#its all just a neverending cycle

[depthnessingsweet]

.

[elegyofthemoon]

Sorry, but I saw your comment about how Gepard is in that piece like Serval's shield, and I guess you mean in general how that's the role he has as the captain of the Silvermane guards and how that's the role he tried to get to get "even" with Serval due to childhood, but also... The fact that at the same time Serval is still literally his shield? That always makes me soooo ajfkabfksndjd when it comes to them and their dynamic.

DONT MAKE ME THINK ABOUT THIS IM TRYING TO COOL OFF LMAO

[mitahanvittua]

u know im like 99% sure i have ocd? my old psychologist made some tests for me but also told me that i probably wouldnt be diagnosed since i dont have any compulsions (which ive now realized isnt actually true!! rumination is a compulsion!!!) and since my symptoms kinda fluctuate and i do have like long (like actually long periods when i feel like 96% alright (-> when im ok i will have intrusive thoughts but the anxiety isnt as high and im able to stop the ruminating before it even properly begins) idk if it actually counts as OCD or if im just an anxious person with some ocd-like symptoms

[bluebellhairpin]

Drew a little yesterday but then remembered I can't draw. Chose to write instead but soon remembered I can't write either.

[oetscop]

sitting on the floor w my ears back and tail down trembling and looking pathetic and soggy

[aria0fgold]

The temptation of doing worldbuilding for Alec and Ray's world but also the exasperation from reworking their story FROM THE VERY BEGINNING cuz of how closely tied their stories are with the current world they're living in (which is just modern earth) and I'm like, every day I think bout wanting to worldbuild to make the story a bit Easier for me but at the same time, I also just am not prepared to rewrite practically everything about their stories.

[cellophaine]

Chapter VIII: FOOT FAULT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Major angst.

Author's Note: Strap in and enjoy the ride 🫡 there will be even more turbulence from now on

GIF Source

Ever since that day, your contact with Art had been far and few between. Every time you texted him, he would respond much later and in brief sentences. The conversations would always start and end with your message, and often about Art trying to balance school, practice, and Tashi. You weren't on that list, even though he apologized for not being able to see you as much. Disappointment wasn't at the forefront of your mind whenever you reread the recent messages. Still, it had smouldered into something hard to ignore.

The surgery was over a week ago, and you hadn't seen Art since. You told yourself that he was being a good friend to Tashi like he was to you, but a part of you couldn't help but think there was more to it. Your mind had started to accumulate the evidence that had always been there: the lingering look at Tashi, the tempestuous shout at Patrick, and the lack of dialogue between the two of you. The underpainting had taken shape on the canvas, and the finer details began to fill in with your overthinking. You forced yourself to look away from the easel despite being the one holding the brush. To acknowledge it was to admit that Art was only using you, to accept the fact that you weren't enough to be a worthy person in someone else's life, only to be a temporary placeholder, was too much to bear. Your heart fractured, morsel by morsel, when you thought about how his affection wasn't even for you.

The very possibility of it occupied so much of your mind that you were consumed by the thought. Ravenous was its nature; it feasted on the fact that Art hadn't tried to stay in touch with you as much as you had. It revelled in the insecurities that had resurfaced in such a short time. The neverending cycle ran you haggard, and despite your conscious effort to take yourself out of it, it went on.

You barely left your room these days. When your roommates asked you to hang out with them, you would come up with excuses not to. Without Art, you felt like you didn't have anything to do or anywhere to be besides classes and work. And when you weren't at either place, you would be at the library, obsessively watching Art and Patrick's old tennis matches. There was undeniable chemistry between them, and they complimented each other, highlighting the best part about their respective skill set. Patrick was an extension of Art, and vice versa. A bond like that was hard to break, and from the exchanges you'd seen, one on the polar opposite of the other, you wondered if there was anything else underneath all of this.

/

On an unexpected night, while you perused the reading material for the following week's class, your phone vibrated with Art's name lit up the screen. A rush of excitement, tinged with a touch of nervousness, ran under your skin. You put the book down and let the phone ring three more times before picking up.

"Hey."

"Hey stranger."

You cheekily added. At that, Art chuckled softly. The low vibrato of his voice reminded you of just how much you'd missed him.

"Uhm– so, how are you?"

At your eager question, Art sighed. A muffled sound came from his end, the sound of him running a hand through his hair.

"I'm … alright. I'm sorry I haven't called much. Midterm was awful, and practices have been a lot, and, uh …"

He trailed off. You completed the sentence for him.

"… Tashi."

"Yeah."

His answer settled low in the air between you. It stalled the usual effortless flow of your conversations, rendered you speechless, and he, too. You prodded the fragile silence, and it gave away under the push of your careful voice like a shaky sigh.

"It's okay. I haven't had much free time either. Are you doing okay though?"

"I'm fine … for the most part."

The hesitation in his wording piqued your curiosity. Art wouldn't have said that if nothing was wrong.

"What's with the other part?"

A moment of silence stretched over the thinning air. You added.

"Art. You can tell me anything. I'm here to listen."

Another sigh slithered from the other end to the speaker.

"I don't know how to say it, but at the same time, I feel like it's so obvious. I … miss Patrick. But I'm also mad at him for what he's … done."

His incertitude on the latter part made you feel like he wanted to withhold the information itself.

"Hm, I see. From the sound of your shouting it must be something serious."

Art had gone so quiet that you couldn't even hear his breathing. Your voice was barely a whisper when you called out to him.

"Art?"

"Did you catch all of that?"

"Yes, I did."

You toyed with the hem of your shirt between your fingers before continuing with uncertainty. Unsure if you should pursue this.

"I've never heard you shout like that. You must've been really mad."

"Yeah, I was."

"What happened? Did they get into a fight?"

"Yeah, right before the match."

"What did they fight about?"

The nervous twists of your fingers had left fleeting creases on the fabric as you released it from your grasp.

"Tashi didn't say much, … except for the fact that Patrick might be seeing other girls while on tour."

"You're his friend, did he tell you anything about seeing other girls?"

From suspicion born uneasiness in the pit of your stomach as Art prolonged the silence. You tried again, your voice laced with resolution, unwavering.

"Art. How did Tashi come to that conclusion?

"… I don't know."

"Did you say something to her? To both of them?"

"I might have mentioned Patrick's… tendency to have multiple options at the same time."

"Well, it doesn't mean he's not serious about Tashi."

"But he's my friend. I know him. He's always been a player. And he's… you never know with him. Whether he's genuine or not."

"He's your friend. Don't you think he deserves more grace than what you give him? What if it was different with Tashi?"

"I was just trying to look out for her!"

"That's not looking out for your friends. That's meddling and you know it."

"If my meddling could make them fight so easily then they'd never been good for each other in the first place!"

"That's not up to you to decide!"

You couldn't believe that you yelled at him. You exhaled sharply, trying to regain some control and wishing you hadn't said anything at all. But it was too late. It was like putting back a broken vase, but it was splintered in so many tiny fragments that the more you tried, the worse you hurt yourself.

"Look, it's late, and I'm tired. Can we pick this up another time?"

There was an edge to his voice, and somehow, you knew that this conversation would never be brought up again.

"Sure."

You swallowed your fighting words, knowing if you persisted, it wouldn't end well, even though it was too little too late. After saying goodbye, you hung up with a heavy heart. The heavy fog of your argument closed in on you, turning the air you breathed into suffocation.

For days after, your contact was reduced to none. You abandoned the ongoing draft in the notebook Art gifted you and directed your attention to something else. The inspiration you'd drawn had become a withering reflection of the past, of everything good in your relationship. Nothing could revive it; the only thing left was the dwindling hope that things would be alright between the two of you again. You buried yourself in all the other aspects of your life, hoping you could, at the very least, not think about Art so often. But it was impossible. His imprints on you were branded marks, a thing of permanence on your mind and skin.

/

In the quiet hour of the afternoon, the rhythmic sound of a pen hitting paper sounded louder than the whispered small talk from the only two customers in the cafe. The sentence was left like an unfinished thought, and you were searching for the words to wrap it up. The literary competition at Stanford was announced two days ago, and you immediately got to work. For the prized money and a feature in the school's newspaper, you weren't going to pass it up.

The bell above the door rang. You pulled your eyes away from the half-written page to settle on the new customer with a smile on your face.

"Welcome …"

Art stood there, holding the door open for Tashi. She walked in with a pair of crutches, thanking him. His eyes trained on you for a moment before tearing away. His brief gaze was enough to draw heat to your skin. Tashi slowly and carefully made her way to the counter with Art's arms hovered around her. She smiled at you.

"So, this is the place. My friends have been raving about the drinks here. Him, too."

She inclined her head at Art. He only smiled and said nothing in return. You realized then he wasn't going to introduce the two of you. You maintained a polite smile and what you hoped to be a friendly manner.

"Do you want any recommendations?"

"Yes, please. I love anything with berries in it."

"Then I have the drink for you."

You explained what went in it, and Tashi approved with a nod. Only then did you turn to Art.

"Do you want your usual, Art?"

You looked at him pointedly. His face warmed as he pretended to consider the options, even though, up until two weeks ago, he knew the menu inside and out. Tashi's gaze travelled back and forth between you and Art.

"Do you guys know each other?"

You fixed him with a look, daring him to own up to it. He finally conceded and introduced the two of you.

"I think Art mentioned you once or twice."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, you're his friend. Were you the one who came to check on me after …"

She trailed off.

"I did."

Tashi gave you a rueful smile.

"Thank you for that."

"Don't mention it. How are you doing now?"

She looked down at her knee brace briefly.

"Slowly but surely recovering."

"Take care of yourself. You'll be back to playing again in no time."

"I hope so."

Tashi gave a sad smile, and you mirrored with more assurance. You wanted to dislike her, but you felt nothing but sympathy for her. Art watched the whole exchange wordlessly. You broke eye contact with Tashi to address Art.

"Do you want your usual, Art?"

He nodded, and you told them the total. You watched as Art paid for Tashi despite her refusal. Jealousy flared hot and heavy in your chest, yearning to take back Tashi's place that used to belong to you. But who were you to him to feel this way?

You dropped the change into his hand and pulled away quickly as if you were burned by the thought of your skin touching. You didn't make eye contact and walked away quickly, and though you knew it was rude, you couldn't help it. Your bottled-up feeling was barely contained now; it bubbled and wanted to break free of its confinement. The sound of their soft-spoken exchange churned your inside, making you sick with envy. You made the drinks, and like a habit, you grabbed a marker to put a heart on Art's. But you caught yourself and set the marker down.

You pushed the drinks towards them. The smile on your face felt strained now, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up. You settled for a small wave as opposed to a verbal goodbye, but Tashi interrupted your thought.

"It's very nice to meet you."

You reciprocated her smile.

"You, too."

You looked at Art briefly before wordlessly turning away, making yourself busy with an inane task. With their backs to you, you discreetly stared at their closeness. Despite knowing your problem wasn't with Tashi, you couldn't help but feel envious. You wished you could be her. Beautiful, talented, and doused in Art's attention. With a conscious effort, you tore your teary eyes away from them and set your sight on the open notebook on the counter. If you lingered for a moment longer, you would have caught Art's eyes looking back at you with a longing that you were all too familiar with. Only this time, unbeknownst to you, you were on the receiving end.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

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[agustdiv1ne]

telepathy (m) — cbg [TEASER]

OUT NOW! READ HERE!

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok??)

wc: tbd (projected to be around 7-8k)

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, there isn't much in this teaser, but here are the warnings for the rest of the fic so far: mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way...it will all make sense, trust 🙏

note: this is inspired by a p*rn audio LMAO,,, lmk if you'd like to be tagged via an ask, or just drop a comment below ^^

masterlist

☆ TEASER ☆

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies. 

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you. 

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight. 

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior. 

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn't he?

again, if you would like to be tagged, shoot me an ask or comment down below!! and if you'd like to join my permanent taglist, please do so through this form!

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[danieyells]

Taiga's mental deterioration is awful. It's terrible. To lose parts of oneself, for Romeo to lose parts of someone he loves so dearly, it's painful and terrifying and if he could make a wish with another demon he might just wish for him to be healed. He was never normal in the time that he knew him. But once upon a time Taiga spoke and looked around the world with coherency, Taiga took interest in things beyond hunger and sporadic, violent fascination. Once upon a time Taiga did more than eat and gamble and sleep in a cycle that he sometimes was very aware of.

And yet.

And yet one of the things Taiga never seemed to forget was Romeo himself. Others' faces and names faded away or never told hold to begin with, other parts of his life were gone to the neverending hunger within him, but Lulu, Lulu remained. If Taiga heard Romeo's name, even without his nickname, there was never any question who he was. His face was always as beautiful as he last saw him. His voice was always so loud and he always said too much. He was as naïve as the day they met and as greedy as he'd ever been. Taiga knew Romeo. He always knew Romeo.

It was awful, in his eyes. That whoever Taiga has been before he met him had been washed away. That Taiga could barely remember who he was and where he'd come from and what brought him joy beyond risk and profit and blood in his mouth and the presence of someone who'd stayed with him so long that Romeo used to wonder if no one had ever done so before.

And yet.

Romeo had always been a greedy bastard. No one knew that like Taiga did.

And as much as he hated to see Taiga fade into something almost beastial, the part of him he buried down tight, the part of him which would have rather cling to valuables even if they would get him killed, the vicious, hungering greed watched on with delight.

The greed held its hand out to this slowly forming monster to be sniffed and remembered and relied on and loved and wanted and needed and to be the only thing left in his head.

Part of him saw Taiga forget everything but remember him with such clarity it was as if Romeo's existence was his own and wished he could help him tear everything else away. Faster, forget faster. Forget more. Care about less.

Until all that Taiga knew or saw or desired or remembered or lived for what Romeo Scorpius Lucci.

Isn't it what he deserved? And isn't it what would make Taiga happy, too?

It was inevitable, as he saw it.

It was inevitable, as Taiga had told him he would never, ever forget him.

If Taiga ever forgot Romeo, what would be left would simply not be Taiga, and Romeo should take it out.

Perhaps Taiga had meant it as a warning, for fear that he would harm Romeo if he ever forgot his face. He had trained him to be able to hold a gun to him, to be ready to pull the trigger in case there was no recognition in Taiga's eyes and he bore teeth at him. To shoot for his heart. To think he should protect himself from whatever took over and used Taiga's face to threaten Romeo's wellbeing.

But to Romeo it was something more. Not about what would become of Taiga but who he was now.

Romeo mourned every memory and thought Taiga lost. Even if Taiga didn't care to do so, every lost bit of someone he loved so dearly was worth mourning.

And yet he watched. Closely. What was left. How much was left. How much was him--and how much was not--and how much would still be him in the end.

Someday, perhaps, if they could not reverse what had become of Taiga's mind, all that would be left for him would be Romeo. And perhaps to continue to love him and to hold him would be to take advantage of that.

But Romeo had killed and stolen and manipulated and more. He was not a man of morals, but of profits and a great deal of sickening, clawing love in the form of greed.

Perhaps someday Taiga would become empty of anything but Romeo, and Romeo would hold him and care for him and love him regardless, in spite of it, for it. Why shouldn't he love someone who thought only of him and felt only for him, whose heart beat and mind buzzed and body moved for him and nothing else? Even if Taiga's sense of self eroded, if his sense of Romeo remained what was not to be loved?

Perhaps after that he would begin to forget Romeo as well. And until then Romeo would love him and use him. Until then he was still valuable. Until then he was still Taiga.

Until he was no longer Taiga, who lived for Romeo according to the greed that made his love into a room full of gilded cages, Romeo would keep him for himself.

And the moment he stopped being Taiga would be when Romeo's heart truly broke.

And what choice would he have, before he lost more attachment to the one person who would attached to nothing but him, to use the gift he'd been given?

That attachment would be so strong, that love so intense, that there wouldn't be blood or gore or anything at all.

There wouldn't even be a world left to mourn Taiga or Romeo or to suffer an existence without them. That love, that passion, would be enough to end everything there ever was or would be in this world. Or maybe that was just Romeo's delightful fantasy, that the world would be reduced to rubble shooting off in a million brilliant directions in space because he simply loved one idiot too much.

One idiot who loved him too much.

If not for him. None of this would have ever happened. He followed Taiga to Darkwick and if he had any direction when they left he would follow him in that direction too.

And if Taiga died, who would he be if he didn't go with him?

And Romeo, in all of his greed, would simply have to take everything with them.

Everything.

[bvidzsoo]

Salty tears, agog whispers

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mentions of death, injuries, wounds, blood, manhandling, mentions of sex worker, human trafficking, swearing, ptsd

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female reader

Word count: 19,9k

Summary: Kang Yeosang was forced to flee from his once very familiar life as he killed his father. He didn't mean to do it, but he harmed his mother and Yeosang just couldn't sit and watch anymore. You have never had an easy life. You were sold off at a young age, then bought, then sold, then bought again and sold again. It was a neverending cycle. You were just a toy for men to use and then disregard of; you wanted to disappear. And one man almost granted your wish, he killed you, or so he thought...and so did you. But an angel, a kind-hearted man, saved you from your terrible fate. You found a family, just like he did so many years ago. Yeosang was your angel. (Reader is called Jung Hana in the following oneshots.)

A/N: I'm baack!! *sighs* this part is a harsh one imo, nothing is very detailed but it's heavily packed with emotions; I hope I covered everything in the warnings. For better understatement, once again, I heavily advise you read San's part (why is it always about him haha) and the other parts too ofc because everything is tightly woven together and you'll have a better understanding of the whole story and world building!!! If you want to be tagged just let me know and share your thoughts! Happy reading!

