#originally i wanted him to catch and torture angel reader and just continue to pluck their feathers out corrupting them like that but again

[littleplantfreak]

Word Count: 847

Suo x Reader (drabble ig?)

I wanted to write something with fallen angel suo and originally I was gonna make him mean but for some reason I can never do him dirty T-T I didn’t check it for errors so ✌️

Cws: Blood, maybe implied corruption? idk

Every time you meet Suo, he plucks a feather from your wings. He laughs as you pout, grumbling that you should do the same to him and he agrees, inching them closer to you. You never do grab one, nor do you ask why he does it.

 Are angels supposed to meet with fallen angels? Of course not, but if nothing else, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t tell you why he fell, or what happened to make him cover his eye with a patch. The answer is nebulous and changes by the day, but that’s also part of the charm isn’t it? It’s part of the allure that led to you meeting with him every week, sitting under a heavy canopy of trees or slipping into a dimly lit cave a trail of flower petals led you to. 

He’s a pinprick of red, crimson in your otherwise white, colorless life of working to watch over people who can’t see you. A thankless task, but necessary. Your way of living has been ingrained in you time and time again like water eroding mountains to follow a path out to sea, so by now the words come automatically.

“I don’t need to be thanked, Suo. I was made for this.” It’s an assurance you make time and time again, even if you sigh sometimes when you think about the monotony of it all. 

Help, bless, pray and repeat. 

Suo recently showed you laundromats, and the way the washing machine spins the water and soapy clothes in circles is how your job has started to feel. The trance you fall into as it spins is the very trance you slip into easily completing your assigned tasks. 

“I think it’s natural to want to be thanked for your work.” His words eat at you sometimes, because you can tell they’re sincere. Regardless of his status, of what he is, and how he’s fallen, you can tell with certainty he believes it. You would say that, is what you want to say back, but he doesn’t deserve cruel words when he’s been nothing but kind.

No one’s questioned your absences, or your missing feathers. Both are sparse in the grand scheme of things and if anyone has noticed or made note, it’s been filed away as a transgression so minor you feel like screaming. 

Why doesn’t that matter? Why shouldn’t someone be concerned? Why do they look at you funny if you even so much as think to ask a question that goes against what you’ve been taught? The word ‘why’ is small but stark. It stands out in your mind like the small dots of blood that replace the feathers Suo plucks from you over and over. The empty spaces have started to fill, but by the time you realize what’s happened, your wings have splatters of black against what was once a pristine white canvas. 

You paint over them every morning one by one trying to bury the evidence, but you can feel the difference in how you think and see the world. When it comes time to meet Suo again, you can tell he sees through the effort you’ve put in to make yourself seem normal. Whatever normal was is not your normal now, but when he places his own black feather in your hand, you realize it’s just as soft as your own. It weighs the same, probably even has the same chemical makeup if you tested it in a lab, but the color is growing on you the more you look at it. Maybe this normal is better. 

For now though, you bring the feather with you, shoving yourself back into the wash cycle. It can’t be much longer before someone starts to notice, but by the time they do, you’re sure it will be too late, and you’ll be long gone. It seems silly now to say an angel has fallen when they keep their wings, you think. 

Suo hears that comment from you himself too, smiling as if he knows a secret. Would you believe him if he told you the truth? That the black feathered wings usually only grow back after their old ones have been torn from their backs, blood flowing and staining skin and lost plumage like a waterfall?

The first day he saw you he could tell right away what your course was meant to be. The look in your eyes was the same as his right before he was grounded and left flightless in a heap, not a hand to help him up in sight. 

It’s good that he found a way around that. A way to save you from the pain and shame of not just falling, but being crushed under heel by the very entity that made you who you are. You’re happy now, looking through the garden he’s brought you to as you use an old botany book to search up what the flowers are. Your words from a lifetime ago ring true, if only for him. He doesn’t need to be thanked, he’s sure he was made for this.  

