#they’re so fragile and easy to kill so it feels like it’s an even bigger achievement when they make it through another cycle-year-thing

[wynandcore]

Happy creation date :)

It’s uprising’s anniversary!! Can’t believe the show’s 11 years old now

And a bonus of Mara and Zed’s present:

What isn’t shown: Beck trying not to cry because he was actually torn up about getting Bodhi’s tool back in pieces

[subbyfoxelf]

[book review] the amber spyglass by philip pullman (2000)

now this is more like it.

this story is bigger. the world feels massive and complicated. you don’t know what everyone’s going to do before they do it. i think what impresses me the most, and what is the most welcome change from its predecessor, is that it fucking takes its time. the book manages to convey the breathless pace of a final, desperate fight for survival & freedom without feeling like it’s in a hurry. it feels very in control, very measured, and like it gives everything that happens a real chance to breathe despite the fact that so much shit is happening.

i do think lord asriel & mrs. coulter’s redemption arcs are a little too easy. and i am giving serious side-eye to the fact that the book (justifiably) harshes on mrs. coulter quite a bit while basically never really grappling whatsoever with the fact that lord asriel killed a fucking child. like, it just literally never comes up. so that’s… awkward.

i think it’s fucking wild that catholics get so up in arms about these books considering how fucking nothing the allegorizing in them is. like, yeah, this one does specifically mention “the swiss guard” which is the most overt reference to the fact that the church in lyra’s world is clearly a vastly more powerful version of the catholic church that maintained the overt political authority they had in the middle ages rather than having to get by with being wealthy landowners like they are today. but just. idk man, it’s still so possible to imagine someone reading this without even noticing that it’s anti-church. so getting all upset about it & demanding boycotts just comes off as the most fragile shit ever imo.

on that note, the cosmology of this world is a bit lacking for my tastes. like, i ended up agreeing with what my partner said about the second book that just having the entire conflict be between spicy atheists & spicy christians, where even seemingly powerful outsiders like the witches ultimately end up deriving all their shit from the same boring source is just a bit disappointing.

i also completely agree with him that it’s pretty annoying that pullman just had to go with a downer ending. like, i admittedly did actually get pretty genuinely emotional when lyra & will realized they were going to have to be separated. it was very well-written, and in a limited amount of time (considering the sheer amount of other shit the book had to get through, seriously this thing was massive) the book did manage to make me care quite a bit about their relationship even though i knew where things were going from the vague memories of previous reading.

what really puts this book over the top for me, though, is mary’s story in the chapter “marzipan.”

you know when a story has That Scene? the one where you could pull it out of the larger story and, standing completely on its own, it would still be just absolutely stunningly good? and if you did pull it out of the larger body it was from, that larger body would just suddenly be drastically less special? i’m thinking of, like, valerie page’s diary in v for vendetta. this is that scene for me.

the way mary told her story just made me smile so much. it’s just… it’s so intimate, and it’s so tender. it really emphasizes the literal sweetness, the playfulness that comes along with love. it’s just some truly incredible writing, i’m really not sure what else to say.

and i guess that’s kind of what it comes down to with these books. like, there are plenty of things about them i don’t like. but they’re just so damn well-written. i think i’ve reached a point in my life where i’m comfortable saying that i’d rather spend my time reading things that more directly appeal to me, but i’m still glad i revisited these to see if they held up at all, and discovered that they mostly do.

a-rank

[moemoemammon]

Brothers reaction to MC suddenly holding their hands to compare the size difference uwuwuwu

Hand Size Comparison

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

As always, he asks for your company while he’s busy with his endless amounts of paperwork. You watch him scribble away and the knot on his brow starts becoming tighter and tighter, but you’re more focused on the old man’s hands.

They’re gripped around his feather quill, and you decide they’d look much better gripping your hand, so you take Lucifer’s hand and watch his eyes go wide

Casually pull that glove off and his hands are hella cold but big. Long fingers gently close around yours once he gets used to the contact, and his grip feels weary.

His skin is a little dry, and fingertips slightly calloused from gripping pens and flipping papers. The red of his nails makes his skin look even paler to you.

“Your hands are quite warm, MC. Taking off my glove like that, and in the middle of my work, too... Were you that desperate for my attention? Or maybe you noticed how tired I am, and you’re comforting me? Either way, I’m happy to take a break and spend my time with you.”

Mammon

He’s in the middle of scrolling away on his D.D.D., so you make better use of his hands and grab it into yours. Naturally Mammon nearly has a heart attack.

Gets all grumbly and ""annoyed"" with you, saying this and that about how you’ve gotta warn a guy before you go grabbing his hand, but makes no actual effort to pull away from you.

Warm hands and kinda soft, and bigger than you expected. His nails are nearly trimmed and painted, but you know that’s thanks to Asmo. 

His grip closes around your hand and it feels nearly impossible to pull away, despite how careful he’s being not to hurt you. Leave it to the Avatar of Greed to have a grip game this strong-

“What’re ya lookin’ at my hands like that for? If ya wanted to hold em, y-ya just gotta say somethin’. And you’re only allowed to hold MY hand, got it?”

Levi

His hands only know one thing, and it’s gaming. Eons of clicking away at buttons and abusing joysticks makes for quick hands. Not quick enough to get away from yours, though.

You grab his hand while he’s got his eyes on the latest episode of Ruri Hana, and Levi almost ascends to heaven right then and there.

It’s covered in light callouses, and his fingers are slender and long, knuckles prominent. It’s still larger than yours though, and cracks when he flexes it.

Clammy hands don’t even attempt to close around yours. He’s too focused on trying to figure out what you’re doing!

“This is way too much stimulation, MC! I’m gonna need a warning- no, a WEEK’S notice before you do that! Th-there’s no way I’m even at the skill level that’ll let me do this sort of thing, and- Huh? Wait, don’t let go just yet-!”

Satan

Flipping through the pages of a book and barely notices when you grab his hand, until he attempts to turn it again and finds he?? can’t??

oh. O H. Satan’s not normally one to be flustered but that caught him off guard. His eyes are a little wide, but he doesn’t attempt to pull back. He’s more interested in the way you’re studying his hand without a word, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t kinda like it.

His fingertips are rough from ages spent trailing along book pages. Hands are kinda smaller and his fingers are shorter than you expected now that you compare, but they’re nearly hot to the touch and tightly close around yours.

He gives you and affectionate squeeze and a gentle smile. You know how dangerous those hands could be, so isn’t it funny how careful they are with yours? He’s had plenty of practice handling things with care, since his favorite novels are the oldest ones.

“I don’t mind if you hold my hand like this. I only need one to turn pages with, right? You did surprise me though, but I’m not upset. This is nice.”

Asmo

He’s painting your nails when you decide to lace your fingers into his. Asmo doesn’t mind the intimacy, but couldn’t you do this once your nails dry? He’ll be annoyed if anything gets smudged!

But that mild panic melts away when he sees how delicately you’re handling him, like his hand is some sort of prized jewel. Even his hands are beautiful, right? He’s so glad you’ve noticed~!

His hands are soft and smooth, warm and careful. More slender than you expected, so they look dainty and fragile. 

There’s not a single flaw you can detect, from his carefully manicured fingers to knuckles free of hair. 

“There’s much more I can do with these hands, you know? As nice as it is to have you look at them, I’d much rather show you what I can use them for~!” 

Beel

Right hand is reserved specifically for eating, so you choose to take the left. He never minds holding your hand, so his cheeks are a little rosy and his eating has slowed.

Sticky hands, but big and warm. Feels like a hug when his closes around yours. His palms are a little rough from his exercise and fangol practice. 

