons. And then one day,” she took in a deep, shaky breath, “I killed an Innocent.”

“It was an accident,” David immediately defended, tucking Mary Margaret away under his arm. “The guy, he knew what he was doing. He knew that trap was there and still he—”

Mary Margaret placed a hand on David’s knee, silencing him. “I was trying to hunt down the Seer.”

“The Seer?” Will asked, his brows furrowed. “We haven’t heard of her—she’s not in the book, right?”

Both Liam and Killian shook their heads.

“No, no, she wouldn’t be. She’s too smart for that. The Seer’s been around for a long time—longer than almost any other demon—and she gets others to do her dirty work for her.”

Killian frowned, “So the human, was he one of her pawns?”

Mary Margaret shivered and closed her eyes, “No, worse. He was her lover.”

“Wait,” Will asked, his brows soaring up to meet his hair line. “What?”

“His name was Daniel,” Mary Margaret shook her head, as if she herself was at a loss. “And they were in love.”

“But demons can’t love,” Killian stated. He knew they couldn’t. Everyone said so. The book, Tink—hell, even some demons themselves had said it.

Mary Margaret nodded, “That’s what I thought too, but,” she covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath, “I guess there’s an exception to every rule.”

 l Emma l 

 Run, run, run, run, Emma’s mind kept chanting; a steady beat in the back of her head. But run where? She couldn’t go back to the Underworld. By now the Source must have known she’d been compromised and failure was unacceptable. She couldn’t go to her apartment—demons were surely crawling all over the place by now. She thought about go back to the manor, back to Killian, but knew that was out of the question too. His eyes . . . god, they had looked so hollow during their conversation. Her heart couldn’t stand the thought of going back to him and having to watch his heart break in real time.

And then there was also that woman. She was so small and gentle looking, with her jet black hair and kind, round face. There had been something familiar about her, something that had made Emma yearn for a home and a family that she knew never existed.

But then the woman had called Emma her daughter, had walked towards her with open arms as if she were about to embrace her, and Emma couldn’t stand it.

It was bullshit. It had to be. Her parents had abandoned her as a baby. So either that woman was lying or was a worse monster than the Source himself.

Shimmering to a stop, Emma found herself outside in a park and fell into a nearby bench. She needed a game plan. She couldn’t just keep shimmering away for the rest of her life. So she’d failed at killing the Charmed Ones—a so had a hundred other demons! She could—she could always go back and try again. Try a more direct approach this time, like shimmering into their rooms at night and cutting their throats. Or she could poison their food. Or maybe she could lock them in their house and burn it to the ground!

Or, or, but no, she realized with a strange sense of sobriety. Of course, Emma could do all those things, but she found that she really didn’t want to. She didn’t want to kill Killian or his brothers. She didn’t want to keep hurting people, to or lying. She definitely didn’t want to be the Source’s bodyguard anymore. Regardless of whether or not he’d even take her back.

So where did that leave her?

And why did she feel so crappy all of a sudden? Her muscles ached as if she was fighting off a cold, but that wasn’t possible. One of the perks of all the powers the Source had given her was that she never got sick. Wrapping her arms around herself, realizing belatedly that she was shivering, Emma tried to remember the last time she’d felt this way.

“You were eight,” a voice answered from the darkness.

Emma was on her feet, looking into the dark of the park where the lights didn’t reach. “Who’s there?” She barked, ready to defend herself. There was a pounding in her head now. It was in the back of her skull and growing louder and fiercer with every second.

Out from the shadows walked Tink, her pale skin glowing ethereally against the night. “You were eight years old the last time you felt like this,” she said again. “It was the last day of spring, the last time I could sense your presence. And the last time you could feel your humanity.”

“What?” Emma sucked in a sharp breath as the pounding in her head shifting the front of her skull. It felt like someone was trying to pry her open with an ice pick.

“That will pass, soon enough,” Tink said calmly. “Once your body purges the last of its demonic energy.”

Clutching her head now, Emma shook her head. “No—no, you’re doing this. You stupid white-lighter!” It had to be her. Emma had no idea how the semi-dead woman could be causing her pain, but that had to be it. “You’ll regret this!” Pulling on that fire that she always relied on, Emma felt her magic burn its way up to the surface, ready to do her bidding.