[outroshooky]

chrome, leather, and a night on the town | pjm

⇢ genre: drabble (1950s bad boy au) (fluff, some smut) 

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 1.6k

⇢ warnings: uhhhh, there’s like brief swearing, a friendly amount of banter, and some dirty talk near the end. that’s it folks

⇢ a/n: so this is completely unedited and yes, i wrote a one hundred percent self-indulgent greaser jimin drabble today because i had nothing better to do. i apologize in advance. i also wanna send a heartfelt apology to gregory peck and audrey hepburn for desecrating a fine piece of american screenplay, roman holiday, that i’m sure is nothing like how this drabble portrays it to be

There’s something somewhat gratifying about dragging your boyfriend to a drive-in movie theater to see a horrible rom-com that you know will bore him to tears.

Naturally, there is a small part of you that feels bad about putting Jimin through an experience he compares to medieval torture. But, being the kind of person he is, he doesn’t complain- instead taking it as time to appreciate you and your reactions, the glow in your eyes sparkling, he says, like the Milky Way did that one time you two drove to the outskirts of town and stargazed for hours. That’s one of his favorite memories with you, and it’s, in fact, something he brings up as he swings a leg over the door of his creamy white Thunderbird, popcorn tucked in the crook of his arm.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you back for the popcorn?” You ask. “I’m already subjecting you to one hundred and eighteen minutes of Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck tripping over each other, surely you don’t need to pay any more.”

Jimin shrugs one shoulder, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get you back next date night.”

You clamber to take the popcorn and drink trays from him. “Swear to god, if you drive us up to Make-Out Mountain-”

“Oh come on, I’m cruel but not that cruel.” Jimin settles into the driver’s seat, his hair perfectly styled over his forehead, cascading like tawny waves over honey skin. He relaxes, his own leather jacket squeaking against the fabric. “I have other date ideas planned anyways. Remember that night we took the T-bird and parked it on that cliff and just watched the stars?” He turns on his side to face you. “I miss that.”

Perhaps what you loved most about Jimin was the tenderness underneath the chrome and leather exterior, the heart he so confidently placed in your gentle hands with all of the intention to let you keep it for a long, long while. You cradled him close to the heat of your own love, warming his adoration with a quietly blazing fire of your own. Not once did he ever doubt his decision, not even while watching his best friends move through girl after girl like flipping through cars in those sleek magazines that were all the rage these days. They took what they wanted and moved on, while Jimin had everything he ever wanted right next to him, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

You couldn’t help but feel heat blossom in your chest, cheeks warming under the love embedded in his warm eyes, and you mirrored his position in the passenger’s seat. “I miss that too. Next time, I promise.” You reach to take his hand, brushing his knuckles with the pad of your thumb.

Jimin hums, his eyes flicking to the screen. “I think this is the last preview. Wanna move to the backseat?”

You nodded, somehow managing to finagle yourselves into the backseat without getting out of the car, nor without spilling any cola or popcorn. Even if you did, it would be well worth it when you curl into Jimin’s side, his chest warm under your cheek.

The first forty minutes of the film pass without interruption, your eyes constantly jumping from the fluttering pictures onscreen to the light that dances across Jimin’s face, painting his visage in light and shadow and everything in between. His lips have never looked so wonderfully plush, and it’s when they wrap around the mouth of his cola bottle that you begin to feel the first ounce of your self-control eroding.

To say that you enjoyed being the spotlight was an overstatement. How ironic, considering you were dating a token local bad boy with a Thunderbird as brightly polished as the sun, but regardless, you noted that your car was completely blocked in on all sides, some with their tops down, others without.

Your attention was no longer on Roman Holiday, but it was definitely on another kind of holiday.

If you were to get what you wanted, it would have to be done with a bit of subtlety.

Your shoulder brushes Jimin’s when he nudges you in a silent ask to pass the popcorn and you decide to play coy, plucking a single piece from the greasy cardboard to press against his mouth. Eyes unmoving from the screen, he delicately nibbles at the snack, tongue lazily darting from between his lips to rid them of the butter and salt. He takes his sweet time with it, sweeping the muscle high to low, and something burns low and sweet in your gut.