Taglist: @pingyu-in-wonderland @marievllr-abg @lelaleleb @loveforred @horanghae8 @jeonghanscarat7 @orshii @mundayoonimnida @m3tavita @silentcry329 @icarusignite @cooljuni

Series Masterlist ↭ Previous Part

            Everything was cold. Painfully cold. The heavy wind and salty water were freezing, numbing, as the sea pulled me further away from the cliff. From the shore. Away from the atrocious monsters called humans. A painful cough tore through my lungs as a wave crashed into my body, sending me down under, before I was pulled back to the surface by the same wave, nose and throat stinging from the salt. I wanted to scream. The pain was unbearable, but my throat was sore and my eyes so swelled up that I couldn’t see anymore. What would I scream for? For help? To be back between the evil claws of men? Then, I would rather accept my fate and succumb to the darkness. At least it was quiet there, safe, and finally…I’d have solitude. Nobody would touch me, nobody would degrade me, nobody would violate me anymore. That brought serenity upon my spasming muscles as they finally relaxed, finally giving in to the cold. There was no use in fighting against it. If the Gods didn’t find my life entertaining enough anymore, then they probably wanted to get rid of me right now. And that would mean a certain death. Lost in the sea, sinking down under as wave after wave washed me away. The thought didn’t seem too scary, nor sad, and I found myself smiling. For the first time in ages, I was smiling as another wave crashed into my body, whipping me around and around, nose and mouth filled with water. It didn’t hurt anymore as my brain seemed to shut down, the clatter of my teeth barely there. I wanted to see the sky for one last time before the darkness would take its claim on me, saving me from my misery. But when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see much other than darkness. Everywhere. Above and around. Have I died, then? Did the Gods drag me to hell finally? Why was it still so painful then? So cold and terrifying? What if the man hasn’t had enough with me and came to fish me out the sea? What if terror would follow me even after my demise? What if I wasn’t allowed to ever rest? To ever be happy? What if the Gods hated me and were punishing me for all the wrongdoings I have done? Which weren’t many, but they hated sinners. Everyone said that. Everyone knew that. Did Heaven exist? What if they didn’t want me there? I would’ve chuckled if I could’ve, but my body wasn’t working anymore, it was dead weight. I couldn’t fight back anymore; I couldn’t hold on anymore. So, I closed my eyes and let a long breath out, emptying my lungs, not wanting to make the process longer than necessary. As if the Gods succumbed to my final cry of pity, a harsh wave sent my body underwater, cold tentacles wrapping around my body, pulling me even further under. It felt like I was wrapped up in an icy cocoon, void of air as my lungs started quickly screaming for oxygen. I didn’t feel the need to fight back, to try and swim up to the surface, to save myself. What was the point of living if life was so miserable?

If I was being used day and night to others pleasure, my wants and needs completely disregarded? What was the point of trying to save myself when I’ve been desperately wishing to die already, to just drop dead in the middle of the day or night, to be free of so much horror this awful life has put me through? If I would’ve had any tears left, I would’ve been sobbing by now, shouting in agony and asking ‘Why me?’. But I just smiled, choking on nothing but pure salt and water, body convulsing in awful ways despite my serene thoughts. There was no need to do this, to try and fight back, even if it was a normal human reaction. I welcomed it with open arms, content with the sudden turn of my fate. If the Gods wanted to drag me to hell, I wanted it too. If they wanted to do it right now, I thanked them for it. And it did feel like someone’s grip was around my wrist, strong and burning, as it pulled me towards themselves, but it didn’t feel like I was sinking anymore. It didn’t feel like I was being dragged towards Hell anymore, it felt like I was getting closer to the surface with each passing second and if my body wouldn’t have been on the verge of blacking out, on the verge of dying, I would’ve kicked and scratched, fighting the saving grip off myself. But my vision blackened and my lungs burned, skin like ice, as everything faded around me. Sounds muted, senses vaned and darkness engulfed my whole being, body going limp. Finally, I have let go.

            I imagined this is what it felt like resurfacing from underwater once your lungs were left with no oxygen, gasping loudly and frantically for air as my eyes opened and I shot up in a sitting position. My heart was beating fast and my lungs burning as I took quick breaths, body panicked and on high-alert as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was so dark in here, not even the small window provided enough light for me to see my surroundings. My body was tense, muscles sore and screaming in pain as tears filled my eyes, realizing I was in a bed. A bed which had soft blankets and a pillow which smelled like flowers. I was back in the hands of my tormentors, but then why was this place rocking from left to right? Why did I hear waves crashing against the house? Why was the wind howling so loudly, sending chills down my back? As if reminded about my back, my body finally caught up with my brain and the pain finally seeped through my veins, to every inch of my abused body. It felt like my skin was being ripped open once again, cut with the sharp blade of the knife, abused and abused relentlessly. I couldn’t help the despaired cry which left my lips, clutching the blankets tightly in my balled-up fists as I bit my lower lip harshly, on the verge of crying out again from the aching of my whole being. It was so strong that my head started pulsing, making me light headed as I was about to fall backwards, but the only room to the door was quickly opened. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, but the little light was welcomed as a figure walked inside the room, their actions rushed as they quickly closed the door behind them. I frowned, whimpering from the pain again, as I tried to make out who the person inside the room was, only to gasp when they stepped further inside, candlelight illuminating their face. It was a man. His features were very soft, almost as if he was carefully drawn and then painted by the Gods before he was brought to life. Perhaps in a different setting and in an earlier stage of life, this man wouldn’t have seemed like a threat. I have met too many angelic faced men with cruel intentions to not recoil from this one’s touch as his hand reached out, freezing midair as I scooted backwards. The man seemed shocked and sad at the same time, eyebrows lightly furrowing before he lowered his arm.

“My name is Kang Yeosang,” The man suddenly spoke up quietly, almost in a whisper, and his deep voice did not match his angelic features, “I’m somewhat of a doctor, I know how to heal certain sicknesses and how to patch people up, you don’t have to be scared of me. I’m just here to heal your wounds, but before I do that, I need to see if you have a fever.”

His words carried through the room, slowly reaching my brain just as Yeosang raised an inquiring eyebrow. How could I believe him? What if he was just lying for me to trust him and give in to him easier, allow him to touch me? I quickly shook my head and scooted further up on the bed, back colliding with the harsh wooden wall, a yelp leaving my lips at the throbbing ache which traveled through my spine at the contact. Tears sprung into my eyes instantly and I held a hand over my mouth, lips trembling in fear and pain.

“I’m sorry, I—” Yeosang seemed to be at a loss of words as he gazed at me with so much sadness on his face, “Your back is—very bruised, I know it hurts a lot. Your body has been through a lot, so just…please, let me heal you. I will only touch your forehead to see if you have a fever, I promise.”

Everything in my body screamed to scamper off the bed and run away, but where to? Where even was I? The candlelight wasn’t strong enough to light up the room, but it was enough to see how small it was and how little furniture was inside it. And the constant rocking wasn’t normal either. I dared to look up into the eyes of the angelic man and I found no malice in them. Could he be genuine? Or was he just a very talented actor? Before I could doubt him more, another painful throb racked my whole body and I whined, shutting my eyes tightly closed, head lightly falling forward. Yeosang didn’t reach out to me, but he tensed as he slightly moved closer to the bed. I waited a second for the pain to dissipate, but nothing happened, so I raised my head and looked at Yeosang, who was waiting patiently and keeping his distance. Did I have much of a choice? When was I even allowed to choose something? So, with a shuddering breath, I nodded slowly and Yeosang’s face instantly relaxed, seemingly glad that I allowed him to inspect my temperature. His hand reached out again and my muscles tensed as I brought my legs to my chest, body screaming at me to stop moving, but I felt exposed as he leaned closer. A small smile, which looked comforting, appeared on his lips as his fingers lightly brushed against my forehead, making me shudder, before his warm palm was pressed firmly against my skin. I stopped breathing as my lips trembled and gazed into the beautiful man’s eyes as his eyebrows furrowed, eyes slightly closing. I wasn’t cold anymore, but his palm was a lot warmer than I was and the press of his hand made my headache slightly disappear. But then, his hand was gone as soon as it came, and I looked at him surprised, not expecting him to keep his words. His eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, mumbling something to himself as he suddenly started walking towards the door.

“I’ll be right back, don’t be scared.” He said softly and I just looked away, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. It wasn’t that easy to not be scared. So far, he seemed to be honest and do as he said, but I couldn’t trust him. Not yet, not when I was so vulnerable and he might be acting just for me to start trusting him. I couldn’t fall in his trap. Men were sly and they used anything they could against you, I wasn’t in the physical state to fight back if he tried to harm me more, not that I usually could. As I sniffed, wiping a few tears off my cheeks, the door opened again and I looked up alarmed, watching as Yeosang walked in with two different cups in his hands, shutting the door quietly behind himself. He paused for a second, his eyes running over my face before he quietly sighed, licking his lips as he spoke up, “I brought you two different herbal teas. One is to boost your immune system and help your wounds heal faster, and the other is to lessen your pain and allow your muscles to build themselves back up faster.”

I gulped once he finished explaining and my eyes looked between the two ceramic cups, gulping thirstily. It only occurred to me now how thirsty I was and how sore my throat felt. Even if I wanted to speak, I probably wouldn’t have been able to. I looked back at Yeosang, who was watching me expectantly but very patiently, slightly extending his hands towards me to take the two cups. What if he tried to poison me? To kill me? Wouldn’t then my wish become reality? I’d be finally free. The thought of that and the constant aching of my back and muscles made me take a rash decision as I blindly trusted this angel faced stranger and took the cup in his left hand, an encouraging smile appearing on Yeosang’s lips as I brought the cup to my lips. It was still steaming, the cup warm to my touch, and I smelled it first, only to be met with a pleasant flower like scent. It was sweet and I allowed the warm liquid to pour down my throat, almost crying at the soothing feeling, thankful to have something finally hydrate my wrecked body. The taste was velvety and sweet, like I had expected, for a herbal tea it didn’t taste too bad. Yeosang’s smile seemed to widen as he watched my reaction and then eagerly handed me the other cup, taking the empty one as I quickly drank the contents of this cup too, desperate for something which would relieve me of the pain. This one’s taste was bitter and sour at the same time, it made me gag a little bit as I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. I heard a chuckle and as I opened my eyes, Yeosang had an embarrassed look on his face. He took the empty cup as I handed it to him and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, this one tastes a bit awful; I know, I haven’t found the matching ingredient for it yet to sweeten it.” I nodded upon Yeosang’s explanation and watched him for a second longer, taking in his features. He seemed tall, at least taller than me, and his frame was well-built but his muscles weren’t bulging uglily. His black hair was longer and beside the few strands which framed his chiseled face, the rest was pushed behind his ears. His round eyes watched me softly and his pink lips were pulled in a comforting smile, he looked like he was pitying me. I watched the discoloration next to his left eye and cheekbone, wondering what caused the redness of his flawlessly frail skin. He was tanner than me, but then again, I was as white as a wall. I averted my eyes, realizing that I was staring and he could see it and noticed how drowsy I started becoming. My headache became dull and I noticed how the aching of my body didn’t seem so unbearable anymore as I lay on my side, feeling Yeosang’s watchful eyes on me. He didn’t move and I didn’t have the energy to stay alert as my body succumbed to fatigue. My eyelids fluttered shut and I sighed loudly, feeling the weight of the warm blanket fall over my petite form. Darkness abducted me for a second time tonight, but this time it didn’t feel so menacing, so final.

            Normally, I would have never slept through the night without waking up shaking in fear, having to wipe my tears away as my mind was plagued with nightmares. Normally, I wasn’t even allowed to sleep throughout the whole night as men came and went whenever they wanted to, no such thing as rest was allowed at the brothel. Or the torture house, as I had started referring to it years ago. But something in the teas Yeosang offered to me must’ve had some anesthetics as I hadn’t even woken up to the thunderstorm ripping through the place currently. There was something very comforting about storms, but I could never truly sleep during one, the thunder oddly reminded me of screaming men who berated you and then punished you for not listening to them. I only woke up when the faint clanking of porcelain registered not far from my head, which was still pounding, but not as painfully as last night. My eyebrows furrowed as I shoved my face further into the flower-scented pillow, until the aching of my back caught up with my brain and I realized where I was. Eyes flew open and I shot up, scrambling back into the wooden wall when I realized how close the angelic faced man was standing to me. Yeosang, was his name, I remembered. He looked just as startled as me as he stared back wide eyed, hands hovering in the air above the tray he was holding seconds ago. My heart was beating fast as I stared at him, biting my bottom lip as the entirety of my back was pulsing, thighs sore and right ankle throbbing.

“Oh,” Yeosang mumbled, looking lost as he looked between himself and the bed, he was standing by the bedside table, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you awake.”

I remained silent as I watched the man fumble around for a second until he stepped back, scratching the back of his head, “You really shouldn’t press your back against anything right now, Miss.”

He said he was a doctor; his constant attention to my actions was probably because he knew better what was wrong or right for my body, but I couldn’t move. I was scared to. What if he really was just acting to gain my trust and then use me like so many others have before him? My brain was screaming at me to move away from the wall, the pain was becoming too much, but then I would get closer to him, making it easier for him to reach out for me. I couldn’t do that.

“Alright,” Yeosang mumbled a little defeated when he realized I wouldn’t move and he looked around at a loss before his eyes fell back on the tray, “I brought your breakfast. We don’t have much food on the ship right now, but I saved some rice for you.”

Ship? For the first time, I allowed my eyes to look around the room, to take in my surroundings. Everything was made out of dark, sturdy wood. The room was relatively small, but still bigger than the room I was allowed to inhabit back at the brothel. It had the necessities only, the bed I was sitting on, a nightstand with a vase and a white lily in it, a desk which was full of chests of different sizes, a chair next to it, and a wardrobe. The house was still rocking from left to right, albeit a bit harsher compared to last night. But I wasn’t in a house, I wasn’t on land anymore. I was on a ship, trapped here even if I wished to run away. The thought sent panic through my veins and my breathing accelerated, but as I looked at Yeosang, the helplessness in his eyes somehow calmed me down. He really didn’t seem harmful, but I could never be too sure. He looked like he didn’t know what to do as he stared at me and I looked away, embarrassed. My eyes fell back on the nightstand and suddenly, my stomach rumbled loudly. I bit my lower lip and refused to look at Yeosang as my cheeks flushed. I haven’t even realized up until now how hungry I was.

“It’s simple rice and a boiled egg, you really should eat, Miss, your body is too weak. It won’t recover if you don’t feed it.” His voice sounded desperate as he spoke up and I nodded wordlessly, reluctantly reaching for the tray. But it pulled a muscle in my back and I hissed as a strong pang of pain traveled from my shoulders to the center of my back, making Yeosang slightly step towards me, but when my wide eyes looked up at him, he froze. He bowed his head and took a step back, a good four steps away from the bed now. He was standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of him and head bowed. For a second, the image of him almost covering in front of me made me feel bad, but it didn’t last for long as I realized it could be an act. I reached for the bowl of food and fork, quickly pressing back against the wall, ignoring the pain, inhaling the food in mere minutes. Yeosang remained quiet as he watched me eat, I couldn’t care less what I looked like since I hadn’t had a meal in three days. Despite the rice being simple it tasted amazing, and it wasn’t because I was so famished, it was because the cook did a very good job. I ate the egg too, licking the fork clean once I was finished with my breakfast, looking back up at Yeosang with grateful eyes. I was still a bit hungry, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with, I was used to it. A big smile appeared on Yeosang’s face and he nodded happily, reaching out to take the bowl, but I quickly placed it on the edge of the bed, scared of any contact. His smile slightly fell, but he quickly fixed his expression and took the bowl, placing it back onto the tray, and cleared his throat.

“Wooyoung is quite the cook, isn’t he?” I glanced at him but said nothing, and after waiting for a few seconds, he continued awkwardly, “Yeah, uh, I brought some more medicine. It’s the same from last night, but I added a little ginger into the sour one so it won’t taste good still, sorry. But it’s important for your immune system, anyways, it will make you sleepy but it’s good if you sleep, you heal faster, did you know that?”

Yeosang’s eyebrows raised in question and I shook my head no, the information new to me. Yeosang grinned and extended the two little cups towards me, which I took cautiously, making sure our fingers didn’t touch by accident. I drank the contents of it, cringing more from the taste of ginger, making Yeosang chuckle as he took the cups back once I placed them on the edge of the bed.

“I know not everyone likes ginger, it once made Mingi throw up when he was sick and I prepared a tea for him, but I personally really like it. It’s a bit spicy, but very tasty, and—” Yeosang sucked in a deep breath as I stared at him wide eyed, taken aback by his chatty personality, “Sorry, I ramble a lot. I figure you might not be used to that, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable by any means.”

I fought the muscles of my face as they threatened to pull up into a smile and instead lowered my head before I nodded, uncomfortable silence engulfing us. Yeosang hesitated for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, “You should lay down, take pressure off your back. I’m going to leave you alone until lunch. Nobody will bother you; do you want me to lock the door?”

If he locked the door, did it mean nobody but him could enter? He would also trap me in here, defenseless, but once again, we were on a ship. It’s not like I could run away. The most I could do was jump into the sea and die. The thought of dying, all of a sudden, didn’t sound as comforting as last night. It was foreign. Peeking up at Yeosang through my lashes, I nodded to let him know that I wanted him to lock the door. Yeosang humped and grabbed the tray off the nightstand, eyes falling on me when I moved to lay on my back, wincing and gasping at the pain, tears springing into my eyes. The headache was still dull, but it couldn’t be compared to the ache of the rest of my body, I could only hope the medicine would make its effects quickly, lulling me to sleep where I wouldn’t feel anything. I could only hope to have a dreamless rest, my body probably wouldn’t be able to cope with torment even in my dreams. I let out a shaky breath as I tried to relax against the sheets, but my back was burning, and a few tears started rolling down my cheeks.

“Stop laying on your back.” Yeosang’s soft voice suddenly turned stern and my eyes snapped up to look at him, his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked distressed. He also looked angry. I have misbehaved. Punishment would follow. My lips started trembling at the thought, knowing very well my body wasn’t able to take any more abuse, and all I could do was start crying harder, shaking my head no and looking at Yeosang pleadingly. His anger dissipated instantly and his eyes widened as he took a step towards me, but I whimpered and he froze again, looking confused and guilty at the same time, “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—please don’t be scared of me.”

His voice was pleading and his lips were downturned as his eyebrows furrowed, looking at me with sadness written all over his face, “I won’t harm you; I just don’t want your wounds to worsen. You should stop laying on your back and pressing it against the wall until it’s somewhat healed, please. Sleep on your front, if you can, or turn to the side—nothing will happen to you while you’re here, alright?”

His words did no good as my mind was ready for anything, ready to take the blows and the screams. I couldn’t help but cry more as I struggled to turn onto my stomach, muscles screaming in pain and body trembling. Yeosang watched me speechless, grip tightening around the tray. His words were my command, there were few things I wouldn’t do if he asked me. I buried my face in the pillow, my tears wetting it as I felt movement next to me and before I could turn and look, the door to the room opened and closed, a key locking it before I could hear Yeosang’s footsteps walking away hurriedly. He was the first man who didn’t yell at me for not listening to him. He was the first man who walked away instead of antagonizing me.