His grip is always oh so gentle, like he might hurt you should he squeeze a little tighter. You can appreciate that though, since you don’t doubt it’d be easy for him to pop your bones like bubble wrap.

His hands may be a little clumsy, and detail work isn’t his forte. You know when he’s been up to something by the bandages that cover his fingers.

“Mm? Is there something on my hands? I forgot to grab a napkin, so I’m sorry if they’re sticky. But... I like this. Holding your hand while I eat makes everything taste better.”

Belphie

If he can’t cling to you like a demon koala while he naps, hand holding is a must. No you don’t have a choice in the matter, sorry.

You trace little patterns against his palm, handling his hand gently while you flip it back and forth, looking it over. It feels ticklish and makes him squirm.

Baby hands for a baby man. His hands are narrow and thin, fingers slender while his skin soft and clammy. Warm too, from always being balled into fists while he sleeps, or clenching onto something.

It’s funny to think that these hands were used to kill you, considering how delicate they feel. But his tight grip is nearly impossible to pull away from, and sometimes it hurts a little. He eases up when he realizes that though, and it reminds you of how desperate he always is to keep you close.

“Sorry, am I squeezing again? I guess I got a little carried away. I just have a feeling that someone might come in at any second, and I don’t want them to steal you away. But you’ll stay here anyway, right?”

[minniepetals]

love poem

— summary: for years you’ve suffered for the longest time and for years they’ve hurt without understanding the true meaning behind it all. soulmates connected through the hearts, soulmates connected through the slightest touches, and when they finally meet their last soulmate, the seven gods vowed to themselves that they will love and protect you for the rest of their immortal lives

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst, soulmates!au, poly!au, gods!au, god of knowledge!namjoon, god of stars!seokjin, god of music!yoongi, god of sun!hoseok, god of spring!jimin, god of ocean!taehyung, god of hearth!jungkook

— word count: 29.0K

— warnings: mentions of death, mentions of war, minor character deaths

— prompt: "It won't be easy you know...trying to love me"

— a/n: i hope you guys haven’t forgotten the dear; sweet bubbies project. sorry i’ve been so slow on these requests but here is the second installment! for you bubs @hope122598​

Soft crispy crunches follow your footsteps as you walk among the snowy path, the wind seeming more restless than ever this morning. Little bits of snowflakes descend from the sky, falling and falling in an endless cycle for the snowy mountains will never come to understand what Spring looks like.

For days upon days and years upon years, you have always prayed to see what it will be like to live with warmth, in a home of hearth, in a shelter that can provide comfort and heat to your body and mind. But you know that as you walk up the path of the mountain, stairway long ruined since over many years ago, with the hood of your cloak constantly hoping to leave your head and the wind howling all around, wishing alone will only get you so far.

The morning sun brings no heat for you, icy particles kissing your cheeks from time to time and leaving you bright red from how cold it is.

But you're used to this.

It's okay. 

Fog escapes your lips as you huff to catch your breath once you make it up, basket of firewood covered with a blanket safely secured in one hand, and you are met with a wooden archway that is so close to toppling over. But it remains firm as ever, as if its fragile looks is only just a façade and that it should look this way.

You walk under it, paying no mind with no fear of it collapsing, and follow the path that flows into your village. White blankets cover the wooden roofs of the abandoned homes and you hear something falling off and hitting the ground with a thud.

Another wooden platform destroyed.

Everything is silent saved for the song of the wind and the crunches of the snow under your footsteps. But you hear the distant sound of the children's voices echoing in your memories. They laugh and shout at one another, giggling about as they jump into piles of snow or slide down a hill on a wooden sled that their fathers have made them. You hear the distant chiding of their mothers who is angry they aren't bundled up for warmth, missing a hat, missing a glove or scarf. You hear the aunties and uncles speaking to one another in cheery voices as you pass along each house, empty and left alone.

They ask each other upon how their days are, whether they have wood to spare, whether their homes are warm enough for their families, whether they have any heated water to share. The young adults complain about the howling wind, grunting and grumbling as they open their doors only to quickly shut it as they tighten the strings around their hood to keep it firm upon their heads. They huff as they stuff their hands into their pockets, frowning and pouting with baskets hanging upon their arms because they had been asked to gather woods from down the mountain.

You don't see the elderlies in your memories but you know they're here, in their homes, tucked in safe and warm and telling old tales of stories upon stories whether real or folktales. The little ones will gather at their feet near the fireplace, excited and anxious about what stories they will hear today.

You see the smoke from chimneys, you see the homes in good shape, and as you stand in the middle of the village's center where festivals, celebrations, and gatherings are often met at, you turn around to take a good look at the village that used to be so lively and filled of energy.

Now gone.

Replaced with broken houses, torn roofs, shattered windows, doors left ajar and broken. The shadows of the villagers, the ghost of the children who runs around in front of you, shouting at one another, the adults laughing and conversing, the teens rebelling and pranking, and the elderlies telling stories where the big bonfire should be...dissolves away from your memories.

Left only with the distant sounds of their laughter. Echoing and echoing in your ears.

As if it is still there, their precious lives, only for you to be reminded all over again that no, you are alone. No one else survived the horrid attack that came unexpected and terrifying.

The memories are still so clear in your head, the shouting, the screams and cries for mercy, the parents begging for the lives of their children to be spared, the howling dogs that would bark nonstop, and the blood that spilled so much that fateful day. Your mother kept you safe in your own home, ran out there pretending she has no daughter while you remained under the basement, muffling your cries as you watched from the window of the slaughtering of your tribe.

You heard loud footsteps then, the crashing and trashing of things, and had shattered a window in order to pick up its shard to stab yourself near your stomach, at a place you know will not bleed out too much and will not kill you.

You laid on the floor, hiding the shard away when the man kicked the door out of its hinges with a wild dog running in. He found you there, laid as if someone had already came to stab you to your death, with you only in your harsh breathing to pretend as if you have indeed just died. But the dog came over to you, sniffing, and you knew that he knew that you were still alive. That you were only pretending.

The quickening of your rapid heartbeat tells him so and it only grows worse so he barks at the owner and you prayed so hard that the man could not understand him.

And he didn't, so he left you, believing someone had already taken care of you and demanded for the dog to follow him out. You held your breath even as they both left the scene.

And even then you remained where you were, knowing there was no other place to run to and just letting fate decide what to do with you. If someone else barges in and finds that you have only faked your death then you would accept his sword at your neck, your heart, wherever he desires.

So here you stand in the middle of a village, a tribe that was once so alive and filled of beautiful people and the warmth of a lovely fire.

Now all locked in the memories of the wind. Gone for you to never see again.

.

.

.

The God of Spring stands a few feet away from the wisteria that lays in the center of the celestial palace, watching as its colors of lilac, blush, and the skies, are only growing a bit weaker as the years pass by and by. It hasn't been in its full bloom and glow since the moment Jimin had grown it hundreds of years ago. Throughout the many years upon finding his fated ones, he's seen the tree grow taller and bigger, so very close to reaching its maximum goal if only he could find one more thing it needs.

It's gotten so magnificent one would think this is its full bloom but the God of Spring knows that there is something missing.

Many leaves have fallen, scattering about like little petals all around the tree but the wisteria remains tall and firm. Yet time is running out and he knows that it will only last a few more years before the bloom will disperse and he himself will weaken.

"Jimin." The Spring God turns at the gentle call of his name and finds the God of Ocean by his side. He watches the tree with awe and wonder, a sight he has gotten used to throughout the years of his immortality. Although Taehyung finds the tree that represent their love so very beautiful, he also understands that something is not quite right. Not yet at least. "What is on your mind, my love?"

He can easily read the God's mind without needing to voice out the question but he feels the need to listen to his soulmate's sweet voice that always calms his waters down.