This was so unfair.

Your fingers find their way to his own, one arm behind his head and out of reach, but the other resting just across your rib cage and thus, his hand is yours for the taking.

You marvel once again at how soft they are, nails short but neatly cut, especially for a man his age. You trace the birthmark on his wrist to the silver ornamented ring on his pointer, align your pinky with his to compare and massage your thumbs into his palm.

“Are you paying more attention to Gregory Peck or to me?” Jimin’s whisper in your ear makes you jump, and he chuckles breathily as he gazes down at you. His tongue pokes in his cheek when he sees you squint up at him, caught in the act. “Guilty as charged,” he hums, turning his attention back to the screen.

“Not my fault your lips are so pretty. And your thighs. And the rest of you,” you grumble with a huff.

He smirks, his eyes crinkling with humor and confidence.

“And you know it too,” you continue, pouting for good measure. “You know you’re hot and you use it against me because you like making me blush, and it’s just not fair, Park Jimin.”

Jimin noses at your jaw. “I’m going to tell Gregory you paid a whole forty-eight cents so you could sit in front of him and compliment your boyfriend.”

“You're a germ,” you huff.

“But I’m your germ,” Jimin hums, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek. “And you hate me so much.”

“Obviously I do. What a hood you are,” you declare quietly, folding your arms for good measure.

Jimin’s nose scrunches as he pulls back in mock offense. “Hey, I know I’m bad, but this baby can outlast a bike any day.” He pats the seat affectionately.

“Did you just call your car baby? I thought that was reserved for me and me only.”

He cocks his head teasingly. “Mm, someone’s gettin’ jealous now.”

“Shut up,” you huff, flopping back against his chest.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Jimin’s lips find purchase in your hair and when your heart does a flip-flop in your chest, you’re suddenly reminded of your original mission.

“You,” you muse. 

“Ah,” Jimin hums, nodding slightly. Then he smiles in that way that makes your stomach flip, and you know you’re done for. “Well, I guess that’ll have to wait till we get home, considering the movie and all.”

You sit bolt upright, watching in disbelief as he reclines back on the seat, eyes firmly glued back to the screen. “Y-You-”

“You were the one who wanted to see it, babe.” Jimin is the picture of total innocence and cocky assuredness. “I’m just along for the ride.” A mutual silence settles, thick and weighted, as you glare at him, hands curling in on themselves. He raises an eyebrow. “Are you not going to watch it?”

It is, at this unfortunate moment in time, that the exchange between you and Jimin is coincidentally timed with a somewhat suggestive film dialogue, one that is actually quite like several that have gone down between you two in the past. It's a devil of a line, one that you're half-inclined to miss, but your ears catch it just as it's spoken, bold and brave and the penultimate peak of the tension that's been building up for some seventy-odd minutes not only on screen, but in the backseat of your boyfriend’s Thunderbird on a hot summer evening.

“Would you help me get undressed, please?” The main character asks, a note of impatience in her voice.

The male lead pauses, obviously conflicted. “Okay.” He removes her necktie delicately. “There you are, you can handle the rest.”

You feel Jimin’s breath at your ear before he speaks, a gravelly tone to his voice that wasn't there just a moment ago. “But you can never handle the rest, can you?”

The little self-control you have left, frayed down to the bone, snaps in one quick movement.

Fuck the movie. 

Fuck the other people around you.

That's it.

In one motion, you reach across Jimin to the lapels of his jacket, yanking him across the seat, but most importantly, on top of you. He catches himself on one arm, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Don't tease if you can't handle it either,” you hiss in his ear, stamping kisses down his jawline. 

“Oh doll,” Jimin breathes, gentle fingers brushing your hair back from your face. “I’ll do more than just tease you, if that's what you want.”

You bat your lashes at him and mirror his earlier movement, poking your tongue in your cheek coquettishly. “That's exactly what I want.”