            The day passed by in a blur, Yeosang was back when it was lunchtime but he didn’t stay for long and he didn’t say much. I took the medicine, a different kind of tea this time, and went back to sleep as the rocking of the ship was making me feel nauseous. Besides, I had nothing else to do and the dull ache of my body exhausted me beyond like anything else, even if all I did was lay in bed all day. But I woke up a few hours after lunch and found myself wide awake for the first time. The wounds decorating my back were pulsing, but it wasn’t as unbearable as the sharp pangs of pain which seemed to plague my system before the medicine I took during lunch. My head stopped thumping and for the first time it felt like it was truly above the surface. My thighs were sore and despite me trying to massage them nothing much happened. I also noticed for the first time the bandages wrapped around my ankle and around the few cuts on my biceps. I finally felt the soft cloth pressed against my back, and I realized Yeosang had bandaged me up the second he found me. My heart warmed at the thought, but I couldn’t trust him just yet. He could be acting. He could be playing me. He could be helping me just to sell me off once again once I get better. Men weren’t trustworthy, I have learned that a long time ago.

Having turned onto my side, I was facing the little circle window of the room and I could see the cloudy sky and the sea when a wave crashed against the ship. I was curious as to where we were, whether we were close to the shore or far away; I have never been on a ship before. I had no idea what the sea looked like once you were sailing it. I never had the luxuries of trying out such mundane things as travelling. It was truly depressing. Feeling curious and courageous, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and allowed my feet to dangle off the bed. My pink dress was dirty and torn, I hadn’t even thought about that until now. But I had no spare dresses, so I couldn’t change into anything else. I looked down at myself and noticed the fabric was ripped around my breasts, the outer layer missing, a sheer cloth the only thing hiding my body from view. I was used to being naked, it meant nothing to me, it brought no feeling of shame anymore. I took a deep breath and looked towards the window once again, dusk and the stormy clouds casted a gloomy veil over the room. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if I looked out the window, so I scooted lower on the bed until my feet touched the wooden floor. It was cold at first and I hissed as I stood, suddenly remembering all the shards I ran over when I was trying to get away from that monster. My feet were cut up. It made me wonder if there was at least one little nook on my body which was healthy, untouched currently. Probably not. I bit my lower lip as I slowly took off towards the window, it felt like I was walking on shards all over again, yet there were none here. I barely got to the desk, when I heard the door being unlocked and it swiftly opened behind me. My body went rigid, goosebumps erupting on my skin as someone walked inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

“Miss! You can’t do that!” The deep voice whisper-shouted at me and my hands curled up into fists, body starting to tremble as panic and annoyance oozed from Yeosang’s voice, “Your feet are all cut up!”

I heard him shuffling behind me, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen to my spot, closing my eyes and awaiting the repercussions of my mistakes. After all those years, I really should have known better. You never disobey your master. You never step out of line and you never do anything by yourself, unless you were previously told to. If a beating followed, I would truly deserve it. Yeosang never said I couldn’t walk around before, but he also never said I could. So I took a deep breath and braced myself for the blows as I heard him place the tray on the nightstand forcefully, footsteps storming towards me. My body couldn’t take much, perhaps, I would die tonight at the hands of the doctor. But the expected pain never came as suddenly I felt an arm bending my knees from behind meanwhile another arm went around my shoulders. I was hoisted up into the air before pulled against a firm chest, strong arms holding me snugly against his body as if I weighted nothing. I didn’t think my body could tense even more, but my muscles were screaming at me from how tense I was, it felt like my wounds were opening up once again. My whole body trembled as Yeosang’s warmth seeped into my cold skin, his flowery scent dominant now that I was so close to him. He seemed tense too as he hurried us over to the bed and I closed my eyes when I felt myself being moved again, and I still didn’t open them when I was sat on the edge of the bed, Yeosang’s breathing loud as he stood close. Too close. My body shivered at the loss of warmth and suddenly, the flowery scent was gone and so was the nerve-wrecking proximity of Yeosang. But his gaze was still on me, I could feel it, it was burning into the top of my head as it was lowered. My lips trembled as I fumbled with my fingers in my lap and as the silence was even more prolonged, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m—I’m sorry—” My voice sounded hollow, croaked as I hadn’t spoken in two days. It seems like my throat was still healing from the gut wrenching screams I let out just days ago, “I didn’t—I didn’t know I wasn’t—”

“Miss.” Yeosang’s deep voice was soft and coated with anguish as he cut me off, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t tell you that you shouldn’t walk for now, I am the one sorry. I shouldn’t have frightened you like that nor carried you—I’m sorry, I just panicked. Your wounds are fragile and they can open up anytime, especially the ones on your feet.”

My skin tingled and didn’t feel as cold as before, but I didn’t dare look up at Yeosang. He exuded no negative feelings, but I didn’t want to test my luck. Eye contact could be a show of defiance, of provoking, and I hoped to avoid both.

“I brought you dinner and medicine.” Yeosang mumbled quietly and I nodded as I looked towards the tray on the nightstand. Indeed, there was some rice and stew in a bowl. I reached for it and the fork and quickly dug into it, eyes filling with tears. I sniffed a few times as I devoured my dinner, so thankful to have three meals a day after so many years. My tummy hurt from so much food, but I refused to let even a drop of rice go to waste. Food was precious and I wasn’t going to act ungrateful even if my body refused to intake anymore. When I finished my dinner I dared to look up at Yeosang, and surprisingly he was smiling as he grabbed the two cups of tea. I quickly placed the bowl back on the tray and took the cups from him, hurriedly chugging them down. I noticed another jug in plus and figured it was just water as Yeosang went to place it on the nightstand instead of the tray. My eyes widened once I realized there was no sour taste this time and Yeosang smiled sheepishly, taking the cups from me and placing them back on the tray.

“I finally found the combination,” He said with a chuckle, grinning, “It’s unfortunate that it’s because of your injuries, but it’s also good because from now on it’ll taste good.”

I nodded once and watched Yeosang as he slightly blushed before turning around and grabbing something off the wooden chair. They were clothes. He turned back to face me and took a step towards me. My body tensed, but I didn’t scramble away like before. Yeosang seemed hesitant to take another step, but as I watched him wide eyed, he did, and then extended his hand. I looked at the clothes before back at him, confused.

“I figured you’d like some fresh clothes, yours are…quite damaged.” Damaged was a nice way of saying it, I took the clothes from him with a nod of gratitude, “There are two girls on the ship, so the undergarments and the pants are from them, I figured those would fit you better than mine. I also brought a clean shirt of mine, you can feel free to wear it, I have many more of those.”

Two other girls on the ship? What kind of ship was I on if only two other girls were here besides me? Perhaps I didn’t want to know the answer to that. I bowed my head at Yeosang once again and he smiled, pausing for a second. I placed the clothes next to me on the bed and gripped the front of my damaged dress, tearing the fabric apart, not that it mattered much. That dress was worth nothing at this point. I wore nothing underneath it and goosebumps erupted on my skin as the cool air hit my exposed chest. A gasp left Yeosang’s lips and as I looked up, his face was red and he whirled around rigidly, body tense. My eyebrows furrowed as I paused, looking at him confused. What happened? Did I do something wrong? Did he…not like my body?

“Why…” My voice faltered as I stared at the back of Yeosang’s head, “Why did you turn around?”

“Why—” Yeosang almost exclaimed, voice alarmed, “Because it’s inappropriate for me to watch a woman undress! You’re naked, I—I need to offer you privacy.”

My eyes remained on his strong back, mouth slightly opening in amazement. I watched as the back of his neck flamed, ears turning red too. This man had turned around because I was undressing. Because I was exposing myself to him. Because he was offering me privacy? My lips started trembling and I took in a shaky breath, about to speak up, but Yeosang beat me to it, “I will see you in the morning, Miss, sleep well.”

Sleep well? Since when was the last time anyone wished me that? My eyes were glued to Yeosang as he stormed out of the room, not even once trying to peek at me, he even brought his left hand up to shield his eyes from my naked torso. As soon as the door was locked, I broke down, tears falling freely as my body rocked with sobs, hands working gently to undress myself, having to stand for a little while to wear the undergarments and the pants. I have never been offered privacy before. Not by men, not by women. I couldn’t help but allow my heart to warm a little, silencing the voices in my head. If he truly was just acting, why would he show respect? Men never did that, not even when they were acting. As I buttoned up Yeosang’s clean shirt, I realized that too smelled like flowers. As I got under the thick covers, I couldn’t help but cry myself to sleep as my body has never felt so warm and comfortable before. The alarm bells silent in my mind for the first time.

              It was my second day on the ship, and despite the freshness of my wounds, they didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting them to. Yeosang truly was a doctor, his teas were already making their effect. I still couldn’t trust him, but the way the burning of my back would fade into a rhythmic pulsing after each time I drank the medicine was confirmation enough that he wasn’t lying about his identity. I felt grateful, but I couldn’t trust him just yet. It was too soon. I was laying on my side, gazing out the window, thoughts wrapped up in a fantasy world where I was on a boat, out on the sea fishing, on a blazing hot summer day. I haven’t been to my home Kingdom in ages, I wondered if my parents were still alive, if they even remembered me. I couldn’t remember them much, but I could recount the path to our house, and I still remembered the days when my father would take me fishing with himself. These were the only memories of my childhood; these were the only escape my mind could grab onto when things became too hard to cope with. I slightly tensed when I heard knocking on the door, wondering who it could be since Yeosang never knocked before unlocking the door. It also couldn’t have been lunch time, he usually brought food later in the afternoon. I grimaced as I quickly sat up when the door was unlocked and watched with wide eyes as Yeosang slipped inside the room, peeking out cautiously before he closed the door softly and locked it again. Whenever he brought food he didn’t lock the door. My heartbeat picked up as I stared at him, taking in his attire. He wore black leather pants with a black sleeveless t-shirt tucked inside them, a brown leather belt snug around his waist. His black hair was pushed behind his ears and I just noticed two bobby pins securing them. My eyes fell onto the tray he was carrying and my heartbeat picked up even more as there was a big bowl of water and a few rags next to it. What did he plan on doing to me?

“It’s not yet lunchtime.” Yeosang spoke up, seemingly frozen in front of the door, “But I have to change your bandages so that your wounds don’t get infected. It’s the only free time I have from my duties, I hope I’m not intruding.”

Intruding on what? I almost chuckled, but instead just lowered my gaze to the bed and shook my head no, making Yeosang nod to himself. He walked further inside the room and placed the tray down on the nightstand. It looked heavy, the muscles of his biceps were bulging until he placed the tray down. Wasn’t he doing too much for me? At the brothel no one would even check up on me, let alone try and change my bandages. I pushed the warm blanket off my body and sat up fully, scooting towards the edge of the bed, not quite knowing how Yeosang wanted to proceed with this. I watched as he walked up to the desk and opened the largest chest, which was full of gauze. He took one roll into his hand before closing it, then opened the one to its left, slightly smaller than the previous chest. This one was filled with vials and different little metallic containers. Yeosang’s lips pursed as his eyes ran over the different contents, until they stopped on a black tin can. He hummed and took that one out, closing the chest and opening the smaller one in front of it, swiftly grabbing a lidded tube which contained a yellowish liquid. Yeosang turned to face me and froze for a second, seemingly taken aback by me watching him and waiting for him at the edge of the bed. My face remained expressionless as he blushed, even though I was trying very hard not to smile. He seemed cute for a second, until my brain decided to remind me that he was just acting. Trying to gain my trust.

“So, uhm, I will start by patching up your feet,” He mumbled as he came closer, making my body slightly tense at the proximity. He gently placed down every item in his hands on the floor before grabbing the bowl and rags and doing the same. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as he sat on the floor, right where my legs were dangling. Why was he sitting there? Shouldn’t he have gotten on the bed instead?

“Is it fine if I touch your feet?” My eyebrows furrowed as Yeosang looked up at me expectantly, and I nodded dumbly, trying to asses the situation. Why was he even asking for permission? He was only touching my feet, “Alright, I will clean your feet with water first and then apply a minty ointment on them, it might sting at first, but it’s very good for inflammation. It kills anything which isn’t supposed to be inside your wounds.”

The last bit sounded disgusting and my face scrunched up involuntarily, making Yeosang chuckle. He scooted a bit closer and then looked up in my eyes, gaze soft, “Ready?”

“Ready.” I found myself whispering back, enticed by his gaze and his deep voice, making Yeosang’s eyes widen at the sound of my voice. He smiled to himself before he quickly looked down and tentatively touched my left foot, his hands slightly colder than my own skin. I flinched a bit and Yeosang muttered a quiet sorry, before he grasped my foot firmly, raising it so he could inspect it. His eyebrows slightly furrowed and then he dipped the rag into the water and quickly got to work, cleaning my foot.

“They look a lot better compared to when I found you, Miss.” His voice sounded happy as he informed me, gently pressing against my skin here and there with the rag. The water was warm, and it felt actually nice to have my feet cleaned, after walking on it, I’m sure I had drawn a little blood. Yeosang’s calloused hands were soft and very careful as he slightly massaged my ankles once he disregarded the rag and then grabbed the tin can, opening it with one hand. He scooped out a copious amount of white ointment and then gently started rubbing it against the cut wounds. My eyebrows furrowed and I hissed as I went to yank my feet away, but Yeosang was faster and caught my ankles, keeping me in place. It did sting, a lot, actually, but as soon as it came it was already gone, leaving me flabbergasted.

“It’s an uncomfortable feeling, I know. I’ve had my fair share of this ointment as well,” Yeosang explained as he applied some more, this time the sting less intense, “But trust me when I say this…it does wonders, your feet will be healed in no time!”

Yeosang’s little exclamation made my eyebrows raise in surprise and he blushed again as he looked up at me, averting his eyes quickly as I tried to fight the smile off my lips. How was it possible that he could make me smile so easily? Why did my body feel like it was buzzing with life in the mere presence of him? He was a man I couldn’t trust yet, but his demeanor made that rather hard to accomplish. However, the walls built around my heart and mind were stronger than this, they wouldn’t allow me to slip and blindly offer my trust to him. I just couldn’t.

“Your feet are all done.” Yeosang said with a smile and scooted back, looking up at me, “How are your thighs? Still bruised, right?”

I nodded wordlessly and lowered my head, hiding my embarrassment as Yeosang just hummed and got up from the floor, walking to the desk. I peeked at him and watched as he opened the drawer of the desk and grabbed a black tube before he walked back to me. My body tensed at the proximity again; I couldn’t help it; it was a subconscious answer at this point. If Yeosang noticed, he said nothing about it, just placed the tube on the nightstand and pointed at it, “You should smear this over the bruises—after I have left, of course!”

He was quick to add that in, eyes widened, probably remembering how quick and unashamed I was to undress in front of him. I couldn’t help but grin and as Yeosang blushed, again, I bit my lower lip and averted my eyes, waiting for what he wished to do next. Yeosang cleared his throat and pushed the stray hair strands out of his face as he leaned down to grab the wet rag and the vial of yellowish liquid, “I’m sorry, but I have to clean your back too. You—you have to take off your shirt for that…”

Yeosang and I looked into each other’s eyes as his words seemed to hang in the air between us, filled with tension. I had no problem with taking off my shirt, but he seemed uncomfortable. It was very strange, uncommon. Yeosang’s eyebrows were furrowed as I went to unbutton the shirt and he quickly looked away, “I normally wouldn’t ask such thing of you, Miss, but there’s no other way to treat the wounds on your back. You can lay down on your front or stay sitting and hold the shirt to your chest, whichever makes you less uncomfortable.”

“I don’t have a problem with you seeing me naked.” I couldn’t help but let the words slip out as I stared at Yeosang’s profile. He sucked in a harsh breath and shook his head, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s—that’s not how you’re supposed to think, Miss.” Yeosang mumbled and my own eyebrows furrowed, “It’s your body. Nobody should be able to see you so vulnerable unless you want them to. Everyone needs to be respected, you included.”

I stood staring at him, mouth slightly falling open as his words whirled around in my head, something deep in my chest breaking. Respect? I can’t remember a time when anyone respected me. The tears in my eyes were quick to surface, but I managed to keep them from falling, managed to gulp and suppress the urge of wanting to sob into his chest. He was being so nice. He was treating me like a human being, not like an item.

“I’m making you feel uncomfortable.” I suddenly realized, “I keep acting like a harlot.”

“Miss, don’t say that!” Yeosang was quick to interject, eyes widening as he finally looked at me. There was a fire in his eyes, so strong and burning, that for a second I was left breathless. He looked angry, sad, and determined at the same time as he shook his head, “Don’t ever say that about yourself! Don’t let anyone make you feel something you’re not. And don’t degrade yourself.”

The intensity in his eyes made me nod without much thought, drinking in his words. Even if I wanted to contradict him, I wouldn’t have been able to. He seemed to firmly believe his words, and I couldn’t help but believe him. I settled for a simple question, instead, “Do you mind if I don’t lay down?”

It brought back unpleasant memories and I couldn’t do it right now, not when my mind felt like a mess. When my heart couldn’t decide what to stand for. Would a man who was acting be so sincere and fired about what a woman calls herself?

“Of course not, as long as it makes you comfortable, I am comfortable too.” Tears sprung to my eyes again and I nodded, biting my lower lip and averting my gaze from him. My fingers went to grip the buttons of my shirt again, but this time I paused, and cleared my throat quietly.

“Then, I’m going to take off my shirt.” Yeosang said nothing as he turned around, his back facing me. I stared at him for a few seconds before undoing the buttons, fingers lightly shaking from the flood of emotions I was experiencing after such long time of feeling nothing but numbness. These were positive feelings; I couldn’t even decide whether to cry or laugh. Instead, I settled on chewing my lower lip nervously, fighting those tears from falling. My chest felt heavy, but I ignored it as I turned to the side, facing the wall, and pressed the shirt to my chest to make Yeosang feel comfortable, concealing my naked chest, “I’m ready.”

“Good, I will sit behind you then.” Yeosang informed and turned to the left without looking at me, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor. I watched him closely, the red spots on his temple and cheek catching my eyes again. I wondered what those were. I have never seen anything like it on anyone else. I turned my head towards the wall when I couldn’t watch Yeosang anymore and I felt the bed dip behind me, flowery scent invading my nostrils as my body tensed up once again. My arms were covered in goosebumps and I took in a shaky breath when Yeosang shifted closer, his knee lightly grazing against my waist. I knew he had to get close in order to change the bandages, but it still felt nerve-wracking.

“May I touch you? Are you alright?” A stray tear rolled down my cheek and I nodded wordlessly, knowing that my voice would betray me right now. His attentive behavior and constant asking for consent was becoming too much. I felt Yeosang sighing behind me, his hot breath hitting my left shoulder, before careful fingers started peeling the gauze off my back. I shuddered at the feeling, despite it not being painful, my skin burned as the protective layer disappeared. I felt exposed and I couldn’t help but sniff loudly when the gauze was fully off my back. Yeosang paused, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, continue.” I whispered, clutching the shirt tightly in my hands as I felt Yeosang moving behind me. The dirty gauze was dropped to the floor and I dared take a glance at it, it was almost fully covered in blood. The sight made me nauseous. I should’ve listened to Yeosang, he was probably trying to avoid this from happening, but I couldn’t help how my body reacted when it thought it was in danger.