Jimin shifts slightly, brows creased as he catches a small petal falling from the vines and fluttering down to the marble floor, meeting its fate with the other petals that have already fallen. A breeze passes by from the opening circle that gives sunlight and rain for the tree to grow and he breathes in the fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment. "We must hurry, Taehyung," he tells his lover.

When Jimin takes his hand into his hold, Taehyung understands exactly what his soulmate is feeling at the touch. Jimin has allowed him to read his mind with the touch alone and he knows, he knows that Jimin is beginning to feel restless. The wisteria is only now beginning to wither in a slow passing of time but it will fall to its roots if nothing is done about it.

Taehyung understands that Jimin is afraid, worried, because he knows that there is still a missing piece of their puzzle that has yet to be discovered; their missing soulmate. A soulmate whom they have no idea of, a soulmate they know they must not have met yet because otherwise the wisteria wouldn't look so weak in Jimin's eyes. They must not be an immortal, a god or a goddess, they must not live up here where they are in the realm of the Gods.

But they have searched and searched and searched for years yet no village, town, nor kingdom holds the answer they are seeking for.

"Why must they be so hidden?" The Spring God questions with a deep sigh that makes him so tired. "It was so easy finding you all."

"Fate is not always the easiest," his soulmate reminds him and he nods, sighing again as he turns from the wisteria. "Seokjin has not found a solution yet," Taehyung answers his question before it is spoken aloud while they walk away from the celestial tree. "Jungkook has been feeling very cold recently."

"It must relate to Jungkook." The God of Hearth should not be shivering and feeling the cold get to him in such strong waves. He is meant to be a fireplace, warming up all that is around him, giving fire to the mortals down below.

"But we have searched the land of the mortals," Taehyung says, knowing how long both Seokjin and Namjoon, the Stars and Knowledge Gods, have worked to try and piece everything together.

"Perhaps we are overlooking something."

"And what do you suppose that is?"

Jimin doesn't know. All he understands is that they must find their last soulmate and they must find them soon. So he continues walking on past the door that leads out the center of the palace, brows still creased. "We must return to Earth again, Taehyung. They have to be there."

"How are you sure?"

He shakes his head, not truly understand the logic behind his thoughts. "I just have this feeling." Jimin stops walking and turns to look at the Ocean God with a conflicted gaze resting in his eyes. He takes his lover's hands and press them to his heart to let him feel his heartbeat. "Will you trust me, my love?"

Taehyung smiles. "With all that I have."

.

.

.

It is freezing when you walk into a home that had once been so lovely. Everything is dark now, windows no long a thing because they had all been shattered and thrown out when the raid happened several years ago. You have no money for yourself, knowing how wrong it'd feel for you if you took your mother's money or any of the villagers.

Sure they're gone but for you they are still living inside your heart, their souls roaming around in the village, watching over you, spending their wonderful lives all around the tribe.

You miss them all, you miss everything that had once belonged to the tribe, a small little village where no one should have been able to find. Yet fate is cruel and left you alone to live in a village that is ghosted and no longer in blossom. Sometimes you wonder how you are still alive, and why. Why you? Why not your mother? Or another adult? Or another teen? Maybe a child.

No.

A child would have not been able to survive and neither an elderly.

You heave out a deep sigh that fogs up, relieved for at least the walls of your house keeping the howling wind from freezing you further. You stare down at your fingers and take off the wet gloves.

You have to sew up a new one again. After all, wet clothes in the snowy mountains can never dry warm again, not with the situation you are living in.

You wonder whether given the ability to hunt would have made things easier for you. You'd be able to get your own food, wouldn't you? Instead of living off on herbs and vegetables that are so very hard to grow and find in the endless winter you have been placed in? You don't remember the last time you've had a proper meal, you don't remember the last time you've ever bathed in warm water, or was wrapped up in soft fury blankets, or seen the fire from a lamp.

There are no animals that roams around your village, not even the falcons or eagles fly up here. You are alone. Truly, truly alone.

A tribe that is kept hidden from the other humans, isolated, kept for no one to know it exists because that is how you all live. Everything was going well, a tribe built upon your ancestors for years upon years, only to be washed down by a raid no one was prepared for. Hence you cannot leave this place to try and find your own happiness, to try and find your own Spring. You are the only one left to keep its memories and traditions alive.

Though it is hard, it has been years. You aren't sure how many years you have left. You haven't spoken to anyone in years, haven't felt the touch of anyone since the last time being from the cruel wild dog.

You want to hold someone's hand, wrap your arms around them, have their arms wrapped around you. You want to be loved and you want to love. You want warmth from another man, you want to be touched, just...touched. Whether a small sensation from the tip of a finger or have it held around you. You miss having the advantage to just wake up and greet your mother, jumping her from the back and having her scold you for surprising her every time even though you know more than anyone that she doesn't truly mind it.

You miss her so much. You miss her smile, her gentle fingers brushing your hair away, her kind gaze as she'd look upon you, the crease in her brows as she'd worry for your health when you'd catch even the slightest cold. Your mother was only growing older by the day. You can still remember her falling ill, a turn of events on you to take care of her instead.

So you did.

You bathed her, brushed her soft hair, woke up early to cook her breakfast in the morning before she woke up, sewing both yours and her coats up, went out to collect firewood and herbs, made remedies to keep her health steady, did everything that you could to be a good obedient daughter.

She always worried you wouldn't have time to yourself, urging you to go to festivals or leave the house in general, telling you to go spend some time with your friends, maybe even find someone that has interest in you because she apparently knew there were a few boys in line waiting. You'd always laugh it off and shake your head, not caring about it because you were still so young. But your mother would insist, telling you she'd want you to be with someone that will take care of you well as you were taking care of her.

But you told her that all you needed was her and no one else.

She always frowned at your stubbornness but you weren't going to care for someone who just wanted you because of your face. You want someone to love you for you, past your flaws, to understand everything about you but still loving every part of it.

Mother called you a romantic, you told her that was how father was too and she'd laugh, saying "like mother like daughter."

Indeed.

Because when the raid came in, you asked her to go hide in the basement but she told you otherwise, screaming at your stubborn self, telling you that this is her dying wish. She doesn't care whether you will wed or not, whether you can be a good wife or not, doesn't care about anything except for your safety and protection. You told her you just wanted to spend her last moments with you.

So she held you in her arms, tears endlessly falling, kissing you on the head and whispered "I am here. Always."

And then, she pushed you into the basement and locked the doors.

After hours passed since you last heard the wild dogs fading away, you finally stood up on your feet to bravely leave your basement doors, clutching onto your abdomen with hissing pain.

You found your mother's dead body lying at the entrance, door left ajar, and sobbed and sobbed endlessly because she was no longer breathing and just laid lifeless. You took her into your arms, tears rolling, begging for someone to just make it all better even though you knew more than anyone that that will never happen. You rocked her in your arms for the longest times, forgetting about your own health with blood that still slowly oozes from your body.

Her precious bracelet that your father made for her lied on the floor beside her body, snapped into one single string with beads spread out. You went on to collect it and put it in your pocket, carrying your mother up away from the entrance door and laid her on the couch.

You left her to grab the herbs and remedies to treat your wound and took your cloak half an hour later, leaving the door of your house, and is met by the sight of blood and dead bodies laid on the floor of your village. You ran around, calling, shouting, for anyone to hear you. You barged into homes, rooms, basements, one after the other, calling uselessly for anyone. You walked a few miles away, calling and calling, screaming from the top of your lunges, wondering whether anyone had been dragged away and left there alone.

But there was no one.

No lives were spared.

The children, the poor children, laid alone and in the arms of their loving parents who tried to protect them. Couples held onto each other's hands in their last moments, the grandparents laid by the fireside that no longer runs with fire.