“Fuck, angel-” Jimin groans low, raspy and dark and heated. “Fuck the movie, fuck anything else, I want you.” His eyes are narrow, hooded, sending heat down to your toes and chills up the back of your neck.

“And you’ve got me, baby boy,” you coax, whining faintly in his ear. Jimin’s eyes flick up above you, over the edge of the door to the other cars just a few feet away. He shakes his head.

“This isn't gonna do. What do you say we finish this in the bathroom, considering we’re probably gonna be here for a while?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Let's go before I find out if Gregory actually does end up undressing Audrey.”

[imdifferentshadesofpurple]

Jaebum x Reader [featuring GOT7 x BTS]  →  angel!au / demon!au Warning: violence, language, & mentions/descriptions of death

→ Masterlist (including teasers) → A/N: chapters are updated every Friday

The Blood Moon. Four totally eclipsed moons in a row. 

To humans, it’s just a sight in the sky that leaves them in awe as they stare up into the clouds.

To demons, it’s the night where the Veil is weak and they are at their strongest. 

Namjoon’s joined by Seokjin on the rooftop of your apartment building, hands in his pockets as he watches the movement of people below.

“She’s home. I’ve got Yoongi watching her.”

Joon’s jaw clenches, “Good. Jungkook wanted a bite of her and it took me what seemed like decades to calm him down. Where’d you send him?”

Jin’s voice is disinterested, what they’re about to do not weighing heavily on his dead heart, “Patrol. He didn’t like it, the brat. Tried to weasel his way out. But I sent him with Jimin and if we know Jimin, Kook is bound to have a good time. They’ll be back when you’re ready for them.”

With a wave of his hand, Jin conjures up a lower level demon, an ugly ass thing with horns in all the wrong places, “Let’s have a little fun tonight Joon.”

When his brother agrees, his eyes meet the being from Hell, “Apartment 42A. Fetch.”

The demon’s smile is sour, like rotting milk, and he disappears as quickly as he was summoned. The others show up, one by one, except for the two on patrol. Hoseok comes forward, hand through his orange hair, “Please tell me we’re going to wreak havoc on this shit world tonight. We’re literally going to have the last Twin in our grasp, finally after fucking centuries. We’re killing her tonight Joon...aren’t we?”

Namjoon is unfocused, eyes as dark as some of the pits in Hell, as he channels his powers. He can see you clearly in your apartment, putting up a fierce fight as you try to not be taken. He smirks, lips twitching in amusement as you’re captured and whisked away, eyes returning to their original color. Turning to the others, his grin his wicked as he addresses Seokjin.

“We’ve got her. Get Jimin and Jungkook. Tonight boys, the scale tips in our favor and stays that way.”

Your head hurts. That’s the first thing you notice.

You’re not tied up, or bound in any way. That’s the second.

As your eyes open and things start to focus, you notice you’re not in the usual ‘bad guy’ warehouse, bloody body parts attached to chains hanging from the ceiling or echoing screams in the distance. The floor you’re lying on is marble, expensive and black like tar, waiting to eat you at any moment if you step somewhere wrong. There’s a fireplace on the other side of the room and you can feel its flames from where you are. There are no windows and only one door on the west wall, large and what you assume is oak from its color. Besides those features, and the random leather couch in the middle of the room, the rest of it is bare. 

You’re confused, eyes widening for a fraction as you realize you had been taken from your apartment. 

A demon had taken you. An ugly thing with the ability to weaken you from just one simple touch. 

You groan, lifting yourself up and thanking the Heavens nothing was sore or broken besides the pain radiating from your skull, with the added bonus of no blood. Patting your sides, you curse when you come to the conclusion that you were weaponless, save your fists and kicking abilities. 

On high alert, you get to your feet and make your way to the door. Your movements are slow, feet barely lifting from the ground with each step. Inch by inch you grow closer, only to be thrown from your spot, back colliding roughly with the couch you had moved past seconds ago. 

“Now, now witch. No going anywhere. The fun hasn’t started yet.”

He’s there and a gasp escapes you lips.  The boy with hair like fire.