“I’m going to clean your back now, may I?” I nodded and felt the press of the rag against my raw skin, hissing as even the warm water made it sting. My back was burning as Yeosang carefully washed it clean, having to scrub gently in some places, but I could take it. My body has been through so much worse. He was doing this to help me too, I would never complain.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry, but I have to thoroughly clean it otherwise it will get infected and then I can’t help you anymore, Miss.” Yeosang explained and I nodded in understatement, realizing I have never told him my name. That’s why he kept calling me Miss. I knew his, meanwhile he didn’t know mine, yet he never asked nor demanded for it.

“I’m going to pour some oil like serum on your back now, it won’t sting like the minty one.” I heard him open the vial, it made a quiet sound when it was popped open, “It has aloe vera in it, so it’s supposed to calm the burning feeling and it’s also an amazing antioxidant for open wounds. Your wounds aren’t deep enough to be stitched up, that’s why we have to take close care of them, Miss.”

“Alright, thank you for telling me.” I voiced my gratitude for the first time and Yeosang hummed lowly, a sound which tinged my cheeks red. His voice could get incredibly deep, it was quite unexpected.

“May I proceed then?” Yeosang inquired quietly and I nodded, biting my lower lip as he poured the serum over my wounds, fingers carefully massaging it into the skin. It slightly stung, but I was surprised at the warm feeling which engulfed my whole back as Yeosang kept rubbing it deeper into the wounds. It felt so good, the pain finally subsided for even a little bit and I could feel my body relaxing, muscles finally crying out in relief as I let out a shaky breath. My head hung low and more tears started falling down my cheeks. It felt so warm and relieving, I wanted to thank Yeosang a million times, but instead, I asked the question which was burned to the forefront of my mind.

“Why do you keep asking for consent when you want to touch me?” Yeosang’s fingers froze mid massage and I tensed slightly, wondering if I pissed him off this time, if he would break and show his true intentions. But nothing happened, he resumed his ministrations and then sighed long and deeply.

“Because I keep touching you.” His words held a finality to them, they were hard but not harsh, “Because if you told me to stop, I would. Because I would never touch you inappropriately or against your will. I’m a doctor and my duty is to heal you, Miss, not damage you more. And even still…I would never lay a finger on you…I just—I couldn’t hurt you—or anyone. No human being is capable of doing such horrible things like what was done to you, I—I’m sorry. I promise to heal you and then let you go, Miss, once we hit land you’ll be free.”

His words sounded too good to be true. As if I was in a dream. As if he was a prince talking to his princess. And he sounded so genuine. I couldn’t find anything but sincerity in his voice and that just made my lungs feel even more restricted, brought more tears into my eyes. People like him existed? They were real? Could he be not acting? As his fingers disappeared I knew he was done massaging the serum into my skin and Yeosang leaned down to grab the fresh gauze.

“I’ll wrap this around you and you’re good to go.” He said and I couldn’t help but start crying, trying to keep quiet, but I couldn’t when hiccups started leaving my mouth. Yeosang seemed alarmed, thinking he had hurt me, but I just muttered for him to continue and ignore me, too overwhelmed by my own feelings. He worked quickly, probably scared that he was the cause of my breakdown, and while he indeed was, it wasn’t from any ill-intention. It was because for the first time in my life I felt like I was being treated like a human being. Like I was being respected and given a choice.

“My—my name is—” I spoke up between sobs, wiping the tears off my cheeks only for new ones to roll down, “It’s—Y/N.”

Yeosang sucked in a harsh breath of air before humming, careful to not touch my skin as he wrapped the gauze around my torso. I allowed the shirt to fall to my lap, he couldn’t see me from behind, it was fine, “Glad to meet you, Y/N.”

His voice was sweet as he said my name and I could hear the smile in it, making me sniff even more and cry harder, “You too, Yeosang.”

When he was done with the gauze, he tied it tightly against my back, patting his hands down to make sure it fit correctly against my small form. I felt him moving behind me and his warmth and flower like scent disappeared as he got off the bed, but didn’t move. He was waiting for me to dress myself. I bit my lower lip and tried to stop crying, but it was hard, as I wore his shirt and did the buttons with a shaky hand.

“I’m from the Sun Set Kingdom.” I muttered as I did the last button, Yeosang moved to place the items he used before back to their place. He made a surprised sound and then looked at me with a smile, ignoring how pathetic I looked right now, tears still flowing down my cheeks.

“Me too!” He seemed happy as he closed his chests filled with medicine, “We’re both far away from home, then.”

I nodded and watched as Yeosang gathered the dirty rugs and bowl of water, placed them back on the tray and stood up straight, walking to the door. He unlocked it and before he opened it, he peeked back at me over his shoulder, “Don’t forget about the ointment for your thighs.”

“I won’t.” I nodded as he slipped out the door, locking it behind him before he walked away. I face planted into the pillow and allowed the sobs to wreck my body, for my heart to ache just like the rest of my body.

            My body felt exhausted for the rest of the day after Yeosang placed on the new bandages, my mind wrapped up with thoughts and heart clenching with unwanted feelings. I didn’t know how to feel anymore. I knew I couldn’t trust Yeosang so quickly, but he sounded genuine. His eyes reflected nothing but honesty and purity. Would he treat me so gently if he was just acting? Would he get mad or tense even at the little implications of why I was in such state? Would he respect me so much if he truly was just acting? I couldn’t tell what was real or not anymore. I have never been shown so much care and respect before, my body and mind yearned for it. It screamed out for Yeosang’s tenderness and warmth. He radiated calmness and safety. I have barely known him for three days, yet I wanted nothing more but ask him to protect me from the horrors of the world. Would he do that? Could he do that? Everything hurt as I tossed around sleepless, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in constant huffs as my mind kept racing with questions. Dinner was hours ago; the medicine has made its effect and the pain felt dull. The rocking of the ship wasn’t as bothersome as up until now, it didn’t make me feel nauseous anymore. Perhaps I was getting used to it. Or perhaps the waters have calmed down, the storm passing by us. I yearned for fresh air, but I was scared of what the men on this ship would do to me. Or was everyone like Yeosang? My ears perked up when I heard shuffling just outside the door, body tensing when I heard a faint knock. It was quiet, barely there, and I gripped the blanket and pulled it up to my nose, curling up in a ball despite Yeosang’s warnings not to do so. I could only hope the wounds wouldn’t bleed. My heart started thumping wildly as the key was inserted into the keyhole, slowly, carefully turning without making any sound. Yeosang never bothered me after dinner. Did someone else take the key? Did he give it to someone else? Of course, I have started trusting him too fast and now I was about to get treated like on the mainland. My breath stuttered and I tried to make myself even smaller as the door cracked open just a little, dim light flooding inside the room. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and stopped breathing altogether. If I made no sound, perhaps they would think I wasn’t here.

“Y/N,” The deep voice was familiar, “It’s Yeosang.”

I released a deep breath and opened my eyes, peeking at him as he swiftly entered the room and quickly locked the door. He stood frozen in front of it as we stared at each other, both of our eyes wide, “You shouldn’t curl up like that…”

He whispered, eyebrows furrowed, breaking the tense atmosphere. I nodded and straightened my body, laying on my side, heart still beating fast. Yeosang scratched the back of his head and took a step further inside the room, seeming very hesitant and nervous. It was rubbing off on me as I waited tensely for him to say anything else.

“I’m sorry, I know this is unexpected, but—” Yeosang cleared his throat before continuing in a whisper, “Nobody besides myself and the two other women know about your presence on the ship. If I keep sleeping in Jongho’s room they will come and inspect mine, thinking something was wrong. The other pirates started getting suspicious already, I can’t—I have to sleep in here, Y/N. It’s my room, you know.”

My brain seemed to be hung up on one thing only, “Pi—pirates?”

I’ve only heard about them when the other ladies at the brothel would whisper about them, dreading their time with them. They sounded ruthless and aggressive, had little care for anyone else besides themselves. I exhaled shakily as Yeosang approached the bed, but stood at the end of it.

“Yes, we’re Ateez.” Yeosang answered and watched me expectantly, as if I was supposed to know what that meant. But I have never heard of that name before, so I just raised my eyebrows, lowering the blanket from my nose. There was no need to hide myself anymore.

“Do you not know Ateez?” Yeosang asked when I stared wordlessly and I quickly shook my head no, “Oh, well then, uhm, yeah. We’re like…well-known for the things we do, you know? On the sea, we’re—quite famous? I mean, people tend to stay away from us because we’ve created a reputation for ourselves and our Captain is quite fearless. He’s a well-respected man amongst pirates.”

I nodded and chewed on my bottom lip, taking in his words, “Are you dangerous? Do you hurt people?”

My voice sounded too small, but I couldn’t help the shudder which followed. I knew Yeosang saw it as he rubbed his chin, trying to smile, “We never hurt innocent people—we don’t hurt women.”

I averted my eyes when his stare felt too much, eyes boring into mine. I understood what he was saying. He wouldn’t hurt me, but I couldn’t be so sure of that just yet. I nodded without looking at him and he walked further inside his room, headed towards the wardrobe.

“I will sleep on the floor, don’t worry—”

“I can’t let you do that, it’s your own room.” I quickly interjected, sitting up quickly, wincing at the burn of my muscles. I should be more careful; my wounds weren’t even half healed.

“I’d rather you feel comfortable, Y/N, sleeping on the floor is nothing I can’t handle.” Yeosang’s lips pulled into a reassuring smile and I gulped, looking down at the bed. His eyes were soft. And once again, he was putting me before himself. Wanting me to feel comfortable. He was caring about how I felt, instead of how he would feel.

“Please,” I said quietly, looking up into his eyes, “I would feel horrible if you slept on the floor. It’s—it’s the least I can do to show gratitude for everything you’ve done for me.”

“I haven’t even done anything, Y/N, I’m just healing you.” Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, “It’s my duty as a doctor.”

“I know,” I pressed, biting my lower lip, “But I—please, just let me do this. I have no money to pay you.”

“I don’t need money.” Yeosang muttered, eyes lit up with a fire I couldn’t recognize, “I just want to see you healthy and walking away from here.”

I said nothing as my heart clenched and I licked my lips, staring into Yeosang’s eyes pleadingly. I really had nothing with what I could pay him back, this was the least I could do. It was his room after all. I didn’t want to deny comfort from him, he wouldn’t deserve it. In this moment, I decided to blindly trust him. Yeosang seemed to be fighting with himself, eyebrows furrowed as he ran his fingers through his hair, which was framing his face without the bobby pins. He glanced back at me and then suddenly sighed, shaking his head, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” My voice sounded firm for the first time as I nodded and Yeosang nodded back, slowly approaching the bed. I scooted closer to the wall and laid on my back, making space for him. The bed wasn’t big, but I was small and so Yeosang had enough space. I closed my eyes as I felt the bed dip and then the blanket was slightly lifted as Yeosang sat on the edge of the bed. He shuffled around for a bit and then his body was laying next to mine, mirroring my stance, blanket pulled over his body too. I tensed without meaning too, breath catching in my throat for a second, used to this, yet the feeling so unfamiliar. His warmth seemed to quickly envelope mine and I found myself breathing in his familiar flower scent. Yeosang didn’t seem to be tense, he was staring up at the wooden ceiling, jaw clenching and unclenching. I turned my head and allowed myself to stare at his profile in the darkness, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Despite the bed being small and Yeosang a buffer man, his body never touched mine. Not even his hands as they were intertwined and placed on his stomach. He seemed to be deep in thought and my eyes traced the outline of his sharp nose, eyes having long adjusted to the dark. His lips were slightly parted and as he blinked, he suddenly turned his head and looked at me. I jumped and quickly turned my head away, towards the wall, embarrassed. Yeosang made no sound and didn’t move as he continued looking at me. My cheeks were burning and I cleared my throat, fingers flexing and unflexing as I turned my head to stare at the ceiling. Yeosang didn’t look away and I took a shaky breath, so many feelings stirring inside my heart. Any other men would’ve been on top of me by now. They wouldn’t even bothered asking before they got in the same bed with me. Yeosang didn’t even ask, he offered to sleep on the cold, hard floor. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought and I couldn’t help the words which bubbled out.

“I was kidnapped by a man at a young age and was soon sold off to a family.” My voice sounded too loud in the quiet room, but it was barely above a whisper, “The family wasn’t too bad, until the father started becoming handsy. I ran away, and the man who kidnapped me found me somehow and took me with himself once again. But this time he sold me off to an old man, who was—not a good person. I lived with him for two years, until he died. Until I—I—killed him.”

My hands started shaking as all the repressed memories were resurfacing. Yeosang sucked in a sharp breath next to me, but I continued, a newfound braveness seeping through my veins, “His son found me and well—I survived. Barely, but I did. I was forced to be his maid for too long, and when he got bored he made me work at an Inn. I don’t know how it happened, fate was probably laughing in my face, but the man who kidnapped me showed up again at the Inn—years after, he recognized me. I felt so helpless as he took me with himself and sold me off again. To a brothel this time, and I’ve been working there up until three days ago. My last client—he wanted me to go to his house. I’ve always been afraid of him; he’s always been so scary and just—not sane. I didn’t do anything, but he just—started to take his anger out on me. Promised I’d never see the daylight ever again. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to fight him off and run away, but he found me at the cliff. He didn’t even think twice before pushing me down. I think he once said I resembled his late wife whom he hated, it was a long time ago, I don’t quite remember. I was sure I was going to die in the sea that night, you know? And when I felt someone pulling me to the surface—I wanted nothing more than for the sea to swallow me up, to save me from humans. But I don’t know anymore how to feel. What to think. You’re—not like them. You’re gentle and you respect me. Want to heal me, help me. I want to trust you, Yeosang, but the voices in my head keep whispering that you’re just acting to earn my trust, I can’t help it.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, biting my lower lip as I didn’t dare move. Yeosang seemed stiff next to me, I couldn’t hear him breathing anymore. I was afraid to look at him, so I didn’t, I just stared up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, the tears in my eyes sudden. I didn’t want to cry, but my chest felt heavier the longer the silence stretched between us. And then, finally, Yeosang sighed. Deep and long. I heard the movement before I felt a warm hand grabbing mine underneath the blanket. My body felt too exhausted to react, I couldn’t help but cling onto Yeosang’s warm hand, fingers intertwining with his. Nobody has held me like that before. So firmly yet tenderly.

“We all make mistakes, you had to kill that man because he gave you no other choice.” His words surprised me and a few tears were quick to roll down my cheeks. I had always felt so horrible about what I had done. I wasn’t a murderer, yet I took a life. I wasn’t a God, yet I was playing God. I wished for forgiveness every day after that, but I never got an answer. I have sinned so severely that not even the Gods wanted to give me another chance. I was doomed a long time ago, yet I could never truly accept my fate. Yeosang’s words carried weight, almost as if he understood the feeling, “Sometimes we’re pushed to do things we never knew we were capable of doing. My mother placed me on this ship and paid a lot of money for the Captain to take me in after I’ve done something horrible—after I—I killed my father.”

My heart stuttered for a second and I felt my grip tighten around Yeosang’s fingers, lips parting in surprise.

“If he wasn’t abusive I would’ve never hurt him, but he almost killed my mother. He beat me up too and I just—snapped. It was my mother’s way of saving me by sending me here. I was lucky enough to find a family here within the nine pirates.” I quickly wiped my tears with my free hand and turned my head, to look at Yeosang. He turned his head too, eyes glistening with unshed tears. My breath caught in my throat for a moment, he looked so soft. So warm and gentle, “When you’re all healed up and healthy, Y/N, you are free to go. To get off this ship on a land where nobody knows you, where you can start again. New. Build a life for yourself. Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you.” I whispered and Yeosang nodded, determination coating his eyes as he squeezed my hand, before turning his head away and slowly retracting his hand from mine.

“You shouldn’t sleep on your back, Y/N.” He muttered as he turned onto his right side, back facing me. I couldn’t help but smile as I turned onto my left side, facing the wooden wall. Despite being underneath the same blanket, Yeosang’s presence didn’t feel threatening.

“I know.” I whispered back before closing my eyes and allowing the gentle rocking of the ship to lull me into a deep sleep.

            Things seemed to change after Yeosang and I started sleeping in the same bed. I wasn’t so tense around him anymore and my body stopped reacting to him as if he brought danger with himself. Yeosang always remained respectful and careful. He never stepped out of line and never touched me unless it was necessary, and even still, he always asked for consent. A week has passed since he found me and saved me and my wounds were healing just fine. My feet felt as good as new, nothing but little scars decorating them. The ointment was like magic and the bruises have been gone from my thighs in just a few days. However, my back was still in the healing process, three wounds still not having fully healed, but I was doing better. The pain had turned into discomfort and the wound would only burn when the aloe vera serum was massaged into it. My muscles have finally eased up and I could move my body freely. I could barely recognize my body, and my mind as well. I was still alert when I heard movement outside the door, but I didn’t flinch nor tense anymore when Yeosang would come close. I stopped questioning his genuineness and allowed my heart to trust him. He would constantly reassure me that he had no malicious intentions and I believed him. I hoped the safe haven he had created would never break, that he truly was the man who he seemed to be. I knew I wouldn’t survive it if he was lying, but I have also decided that if Yeosang wasn’t the man he preached himself to be, then I would just end it here on the ship. At least the sea would take me away quickly, would allow me to go peacefully, to float away into nothingness. Yeosang had told me that nobody on the ship except for Taeri and Ara knew about my existence, so that’s why I had to stay in his room. After I was allowed to walk it wasn’t even too depressing, I could lean against the wall and stare out the window all day long, taking in the beauty of the sea, watching as the waves crashed against the ship, as the sun shone high up in the sky. Despite yearning to feel the warmth of the sun, Yeosang’s room brought comfort and safety and made me never want to leave the ship. Despite usually being a quiet person, Yeosang brought out a side of me I didn’t even know I had, and we were often giggling about peculiar stories we shared with each other during lunch and dinner, sharing the lives we had before we became the way we are.