Instead of a golden-red fire, though, what erupted from Emma’s body was a blinding white light. Car alarms blared, the park lights sparked and then died, and the force of it propelled Emma back, slamming her body against the park bench.

Emma gasped, and the light disappeared, leaving her and the white-lighter in near darkness with only the light of the moon to illuminate their surroundings.

Chest heaving, Emma looked around wildly, trying to figure out what happened. “What—what the hell was that?”

Tink took a step closer, then another, and another after that. “That,” she said slowly, her green eyes never leaving Emma, “was your power. Your real power.”

Shaking her head, Emma tried to shimmer away but found that she couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, in fact, as if a new weight as holding her down. “No, that’s not—”

“Emma,” Tink took a seat beside her but thankfully didn’t reach out, “I want to help you. Will you let me?”

Mouth agape, Emma found herself nodding in acceptance.

 l Killian l

 All five of them—Mary Margaret, the Charmed Ones, even David—were up in the attic, each with a map in front of them and a crystal in their hands. All of them were searching with the intent to find Emma. Although really, only four of them had a chance. What, exactly, David was playing at Killian wasn’t entirely sure. He supposed the man wanted to be helpful even in a situation where he could never be.

“Maybe Tink found her,” Will said, his neck still craned to keep eye on his map. “Maybe they’re on their way back right now.”

Liam hummed dismissively. Killian had to wonder if the eldest Jones brother was even really trying. He’d listened silently to Mary Margaret’s story, his face stony and unreadable, but Killian had a feeling the man was unimpressed by it all.

Perhaps if they could just find Emma, then all of this would get properly sorted. If not for his sake, then at least for David and Mary Margaret’s. Killian looked up to watch the couple. He saw the way David’s jaw ticked with stress, how Mary Margret’s crystal shook in her hands. Firestarter or not, Emma was their child. After everything they’d been through, they deserved to find each other again.

Perhaps they’d even find their happy ending.

“Killian,” Will cracked his neck, “could you toss me a bottle of water.”

Nodding, Killian reached for a bottle from the box of supplies they’d gathered before hunkering up in the attic. As soon as his fingers curled around the plastic, he gasped and his eyes shuttered closed.

A demon stepped out of a wall of fire, locking eyes on the figures in the room. He had short brown hair and a mean glint to his eyes. His focus narrowed on Mary Margaret and with a throw of his arm, he sent an energy ball straight into her chest. Her body flew across the room, and when she hit the ground her eyes were open and lifeless. Then, before Liam could even raise his hands, the demon sent a ball of fire straight at David, killing him instantly.

Eyes snapping open, Killian yelled, “Incoming!” just as a pillar of fire appeared before them.

From the fire stepped out the male demon Killian had seen in his vision. The demon’s mouth curled into a Cheshire smile and he locked his gaze onto Mary Margaret. Know what was to come next, Killian lunged across the room and tackled the dark haired woman to the ground. Killian heard a crash behind them and then splinters of wood falling onto his back.

“Will!” He shouted, keeping both himself and Mary Margaret close to the ground, “Get Nolan out of here!”

The sound of Will’s orb was a relief to Killian’s ears. “Stay here,” he told Mary Margaret before standing to help his brother.

Liam blew the demon up again and again, but it wasn’t working, merely slowing him down. The demon’s smile widened, showing off his shockingly white teeth, as he laughed. “Oh,” he said, “This is gonna be fun.”

Will orbed back in, ready to help, but the movement caught the demon’s eye and quick as an asp, sent a wave of black and orange particles towards the youngest Jones brother. The swarm surrounded him, attacking his clothes and skin like a plague of locusts.

“Will!” Both Liam and Killian yelled. Liam tried to freeze the swarm but nothing happened. Killian grabbed an Athame from the floor and threw it at the demon, but that only made his laughter grow.

Will’s screams grew louder and louder, and Killian didn’t know what to do; how to help. Liam threw open the Book of Shadows, desperately trying to find something that could save Will.

The sound of another orb caught Killian’s attention. Spinning around, his heart jumped into his throat, hoping that Tink would know what to do. “Tink—”

But it wasn’t just Tink standing behind him. It was Tink and Emma. And Emma’s eyes were set on the demon across the room.