No one was spared. All, everyone, laid on the floor of your village. All of them left dead.

The traumatizing experience spares you no mercy because in the end, it is you that has to carry the bodies of your tribe, digging holes after holes in order to bury every single one of them. You had no wink of sleep, fingers cold and numb yet still forced to work hard and carry their heavy bodies. Your mother was the last of them all, body left spent after all that work, crying and crying endlessly because you could do nothing to protect them, not even one of them, and now they all lie dead under the ground.

All except you who was only seventeen years of age.

.

.

.

"Jungkook?" The God of Music is quick to hold the youngest God whose legs can't keep him steady on his foot. He shivers in Yoongi's arms, shaking, and tears are escaping his eyes before he can try to stop it.

"H-hyung.." Jungkook shudders, breath leaving fogs although the room itself is nowhere near cold. Yoongi can understand him without needing to hear words, a touch alone letting him read his thoughts in an instant. Jungkook tells him what today is, the same day that repeats every year and makes him extra cold though he has no reason why. His heart aches, fingers going numb, and head begins to pound.

The God of Hearth should never feel this way, he has always been powerful just as his soulmates, but this day, this particular day always comes around every year and as he comes close, he feels the shivers until the morning sun appears again and January 24 is here, making him the weakest at this day.

He believes that it relates to their last soulmate, a soulmate hidden from the world and no where to be found with no information except that they are still alive. Alive yet hurt.

"It hurts," Jungkook cries. It is not his pain that he is feeling, it is not his tears that are crying. These do not belong to the God of Hearth but to someone else. "It hurts so much, hyung." Yoongi holds him safe and steady in his arms but this time Jungkook cries his real tears as he leans into the touch of his soulmate, crying because he hurts knowing their last soulmate cannot feel this comfort and warmth for themselves. He begins to beat himself up, angry and frustrated that he can understand these feelings but cannot do anything to make his soulmate feel better.

"We'll find them," the God of Music promises as he presses a kiss to the youngest's head. "We'll find them."

He lets Jungkook know that Jimin believes they must be on Earth and Jungkook begins to think so too. He lets him know that Jimin and Taehyung are preparing to leave when Hoseok raises the morning sun in the mortal realm, that Seokjin and Namjoon will follow. And Jungkook lets him know that he wishes to go to.

He has to know, he has to finally find them, wherever they are.

.

.

.

When the morning sun awakes you, you sit up heavily from the cold, cold bed, shivering and letting out a deep sigh. Yesterday may be over but the memories still lies so vividly in your mind. You drag yourself out of bed, brushing your teeth, washing your face that makes you shiver again because everything is so cold. The kitchen greets you with an empty refrigerator that makes your brows furrow because your stomach growls and you are so hungry.

You sigh again as you head back into your bedroom to grab your cloak and wrap it around yourself, taking a straw basket that you weaved years ago with the help of a loving mother's hand, and put the hood on your head as you step out of your home.

The little children greets you in your memories, the ghost of the adults waving you good morning as you walk down through the memories of their lovely smiles, a few asking you to fetch them certain herbs and chicken eggs as well. You nod at their souls, smiling faintly and saying "Of course, I will be back with them."

A small little boy tugs at the sleeve of your dress and you stop to look down at the ghost of little Mingyu. He wishes to travel down with you but you shake your head, telling him you will be back soon to play with him. He pouts but upon your words, Mingyu doesn't go against you because he loves you like his own older sister.

When you pick up your feet again after bidding him goodbye to continue walking, your face falls as you walk past the wooden archway, chest tightening for a moment and nose thickening because you miss them all. You miss little Mingyu.

But you blink away the tears before it can freeze upon the cold wind, greeting the bright sun that shines above with a tight smile and walk down the little broken stairway made of leveled down snow that leads to the foot of the mountain.

"Maybe if I pray unto the God of Sun, he'll warm the mountain up," you sigh, "or the God of Hearth."

You look down at the empty basket that hasn't been filled for over an hour while your feet numbs from walking so long. No firewood, herbs, or food. You're starving and tired and it hasn't it gotten to noon yet. The slow passing of time makes you sigh at the growling of your stomach. You just want to eat and fall into a warm bed made of soft comfortable mattress and never have to know what the cold means.

But this is your life and although years passed, you still wonder how you're living on. Will you ever find another human to talk with for the rest of your life? The town almost a mile away has a few friendly smiles but it isn't the same as your village. After all, everyone knows everyone there, and you lived by taking care of one another.

You're just so, so tired.

.

.

.

"This..."

They stare at the wooden archway that leads into a village of homes that look as if no one has been here in ages. An abandoned ghost village. Yet they follow Hoseok in as he walks forward, eyes grazing over the broken windows and roofs, a few doors left open and off its hinges, and nothing but the sound of the howling wind and their footsteps are heard.

It's strange but no matter how empty this village is, they can still feel how beautiful life had once been to these mortals. It is a village that has been abandoned for years, no signs of life whatsoever.

"Why are we here, Hoseok?" Namjoon asks as he steps over some broken wood, his brows furrowing at the eerie echoing of the dead souls who had once lived here. It is never easy passing by a place that lets them know something horrible had occurred. They can easily hold the ground and watch the memories of what had happened with their powers but it feels too much to invade such intimate memories.

"I don't know," the God of Sun admits as he continues walking carefully with slow steps, his gaze soft and sad as he looks over everything. "The Sun told me there is still life here and we've visited many places already but we've never come here."

"It's abandoned."

"But you can still feel the life," he tells Taehyung. He knows they believe that perhaps he had only sensed life because a life did used to be here but Hoseok thinks otherwise. "There is a living soul here," he speaks, looking up at the sun for a moment, "she's seen it."

There is something so strange about this village, this tribe. Hoseok cannot understand it and he knows that he can easily retrace the past lives of this village but it feels wrong for some reason. He may be a God who has the ability to know and understand everything but this...this doesn't feel right at all. Not yet at least, and he cannot pinpoint what is it that draws him to this place, a feeling he's never felt with the places they've visited before.

When Jungkook looks around, the coldness lies in his heart, a feeling he has gotten used to since years prior ever since the first January 24th had hurt him. He takes slow steps with his hyungs behind him, carefully watching him and the village and wondering what thoughts are going on in his head. "It's strange but..." his eyes fall to the snow below him, footsteps hidden under the endless snow that continues falling and falling. He feels as if there are fresh footsteps just under the snow but even then he cannot erase the blanket to see it. "There is a life here," he says in a soft whisper.

"If our soulmate is really here," Jimin's eyes fall sad as it wanders all around at the snowy mountain of an abandoned village, his chest tightening with a heart that begins to ache, "they must have been oh so alone."

"Whatever happened here," the God of Music steps up to the center of the village that seems to hold the most memories of them all, sounds of music falling so distant to his ears, something he knows only lies in the past, "there are souls that have yet to be released."

A gasp leaves someone's lips and they are quick to turn around at the foreign voice, a sight that comes with a girl dressed in a dark blue cloak that they know must not be keeping her warm. Her eyes shake with fear, a basket that had fallen to the foot of her dress, hands pressed against her chest as she trembles at the sight of them. Her face pales, mouth drying, and they can hear the mortal's heart beating oh so rapidly.

"Forgive us," Seokjin announces as soon as he can before you can go into a panic. "We did not mean to intrude, is this your home?"

Your heart relaxes for a moment at his voice but you are still filled with fear. You haven't seen anyone in your village for such a long time, not since the raid, and you fear that they must be one of them. "I..I-If you wish to kill me, please do it quickly."

Oh.

Oh no.