When Yeosang found out I couldn’t read he made it his personal mission to teach me and the next morning he came to our room with two different books, one thin and the other very thick. They were tale books from the North, talking about folklore and creatures which only existed in fairytales. They were interesting and my curiosity fueled the want to know more, to learn more. Reading proved to be difficult, I wasn’t too good with memorizing things, but Yeosang was patient and calm. He never raised his voice; he never made fun of me or made me feel stupid if he had to help me out with a certain letter. He just explained calmy, patted my shoulder reassuringly, and then allowed me to read. I stuttered quiet often and after whispering how cute I was, he walked off with a blush on his cheeks, excusing himself as he had a lot of work to do, but encouraged me to read the chapter on my own and narrate it to him in the evening. It was the same evening my curiosity got the best of me and as Yeosang and I were sat on the bed, knees touching as our bodies huddled together, book between our laps, I blurted out the question I tried to keep to myself.

“What’s that?” I wondered loudly as I poked his temple carefully, Yeosang’s eyes widening as he turned his head to look at me.

“What is what?” He asked confused and as his eyebrows furrowed, I couldn’t help but think how cute he looked.

“The red mark on your temple and cheekbone.” I explained and cleared my throat, realizing I might’ve been rude for asking such a thing. Perhaps it was something he was uncomfortable with, I didn’t know how he got it after all, “I’m sorry if that was rude—”

“It wasn’t.” Yeosang quickly shook his head with a smile, “The redness is called a birthmark. I was born with it.”

My eyes widened and my lips formed an o shape, never having heard of such a thing before. It was my first time seeing it too on anyone. Yeosang watch my reaction and chuckled to himself with a grin before he turned his head, looking down at the book again. He took it in his hands and hummed, fingers brushing against the last sentence I have read, “Do you believe in it?”

My mind was still stuck on the new information as my eyes bore into the side of Yeosang’s face, eyes glued to the red birthmark. It was special, just like Yeosang. When Yeosang suddenly faced me again, I jumped, realizing he had asked me something. I quickly looked down at the book and re-read the last sentence I have read minutes ago and hummed. The tale was talking about a red string which was similar to fate, but talked about binding two people together. Two people who were supposed to find each other in every lifetime they shared. A bond which could never be broken,

“I’ve never really believed in anything like folklore and tales, but—perhaps if there are Gods then this is real too.” I voiced my thoughts freely, having realized that Yeosang was always curious of what I was thinking, quite often asking for my opinion. Nobody has been interested to hear what I had to say, nor would listen as intently as Yeosang.

“I believe in it.” Yeosang muttered quietly, his deep voice making goosebumps erupt on my skin, “I always thought we had a purpose in life and that the people we come across aren’t coincidental.”

His words carried a nuance I couldn’t quite understand, but couldn’t help but agree with. If Yeosang never came into my life I would be long gone, dead, forgotten.

“You’re the best part of my life, Yeosang.” I found the confession tumbling through my lips, eyes slightly widening when I realized I had said aloud what I was thinking. Yeosang’s lips pulled into a wide smile as we made eye contact and he nodded his head, looking humble and grateful.

“I hope you find more people like me one day, then.”

“I don’t think I will.”

The silence was heavy as we stared into each other’s eyes, mesmerized by Yeosang’s stare. It was soft and warm, filled with gratitude and happiness. I didn’t know what made me do it, but my body yearned for the familiarity of his warmth and I reached out hesitantly, slowly reaching for his hand. Yeosang glanced down when I gently poked my fingers against his hand and a shy smile stretched onto his lips as he opened his palm, facing up. I pressed mine down against his and our fingers intertwined as my face suddenly flushed red, becoming embarrassed. Perhaps it was a normal reaction for your body to yearn for something as simple as holding a hand, but the feeling was foreign and I couldn’t decide whether it was normal or not for Yeosang. His smile got even wider and he hung his head low, the flush on his cheeks matching the redness of his birthmark.

“I have never asked, I just realized this,” He spoke up after he seemed to collect his thoughts, still hiding his face from me, “But did you have anything you enjoyed doing before—before I found you?”

When I was still living in the brothel. And even before that. But Yeosang didn’t have to say that for me to understand, “I love to draw, actually. The brothel paid enough that I could afford some parchment and cheap pencils. It used to help me take my mind off things.”

Yeosang’s fingers twitched slightly and his thumb started rubbing my knuckle, making my heart almost jump through my chest. What was this feeling? Was it normal? Was I about to die?

“I’ll see what I can do about that.” Was all Yeosang said before he picked up the book and continued reading the story about the red string, his thumb stroking my knuckle in an even rhythm, my heartbeat frantic until it finally calmed down to an even beat, the only evidence of feeling flustered the flush on my cheeks.

And this is how I found myself a day later sitting at Yeosang’s desk with a fresh piece of parchment and five pencils. He even had something I could erase the lines with, something I have never even heard of before. I was shocked as he walked in with all the items and made place for them on his packed desk, placing two chests down onto the floor, next to his desk. He led me to the chair and asked me to sit, undoing the bindings around the surprise he had for me. I gasped and thanked him a million times as I opened the parchment and grabbed a pencil, feeling it between my fingers before I started drawing fine lines. Yeosang watched for a little before he excused himself, saying he was needed on deck by his Captain and that he would stop by with lunch. I was taken by the new activity I enjoyed dearly and only hummed at Yeosang as he left the room, leaving it unlocked. He stopped locking the door after I told him I trusted him and felt comfortable with an unlocked door, having realized that nobody other than Yeosang ever came to his room. He seemed reluctant at first, but obliged after a while, telling me that if this is what my wish was, he would respect it. But perhaps I had been too naïve and trusting, because the safe haven Yeosang and I have created in his room, came crashing down as I heard a manly voice echoing down the hallway.

“Kang Yeosang!” The man shouted and I tensed, barely able to react as the door to our shared room was thrown open. I froze for a second and all I could hear was my own breathing as my body tensed, pencil clutched tightly in my hand. The other man said nothing as he took a few steps inside the room. He seemed to forget to close the door, it brought little consolidation to my racing heart.

“Oh,” The voice sounded taunting, “You’re not Yeosang, are you?”

I pushed the chair back and stood up; hands turned into fists as my body lightly shook. This stranger could be just like Yeosang. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, but I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps the pencil clutched in my hand could be used as a weapon if the man turned out to be another monster from the mainland. I swiftly turned around, trying to ease a smile onto my face and ready to speak up, but I paused. I froze as I stared at the man standing a few steps into the room, one eyebrow raised. His sharp eyes were quick to run over my body and I couldn’t help the instant reaction of my body as it tried to make itself small, shielding my face with my hair as I lowered my head. My body was visibly trembling as my brain quickly placed a name to the face of the man and all the history between the two of us. I suddenly couldn’t breathe as he took more steps further inside the room, feeling like the wooden structure of the room was closing in on me, ready to swallow me up whole.

“Don’t you have a mouth you can use?” The tone of the man was sharp and words harsh as I felt his intimidating glare bore into my head. I bit my lower lip, trying to find courage and speak up. But nothing came out as my lips opened, breathing through my mouth loudly. I was terrified. Perhaps if he didn’t see my face he wouldn’t recognize me.

“I’m looking for my little doctor friend, Yeosang, where is he, don’t you know little mouse?” I cringed at the nickname and closed my eyes harshly when his boots came into view, body freezing at the proximity between the two of us. I stopped breathing as I heard shuffling and suddenly, a harsh hand gripped my chin and raised my head up. I gasped loudly and started hyperventilating as the man shook my head by the grip he had on my chin.

“Open your eyes, little mouse.” My lips trembled as I opened them, but I looked anywhere but at the man’s face. I couldn’t. My body was full on trembling, mind screaming at me to run away. To get away. My grip tightened impossibly more on the pencil, mind racing with thoughts. Could I stab him in the neck if he tried to do anything to me? The atmosphere was tense as neither I nor the man spoke, up until his grip started tightening, making me wince in pain, “Little mouse—or shall I call you Y/N?”

My eyes widened as they snapped back onto the man’s face, terror written all over my face. I could see the same smirk in each one of my nightmares as the man’s lips were stretched into a sneer, looking incredulous but livid at the same time, “Aren’t you a bit far from your little brothel, Y/N? Walked into my little cage willingly, little mouse?”

I shook my head no as tears fell down my cheeks, trying to breathe properly, but I couldn’t anymore, “I—I didn’t know—please, I’m sorry. I—I will go back, just don’t hurt me again—please, San.”

“Weren’t you paid enough at the brothel, is that why you’re here?” San quirked an eyebrow and I quickly shook my head, but he didn’t let me speak, “Or did you come willingly to me, Y/N? Have you finally decided to work for me and only me?”

“No—I—” San chuckled and yanked me forward, faces mere inches away, making me choke on my terribly stuttered words.

“Wrong choice, little mouse.” I let out a sob as San’s wide smile looked sinister, and I knew it only promised more anguish to come, “I know just the perfect client for you. And he’ll pay me lots of money since you’re still good to be used—”

“Let her go!” A deep voice cut off San’s words and my eyes were instantly drawn to Yeosang. He stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling quickly as if he had been running, hair disheveled, and for the first time Yeosang looked scary as his lips were pulled into a scowl and his eyes held sharpness as he glared at the back of San’s head, “Let her go, San, I’m not going to ask again.”

San’s eyebrows were pulled up and he looked at me with amusement written all over his face as he tilted his head slightly at me, a question swimming in his eyes. I shook my head barely, but I knew San caught it as he glanced back at Yeosang with the same amused expression. It made Yeosang livid as he stormed inside the room and grabbed San’s bicep hard and yanked him away, San’s firm grip from my chin disappearing. I gasped as I fell back into the desk, holding tightly against it as my heart raced and I struggled to breathe.

“What the fuck do you want?” I have never heard Yeosang swear. The sweet Yeosang I knew was gone and was replaced by someone I couldn’t recognize. He looked dangerous in his all-black attire, veins on his arms bulging visible as he wore another tank top. His hair fell into his eyes and hid his glare, making him look even more menacing.

“I came to find you, mate, because thanks to Taeri, Ara has managed to actually injure me.” San hissed out, jaw clenched as he gripped the top of Yeosang’s tank top, “And what do I find instead of you? A whore sitting at your desk and drawing.”

It happened barely in a few seconds and I gasped loudly as Yeosang’s punch threw San off balance, head whipping to the side, and if Yeosang wasn’t still holding him, San would’ve stumbled to the floor. My hands flew to my mouth as I watched San raise his head back up slowly, getting all up in Yeosang’s face, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Talk like that ever again about Y/N and I will kill you with my own hands—” The cackle San let out was shrill and it made Yeosang’s head thump as he sucked in a harsh breath, “Touch her again, and it will be Hongjoong who kills you, not me, San.”

“Hongjoong doesn’t give a shit about a whore, Yeosang—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Yeosang screamed, making me flinch, “I thought you learned your lesson with Taeri and Yunho, but it seems like you haven’t.”

“I own that whore!” San screamed back, pointing his finger in my direction, making me sob as Yeosang looked at me, he was breathing harder and harder, “She’s mine, Yeosang, and when we hit land I’m going to sell her off like the good little whore she is—”

“Get the fuck out right now, San.” Yeosang suddenly sounded too calm, face void of any emotion. It even threw San off guard as he stared at him, stumbling forward as Yeosang released him while hauling him forward. San didn’t cast a second glance our way as walked out the room as if nothing had happened. When he was gone, Yeosang finally looked at me, and I couldn’t help but break down in front of him, fall to the floor as I started sobbing loudly, clutching the pencil to my chest as if my life depended on it. Yeosang was frozen until he slowly approached me and crouched down in front of me, his own eyes filled with tears. I was heaving and my body was shaking badly, but his flowery scent was able to clear my mind, to silence the fear inside my brain as I looked up at him. He looked just as broken as I felt. It made me hate myself. Everything was so perfect. And now it was all ruined by San.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

“Stay quiet, Y/N.” Yeosang’s voice was hard and it made me flinch, “What are you apologizing for? That you’re on the same ship as your tormentor? The one who continuously sold you off? That you’re here because of me? Because I am in the same crew as San? Because I’m a horrible person?!”

I shook my head quickly and reached out to hold Yeosang’s face, action foreign, “You’re not a horrible person, Yeosang. You’re anything but that, please—you couldn’t have known that San—You saved me, Yeosang. I’m alive because of you.”

Yeosang’s lower lip trembled as he lowered his face and placed his warm hand over mine, letting out a shuddering breath, “We’ll get to land in a week. Then you’ll be free. And San will never again find you or touch you again, I swear.”

I nodded my head furiously, sniffing as Yeosang suddenly pulled away and stood, storming out the room. I was left alone, trembling and gasping for air as repressed memories of San came back like a violent blow.

            Another week passed by like nothing, the days seemed to blur together here on the ship. After what happened with San, Yeosang barely left my side and would lock the door even if he was inside in the room with me. He seemed to be always on high alert and tense if someone walked by his room. It took me a few days until I let Yeosang in again, having seen San and realizing we were on the same ship has messed up my mind. I couldn’t feel as safe as before, but with Yeosang by my side, I knew nothing would happen to me. He stopped San the last time. I knew he’d do it again. Yesterday night when Yeosang came to bed he had told me that we have finally reached land and that while the others would be out tomorrow he’d like to take me to the market himself. The idea sounded exciting and I barely got a wink of sleep all night, tossing and turning freely as my back was all healed up now, scars the only reminder of what was once done to me. The clothes Yeosang brought for me to wear in the morning were a bit foreign and I didn’t know how to feel about them, but I thanked him and wore them nonetheless, almost daring to think that I looked like a real pirate in them. The leather pants I wore were slightly longer than my legs but I managed to tuck them into the worn-out boots Yeosang found for me, they were my size thankfully. The black shirt I wore was silky against my skin and I gaped at it when I pulled it on, feeling the fabric with my fingers in awe. The corset I had a little difficulty with wearing it, foreign and uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful to Yeosang so I quickly put it on and laced it up myself, leaving it looser since it felt like a reminder of the wounds littered around my torso, a reminder of the suffocating pain they have once caused. When I was done dressing I knocked on the door and Yeosang opened it, a wide smile on his face. His eyes quickly ran over my outfit and he grinned happily, complementing me. I blushed furiously and looked away, having noticed that he also wore all black, our outfits matching in color. It seemed like black tank tops were his favorite as he wore one again, this time a black ribbon tied around his neck. He styled his hair in a way to cover his birthmark and a very obvious sword sat secured around his hips.

“Shall we go then?” Yeosang’s soft voice brought me back from my thoughts and I looked at him and nodded quickly, excited to get off the ship. Excited to see an unknown world. Excited to breathe in some fresh air finally. Yeosang led the way as I kept close behind him, fingers itching to hold onto the back of his tank top, but I stopped myself and just followed close, his bigger frame hiding me from anyone’s view. The corridor we walked down was narrow and long, doors leading to rooms on both sides until we reached wooden stairs leading upstairs. I sucked in a harsh breath when the sound of the waves crashing became louder and the salty air hit my nose, the light almost blinding as I padded after Yeosang. The moment we got on deck I paused, looking around with big eyes, taking in the place I’ve been living in for the past three weeks. The ship was huge. If you were to run around the deck you’d get tired. Yeosang started moving and I followed after him, turning around noticing some more stairs which lead to the quarterdeck, a round wheel sitting highly on top of it. I smiled as the sun shone down upon us, closing my eyes and throwing my head back as I stopped walking, basking in the warm sunlight. Seagulls screamed above us and I chuckled, thankful that I tied my hair in a low ponytail as the wind was strong up here. I felt like I was alive once again as I realized how much I have missed fresh air. It was nice to be out of Yeosang’s room. As I opened my eyes Yeosang was watching me silently, having stopped as well to wait for me. I grinned at him and ran up to him, allowing him to lead the way. We were the only people on deck, I found that weird since this ship was so huge, but I figured Yeosang might’ve arranged it to be this way.

After getting down and in the boat, Yeosang paddled towards the shore and I leaned over and dipped my hand in the sea, yelping at how cold it was. It made Yeosang chuckle before he focused on paddling and once we got to the shore he tied the boat securely and then helped me out of it. The water felt cold against my boots and it made me run quickly towards the sand, away from the water. Yeosang shook his head at me and then caught up, watching me as I twirled around with a smile on my face. Before either one of us could say anything, Yeosang led the way again as I stuck close to him, walking further and further away from the beach until we reached cobblestone covered streets. Little cottages started showing up too and I took in the beauty and simplicity of them, different from the houses I was used to seeing in the nasty city I was forced to live in while working at the brothel. Everyone was dressed in bright colors here and despite being strangers, people greeted us with a smile on their faces. There were a few people who recognized Yeosang, but we never stopped to talk with anyone. Everyone seemed too busy with whatever they had going on. As we neared the heart of the city, the streets became crowded as people roamed around, not quite paying attention to us anymore. It was a little stressful as I had to pay extra attention to not lose sight of Yeosang, but he slowed down his steps and paid attention for me to be always by his side. I almost got lost at one point so I gripped the back of Yeosang’s tank top and he sent a smile my way before walking with purpose, headed towards a boutique.

“What are we doing here?” I asked curiously as he pushed the door open for me, then followed me inside. The place was nicely decorated and many pretty dresses were placed on display. An older lady greeted us with a big smile, eyes fixated onto Yeosang as if she knew him.

“We’re here to buy you some new clothes,” Yeosang explained before he turned his attention onto the shopkeeper, “Hello, Mrs. Yang.”

“Long time no see, my boy, how have you been?” The lady asked with a fond smile and Yeosang shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just the usual, busier than before.” The lady hummed and then turned her attention onto me, eyes twinkling.

“What a beautiful girl, finally someone has charmed Yeosang.” I blushed at the lady’s words once I realized what she was implying, but before she could say more, Yeosang cleared his throat.

“Do you have dresses in her size?” He asked with a smile.

“Of course, follow me, my dear.” She extended her hand and I hesitantly placed mine in hers, glancing back at Yeosang to see if he was still here. But he just gave me a reassuring nod and followed after us, the lady showing a multitude of dresses, making it hard to choose. At last, I settled on a lavender breezy dress, perfect for a warm day. A white floral dress and a soft pink silk like dress. However, as she stated the prices of the three dresses I realized I had no money, yet Yeosang was quick to open his pouch and offer the lady the pennies she asked for. I looked at him surprised as the lady quickly packed the dresses into a big wrapping paper, biding it together by a rope. Yeosang took the package from her and carried it for me, ushering me outside the boutique as the lady opened her mouth to say something. Once we were out he shook his head.

“She’s a very nosy person, I don’t like discussing my affairs with her.” Yeosang explained and I nodded, pointing towards a little shop I had just noticed.