When he sees the recognition flash in your eyes, he grins, “Remember me? Seems like you do. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

A snarky remark is on the tip of your tongue before, “Introducing yourself before she’s brutally murdered is so classy of you Tae. I’m a little proud.”

Your eyes catch the appearance of another, what you can safety assume is a demon, materializing next to Taehyung. His hair is vibrant and mint, head tilted to the side as he watches you, “Min Yoongi. I’d say ‘nice to meet you’ but I try to avoid lying.”

Taehyung smirks, “How very un-demon of you hyung.”

They share a laugh but you can’t move, limbs frozen as more of them appear, one after another. There’s seven in total and with each passing minute, you learn their names.

Jung Hoseok. Park Jimin. Jeon Jungkook. Kim Seokjin. Kim Namjoon.

The Seven High Demons of Hell.  The ones your grandmother told you stories about, whether to frighten or warn you, you never knew. 

You weren’t one to easily scare, not anymore, but you felt the blood running through your veins grow a little colder.

You faced death everyday as a cop. But this. This was different. This was the life you didn’t want, the life you left behind. 

Coming back to haunt you just like Rose warned.

“You see witch, you’re the last one. Yoongi here took care of your bitch of a sister recently so that leaves just one Bone Witch left. And when you die tonight, the Veil will shatter and all Hell breaks loose. Literally. Mammon can be freed and the world will burn. Fiery flames that are never ending. So do us a favor and stay still? We’ll make this as slow and painful as possible.”

You’re gritting your teeth, still trying to somehow break free. You were on fire, anger raging through you now that you knew what had happened to Rose. You want your hands around Yoongi’s throat but you aren’t strong enough to beat them on your own.

Impatiently, Jungkook spits, “Hyung. Quit stalling. Let’s end this.”

Namjoon gestures to you, as if bored, “Have at it then Kook. Make sure to make it count. I want to hear her scream.”

You try to keep your face neutral but it’s like molten lava on your skin suddenly, like layer after layer is being peeled off. The pain is like nothing you’ve ever felt, the intensity becoming too much. Your fingernails burn and you feel as if your eyes are being plucked from your head. Each section of your body is being twisted on the inside, organs squeezed like they were being rung. Your gaze runs over your body and suddenly you finally let out a scream, throat burning as you thrash in your spot. Arms still pressed against the leather, you feel as if you’re being roasted alive, the heat from Jungkook’s gaze like Hell itself. The others are only watching, letting him do what he wishes. His grin is murderous, eyes gleaming as he stands in front of you. The room is only filled with the noises you’re making, howls bouncing against the walls like a song to their demonic ears. 

The torture continues, endless as you continue to cry out. You’re becoming dizzy, body spent. You want it to end, the torture or your life, you don’t care. By now, they’ve each taken their turn, ruining you in any way they deem appropriate for the last Bone Witch. You still can’t understand what’s happening, your questions of why me going unanswered. 

When Jimin’s hold on you weakens for a moment, your head lolls back, eyes rolling into the back of your head. It’s then that you hear a voice, a familiar one coming from your right.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You turn and there she is. Rose.

You’re somehow able to smile, mouth full of blood, “Rosie. Rosie, hi.”

Her smile is sad but she looks like your Rose. The one you had wanted back so badly. “Y/N. You’re stronger than this. This, them, you can overcome it. But you’re going to have to channel your powers to defeat them.”

You’re confused, “Powers? What powers Rosie? What are they talking about? Bone Witches? The Veil?”

She doesn’t move any closer, hands clasped in front of her, still in the pale blue hospital gown she died in. “Jaebum. He can explain. But right now, my beautiful sister, you have to escape. Your powers, our powers, are sitting deep within you. You can reawaken them.”

You choke on the blood, chest heaving upwards, “Powers. I don’t have any...Rosie. I miss you. Come back. I’m sorry for everything.”

She’s suddenly by your side, hands cradling your face, “I know you are. I know. And I’m sorry too. But Y/N. You will not die here. Tonight, during this Blood Moon, you will not die. So wake up. Wake. Up. WAKE UP!”