Tears fall from your precious eyes and it hurts Jungkook as he shudders at the same time as you. Your eyes fall to him, a little intrigued, but still so, so fearful and he knows, he knows that you must have gone through so much with a heart that beats so rapidly at just the sight of men.

But he isn't a man, he is a God, a high and powerful God that can bend the Earth to its core if he simply wishes to do so. Those eyes of yours look so painful it hurts his own heart. The God of Hearth may have felt coldness before, just as the day before always being the worst of it all, but this...this feeling is a little more strange...foreign yet familiar at the same time.

"We are not here to kill you," he says. "We are Gods."

"...Gods.."

He isn't supposed to say so to hide their identity but it just feels right.

He steps up and the others follow a few feet behind. "I am the God of Hearth and we are looking for our last soulmate. We believe it to be a mortal."

You can tell they aren't normal humans. You can tell they aren't humans at all with the glowing aura all around them and how he calms your heart to a steadier beat at his voice alone. A celestial being. A God. Seven Gods right in front of you.

"No one else lives here," you tell the God of Hearth while his eyes never seem to leave yours as he continues walking forward. You don't step back for some reason, probably because you are too afraid to just leave and run away from a God. "I am the only one who lives here."

He hums. "I see that."

"There is a village about a mile away if you wish to check there."

"Have you not considered another option, dear one?" He asks you, snow crunching under his steps as he continues forward.

You shake your head slowly. "I highly doubt someone like me can even be worthy to be considered a soulmate to the Gods."

Jungkook steps up to you but he doesn't go any further to make sure you feel safe at a good distance. He holds his hands out for you and you watch, confusion displayed in your eyes before you look up at him again with a questioning gaze. "May I?" He simply asks.

You hesitate but this is a God asking you for something so you know you will offend him if you do not do as he asks. So you hold your hand out slowly with him so patient, just watching until you are ready to touch him. He hears the beat of your heart beating rapidly again but remains patient. When you finally allow him to hold your hand, the instant your skin meets him in a delicate touch, a vision falls into his mind.

He sees everything.

He sees the life of a little girl that had been born into a beautiful village and your sweet parents naming you Y/N. The village celebrates the birth of a child just as its always done, a tradition that will never fall away for as long as they are alive. He sees the cute pigtails on your head when you had enough hair for your mother to decorate it. He sees your loving parents that will do everything just to have their little daughter grow into someone precious and kind for the world to meet.

He sees you when you cried with your mother after your father's death, a little girl just twelve years of mortal age who should have never felt such responsibilities hanging off her shoulders at such a young age. But with time and your mother beginning to grow old, you have to step up to be the good daughter and tend to her, missing your own childhood despite how many times your mother tells you to go play while she sleeps. Sometimes she will pretend to have fallen into a dream just to see whether you have listened to her.

But you never leave your mother's side, only worrying for her in case you do leave and do not hear when she coughs and needs your help.

He sees you grow older and maturing to seventeen years old. You'll roll your eyes when your mother tells you to go out and find someone for yourself, telling her that you are too young to even think of marriage and laughing it all off though he can understand that deep inside, you do wish that in the future, not now, someone will come by to love and cherish you as you will love and cherish them.

The days are spent well with you occasionally leaving your home only for errands upon finding herbs, food, and fresh new firewood for your home. Jungkook sees a little boy named Mingyu who will try to sneak away behind your back, following you close behind when you'd walk down the mountain but you'll always catch him in the act. Some days you will allow him to accompany you, some days you will ask him to return home because it is too cold for him to be out.

Your village is lively and lovely, so different from how things look now. They will greet you when you come out and bid you goodbye when you return home. Everyone knows everyone, a tribe built up on a loving family. You rarely attend festivals and celebrations, however, always too busy tending to your sick mother.

But then he sees the one memory that you hate most of all.

He hears the loud barking of wild dogs in the distant, sees how you're begging your mother to hide in the basement and crying because she's telling you otherwise. She wants you to go in instead, knowing her life isn't worth fighting for anymore but that fighting this one last time will be her last mission in life. You cried in her arms when she held you, kissing you on the head, whispering soft words before pushing you into the basement and slamming the doors shut.

He sees your memories then, watching from the small window as your heart aches and numbs at the sight of the slaughtering. He sees you breaking a window, grabbing a shard and stabbing yourself for a pretend death when one of the men barges in with a dog beside him. He feels your fear, scared for your life, afraid of the dog. But you are left alone when the owner doesn't understand the barking of the wild dog.

He sees you as you're running around, screaming and shouting, calling for any survivors but no one, not even a soul, along with your mother and little Mingyu dead on the floors of your village. You're traumatized yet you still dig up holes after holes to bury your tribe in order for them to rest peacefully and not in vain. Your fingers go numb from the hard work and the freezing cold yet you never stop, going past days with no rest in between, tears endlessly falling and freezing under the cold snowy weather.

You haven't eaten a good meal in years, just seventeen years old having to carry the last remaining memories of your tribe, having to survive all on your own with no one by your side. Just seventeen years old having to become dependent on yourself. You learned to make your own clothes instead of just sewing to patch things up. Though it doesn't go well in the beginning, you learn the skills eventually as time passes. The water is always the coldest for you to wash and bathe in, your bed on a hard wood, no pillows, no warmth to keep you safe and secure.

Yet when Jungkook opens his eyes again, you have no hatred and vengeance in your heart, no sign of wanting revenge. The only thing he feels is your fear of your future and how you will continue surviving, questions swarming in your head as to why and how you are still alive after ten years of isolation. He has never met a human so selfless and kind with just the slight light of hope still left in her despite everything. You are afraid but you try not to show it and his heart hurts.

Jungkook turns to his soulmates behind him and they step up, surrounding you. They stand in a circle, fluttering their eyes closed and telling you silently that you must do so as well. Hands are placed upon your arms, soft, delicate and warm touches, and something strange and unfamiliar occurs.

You feel warmth surging through your body, a heat so warm you aren't sure whether this is real or not anymore. But it isn't just the warmth you are feeling, it's the feeling of walking on clouds, euphoria, head spinning with fairy lights and soft, soft ecstasy. It's so much more than the festivities of your tribe that celebrates many traditions, so much more than when you'd play around with little Mingyu who loves you to no end. It is sweet and delicate, fragile yet so strong and firm, not like the promise of your village that will one day be buried under the snow.

You see so many things, a beautiful celestial palace made of heaven lights. You see stars in one room, a whole room filled of the planets and galaxies of universes all around. You see a room filled with books upon books, a room of music, the soft blue tide of the vast ocean that stretches so wide and falls into the horizon, a sun that glows so bright in the sky, a home of warmth and hearth, and Spring. You see Spring for the first time in the life of a wisteria tree. It's petals flutters to the ground though the vines still holds firm and powerful, swaying gently and dancing to the soft whisper of the wind.

You see the life of the Gods before you. Meeting one another as if destiny has placed them in each other's paths. Soft smiles, soft hellos and goodnights, soft touches and soft kisses pressed against one another. A soft, soft love that whispers in their ears each passing day. When one is away they will feel empty, already missing one's presence the second they leave the palace grounds. Together they make each other stronger than any other Gods. Everyone around them looks up to them, bowing their ways, worshipping their presence for seven soulmates is much stronger than two souls.

Yet no matter how happy they are, there is still something missing. The wisteria may look divine but it is not in its full bloom, it is not as strong as it should be. The petals that falls off the vines hangs in vain and sadness, fluttering to the floor, still wishing and needing one last puzzle that is missing.

A missing soulmate.

You feel the aching in the God of Hearth's heart, how he will shiver on some occasions, the way he hurts the most on January 24th. And you think you understand what the means. January 24th is not a day that is happy for you, a day that is filled with grief and pain, a day that is the coldest out of any other day. You think you understand because the flame of the Hearth is a light that gives warmth to the mortals. But you have not been the warmest in the years that passed by since the raid. You think...perhaps...you understand.