“Is that a bakery?” I asked in awe and Yeosang hummed, motioning for me to lead the way. I bounced towards the bakery in excitement, having not been to one in ages. The food was extremely good on the ship, but I missed the taste of pastry. It smelled heavenly as Yeosang and I walked through the opened door, another lady greeted us with a friendly smile. She stood behind a long desk, pastries displayed on it.

“Welcome, would you like some?” She motioned towards the yummy looking food and I nodded eagerly, eyes running over the pastries.

“Do you have anything vanilla flavored?” I asked and the lady nodded, pointing at a heart shaped pastry. I gave her a smile and she motioned for me to take it, which I did, and quickly turned to face Yeosang.

“I love anything vanilla flavored!” I beamed up at him and he chuckled, looking at the lady.

“May I have then one too?” The lady nodded her head and Yeosang quickly took one too, dropping four pennies on the table for the lady. She wished us a good day and we exited the shop, standing a little to the side as I took a big bite of the pastry. The rich taste of vanilla exploded in my mouth and I hummed contently, closing my eyes as I savored the delicacy. I haven’t had something this good in ages.

“You like it?” Yeosang asked as I opened my eyes and nodded at him eagerly, happy to be eating the pastry. He took his first bite and his eyebrows raised as he looked down at his own delicacy, finishing it in mere seconds. I started laughing loudly as Yeosang’s cheeks were stuffed with the vanilla pastry, cheeks hurting from how widely I was smiling once I have calmed down. Yeosang’s cheeks flushed and he rubbed the back of his head as he chewed the food with difficulty, eyes widening when he realized it might’ve been a mistake eating it all at once.

“Have you never eaten something like this?” I asked as I took some more bites of my own pastry and Yeosang shook his head no as he wasn’t able to speak just yet. I chuckled and quietly munched on the food, waiting for Yeosang to finally speak up.

“This was my first time,” He admitted with a chuckle as he had successfully gulped down all the food he had in his mouth, “and it was amazing, thank you for recommending it. Now come, I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” I asked wide eyed and he nodded, gently grabbing my free hand and interlacing our fingers as he started pulling me further down the market. My cheeks were burning as I lowered my eyes and stared at the cobblestones, making sure I wouldn’t trip, but also to hide my own blush. Yeosang’s steps were quick and I realized he was eager as he was grinning from ear to ear, quickly stopping when we reached our destination. I almost ran into him, but managed to stop last minute. I looked at the boutique we have stopped in front of and my eyes widened as I looked back at Yeosang in shock.

“After you, Y/N.” He didn’t have to repeat himself as I basically tumbled inside, scaring the poor man sitting in the corner on a chair. He jumped up to his feet and relaxed once he realized it were just two regular customers, but didn’t smile nor speak to us as I took in the place, mouth hanging open. It was a crafts boutique. It was littered with blank canvas and pencils and so many colors. This was a painters dream. I went and touched a canvas as I heard Yeosang approaching, stopping next to me.

“You can buy anything you want, don’t worry about the price.” I looked at Yeosang with big eyes and bowed my head slightly in gratitude before picking up the canvas and clutching it to my chest. It has always been my dream to own enough utensils to be able to make paintings. But I never thought one day that dream would become reality. I was overwhelmed by many feelings as I picked up a few colored pencils, you didn’t have a big variety to choose from, but it was more than I have ever owned. My hands weren’t big enough to hold onto so many items at once, but I refused to let Yeosang help as I showed the men what I have chosen to take back to the ship. He seemed to count in his head before he asked for ten pennies and Yeosang handed it to him without many words, nodding at him as we left the boutique. I realized I could store the pencils in the pockets of my pants and quickly stuffed them inside, hugging the blank canvas to my chest. Yeosang hid his smile as there was a bounce in my step as I followed after him, allowing him to take me wherever he wanted to. Surprisingly we stopped by a flower stand and Yeosang greeted the seller with a smile before he leaned down and picked up a freesia and brought it up to his nose, inhaling its fragrance. He handed the seller two pennies before turning towards me and handing me the flower. My eyes widened and I blushed as I quickly took it from him, thanking him shyly. Yeosang grinned as I smelled the flower, eyes widening at the familiarity of it. As our eyes connected, Yeosang had a fond look on his face.

“They are my favorite flowers.” He explained and I nodded, realizing that this whole time Yeosang smelled like freesias. A tiny voice in my head whispered that they had become my favorite flowers too, the fragrance bringing comfort and safety as it calmed my nerves and racing mind. They felt like home. Yeosang and I stared at each other for another moment before he cleared his throat and went to lead the way again, but had to pull me back, into himself, as a man raced down the street, crashing into people. Three more people chased after him and I realized they were the constable’s men. Yeosang’s face was suddenly lowered and his breath hit my neck as he hid his face, suddenly the smell of freesia stronger with Yeosang so close. For a moment I was confused, until I realized why Yeosang had done that. He was a pirate. And constables didn’t like them. He was trying to hide his identity. But when nobody seemed to notice him, he straightened up once again and mumbled an apology, asking me to follow him as he led us away from the busy street.

My day spent with Yeosang has been magical. We spent it wandering around the little city, which I learned was a village by the sea on one of the South Kingdom’s islands, close to the Irenic Sea. It was completely on the other side of where Yeosang had found me. It was a comforting thought that I was far away from where once I have lived through torture and hell. Yeosang and I bought some more pastries and then we sat down by a cliff, looking over the sea and talking about our day together. Yeosang seemed to be content, serene even, as he had laid down in the grass, staring up at the blue sky. I mirrored his actions and started seeing shapes in the clouds, pointing them out to him and giggling when he wouldn’t see what I could. We talked about anything that came into our minds and Yeosang shared stories about all the times he was clumsy when making his medicine, making me laugh when he retold failed experiments. All the worries I previously seemed to have disappeared the longer I was with Yeosang. I seemed to find nothing too worrying in his presence. He placed a blanket of safety over me and I couldn’t help but want to snuggle closer to him. He suddenly sat up and then grabbed something from his pouch, it was the book we were currently reading. I continued laying on the grass as Yeosang started reading, his deep voice warm and lively as he read a conversation out loud. I closed my eyes and allowed his voice to take me to a land I’ve never been to, finding myself smiling.

But when you are enjoying yourself, it always feels like time flies by. It was the first time I have experienced the saying. I truly wished for the day to be longer, but as the breeze calmed and the sun slowly started setting over the horizon, I knew it was time to head back. We were walking down a dirt covered path, at a crossroads towards the beach and some homey looking cottages, when Yeosang suddenly stopped as I went to walk towards the beach.

“I hope today was as beautiful as I planned it to be.” He said with a smile and I turned to look at Yeosang with a chuckle.

“Of course, it was, Yeosang. I couldn’t have asked for anything better!” I beamed up at him and he nodded happily, running his fingers through his hair.

“Good, I’m glad to hear, I also had an amazing time with you today, Y/N.” I looked away shyly.

“We should head back now.” I said quietly, avoiding Yeosang’s eyes, but his next words made me pause.

“I am heading back, you are not.” I looked at him alarmed, eyes wide as he grabbed his pouch and undid it from his belt, “There’s enough gold in here to last you for three months, Y/N. That’s enough time to find a nice house to live in and a job which pays well. You could even work at the bakery or perhaps sell flowers.”

I gulped as I looked at Yeosang, eyes falling on the pouch, “Are you saying…that I’m staying here? And you’re leaving with…Ateez?”

Yeosang nodded wordlessly and suddenly my mouth went dry as I reluctantly took the pouch when he nudged it towards me. I watched as he fidgeted with his fingers for a bit before he pulled a ring off his finger. I have noticed it a long time ago, but never gave it much attention. Yeosang stared at it longingly before handing it over to me, my palm closing around it tightly, “Keep that ring on you at all times. Wear it as a necklace so that everybody can see it. It will keep you safe, I promise.”

“A ring will keep me safe?” I mumbled as I opened my palm and looked at the ring closely. The letter A was craved inside it. Perhaps from Ateez? How could a ring keep me safe?

“It will, trust me, everyone knows about the meaning of this ring. So it will keep you away from unwanted people.” Yeosang explained further when he noticed my hesitancy.

“I don’t—I don’t want your ring, Yeosang.” I whispered as I looked at him pleadingly, “Don’t leave me behind. I—I can’t be on my own. You can keep me safe, not this ring—”

“No, trust me, it will!” Yeosang quickly exclaimed as his eyebrows furrowed, “I would never lie to you. This place is safe and pirates rarely come here. I suggested sailing here specifically to drop you off here. Y/N, please. I promise nobody will find you here. You can start your new life right here. People are welcoming and friendly. You will be safe. And you will find happiness.”

My eyebrows furrowed at Yeosang’s words and I quickly shook my head, walking up to him, feeling dread pool in my stomach. I wasn’t safe anywhere. San will always find me. Men will always be around me. They will use me. They will sell me. Yeosang was the only safe person. He was the only genuine man I have ever known.

“That’s not true, I don’t want to stay here, Yeosang.” I couldn’t even continue my argument because Yeosang sighed and started talking again.

“Just listen to me one last time, Y/N. You have to stay here—”

“No, because I—I feel like I’m about to die if you leave me alone here!” I exclaimed and my eyes widened at the confession, but my heart was racing and my mind was a mess again, “I’m scared of people if you’re not with me, Yeosang. I can’t trust anyone, no matter how hard I try. I just—my mind is full of these thoughts that are only silenced if I’m around you, Yeosang. Please don’t push me away. Don’t leave me here. I can’t—I can’t live without you. I really mean that. If you go, I might just—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Yeosang gasped out as a hand was placed on the side of my neck, holding me gently. I gulped and felt my eyes fill with tears as Yeosang looked at me alarmed, eyebrows furrowed as we gazed into each other’s eyes, “You won’t be safe on a pirate ship. You will be a wanted criminal by association. You will witness gory fights and heavily injured people often. You might become friends with someone who you might lose the next day. The life of a pirate isn’t easy, Y/N, it’s demanding. Both physically and mentally. There will be days when I won’t be able to look at you or even talk to you. I shut down sometimes, when I can’t save someone, I want to die with them. I have outbursts and sometimes struggle to remain calm. I’m not always so gentle and I can’t lose an argument, I—I can hurt you. And that’s the last thing I want to do. I could lose you and then I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” A tear rolled down my cheek, “I will stand by your side, no matter what, Yeosang. Always. I will wait for you patiently when you need time. I hate arguing so you won’t have to win that from me. I will try and be strong, I will learn how to fight, and how to help you with healing others. I won’t allow you to spiral into guilt and self-hatred. We’ll work through everything, together.”

Yeosang sucked in a deep breath, his grip tightening on my neck. I offered him an encouraging smile and he shook his head, almost disappointed at himself, “You really want to come with me? San will be always there.”

My jaw clenched at the mention of that terrible man’s name, but I shook my head, “I don’t care where San is as long as I’m by your side, Yeosang. You’re my home now. You make me feel safe and appreciated. You listen to me and care about me. You showed me respect when nobody else did, you—you treated me like a human being when nobody else has.”

Yeosang let out a shuddered breath, sniffing as he nodded slowly, eyes boring into mine. They were filled with warmth and determination. His eyes were twinkling with a newfound purpose and I felt a smile creep up onto my lips, “Let’s go home, Y/N.”

“Let’s go home, Yeosang.” I whispered with a big smile on my face and allowed myself to act without second guessing everything as I leaned up and pressed a kiss against Yeosang’s birthmark. Both of our faces were red when I pulled away and I couldn’t help but giggle shyly as I stepped back from Yeosang’s reach and raced down towards the beach, a newfound freedom lacing through every inch of my skin.

A new chapter of my life has just begun. I was Jung Y/N, a woman who’d start the journey of her life starting from…right now.

Next part (divider)

[vampirememory]

PAC | Your Love Story in Song

Someone who received a reading from me once said that I tend to write scenarios as if I'm writing a whole fanfic. While I'm not a fanfic writer, I do love writing so... This pick-a-card is about your future love story based on songs!

This can apply to your future spouse, for your future partner, etc, although it is intended to be the most impactful relationship you have. I will be using shufflemancy and intuition, plus there is a bonus moodboard/image section!

♢ There are three piles to choose from, all are CDs with writing on them/quotes. Pile one is "Songs to listen to when you're in love", pile two is "You're the only thing in life that I got right", and pile three is "Everything I could never tell you." ♢

Pile One ♢ "Songs to listen to when you're in love"

Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun

C'mon - Single Version by Panic! At The Disco & fun.

Capsize by FRENSHIP & Emily Warren

A heaviness. Two people who refuse to believe that they're in love, but rather continue to wallow in their own problems until they realize that there was someone there all along. Youth. They both take baby steps until they realize that someone has been there alongside them the whole time and together they bring themselves up. Unfortunately, the highs are high and the lows are low, and sometimes it leads to explosive fights, crying, and the neverending cycle of breakups.

It's blue. It's in the dark, two lovers holding hands as you both sob over the destruction you have caused together. You both think to yourselves "Maybe this is why we are meant to be?" A combination of hail and rain, the worst thunderstorms, and the brightest sunny days after them, but mostly because you know that others would not be able to handle your violence (not literal).

On the worst days, you almost melt into each other. On the best days, you blend and ebb with each other's flows. There is no fear in either of your depths. They can get terrifying, yes, and from an outside perspective it can be seen as a toxic, violent cycle, but it is far from the truth. It's bittersweet, it's growth, it's pulling out hair like pulling weeds and sharpening knives to cut out rotten flesh. It's painful, yes, but it's the most invigorating ride you both have ever been on, and it's the most growth you've ever had. You trigger each other in the best and worst way possible.

It's pain and ascension. Growing your wings, pulling out the flightless feathers. Scratching away dead scales, shedding and spitting up venom. Like an animal learning how to breathe again. Poetic misery.

Pile Two ♢ You're the only thing in life that I got right."

Nineteen by Dylan

Joan of Arc by Arcade Fire

Stop Making This Hurt by Bleachers

Good morning kisses and back hugs. Shared memories and shared coffee mugs, cuddles, and long movie marathons, but something is changing.

The love you shared is changing. Neither of you has gotten this far, you have no idea how to react. The passionate morning kisses become awkward side steps, the cuddles become awkward and suddenly you hate the color of the walls. You still love them, yes of course, but it's changing it's hue. Your chameleon lover is changing its colors and you haven't adjusted to the change in saturation. The giddiness goes away and becomes...comfortable. You fear that the passion is gone, you've never felt this way before. You're afraid they'll leave you.

You both lay on the duvet, staring above at the ceiling fan. Suddenly, you're both older. "How did we get here? Where has the time gone?" You both look at each other with a somewhat sad, but tender smile. The love hasn't gone away, it's just changed forms, and you're finally adjusted to the slower love you always deserved. You kiss, it's awkward and cheeky, but it brings a warmness to your body you've never felt before, a warmness you want to keep forever, and so you both do.

BONUS: While looking for images, Boreas by the Oh Hellos was playing in my head, it definitely matches the warm energy of this pile.

Pile Three ♢ "Everything I could never tell you"

East of Eden by Zella Day

Oh No! by MARINA

Mine Forever by Lord Huron

It was a hook-up, it was a fling. You never pictured that you'd actually love your goofy lover. You couldn't imagine them being serious about anyone until one night you looked into their eyes and realized it wasn't lust. Out of fear, you left, and you were terrified.

This wasn't the type of person you would bring home to your family, but rather show off to your friends and your Instagram stories, but now things are changing. They aren't the person you expected to be, and you're slowly falling in love with their dopey smile and messy hair. "Nothing can get better than this," they say with a smile, and fall asleep in your arms. You feel the same way and it scares you.

You run from it, you ghost them and break their heart just for a moment until you look at yourself in the mirror and see the person you've never wanted to become. You take off your mask and realize you're just a scared child who never knew you were worthy of love or desired love. You put in the work, you change your face, and break your old mask.

You show up to their house to apologize and try to start fresh again, and whether or not they accept your apology is up to them, but you'll never forget them regardless.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

[defiantdreemurrs]

after finally watching madoka movie 3 i am 100% convinced the internet hates homura because they misunderstood her completely

the only crime you could ever pin on her is that she considers herself lesser than madoka and therefore is convinced she has to sacrifice herself so madoka can be happy

the same crime madoka herself is guilty of

both of these girls feel so much love for each other and yet they also feel so little for themselves, both of these girls are convinced the only way they can make each other happy is if they accept an eternity of suffering, and both of these girls practically leap at the chance to suffer for eternity if it makes their beloved happy

the only thing homura ever did wrong was to not love herself, and i honestly cant fault her for anything else as a result

the things she did for madoka are expressions of how much she loved madoka, as well as how little she loved herself, and i cant help but relate as someone who is so deeply filled with self loathing yet so madly in love that i would gladly sacrifice myself for her

homura isnt a villain, shes not evil, she willingly damned herself and occupied the role of the dissenter, the rebel, lucifer morningstar, solely so madoka could be happy in a world where her family was safe, she and her friends didnt have to fight witches, and homura could still be with her

which is something madoka herself did too, shes only doing what madoka did, but because she accepted her role as the devil to madokas god everyone sees her as pure evil and thats the whole POINT of the god vs devil imagery in the movie is to comment on how what we see as “good” and “evil” are so heavily dependent on framing and aesthetic and how those things can make two girls doing the exact same thing appear to be completely in opposition

the point of madoka isnt that homura is evil or that she shouldnt be so obsessed with madoka or that shes wrong for loving madoka as much as she does, the point of madoka is that you should love yourself and subjecting yourself to endless self sacrifice because you think so little of yourself is only going to hurt those you love and possibly to the point of locking you into a neverending cycle of self sacrifice in opposition to your beloveds own self sacrifice

the only thing homura ever did wrong was to not love herself as much as she loved madoka, because she certainly deserves to

(in other words, in case you misunderstood me: homura did basically nothing wrong and all her actions in movie 3 are justified she just kinda needs to love herself and i theorize movie 4 to resolve things essentially by having madoka show her that neither of them has to be so self sacrificing because its so very clear that this is the only thing she ever does wrong and that madoka has also been doing the exact same thing and that both are at fault and they just kinda need to stop escalating this endless cycle of self sacrifice, and one more time explicitly homura did nothing fucking wrong and becoming the devil to lift the weight of the world off of her beloveds shoulders is both a deep expression of love for madoka and a show of how little she loves herself)

[the-white-void]

Life, Death, Rebirth

~Sypnosis: "Thee hadst been thrown into teyvat wh're i did rule. Thou art mine own heir, mine own physical f'rm, yet those daws besmirch t by leaving thee with scars and wounds. And i shall nay longeth'r standeth aside while those imbeciles taketh our headeth"

Mentions: Mental instability, trauma, small violence, blood.