“Hyung. Do you feel that?”

Jaebum’s head turns to the north, light streaming through the darkened clouds.

“She’s been reawakened.”

You’re free. You don’t understand how, but you don’t care.

You feel alive, powerful, entire body glowing and golden as you get up and face the Seven. You’re angry, blood boiling as you feel something running through your damaged veins. Namjoon is in front of you, eyes set in determination as he tries to protect the others. You can tell they’re scared and you’re glad of it. 

You want them scared. You want them dead.

But a flash of white wings stop you, another familiar face making an appearance.

“Jinyoung. How did you...”

He smiles, “You’re not hard to find Y/N. You are glowing after all.”

In a flurry of more wings, five more bodies appear and you don’t know them like you do Jinyoung. But you know they’re angels. They have to be.

“Looks like the gang is all here Jinyoungie. Look at them. Scared shitless of Y/N. Kook looks likes he’s gonna throw up.”

One of the angels at the end, the one with a young face, cracks up at that, “Jackson hyung don’t be mean. Poor Jungkook is gonna be all embarrassed.”

“Fuck you,” the demon snaps, face contorted in annoyance, “What the hell are you all doing here?”

A blue suit steps up, grin wide and mocking, “We’re here to escort the Bone Witch to Father. I wanted to call it a rescue but it looks like she’s got the lot of you crouching in the corner. Torture didn’t work out so well did it Joon?”

The leader sneers, “You think you’ve won Mark. But Father doesn’t give up easily and that bitch behind you will come to an end. The Seven of us will make sure of it.”

Mark, with a wave of his hand, dismisses Namjoon instantly, “Do what you want. Try all you want. She’s strong. Like her sister was. And if you think killing her will be easy, you’re more idiotic than I gave you credit for.”

Namjoon moves forward, as if to start another fight, but a stern Seokjin grabs his arm, “For now Joon, we let this go. Report back to Father.”

And with that, they’re gone, leaving behind the smell of burnt wood.

“They’ll be back hyung. They’ll devise another plan and try again.”

Mark sighs, “I’m well aware Youngjae. But Y/N is safe and her powers have returned. Let’s escort her to Father and ----”

“Hyung,” Yugyeom hisses.

“What Gyeom-ah?”

He points to you, “She passed out. But she’s still glowing.”

True to his word, there you were on the floor, eyes shut but skin still bright. Jinyoung sighs, moving to lift you into his arms.

“Hyung, may I?”

Mark nods and Jinyoung addresses the group, “Back to Heaven, all of you. Hyung will find Jaebum hyung and meet us there.”

“What if she wakes up,” BamBam asks, finally speaking up.

“That, my dear boy, is all up to Jaebum.”

“Rosie come on! Stop that, you’re wasting all the flour!”

She laughs, full bodied and bright, and you can help but smile and watch her. It’s a Sunday morning, birds chirping happily, and you had both decided waffles were the only way to go. But now you were both fooling around, puffs of white overtaking the counter top and air shared between the two of you. 

“Oh please baby sister, don’t be a stick in the mud! We have plenty left for the waffles, promise.”

You glare playfully, tossing a handful of the baking ingredient at her, “You’re older by two minutes.”

Tossing some back she says, “Two minutes is two minutes. I’m older. Respect must be shown.”

Eyes sparkling with mirth, you dip your cupped hand into the nearby bowl. “Of course. Respect. Absolutely. I agree Rose.”

Her eyes widen, your plan plain as day, “Y/N...don’t you dare.”

You blink innocently at her, even though your grin is filled with a bit of mischief, “Don’t I dare? Oh. I dare.” With that, you toss the flour and Rose squeals happily, hands outstretched as she takes in her flour covered blouse. Gaping, her eyes rise to yours, “You are so dead.”

Dead. The word echoes in your kitchen and time suddenly stops. Your grin falters slightly as Rose flickers in front of you, like a bad connection on the television. She becomes static and her face contorts angrily. Suddenly, it’s dark, the sun no longer shining from the bay windows.