"Do you understand?" You open your eyes to find them staring into your soul, and they can feel that you understand but have some doubts. "You are the one, my sweet precious mortal," the God of Knowledge holds your face in his hand and you find yourself consciously leaning into the touch. The warmth is nice. You love it so much you wish to cry. "You are our last soulmate."

"Will you accept us?" The God of Ocean asks. "Will you come home to us? Allow us to give you an endless warmth that shall never disappear?"

"To live an immortal life? Become an immortal yourself?"

"To never have to know what pain and hurting feels like ever again. To never feel afraid anymore."

"Will you let us protect you from now on? Give you a home, a safe, warm home."

"And let you meet the one thing you have always been waiting for. To let you see Spring."

Spring.

They can feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sound and Jimin smiles softly. You have always wished to see what Spring looks like, when the Winter will melt away and the birds will chirp and flowers will grow, blooming to their fullest and giving off such sweet scents. You want to smell the flowers, to feel the rain kissing your body, to see a rainbow, to go barefoot and feel the grass poking through the gaps of your toes. You want to lie on the ground, run around freely without heavy coats on you, to feel a breeze that will not make you shiver and have your nose growing red.

You want to be kissed by Spring, greeted with a beautiful welcome and never have to leave its warmth. You want it, you want to meet Spring.

But they can also feel the hesitation in your heart. You do not wish to leave your village like this, you're the only one left to hold its memories after all, the only one left of your tribe. They feel hatred and anger for the ones that have made you suffer for so long, to live alone in isolation and miss the feeling of someone touching you for a whole ten years. They want to hunt those humans down, their selfishness and greed for blood making them boil to serve them justice.

"I.." you speak up timidly, a little fearful that it won't be right to do so but Yoongi places a gentle hand on your head, soothing it gently.

"It's alright, little one. You will never offend us if you ever wish to speak."

You pick up your courage to look at the village before you. "I don't want to leave my home like this."

"There are souls of your tribe that is still roaming around, little one," Namjoon informs you and your head snaps to him, eyes brimming with tears and making him sad to see them.

"You can see them?" You ask, breath shaky.

He shakes his head lightly. "We can feel them. They are here, sweet one." He takes your hand into his hold as he gently brings you to the middle of the village before turning you so that you can face the grounds. "Their souls have been left broken and shattered but they've never given up hope because of you."

"Because of me?"

The God of Knowledge hums. "You've survived for so long trying to keep this place alive." He's seen the way you pretend everyone was still here, watching their ghosts through your memories and speaking to them as if they were still alive.

"They haven't been able to rest in peace," you realize with sad eyes.

"Don't worry," Seokjin steps up as he places a hand on your shoulder and watches the memories with you, "I can send them off now for you."

"You can do that?"

He nods, humming. "All they've ever wanted was for you to live as if you are living again. And now they see hope." Through him. "They can go on now because their little Y/N can find something worth living for."

A tear falls from your eye and Namjoon squeezes your hand in a gentle manner.

"It will be alright," he tells you softly. "You can bid your goodbyes now."

All your ten years of living alone you thought that your tribe would wish for you to keep the tradition in your memories, to never let it die. You never knew that what they truly wanted, what they all wanted, was for you to live again. So a few more tears escape your eyes as your chest tightens and a hand reaches out into the open. You pretend that someone has taken your hand, your mother, with little Mingyu just beside you and the rest of the village behind them. You pretend that they are smiling down at you, softly bidding their goodbyes.

You can hear your mother whispering for you to be happy now and you can hear little Mingyu telling you to smile again.

You nod at them, closing your hand into a small fist. "Goodbye," you say and when Seokjin, the God that holds the galaxies, close his eyes, you can feel the souls leaving one by one, drifting off to the skies with little waves made at you.

They can finally rest in peace at last.

"Come here," the Sun God holds a hand out for you a few seconds later and you go to him with no hesitation, letting him take your hand. "You are hurt, my dear. Can you close your eyes?" You do as he asks and feel soft lips pressing against your forehead seconds later.

Hoseok releases his magic to transfer into your body, letting you feel a warmth rising, a warmth that makes you feel so light on your feet. It runs through your veins, healing the numbness of your fingers and toes, collecting the water from where your body stays cold, lifting the freezing feeling from you and replacing it with the warmth of the sun. Wherever there had been scars on your body, he heals as well. The scar that rests near your stomach is lifted as if it had never been there before and when he leans away, you still feel so light on your feet.

"Thank you," you say with a slight blush forming on your soft cheeks when you lift your eyes to find him so close.

Hoseok smiles, understanding through the touch that you find him attractive, an information he finds convenient because you yourself is so beautiful he can hardly believe his eyes. You have the beauty not meant for a human, a beauty that glows so delicately he doesn't believe anyone can be worthy to look upon you. "Of course, dear one," he tells you and presses another kiss to your forehead, this one being actually meant to be a kiss.

Your cheeks warm a little more at the gesture and he chuckles, loving your reactions to every little thing.

"Are you ready, my love?"

My love.

You red at the soft name from the God of Music and think that perhaps you will have to get used to such things. So you nod at him and Yoongi takes your hand. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you do so with no question.

Something shifts under your feet and you can feel your surrounding changing despite not actually seeing. When Yoongi tells you you can open your eyes again, you are met with a bright world just in front of you. The memories that belongs to them rushes back to you and you realize this is their home, their palace. It is so divine you can hardly believe your eyes. The castle stands so tall with a magnificent garden that surrounds its grounds.

You breathe in the wonderful scent and almost sway on your feet.

Spring. It smells like Spring.

You rush forward to walk up the steps of the castle and look back as you skip in, sounds of giggles escaping your lips and making their own hearts so warm. The sight of you so happy at the little things alone makes them smile as they walk in, following the curious little mortal who wishes to see everything. But they know that you will have time to see everything later. Right now you're tired and need to rest.

"My love." You turn at the call of Taehyung's voice and skip back to him, ears attentive. The God of Ocean gaze fondly at you as he lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ears. "You are tired, my sweet angel." He hears your thoughts, the embarrassment of how you must look with your damp clothes and messy hair from the strong wind of the Winter mountain and pets you on your head. "You can wash first," he says and your eyes widen a little with a little moment of confusion before he feels you understand that you are soulmates now and they can read your thoughts through just simple touches.

"Okay," you say with your sweet voice. He doesn't think he will ever get over such music to his ears.

"Come now." He takes your hand and leads you down the grand hall of the castle where you will be spending the rest of your life in.

.

.

.

The water is so different from the freezing cold back on the mountain. It is so warm and gentle you almost feel like falling asleep in the bath. It's grand, a bathtub so large and you think that perhaps the Gods share their bath times together. You blush at the thought of possibly needing to do that as well, not yet ready at the moment but knowing that in the near future you will one day bathe with them.

You giggle to yourself thinking of it and submerge your head into the water as if you should not have thought of such things. But you know that it's fine, you are soulmates after all, connecting in ways simple relationships of the mortals will never come to feel and understand. It's a nice thing you know you will love to get used to as you swoop up a few rose petals in your hand, breathing in the rose scent bath and laying your head back.

What a lovely life you know you will never get tired of.

Just hours prior you were freezing cold as you wandered the grounds of the mountain, trying to collect herbs and firewood, trying to find food. Nothing comes easy living in the mountain especially while living in isolation so some days you would have to go to sleep shivering so hard, some days you would have to suffer through fevers and other health risks, and some days you would have to starve for a few days until you can find food to eat.