"My dearest, wherefore alloweth those trait'rs runneth free? wherefore not alloweth those folk seeth the real thee? the real. Us?" wouldst yond not beest satisfying "

You then jolted awake once more, in this dreadful world that has brought you nothing but pain and neverending pain. This world you once thought to be magical had stabbed you in the back for its backhanded prejudice and discrimination to your name, no... their name, it's their name now, they can f*cking keep it. They called that name and removed your head from your body leaving it on the cold and smelly basket that caught your head countless times from the countless deaths you had to endure because of that THING who stole your name.

You ran and ran away but no matter what you did, it always ends the same, a cold and headless end. Then it always comes back to the beginning, a beginning of suffering the moment I see someone, anyone, then the cycle of pain repeats. "There's no hope for this" you whisper as you lie next to astream. "Why can't I just die? Why does it have to go over and over again? Isn't one time enough?" the words left your mouth as you gaped in pain, you breath hanging deep as you accept being a puppet to a neverending broken play, one that is bound to repeat till the very end.

You look to see the reflection in the stream "what did I do for this again?" You asked your reflection before taking a handful of water to drink, then after the ripples faded you see your reflection looking at you with an eerie gaze and an uncanny smile while yours was scrunched and tired.

You took a closer look at it and noticed a few odd things about that reflection, other that it's peculiar behaviour, the colour of its iris was an unnatural hue of milky white, and it's sclera bloody red, as if it were bloodshot. The moment you blinked was the moment the reflection jumped out of the water and dragged you in their world.

You were petrified, you held yourself close hoping nothing would happen to you. The still and suffocating air filled your lungs before opening your eyes to see an empty void filled with nothing but red ichor on the ground. You looked around to see anything but the red void, but nothing, until you looked behind to see the —reflection— that pulled you in here "Who are you?! What do you want? Are you doing what the others want to do? Kill me? Again and again?!! Is that what you want...?" You yelled at them with all the hurt you felt since coming here.

...

"Nay mine own lief, I has't cometh to talketh, speak of what thee've been through and haply assisteth with thy troubles" the mirrored image spoke whilst slowly approaching you. You stumble back, a little familiar with its words, but still unclear of their intentions "I- I don't understand" you uttered while looking on the bloody floor, the floor that made you shudder whenever you looked directly at it. Silence filled the air until you looked up and saw your double right in front of you, stumbling back onto the floor, it too, kneels to you closer "I... will help you" it softly spoke while it points directly to you with a smile.

"Help me? What do you get for helping me? Is this some sort of... trick?" You looked away, distrusting this person. It was confusing and alien to you when trusting anyone in this world, especially someone who kidnapped you from a stream and into this scary domain. "I und'rstand thy disdain of me, aft'r the hooligans i hath left behind hath followed a narcissistic chop-logic, and hast did cause thee to falleth into this pitiful state. Howev'r, t is still mine own responsibility, as thou art mine own descendant" s

[snowthornes]

FANFICTION | @uroboros-if

Rafaele opened his mouth, then closed it. He had lived for centuries, for endless millenia, but at times like this he still wasn’t quite sure how to reach his son. He looked at Nero. The snowy haired god was sitting wordlessly beside Avriel, lending his strength in his own way — he met Rafaele’s eyes, and nodded in silent support. Finally, Rafaele spoke. “Avriel,” he said, tasting the words on his tongue. Carefully, delicately, he asked: “Is something the matter?” Avriel shot another peek at him, his expressive dark gray eyes morose. He was silent for a moment, before he whispered, “They… they say that eternity isn’t real.” A pang shot through Rafaele’s heart, and he sat up. “They? Who is ‘they’?” “The other gods,” Avriel said listlessly. He looked up at Rafaele, then at Nero, his young eyes searching; seeking the truth. “Are they right? Is nothing eternal?” That was a difficult question to answer. It was so difficult that Rafaele floundered for a few seconds.

As the god of the changing seasons, Rafaele had always been all too aware of the passage of time.

He had been witness to endless seasons, ancient as time itself. He had painted the changing seasons in the colors of dreams, silent wishes and prayers hidden in every bloom, every bough. Spring heralded the coming of life and rebirth, as a bird returning to its nest; summer ushered in blazing colors and vivid skies, as a red sun disappearing on the horizon. Autumn was a portent of playful winds and falling leaves, of farewells and inevitable slumbers; winter itself was time frozen to a standstill, when the skies were draped in veils of silvery gray and the world was blanketed in hushed promises of life and death.

Within the neverending cycles of life and death, of rebirth and slumber, Rafaele stood at the very center of it all. It was said that he was the artist of the seasons, the painter of change and life and death and inevitability — it was his life, his role, his place in the endless tapestry of the universe. 

Rafaele thought he was accustomed to change. Not indifferent, no, never indifferent, but accustomed in the way that mortals were accustomed to the dawn of the sun and the vesperate of the evening.

And then his child was introduced into his world. And he was shown just how very wrong he was.

SUMMER

Rafaele watched with a smile as Avriel tumbled gracelessly through the grass, laughing in delight. Beside him, Nero watched in amused yet concerned bemusement, ready to swoop in at a moment’s notice should their son’s antics become too hazardous.

The skies stretched overhead in an endless train of blue, dotted with wispy clouds that lazily drifted by. A sparkling river wound its way through an endless expanse of green dotted with trees, shrubs, and wildflowers. A soft breeze caressed their skin, sunlight pouring over them in gentle rays.

“Avriel,” Rafaele called. The young god immediately whirled around, beaming up at them with sparkling, dark gray eyes. Blades of grass clung to his clothes, some even settling in his hair. He looked perfectly mussy, more like a mortal child gamboling through the grass than an all powerful deity created from the very fabric of the universe.

“Yeah?!”

Rafaele grinned — his son’s excitement was infectious. “Do you want to dip your feet in the river?”

Avriel’s eyes rounded. He looked breathless. “Can I?”

“If you want,” Rafaele said, with mock solemnity. “You indeed can.”

Avriel cheered, the sound clear and bright in the glassy air. He immediately ran off, Rafaele hot on his heels — Nero followed at a more sedate pace, a silent smile resting in his eyes all the while.

Rafaele and Avriel skidded to a stop at the riverbank at around the same time, both beaming in delight. Avriel immediately reached for Rafaele’s hand, tugging at it as he jumped up and down, “Are you going to dip your feet in too?!”

“Of course!” Rafaele said, unceremoniously plopping down on the riverbank and taking off his shoes. Avriel, who was already conveniently barefoot, gleefully plopped down and dipped his feet in the water, giggling with delight. Rafaele turned around and, with a loving smile, held out his hand to his husband to invite him down, which Nero wordlessly took. He settled comfortably beside Rafaele, a soft look in his eyes as he watched them giggle and play in the water.

Suddenly, Avriel gasped. “Fish! There’s fish!”

Quick as a flash, the young god had leapt off the riverbank and into the river with a splash, gleefully chasing after the silvery fish that darted here and there within the river’s clear waters. Nero snorted as he leisurely wiped off the water that had splashed onto his robes, turning to Rafaele with raised eyebrows as he wryly remarked, “He takes after you.”

Rafaele grinned, unperturbed. “It seems that our child loves nature just as much as we do — isn’t it wonderful?”

“Tell that to those poor fish,” Nero said, though the softness in his eyes belied the dryness of his words. They continued to watch as Avriel gamboled through the water, exclaiming in wonder ever so often at a stray fish or snail.

There was a rather chaotic moment when Avriel actually managed to catch a respectably sized fish in his hands — Rafael had let out an exclamation of both shock and wonder, Nero sitting up from his lackadaisical posture, before the fish leapt out of their son’s small hands, smacking him in the face with its tail and diving back into the water with a splash, leaving Avriel sputtering with shock.

“There, there now,” Nero said, patting Avriel’s fluffy head in amusement as his son hugged his waist for comfort, Rafaele nearly crying tears of laughter beside him. “I’m sure that fish wasn’t very happy to be caught, either.”

“I just wanted to play!” Avriel said, looking aggrieved. He was completely soaked through by his antics in the river, looking very much like a drowned puppy.

“It must have been surprised,” Nero said placidly, moving on to patting his son’s back. “After all, you didn’t ask if it wanted to play, did you?”

Guilt slowly seeped into Avriel’s expression. “No…” Then he perked up, looking expectantly at his fathers. “Does that mean they’ll play with me if I ask them?”

“Well–” Rafaele began.

But Avriel was already running off. “Fishies! Do you want to play? I promise it’ll be fun!”

And with that, the school of fish were once again forced to scatter.

Once Avriel had miraculously tired himself out and his fathers had explained that, no, the fish probably weren’t very interested in playing with him right now, the family of three moved to the shade of a drooping willow tree. Avriel laid down with his head on Rafaele’s lap, playing with the tree’s drooping leaves. Wonder sparkled in his eyes. Nero sat comfortably beside Rafaele, shoulders touching his.

The two husbands exchanged a look. Rafaele rarely saw Nero so relaxed, so content. He smiled, nearly wanting to sing with joy. He looked down at his son, gently running a hand through his dark brown hair. This was his son. Their son. Sometimes, Rafaele couldn’t believe that he was so lucky. That in his long, endless existence he had met his beloved and his child.

It was times like this that gave Rafaele strength. Perhaps it was selfish, but he could never bring himself to ever regret bringing his child into the world. Not when there were moments such as this. Precious moments with his family, suspended in a time where all was well as long as they had each other.

…He still remembered the look on Avriel’s face. He still remembered the look on everyone’s faces; how confusion had flooded among the watching deities, how Ellera’s delicate brows had furrowed. How Avriel — his child, his child, his and Nero’s — had taken a confused step back, eyes widened in hesitant confusion as he watched the crowd murmur before him.

“I am the deity of eternity.”

He had declared it so boldly. So proudly.

And Rafaele had to watch his face fall as he realized that something was… wrong.

Nero had been the first to surge forward, then Rafaele. They had shielded Avriel behind them as the newborn god hesitantly clung to their clothes, choosing to place his trust in them despite his confusion. And as Rafaele felt the light pressure of small hands clinging to his back, he vowed: he would not fail that trust. He would take it, he would treasure it, and return it with love a hundredfold.

“...Father? Father?”

Rafaele blinked, startled out of his reverie. He looked down to meet Avriel’s eyes — the young god had scrambled into a sitting position on the grass, looking up at him with curious eyes. Feeling a warm presence beside him, Rafaele turned his gaze to see Nero, leaning over to him in silent concern.

“...Ah.” Rafaele smiled, and shook his head with a laugh. “I’m sorry, I was– distracted. What was that?”

“I want a pet fish,” Avriel announced.

Rafaele almost thought he heard the fish in the river splashing in alarm.

AUTUMN

Sometimes, Rafaele had to wonder if there was ever a parent who truly understood their child.

Most times, Avriel seemed so simple, so in love with the world. He cried when he was sad, which was rarely, and he laughed when he was happy — which was often. He ran to his fathers for hugs and headpats whenever he wanted, and rolled around in the grass with Salvatore whenever the other god came to visit. And although in his simplicity he could be slow to understand the emotions of others, to comprehend the complexity of most entities, he was always quick to apologize, vying to make things better again with all his power whenever he slipped up and made a mistake.

But there were times when his son would fall silent, when he would retreat to a world of his own–

Times like now.

Avriel had been silent for a while now.

He was sitting on the grass in their garden, quietly rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees as he looked up at the boundless sky. There was a listless energy to him — one that reminded Rafaele of autumn, of falling leaves and wilting foliage.

Silently, Rafaele went to sit beside his son, his husband sitting on Avriel’s other side. Avriel shifted, shooting peeks at them when they sat down, but he didn’t say anything; his attention soon returned to the skies, and his listless rocking returned.

Rafaele opened his mouth, then closed it. He had lived for centuries, for endless millenia, but at times like this he still wasn’t quite sure how to reach his son. He looked at Nero. The snowy haired god was sitting wordlessly beside Avriel, lending his strength in his own way — he met Rafaele’s eyes, and nodded in silent support.

Finally, Rafaele spoke. “Avriel,” he said, tasting the words on his tongue. Carefully, delicately, he asked: “Is something the matter?”

Avriel shot another peek at him, his expressive dark gray eyes morose. He was silent for a moment, before he whispered, “They… they say that eternity isn’t real.”

A pang shot through Rafaele’s heart, and he sat up. “They? Who is ‘they’?”

“The other gods,” Avriel said listlessly. He looked up at Rafaele, then at Nero, his young eyes searching; seeking the truth. “Are they right? Is nothing eternal?”

That was a difficult question to answer.

It was so difficult that Rafaele floundered for a few seconds.

It was said that gods were all knowing, almighty — but Rafaele didn’t feel very almighty right now. No, he felt lost, helpless in a cruel reality that he wasn’t able to protect his child from.

It was Nero who spoke. “Nothing lasts forever,” he said simply, gently. “But it doesn’t mean that nothing matters.”

Avriel looked down and nodded.

To his horror, Rafaele saw his lips quivering.

“Avriel–”

And then Avriel was sniffling, and then he was sobbing, and then he was heaving great big gulping sobs, crying helplessly as his fathers were forced to look on. And Rafaele was reaching for Avriel, pulling him into his lap, and while the young god gave a token struggle, he eventually gave in and laid his head on his father’s shoulder, sobbing. Nero crawled closer and wrapped his arms around both Rafaele and Avriel, gently patting their child’s back.

The two exchanged looks — the same helplessness mirrored in their eyes. What could they do? What could they say? They had walked endless eons, but nothing had prepared them for this.

“Avriel?” Rafaele tried again, because what else could he do but try? “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Avriel choked, staring up at him and Nero with red eyes. “So that means– that means– you’ll be leaving me.”

…Oh.

Rafaele was stunned.

“I don’t want you to go!” Avriel sobbed, his voice almost rising to a wail. His chest heaved, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t, I don’t! I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want you to disappear…”

…Well. He hadn’t been expecting this. Judging by the rare stunned look on Nero’s face, he hadn’t either.

“Eternity means forever and eternity isn’t real,” Avriel blubbered on. Now that he had spoken, it was like water had burst forth from a dam; his earlier silence was long gone, replaced by incessant tears. “That means that forever isn’t real and you won’t be with me forever.”

What do you say when faced with such an accusation from your child?

Rafaele didn’t know.

He could say that they were gods; they would be around for a very, very long time. He could say that nothing would take them from Avriel, that nothing could ever separate them… but then he remembered the war and the loss and the devastating, shattering grief of a world gone mad.

And suddenly, he couldn’t.

Rafaele swallowed. And then he gently stroked Avriel’s head, running his hand through his hair. He searched for the right words — were there even any? — as Avriel continued to sob, heartbreak clear in his eyes.

Finally, Rafaele spoke. “Avriel,” he said, softly. “We don’t know how long we’ll have together, but I promise — it will be for a long, long time.”

Avriel sniffled. “But–”

“–And even if we were to one day be gone, to disappear from this world,” Rafaele smiled lovingly, his heart filled with so much love and pain and loss that it felt like he couldn’t breathe, “We will never truly be gone, not completely.”

“How?” Avriel asked, staring up at his fathers with tearful, searching eyes. He seemed to be looking for a promise, a vow that would hold him in security. “How can you promise that?”

“The world is full of chaos,” it was Nero who spoke this time, dark eyes gentle as he looked at his son. “And there are many, many things that we don’t understand. But one thing will always remain true: and that is our love for you.”

Avriel sniffled, looking down. “But… you’ll still be gone.”

Nero shook his head. “No,” he said, voice firm. He leaned forward and gently cupped Avriel’s chin, raising his head and wiping his tears away. “As long as you remember us, as long as you carry us in your heart, we will be with you.”

“The laws of the universe may be as they are,” Rafaele said, softly, “But if there is anything, anything, that shall remain eternal, it will be our love for you. Like the stars in the sky and the tides of the sea, we will always be with you, no matter where you are, no matter who you have become. You will always be our son — and you will always be our love, our life. That is our eternity.”

Avriel’s lip quivered — and then he was bawling fresh tears once again, flinging his arms around both his fathers and burying his face into their shoulders. “Okay,” he said, his voice muffled. “But you have to stay with me for a long, long time! If I have to remember you forever, then you’ll have to stay for almost forever!”

Rafaele laughed — and when Nero wiped his husband’s face, his eyes impossibly soft, he realized that tears were running down his cheeks, too. “Okay,” Rafaele said, smiling.

He and Nero spoke as one, their voices winding together in a melody that permeated the air, sealing their oath within the dust and earth of the universe.

“It’s a promise.”

WINTER

The seasons passed, as they were wont to do. The years passed by, first in a trickle and then in an unforgiving tide. Birds returned to their nests, and left once again. The sun continued to chase the moon, and the moon continued to chase the sun. Still the universe remained as unfathomable as ever, heedless to the doubtful eyes and questions cast by those residing within its cradle.

Avriel had been sent to Lucidio.

Rafaele had known it was coming. It was inevitable, given his child’s domain.

Eternity. A transient dream, as fragile and precious as the wings of a butterfly. That was Avriel’s domain. And for that, the others had deemed him worthless; the others had deemed him nothing.

Lucidio was a good place. A peaceful place. It was managed by Luciel, who was just about the kindest deity Rafaele knew. They would take care of Avriel. Rafaele knew it in his heart.

It didn’t alleviate the pain that shot through his heart.

Avriel had tried to keep a brave face. Rafaele had thought that he would cry, that he would once again weep like he had so long ago when he was just a young child, but he hadn’t. Instead, he had wrapped his arms around his fathers, hugging them tightly and insisting that they visit him the moment they could.

Rafaele had been the first to start bawling. He had cried, and then Avriel’s lip had quivered, and suddenly he was flinging his arms around his fathers and burying his face in their shoulders, mumbling muffled gibberish into their clothes. When he pulled back, his eyes were red — but no tears fell.

And then he had laughed, saying that they had better visit, or else. And Rafaele and Nero had promised to visit so many times that he would get sick of them. And Avriel had laughed again, the sound bright and clear in the crisp air, and suddenly he was hugging them again.

And he had whispered one last goodbye, then turned and ran to Luciel, who was waiting a respectful distance away, gazing at them with gentle eyes. He didn’t look back. And Luciel had met Rafaele and Nero’s eyes, and nodded.

They would take care of him.

Rafaele nodded back.

They left.

Nero’s arms wrapped around him.

He didn’t stop crying for a long, long time.

Rafaele and Nero came to visit many, many times — as much as they were able. Avriel always greeted them with a smile, running to them and flinging his arms around them the moment he reached them.