“Rose?”

You call out to her but she’s unmoving, stoic in one spot as she fades in and out in front of you. Fear clutches at your heart and you move towards her, fingers shaking.

“Rose? Rosie, are you okay?”

It’s silent for a second until her screams fill the room, a screech so loud you have to cover your ears and crouch to the floor. When you look up, her body is engulfed in the fires of Hell, arms reaching out towards you as she sinks into the ground.

“Y/N! Please, help me! Help me, I don’t want to be damned for eternity! Please! Please, help me!”

You crawl towards her frantically, hands grasping her cold ones as you try and pull her free, “Rose! Rose, I’ve got you. Don’t let go, whatever you do, don’t let go!”

She’s crying now, tears flowing freely from her eyes, “The Veil Y/N! Don’t let the Veil break! Don’t let the demons loose! Trust them! The Seven! They will help you.”

You’re shaking fiercely, hands slipping, “Don’t let go Rosie! Don’t you fucking let go!”

One by one, your fingers lose their grip and you know you’re going to lose her.

“Y/N?”

You can’t look her in the eye, tears obscuring your vision.

“No matter what, I love you. You’re my sister and I love you.”

“ROSE!”

You jolt up in bed, drenched in sweat and in clothes that weren’t yours. You try to take in air, chest heaving as you find yourself in well known surroundings.

Your room. You’re at home. 

Clutching at your duvet, a sob rips through you, chest feeling like it’s about to burst open. You start to cry, an ugly sound reverberating against the walls. You let yourself be loud, clawing at your neck and wishing the pain to end. When your door bursts open, you’re still bawling. Arms wrap around you and your body relaxes slightly, the warmth familiar.

Maria holds you tight, swaying you gently as if you were a child. She whispers in your ear, cheek pressed against your damp hair as you continue to wail. 

She had never seen you like this.  You had always been the stronger out of the two, ever since you had met in a criminology class. You were brave and fearless. Now, you were frail and empty. The shift was staggering and Maria wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her own tears at bay. You clutch her back, hands grasping at the fabric of her shirt. So engrossed in her friend, Maria doesn’t notice Jackson enter, head low as he presses himself against the corner.

When he whispers her name, she meets his eyes, letting his voice in her head coax her away from you so that you can get some more rest. She’s hesitant but she does as she’s asked, pulling away.

“Y/N, I know that...I know nothing makes sense. But I need you to get some more rest alright? Your body...it’s not...you’re not okay just yet. So sleep. I’ll be here, close by. I promise.”

She lowers you back under the covers but all you can think about is Rose. Your tears have stopped, skin dry where the moisture has dried up. You hug at the blankets, Maria’s voice washing over you. Even though your mind is racing, you find your eyes closing slowly, a dark haired angel coming to stand by your best friend’s side.

“She’s not okay Jaebum-ssi. She’s...I’ve never seen her...”

Maria shudders, grip tightening on Jackson’s arm that’s resting near her. Jaebum’s frown has been permanent since they had arrived, the usually spacious apartment seemingly small with seven angels milling around. 

Father’s orders were to let you rest, to take you home and let you recuperate here. After, and only after she had been told everything, were they to meet in Heaven. 

Your screams and cries when you had first woken up shook Jaebum to his very core. You sounded like Rose and even though you weren’t, he couldn’t help but see her in his mind’s eye. Hearing you just a few moments ago was like a blade slicing through him. 

The others were spread out, Bam and Yugyeom by the windows, watching the crowd for any suspicious movement. Jinyoung was in the kitchen, mother instincts kicking in as he stirs the ramen on the stove. Jackson had taken up space next to Maria, drawn together since their first meeting. Jaebum took his post next to the fireplace, the dancing embers and what they represented causing his jaw to clench every few minutes. Mark sat on the chaise lounge just a foot away, fingers tinkering with the pocket watch he never seemed to be without. Youngjae, off in the corner with your keyboard, let his fingers fall on random keys that somehow created a tune that washed over them all calmly. 