Eyes ablaze, Emma’s lip curled back as she yelled, “Baelfire!”

“Emma!” The demon—Baelfire—smiled, “so glad you could make it! Help me finish off these other two won’t ya? Dad will be ecstatic!”

“Go to hell!” Emma body began to glow, and for the first time since his arrival, Baelfire looked unsure. Extending out her arm and aiming her hand right at the demon, Emma shot a beam of pure white light straight into his chest. Baelfire’s chest rippled, his brows furrowed, and then he exploded into nothing.

“Will!” Liam ran over to their youngest brother, Killian not far behind. The swarm of particles was gone, but his brother’s skin was shredded and bleeding fiercely.

“Tink!” Killian yelled, and she was by his side in an instant. Placing her hands against Will’s face, they began to glow as her magic healed him. When Killian saw that his little brother’s chest still rose and fell, he let himself fall back onto his rear. “Thank god.”

“You have a lot of nerve coming back here,” Liam growled, his blue eyes locking onto Emma. He stood up, stalking towards her.

Mary Margaret was up and at her daughter’s side, “Now hold on—”

“See what you’ve done? You almost got Will killed,” he was in Emma’s face now, but she wasn’t back down. Emma stared right back at Liam with her chin held high. “I don’t care whose daughter you are, if I ever see you again I’ll—”

“Oh, will you knock it off?” Tink, having finished with Will, stood up and gave Liam’s arm a good shove, forcing him to back away from Emma. “She just saved Will—she saved all of you. Just like you saved her.”

“What?” Killian ran a hand down his face. There was a lot happening and he wasn’t sure he was following it all. “What are you talking about Tink.”

“Haven’t you lot figured it out yet?” She looked between Liam and Killian, her eyes wide and incredulous. “Emma’s the savior!”

Killian’s eyes snapped to Emma. The words short circuited his brain, and the only thought he was left with was this; bloody hell.  

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Golden Cage Part 3: Post Room

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of obsession, possessiveness, death, murder, kidnapping, imprisonment, mental and physical abuse. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.          

As always feedback is welcomed

Zuko had been right about the lull only being temporary because only about a month had gone by, and now it seemed the world was falling apart at his feet again. The Earth King Kuei had come to visit the Fire Nation Palace, and that had his still very disorganized staff running around like pig chickens with their heads cut off. If this meeting didn’t go well then, the tentative peace with the Earth Kingdom he and the Avatar had worked so hard to maintain could be broken.

Maybe he should have you start looking after the staff and such early, but he also didn’t want to overwhelm you by changing things too fast. He’d just started letting you have limited access to the palace so long as you took your guards. It may have been only to the places that you needed to go in order to oversee the wedding plans, but he hoped one day to give you real freedom to wander the palace and surrounding town as you saw fit.

Zuko had never wanted to cage you, but then you’d tried to leave him and go off wandering the world again. Zuko couldn’t let that happen; he needed you like he needed to breathe, not to mention how unsafe the outside world was, sure the war was over, but the peace had been an uneasy one and most people were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not to mention the fact that his father still had loyalists, all it would take is one of them killing you to break Zuko.

Now that you were to be his bride, you couldn’t leave him, maybe it was time to start introducing you to the duties of the Fire Lords consort. Zuko smiled at the thought of you being his wife, invitations to the wedding had already been sent, and he was sure that day would be one of the happiest of his life, second only by the birth of your future children.

Still, for now, he needed to greet Kuei, maybe he could have you come with him to do that. It’s what he was supposed to do right, have his future wife greet foreign diplomats. It was hard to say the Fire Nation hadn’t had foreign diplomats in its borders for a very long time, but it seemed like the thing to do.

Besides, maybe meeting someone new would bring out some of that old spark he loved. He found himself longing for the days on his ship when you would call him out on his bullshit, but not in the same way the crew or uncle did, the crew would insult him, uncle would spew proverbs, but you would roll your eyes with an endearing smile and tell him he was being ridiculous.

At first, he hated it, but after a month he came to depend on it, there were no riddles with you. Zuko understood his uncle wanted him to figure things out on his own, and that helped him grow in a lot of ways, but it was also nice having someone who was straight forward and not afraid to speak their mind.