Looking back on the memory not far back yet, you feel a rushing fear crawling down your spine as you think that perhaps this can all be a dream, just a wishful thinking, a daydream, and you'd wake up to the coldness of your lonely home all over again.

You've had dreams before, of living with warmth, living in Spring, and woke up only to fall sad all over again as you realize it had all been a dream. But right now this feels too real to be a dream yet at the same time, too true to be true, and you hate how you're so frightened of having to go back to your old life. Will that ever go away as time passes? Or will you wake up thinking time did passed when this had indeed all been a dream?

You let out a soft sigh as you think about the possibilities, brows furrowing with a sadness that hurts your heart.

But then you hear soft music playing, the sound of a beautiful harp as if the God of Music had just heard your thoughts and wishes to ease you from it. Your heart flutters as you look around, face brightening all over again wondering if Yoongi is thinking of you right now. He must be, right? A few butterflies untangle themselves in your tummy and begin to flutter freely.

Oh how you hope this is all a reality and not just a wishful dream.

The harp continues on and on, softly wanting to lure you to sleep but you know that you must get out first and not fall asleep in the bath.

When you open the doors to the bedroom timidly, head poking out shyly because you know they're in there, they smile at the sight of you and silently welcome you in. You have on a sheepish smile as you walk in dressed in a white bathrobe with wet hair and looking so pretty and clean.

Your skin glows with a fresh flowery scent and they almost fall breathless at the sight of your beauty right before them. They knew you were beautiful the moment they laid eyes on you but now that you're fresh and out of the bath, they can't believe you can look even more beautiful.

Jimin walks up to you and runs a towel along your head to dry your wet hair, fearing that you may catch a cold if it isn't dried right away. Sure you may be used to the cold but they still feel overprotective of you and wish for nothing to happen to you. You're their precious girl now, after all, and they will never let anything bad happen to you again. You've suffered for far too long living all alone and just trying to survive through the cruel reality of life.

When he sees the soft pink on your cheeks, Jimin smiles as he realizes you must have read his thoughts. "You are so beautiful, my love." Your heart flutters under his gaze and words and Jimin can't believe they have gotten such a precious soul to be their last piece of the puzzle. "We have to get you your own clothes but for now will you fit mine?"

You nod at his offer and suddenly feel a flutter of the wind before you lightly gasp down at yourself, a sight of the God of Spring's royal robe wrapped around your body to replace the white bathrobe. "Wow," you say in awe and they chuckle at how easily you are astonished. It's a little big on you, the robe falling to the floor and hiding your feet, sleeves a little too long and sliding off just slightly from your shoulders. But it is a sight that makes Jimin excited seeing you in his clothes.

He takes your chin in his hand for you to look up at him and presses a kiss right on the tip of your nose. "You must be hungry." Right on time your stomach growls and you lick your lips, causing him to grin.

They feed you a meal that is laid out on a tray, not allowing you to use your hands for one second and insisting to do the job instead. They spoil you with so many things that in the end, you become so full and have to push their hands away before they can feed you some more. But you let Namjoon hand you a fruit before you fall back into Jungkook's chest.

"Sleepy?" He senses your energy, watching as your eyes flutter drowsily and runs a finger down to the tip of your nose. "Sleep, my dear, you've had such a long day."

You take ahold of his hand, small fist wrapping around his forefinger after grabbing the courage to snuggle in close and the God of Hearth chuckles as they all coo. "But what if I wake up back on the mountain?" You worry and he understands that you have been thinking of it back in your alone moment in the bathtub. Jungkook knows then that it is not a good idea to leave you alone for long, not when you'll begin to question whether it is right for you to truly be happy because he knows that you deserve all of this.

A happy life, to be loved and cherished.

"I'm scared," you whimper though your eyes are drowsy and you let out a yawn soon after.

"Trust me, my love, we will be right here when you wake up."

"Promise?" You ask in a small voice.

He hums. "I promise."

"Kiss me goodnight?" They chuckle and does as you ask, placing soft kisses upon your face and head, missing the one spot that leaves your lips. But you're fine with it. Not yet, it will come with time when you are a little more comfortable.

.

.

.

You hear the morning birds chirping for the first time and that is what excites you awake.

It comes out so soft to your ears at first, you lying on your side with someone holding you from behind and Yoongi right in front of you. The bed is large enough to hold many people and you blush under their closeness before you fall distracted by the song of the birds. A light gasp leaves you when you continue to hear it, its chirping falling so gentle and sweet so you sit up and take Seokjin's arm off you to crawl off the bed.

Your light footsteps leaves you past the curtains and onto the large balcony that greets you with the kisses of the gentle breeze. You grin brilliantly as you lean onto the railing, back arching forward as you breath in the sweet smell of the warm air. Before you lies the crystal ocean that goes on and on past the horizon where the sun lies up above. It shimmers under the light of the morning sun, sparkling like gemstones and you realize that no, you haven't woken up to a freezing cold and damp blanket with the howling wind of the mountain greeting you awake.

You have no need to prepare yourself to head out into the cold, trying to find herbs and firewood, trying to find food. You have no need to worry about that anymore because this is your life now. Greeted by the lovely breeze, greeted by Spring, greeted by love.

Someone comes up behind you and you jump for a moment before feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, his familiar hands welcoming you in with a head nuzzling into your neck before simply resting right on your shoulder. "Good morning, sweet love," he greets in a low husky voice to tell you that he had just woken up. A smile curls along his lips as he reads your thoughts of how much you love his deep voice.

"You kept your promise."

"Of course," Jungkook chuckles. "This feels nice, does it not?"

You hum, leaning back closer to his hold. "It's so different. So warm."

"I feel better too," he admits and reminds you through his thoughts of how the God of Hearth also had to suffer a bit because his heart connects to you in a way more special compared to the rest. The Hearth's flame is meant for the mortals after all.

"I'm sorry," you tell him and Jungkook frowns.

"No, my love, you have no need to apologize. This was never your doing."

"But it must have been difficult hurting and not knowing why."

He turns you in his hold so that you can face him, face leaning in close with a pout. "You suffered so much more than I," he reminds you as he brushes your hair away to the side. "I knew you were suffering, we all did, but it took so long to finally find you."

"That isn't your fault. I lived in isolation in a village that should have never been found."

"I only wish we had found you sooner."

You shake your head lightly. "Nothing can be done to turn back time now."

Oh how Jungkook loves you already. You have such a kind soul, a selfless soul, with no darkness in sight despite all that had happened to you. He wonders how you were able to do this, held onto hope for so long, to spend ten years all alone in a place that kept you so cold and freezing, lacking the ability to touch another being, visited by no one but the knocking of the restless wind outside your home.

He wants to make it all better, to help you heal and grow, and to only hold onto precious happy memories from now on.

When you look back at him with a sweet gaze, he knows that you can understand him despite no words said. You can read him too and Jungkook smiles as he rest his forehead against yours, just holding you there as the two of you revel in the soft breeze that passes by. You can feel cold no longer, nothing but a soft warmth that the God of Hearth holds with him.

When the afternoon comes, you're wandering around the castle, watching through the memories of your Gods to remember what room lies where. You've ran through the magnificent garden barefoot, smelling the scent of all the flowers that were grown, touching the petals and feeling how soft it is under your touch. The grass tickles your feet, the stone paths rubbing you gently. A fountain sits at the center of the garden, hedges displayed all around sort of like a maze.

Everything is green and colorful with the robe of Jimin's dragging behind you as you become the curious little fella who runs around everywhere because everything fascinates you. You travel down to the ocean next, feeling the white sand under your bare feet and giggling as you touch and run from the water that comes and goes. Seashells are found all around the beach, little crabs running around and crawling into your palm when you let it. It does you no harm though you have heard stories of all crabs being able to pinch anyone that touches them.