“Don’t worry,” Mark suddenly says, small smile gracing his lips, “I can feel her. The energy. She’ll be alright. We just have to give her time and try not to overwhelm her with all of it at once.”

All the eyes moved to the maknaes in the corner, Bam’s own widening, “Yah. Don’t look at us. We know what to do.”

Even from all the way in the kitchen, Jinyoung’s snort can be heard, “I’m sure you both are fully capable of not overwhelming Y/N. Maybe it’s best that Mark hyung starts.”

Jaebum turns to him, “Why not me?”

Now it’s Mark’s turn to snort, “Jaebum-ah. No offense but...you’re a little brash. She’s scared. But she’s hard headed. She’ll fight back because everything we’re going to say sounds like complete and utter bullshit. Her temper and your temper are not going to mesh well. So Jinyoungie is right. Let me start. And everyone can take turns calmly filling in the blanks.”

They all agree and suddenly the door is opening and you’re stepping out, oversized hoodie falling to your knees. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, body aching as you stretch a little. When the hoodie rises, seven boys blush and Maria can’t help but chuckle.

“Are you planning on giving us a show?”

You stop, eyes popping open and arms lowering quickly, bare abdomen disappearing under the fabric again. You take in the audience in your living room and groan, “Son of a bitch. All of that wasn’t a dream was it? Or a nightmare or whatever? I really got kidnapped by demons, tortured by demons, and then started glowing like Hercules when he saves Meg at the end of the movie?”

Jackson can’t help but chortle, Youngjae chuckling from his spot against the wall. Jinyoung looks amused, as does Mark, and Jaebum can’t help but stare at her.

“You seem...fine. Like you didn’t just get kidnapped by demons, tortured by demons, and then started to glow like Hercules when he saves Meg at the end of the movie.”

You blink, “Mr. Im?”

The attention diverts to him and his cheeks grow a little warm. “I thought I told you to just call me Jaebum,” he mutters, slightly embarrassed. 

“Mr. Im,” Jinyoung coos as he serves the finished meals onto the table, “how cute. Well. Before any of that, Y/N please come sit and eat. The rest of you too. The ramen will get cold and my work will be wasted and you don’t want to find out what happens when my work is wasted.”

Yugyeom whispers something about ‘having a stick up his ass’, earning a whopping smack to the back of his head. 

They each shuffle to their seats and you take the head of the table, suddenly ravenous. Grabbing the bowl, you down your food in what seems like seconds, slurping the remnants easily.

“Hyung,” you hear Jinyoung whisper, “who’s going to tell her she’s glowing again?”

He’s right. You take a look at yourself and sure enough, you’re the same golden color as before. You feel stronger, energy high after the food. Everyone is watching you and you feel trapped by their gazes.

“I don’t know how to turn it off.”

Maria’s hand on your arm calms you, “It’s fine honey. You can learn.”

It’s then that you realize. You’re glowing. You were kidnapped by demons. Tortured by demons. Your sister is dead. You are a Bone Witch, whatever that was, which came with powers, whatever those were. And besides Maria, Jinyoung, and Jaebum...you didn’t know who anyone was.

“Wait. Just what the fuck is happening?!”

On the other end of the table, Bam coughs up $50, depositing the bills straight into Youngjae’s hand, rolling his eyes at his smug hyung. Mark clears his throat, “That’s where I come in. Where do you want me to start?”

You breathe in, “The beginning. The very beginning.”

A/N: As I’ve mentioned before, there will be bonus chapters spread throughout the fic. They focus on Jackson and Maria (@yeol-stole-my-soul) - quick little looks into their story line because I’m such trash for Marson lol. Bonus chapter one (found here) is their first meeting. You don’t have to read them of course, but it might help with the understanding of certain parts of the story. Also, to answer the anons that keep asking: YES Shan and Fal will be back do not fear. There’s still much to happen lol. Thank you for the continued support, until next week. xoxo