He hadn’t wanted to –

break you, but it’d been necessary, he knew from all the years of tactical school he’d been forced to attend, that it would have been much faster to have someone torture you and then come in and patch you up himself. Zuko had never wanted to hurt you, in fact, the thought of seeing you injured again after you’d taken that lightning strike for him made Zuko sick.

He’d thought you’d died and had nearly gone as psycho as Azula, which had apparently been what allowed him the beat his sister because evidently, all this time, he’d unconsciously been holding back against his little sister. Zuko proved far stronger than anyone had ever thought because he’d had Azula down in under a minute.

Now that you were broken, though, Zuko could start putting you back the way you were, only without the need to wander the world with no roots to ground you.

Dinner with Kuei had been a bit awkward at first. Zuko had never been much good when it came to small talk, and even after being Fire Lord for five years, that hadn’t changed much. What saved him from having to sit there while trying not to be awkward enough to start another war was you.

You came in with the grace and elegance befitting a future queen, your guards, the same ones that got assigned to you after the chopstick incident, were trailing behind you looking ready to tackle someone, most likely you, at the slightest hint of provocation. Few people in the palace knew the truth, everyone had just thought you’d been sick and had finally recovered, but those that did were extremely weary of you.

You smiled as you greeted your guest, well not your guest, he was Zuko’s guest, and you were Zuko’s prisoner, but you knew better than to carry on like that. As much as you wanted to be free, you didn’t want it to come at the price of another war, even now you knew your life wasn’t worth the lives of the thousands of innocent people another one would cost.

“I’m sorry I’m late, but wedding planning is apparently much more work the ether Zuko, and I thought,” You said with an exuberant smile on your face. If it hadn’t been for the years of breath control training he’d received, Zuko would have chocked on air it that moment. Gently you lowered yourself down to the seat on Zuko’s left, the place that would officially be yours in a little over two months.

You banished that thought from your mind; now wasn’t the time to think about the inevitability of your marriage or how at one point in your life, the idea of marring Zuko would have made you smile, but now made you want to cry. It wasn’t the time to think about how with each second you had to spend planning the wedding, you were more and more likely to have a mental break down.

So instead you kept the small talk going with the Earth King, he was a pleasant man if a bit peculiar, you were just glad he’d decided to leave his pet bear in the Earth Kingdom, you didn’t think your nerves could handle that.

You wouldn’t know it because Zuko was doing his best to keep his temper in check, but your fiancé was stewing in jealousy, he couldn’t get you to talk to him, but you’d do it with that cowardly fool of a king. Even after you agreed to be his wife, you still hadn’t told him you loved him, you’d said it to him constantly when you, him, and uncle were pretending to be Earth Kingdom refugees in Ba Sing Se.

After dinner was finished and Kuei retired to his chambers, Zuko found himself leading you into his chambers with a bruising grip on your wrist. “You’ll smile and laugh with that fool but not me, I’ve given you everything, my heart, my soul, my country, a roof over your head, food in your stomach, the list could go on, and this is how you treat me. You’ve agreed to marry me, but you haven’t said you loved me in years,” Zuko hissed, dragging you further into the room until your knees hit the bed.

Then Zuko shoved you down onto his bed and used his weight to pin your body down while holding your wrists above your head with so much force, you’d thought they might break. That wasn’t the worst part though, the worst of it would have to be the heat emanating from his hands, you could feel your skin burning underneath his touch.

Once, years ago, you would have scoffed at anyone who’d have said Zuko would hurt you, but now you’re faced with the stark truth, Zuko was never anything like you thought he was, inside he was just as cruel and mean as his father.

Yet you knew at the same time Zuko wasn’t, he could be kind as he could cruel gentle as he was rough. It didn’t matter though, because Zuko would never let you leave him; you were as trapped now as you had been when you were locked away, all you had was the illusion of freedom, and yet you were so terrified of being in that room again.

“Zuko, you’re hurting me,” You whimpered with tears in your eyes, just like that all of the fire and rage that was in him a second ago is extinguished, and Zuko Jumped backward like you’re the one that burned him. Even though your glad to be released, it worried you how fast he can go from burning hot rage to gut-wrenching guilt. What does this say for your future, you don’t know, maybe he’d let you go, or he might lock you up again. Your life is in his hands, and you hated it

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