He asked about their days, and they told him about their duties in the mortal world, of the seasons changing and the moons passing. And he told them about his duties in Lucidio: of how the mortal souls were so lively, so interesting, with their myriad of trials and tribulations even past death; of how Luciel was so kind, so good, and how Avriel wished he could become his friend; of how he wished he could befriend the mortals, but he didn’t know how; of how his training in the art of the sword was going supremely well, and talks of bestowing him with a title were already in progress.

Avriel appeared to be thriving.

But there were moments when he slipped. Moments when his face would fall and he would clumsily attempt to change the subject to happier matters, avoiding his fathers’ eyes all the while.

“He’s settling in very well,” Luciel said, during one of their visits. Avriel had run off on another mortal errand, promising to come back soon, and Rafaele and Nero had taken the chance to talk to Luciel while he was away. The deity of death took a sip of his cup of tea before they spoke again, their eyes gently gazing at them over the rim. “The mortals love him. He’s especially popular with the children, often playing games with them when he’s able.”

“But?” Rafaele prompted, as Nero looked on with discerning eyes.

Luciel sighed.

“As you know,” they said, “Not all mortals are so welcoming.”

Luciel looked away, their eyes settling on the view overlooking the entirety of Lucidio. A light breeze ruffled through the land, through each carefully placed treetop and wildflower and shrub. Lucidio was a paradise in its own right, a resting place for the dead, but Luciel knew just how restless the dead could be.

“And he misses you,” they continued, slowly. “He’s been throwing himself into his training — he’s well on his way to mastering the sword, I’d say — but he misses you. And Salvatore, Ellera’s child. He talks about you all often.”

Rafaele smiled, painfully. “Is there anything we can do?” He asked hopefully, leaning forward even as he held Nero’s hand. “Anything at all we can do to make things better?”

Luciel gently shook their head. Kindness as old as time, hardwon from millenia of endless living, shone from their eyes. “Your visits are enough. To know that he has you with him, always — that is enough. This is something he will have to overcome himself.”

Nero patted his hand as Rafaele deflated. “Thank you,” the god said, eyes serious as he looked at his old friend. “For looking out for him.”

Luciel smiled, their eyes squinting with the gesture. “Of course. That goes without saying.”

And then Avriel had come barrelling back into Luciel’s residence, effectively putting their conversation to an end.

Weeks later, after one of their visits, when Rafaele and Nero were once again about to leave, Avriel spoke.

“Fathers,” he said, softly. His eyes were uncharacteristically serious. “You’ll be with me almost forever, right?”

“Of course!” Rafaele said, taking his son’s hands. “We promised, didn’t we?”

“We don’t make a habit of breaking promises,” Nero said mildly, though his eyes were soft.

Avriel smiled. “...Yeah. I just wanted to be sure.”

Rafaele’s hand rose to run through Avriel’s hair, and he was suddenly struck by how much he had grown — by how his physical form had grown to accommodate his maturity, by how different yet similar he was to his childhood days. Gone were the days when Avriel would come crying to them at the most minor of inconveniences, confident that they could always, always, make things right again.

Luciel’s words echoed in his ears. This is a path Avriel has to walk alone; this is something he has to overcome himself. 

Echoes of sunlit days long gone shimmered through Rafaele’s memories. Visions of him and Nero walking through wildflowers and blades of grass, with Avriel between them, laughing and holding their hands. Suddenly, the Avriel in his visions broke free from their hands and ran forward, towards a strange, untrodden path that led towards an unknown future. And he looked back, as if urging his fathers to follow — but they couldn’t. As if some force were stopping them, freezing them in place. Rafaele was left to stand, helpless, as his child grew farther and farther away from him, changing in ways that he wasn’t there to witness.

“Is it hard?” Rafaele whispered, out of the blue.

Avriel blinked, staring at him. Then slowly, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little thick. “But I’ll– I’ll be fine! I promise!”

Rafaele smiled. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you will.”

Even so, he felt a strange sense of loss.

SPRING

The years continued to pass.

Time was a constant stream flowing down a valley, and the people, both gods and mortals, were merely fallen leaves floating along its current.

Lucidio alone remained unchanged.

The sun was gentle as ever, its rays never too warm nor too cold. The skies were an endless expanse of blue, cradling the city within its embrace. The lives — or un-lives of the mortal souls still continued to turn. Reunions were had; those parted by the merciless embrace of death were reunited under a gentle sky. Folly and virtue both continued to run rife among those dwelling in Lucidio, almost as vivid and alive as they were on the mortal plane.

And the Eternal Guardian was there to witness it all.

Standing atop a towering roof, the young god surveyed the city below him. The wind blew through his hair, playing with the ends of his sleeves. Although he gazed down at the city with a bright smile, eyes sparkling ever so slightly, his posture was proud and strong, cutting through the wind and the sky. His hand rested gently on the sword at his hip.

Avriel’s eyes traced the faces of the mortal souls going about their days, milling through the city that he had come to know like the back of his hand. His eyes shifted towards the rooftops of familiar buildings and homes — rooftops that he had run and jumped and climbed on top of, much to the delight or consternation of their residents.

This was Lucidio.

This was both his home, and his not-home.

Avriel straddled a strange boundary between mortals and the divinity. He did not belong completely to the gods, for he had no domain, but he did not belong to the mortals, for he was divine. This was what he had learned in his time at Lucidio. Although he tried his best to integrate with mortals, to play with them and learn their games and cultures, there was always this inexplicable sense of distance between them — a gaping chasm that they refused to bridge, no matter how hard Avriel tried.

Some would say that he had no place in the universe. No role to truly call his own.

But not Avriel. No, over his years at Lucidio, he had realized that he possessed something far more precious to call his own.

He only needed to show them…

As if hearing something, the young god suddenly turned his head. There, in the distance, were his fathers: Rafaele and Nero, both making their way towards him. A bright smile shone on Rafaele’s face even as Nero walked poker-faced beside him. The two looked as harmonious as ever, two entities fortunate enough to find each other in the millions of years that encompassed the universe.

Avriel lit up. It had been a while since his fathers had come to visit him together! Without missing a beat, he leapt down from the rooftop, and ran towards his fathers. He skidded to a stop before them, laughing at their surprised faces.

“Fathers! You’re here!”

“Of course!” Rafaele beamed. “We thought we’d come to visit!”

“You’re just in time!” Avriel laughed. “Wait– come with me! I want to show you something!”

Nero raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What–”

Avriel grabbed his fathers’ hands, dragging them forward. “Come on, come on! I’ll show you when we get there!”

Nero made a noise of protest while Rafaele laughed, delighted, but the two ultimately followed.

Rafaele glanced at Avriel, striding in between him and Nero, determinedly holding their hands. He suddenly felt a faint sense of familiarity, an echo of a time years and years ago; a vision of Avriel, still young and small, holding his and Nero’s hand as they walked along a sunlit path.

He looked at his son, now so tall and upright, his every step graceful and steady — and he suddenly felt a bit dazed.

They soon came to a clearing in the middle of a forest. Sunlight dappled through bright green foliage; a mixture of old leaves and soil carpeted the ground. Towering trees surrounded the clearing, forming a rough circle. Rafaele glanced around, curious — he had never been here before. “What is this?”

“This is where I train!” Avriel grinned. His gray eyes sparkled with expectation. “Wait– stay here.”

He let go of their hands and ran forward, to the middle of the clearing. Rafaele and Nero’s hands slowly dropped back to their sides.

Avriel stood in the middle of the clearing, right in front of his fathers. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled.

“Watch me, okay?”

And before Rafaele could reply, Avriel was moving.

The young god’s feet slid against the dust in slow, deliberate movements. Slowly, his feet turned and spun and shifted, his hand on the sword at his hip, his feet moving gracefully against the forest floor. His eyes were closed. The sounds of the forest seemed to quiet — the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

Rafaele realized he was also holding his own.

And then Avriel opened his eyes, and a light shone within them: clear and bright and sharp, like the wind cutting through a mountain.

There was a gust of wind, a flash of a sword, and Avriel was dancing, spinning through the air while his sword wove through the air at an impossible speed. Like a viper riding the wind, he spun and curved through the air, his sword following his movements as if it were naught but a mere extension of himself, or as if he himself had become an extension of his blade; the fallen leaves on the forest floor slowly rose along with his movements, shivering in the air.

I am Avriel.

The fallen leaves joined him in his dance, hypnotic and flickering in their movements. They swirled around him, a mesmerizing partner to the young god’s dance with the blade.

The Eternal Guardian.

Avriel’s movements became faster and faster, weaving and darting with an impossible speed till it was almost as if he was suspended in the air, as if time had frozen around him to accommodate his intrepid dance.

The Deity of Eternity.

His robes flared from his body as he danced; the fallen leaves spiraled around him in a stream, like they were mere ribbons flying from the end of his sword. Rafaele reached to hold Nero’s hand, intertwining his fingers with his and squeezing.

Son of Rafaele, god of the changing seasons, and son of Nero, god of chaos and purity.

His feet landed on the forest floor and then he leaped, his waist tracing a graceful arc through the air as he leapt backwards, his blade cutting a striking arc through the air. In that moment, it was as if time had stopped; the dancing leaves swirling around him froze, as if suspended in the air; and then he landed on his feet with a swing of his blade and the leaves blasted outwards, flaring through the air and fluttering harmlessly at Rafaele and Nero’s feet as Avriel dropped into a bow, breathing heavily.

And that… that is enough.

Avriel rose from his bow, eyes sparkling even as his chest heaved. “How was it?” He asked, breathlessly. “I think it wasn’t perfect and I may have made some mistakes but I really wanted to show you and I–”

“Avriel,” Rafaele interrupted. Avriel stopped. “It was beautiful.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?!”

Rafaele nodded, sniffling. Avriel’s eyes widened, looking very much akin to an affronted owl. Nero gravely echoed Rafaele’s words, his eyes suspiciously misty. “It was wonderful.”

“W– wait,” Avriel said, panicked. “Father, are you crying? Don’t cry! Father! Tell him to stop crying– wait, you too–?”

“Oh, just come here and give us a hug already!” Rafaele huffed, still sniffling.

And then Avriel was barreling towards them with his arms outstretched and he had flung himself onto his fathers, nearly knocking them onto the ground. Two pairs of arms came to rest on his back and he laughed, beaming brightly at his fathers until he saw that Rafaele was still sniffling and Nero’s eyes were still suspiciously misty. The laughter faded from his face, and he looked seriously at his parents. There was a gentleness contained within his eyes, a kind of wisdom hard earned from his years of mingling with mortals — of witnessing their joys and triumphs and follies and irritations in the endless stream of time.

“Fathers,” Avriel said, softly. “That dance was for you. Thank you for everything.”

“Oh, my silly child,” Rafaele choked. “What are you thanking us for? Ah, Desatana, my eyes–”

“Ah– ah, father, are your eyes burning? Father, you should blow on his eyes to make it better!”

“What are you asking him for help for?” Rafaele sniffled, wiping his eyes “He’s too busy bawling his eyes out.”

“I’m not bawling my eyes out,” said Nero, also wiping his suspiciously misty eyes.

Avriel laughed, and the sound rang clear throughout the forest, joyful and loved and content.

A breeze blew lightly through the forest, stirring the fallen leaves on the forest floor.

Sunlight dappled through the foliage, haloing the dust motes floating in the air.

A sword laid on the ground near the little family of three, sunlight reflecting softly off of its blade as if it was also silently rejoicing in its own way.

Nothing in life is eternal. There is no banquet that doesn’t end, no reunion that doesn’t end with a farewell. 

Lush crowns will turn to fallen leaves and fallen leaves will turn to dust.

Yet on the other side of winter, spring will come again.

And I will carry you with me, for as long as my eternity will allow.

[puppyxaegon]

Yours, pt. 1 Captor!Ramsay Bolton x GN reader

Okay, realizing I teased this fic like A MONTH ago and just left yall hanging so I do apologize for that,,,anyways this was another of those situations where I start writing HCs but I get overly invested and filled with ideas so I want to make it a fic but then I get overwhelmed and overthink and excessively scrutinize and end up just putting it off. The neverending cycle as it were. But I've decided to take some pressure of myself and just make this a short part one/teaser! So here you go, please enjoy and leave feedback if you like!

Tags/warnings: SFW, Captivity, memory loss, mention of drug use

As you awake, the first thing you feel is discomfort. You’re groggy and vaguely stiff and sore all over. Your mouth feels dry and stuck together, and crust around your eyes begins to sting as you come into awareness. Everything is oddly fuzzy, muffled or blunted somehow and your whole body hums with a kind of numbness you can only associate with a limb that’s fallen asleep and lost most of its sensation. ‘A dream’, you think. Every breath feels like a concerted effort.

It doesn’t take long after you open your eyes though to take in your surroundings in the fairly well lit room. You use all the strength you can muster to lift your head enough to look around. You feel your stomach cramping with the effort as you shake slightly, but the pain is far away. The room seems empty, barren of furniture or any semblance of décor. The grimy concrete floor combines perfectly with the stone walls, weakly buzzing lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling, and the rickety wooding staircase ascending into nowhere to create the stereotypical image of a ‘creepy kidnapper basement’. It was something straight out of a trashy torture porn exploitation film. The thought made you chuckle, but you were faintly aware that the sound was more of a dry grunt.

 As you move to sit up further, you feel your right arm weighed down by what you turn and see is a cuff and heavy chain, no longer than a foot and attached to a disused radiator. As you trace the links with your gaze, you notice what you’re sitting on, a lumpy and yellowed mattress which had certainly seen better days. ‘This is too fucking good’, you think to yourself. You’re well used to strange and foreboding dreams, but this one feels a bit on the nose. You want to laugh again, but recognize the feeling of your mind becoming more and more withdrawn from your body and lacking control of its functions.

You feel yourself lay back, suddenly uninterested in the previous line of thinking. Your head was beginning to spin, and the pain in your stomach threatens to break through the delirium. All you want to do is sleep, but aren’t you already asleep? The quietly growing pain is what makes you question your state of consciousness because as far as you can remember, dreams were not supposed to feel this sharp.

As you recede into exhaustion, your vision dims and your mind attempts to reach out past the island of your thoughts in the moment.

Where was I before this?

What had I told Alys before I left her?

Who was the man with the dog?

You can’t answer any of these questions for yourself or make out exactly what they mean. You fall back into what should be sleep, but are assailed by images, vignettes, fragments of some story or memory that nags at you.

Alys’ copper hair catching the glow of the streetlight and her radiant smile that evaded the appreciation of the man who’d wrapped himself around her.

“GO, have fun! I’ll be fine, its beautiful out anyway, I could use a walk.”

The night which got so dark and so quiet more quickly than you expected when it’d felt like you just left the concert. As if the world had simply fallen away from you.

The park bench where you lay, staring up at the stars and ignoring the cavernous pain in your chest and the urge to cough as you inhaled again from the device Alys had left you with.

“She’s friendly, help yourself.” The voice of the man shrouded in darkness which carried an odd tone as you found yourself kneeling and reaching out to pet a huge back dog, with floppy ears and some of the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.

“You know, It’s not a good night to be out here all alone.”

A cruel stare.

Rough hands.

A sharp pain at the back of your head.

And then nothing.

No more memories, no more thoughts, no more images.

Nothing but the bitter, coppery taste in your mouth as the last of your consciousness winked out of existence.

[shuckinbeanz]

Red Spiderlily

warnings/notes: northern duke!au. this is dark, but can be read as dark romance ig. reader is implied to have been sent to their death in exile after being wrongfully? accused(ya'll committed it or not, up to you) of bad bad shit use your imaginations, arranged marriage(not forced, but can be read that way, just know that reader isn’t supposed to outright hate their husband-to-be), dark fairytales, regaining hope, and opening a new chapter in life. this is short af but i love shiggy so I may or may not expand on this because atp i've burnt myself out tryna get in the groove of my other wips :/ i'm probably gonna start a few new series too because i put those ideas on the back burner for a loooong time so yah

New series anyone? Dukes of the North style, BNHA.

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

There were tales about the North, and the vicious eyeless demon who cursed its Dukedom with its eternal oppression. Hair damaged by winter’s neverending harshness, torn skin shamed by the moon. Harebringer of terror, an ugly creature shroud in darkness, bringing fear with him. But the moment that you, who had been accused of great sin and sent to marry into the Northern Dukedom-a so-called ‘flowery exile’ if you will, a complete mockery-had laid your eyes upon him, the so-called eyeless demon, you had realized he was in fact, no demon without eyes at all.

Silvery-white locks that bring shame to the brightest of stars shimmering on the surface of frozen lakes. Skin, though heavily marred, fairer than winter’s first snowflakes. Crimson hues, dulled and almost lifeless from the burden he was born to carry.

In the moment those hues met yours, you could tangibly imagine them lurid. Bright; full of luster, full of spirit, full of love. They reminded you of-

“Spider Lilies.”

“Pardon?” his rasp makes you jolt, realizing you’ve spoken out loud. Old habits die hard. The sight of his frown, of his browline furrowed in perplexion elicits a soft laugh from you. A small smile.

You were always outspoken, despite your family’s best wishes.

“Your eyes remind me of the red spiderlily. Keeper of death, taker of souls.” you begin, “He who drags his victims to their grave, he who protects their rotting corpses from Hell's hounds…” you trail off, watching his frown deepen in what you assumed to be disdain, though it only lasted a moment, “...posing as a purifying poison dyed by the crimson of blood.” 

His chin lifts and a brow quirks, regal in his glory, telling of his lineage; close yet so very distant Royalty.

“He who guides weary souls with his lurid hue to the cycle of rebirth.” you speak, your words, and the meaning behind them, oddly and darkly…romantic, in a sense.

“The red spiderlily.” you repeat softly.

Because the moment you were cast aside from all you knew, you were all but dragged to what they had hoped to be your damned grave; the North. And here, in a place meant for despair, where you had expected your end in nothingness, you encounter a reminder of a dark fairytale from your childhood that inspired what you thought you no longer had. Hope.

A silent understanding hung in the air, heavy. He lifts his arm, offering his palm, with a soft rustle of his heavy cloak and muted metallic chinks sounding from his armor.

Perhaps you did not fall in love with him at first sight. 

Yet, you knew this; he would not drag you to your grave an unwilling soul like they would in a heartbeat. The Duke-the man in front of you, would stay by your side and defend you to the bitter end. He would be that beautiful crimson hue that would lead you beyond to be born anew.

You swear you can already feel the warmth of the future.

You knock the ice from your bones, reaching for his offered hand without hesitation. He releases a soft huff, and you swear, you could see light in his eyes, only for a brief moment. As he turns, you step by his side, and he leads you to the next cycle of your life.