Perhaps the humans really do not know much. But then again, maybe you should not have trust a tribe that only knows what Winter looks like. You laugh to yourself thinking about it and then become a little more curious as you recall the library you saw in your memories. It must belong to Namjoon, the God of Knowledge.

You stand up from the beach, letting the little crabs crawl back down onto the sand and wave them goodbye before you leave for the castle again. You run through a path with trees at two sides, reminding you that you should check out the wisteria as well after the library. You retrace your steps as you look into your memories to understand where the books are, skipping around the halls of the castle care freely with shoes now on, staring at the tall ceiling up above, the beautiful crystal glass windows in designs of each God or of plants and simple objects.

When you open the familiar looking doors from your memories, you gasp at the sight of the thousands of books placed on shelves upon shelves, leading into the room and looking like an endless hall. It looks so much more enchanting than what you had seen in the memories just as the garden and the ocean. You cannot believe there are so many books, almost every one of them you know you have never read.

"Well hello there my dear." You jump at the voice before understanding that it belongs to the God of Knowledge as he emerges from a shelf that had hidden him. He holds an open book in hand with a sweet smile resting on his face, charming dimples displayed upon his cheeks and making your heart skip a beat.

"Namjoon," you sigh as you skip up to him. "The gardens are so beautiful! Jimin created it, didn't he? And the ocean, it's so vast and magnificent I cannot believe such beauty exists in this universe. I know there are so many other places to visit but I don't know how I can look at them all before growing exhausted by running all over."

He laughs as he holds your face, fingers tracing down your temple and down your jaw. "My love you have all the time in the world to explore. You must remember to not exhaust yourself so fast."

"There's just so much to see," you beam before letting out a gasp as if you had just recalled something. "I want to read!"

He chuckles fondly. "Do you now?"

"Mn!"

"Come here." He takes your hand, not needing to voice out what books you would like to read because he can already read your mind. So he leads you down to the center of the library where lays a circle of shelves. He walks you to the middle, holding onto your waist steady as you bite against your lower lip with anticipation, already understanding even before the floor lifts into the air upwards because you have seen it in the memories.

The lift brings the two of you up to where a flooring hovers in the air, supported by fluffy white clouds that falls past your hands but will support your weight when you step onto it. You giggle as you feel the clouds on your feet before letting Namjoon sit you upon a comfortable chair shaped in a ball and made of clouds. He hands you a book taken out of thin air.

"If there is anything else you need, just call me."

You nod eagerly before leaning your back into the chair and open up to the first page of the book.

You're addicted in no time and spend hours upon hours forgetting about everything else as you dive into the world of imaginations created on pieces of paper.

"My love?" You hear him when you are on your fifth book, humming softly to indicate that you hear him but your eyes remain on the little words displayed on the pages of the book. Namjoon sighs. "Come now." You pout. "It is time for dinner, sweetheart."

"Just...one more chapter."

He knows what that sounds like and shakes his head as he walks up to you, taking the book away and having you whining after it. The God of Knowledge chuckles at how adorable you are and mark the page you are on before closing it shut. You pout again but he presses a kiss to your head and makes you blush. Namjoon loves your little reactions to simple romantic gestures. "Come now," he repeats and holds his hand out.

This time you do not protest.

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"Go on, try them on."

You collect the dresses in hand and they watch as you head for the bathroom only to pause in your steps and turn back with a sheepish smile.

"What is it?" Hoseok asks.

"Will you dress me instead?" Heat blooms upon your face when their eyes widen and you realize what they think you mean by that and is quick to stutter through. "N-not like that! I meant will you..uh...u-use your powers? You know, like how Jimin dressed me in his robe?"

You are so adorable when you're flustered and a blushing mess because you aren't used to relationships like this. The only thing you've been exposed to in this life is a beautiful love of a village and the parents that had raised you. You've known nothing about loving a man, was never able to be given that privilege because your tribe had gone before anything could truly happen, before you could even think about trying to find another who could protect and love you. So of course you are shy when you're around them but they know more than anyone that this is alright, you're okay, and they will love and cherish you in place of the loneliness that had bloomed over the past ten years.

So when Taehyung stands before you and you shy away, he does not mind it, knowing one day you will come around to it. He caresses your face for a moment, reading your thoughts filled of embarrassment and letting you read him to let you know that this is fine, this is alright and he does not mind anything. You are soulmates after all, meant for one another and written under the stars. You have no need to shy away under their gaze, free to speak your mind, and that even if you did mean what they had initially thought, they would dress you still.

But he tells you that he understands you are not ready just yet and lets you know that this is fine, this is alright. You can take as much time as you need, as much as you want, and none of them will ever mind.

His feelings allow you to calm, blush slowly falling away and Taehyung smiles at the sight of your shoulders falling back down to your sides. He snaps his fingers and you feel the flutter of the familiar wind just as the first time it was done to you and they watch as the dress falls onto your skin. It hugs you perfectly, soft golden shimmers falling all the way to the floor with beautiful yellow petals decorated almost all around.

You are a sight they have been blessed with, a beauty too perfect for the eyes to even dare see. They find themselves so lucky to have someone like you as their last soulmate, a lovely pretty lady with such a gentle heart too pure for the world.

"You are truly beautiful, my love." You blush again at Seokjin's words who holds a fond gaze upon your face.

"Mmn," Hoseok hums, "but as much as we'd like to stay and just stare at you all day, we must leave."

Your brows crease slightly as you look up at him. "You're all leaving?"

"Hoseok and I," Seokjin tells you as he strokes your cheek to ease your little worries, "the rest will be here."

"Where are you going?" You ask.

He looks at the Gods for a brief moment before gifting you a small smile. "To give justice to the ones that were the cause to your pain and suffering."

"Oh." You shiver and he can feel your fear and the slight aching that reaches your heart.

"Do not worry, my love," Hoseok says as he walks up to your other side to take your hand and kiss the back of it. "We will take care of everything from now on, alright?"

They let you know that they do not love violence, that they would much rather deal with things with words but when time comes, some things are meant to play out with violence if needed. They tell you that they will deal with this logically and not of blind anger and you nod at their unspoken words, head leaning against Seokjin's touch and squeezing Hoseok's hand lightly to let them know that you trust them to make the right decisions.

"We will be right back," the eldest tells you and you nod.

When they disappear to transport themselves away, you're still slightly conflicted as the memories begin returning. "Come here," Yoongi encourages with soft words as he holds out a hand to you. "When was the last time you've heard music?"

Besides that time in the bathtub it has truly been far too long. So you let him whisk you away from the bedroom and into a room that you had once seen in the memories.

Yoongi's grand music room is divine. Instruments are displayed in perfect order, harps and pianos and the violins and all sorts of musical instruments, even some you have never seen before in your life. You are from the mountain after all, and your tribe hasn't really come to understand and seen much but you've seen a few common instruments in the picture books the elderlies would tell stories upon.

He takes you up a flight of stairs made of glass, spiraling up towards what looks like the ceiling but you know that he is bringing you to some place a little more special as you have seen in the memories. The stairs lead up to the roof where you walk onto the platform of the tower made of pillars that circles the floor and lets you see down the grounds of the palace and past it, a sight much more than the balcony in the bedroom.

You are so high up you feel like you might fall but with Yoongi behind you as you hold onto a pillar and look down, you know that you are safe. You can see almost everything. The ocean, the outline of the gorgeous garden surrounding the castle, how enormous the castle is, and an enchanting forest that surrounds the palace grounds.

"The more I visit these memories in real life, the more speechless I become because everything is just so...breathless!"

The God of Music chuckles as you spin around to feel the wind rush around you, flaring your dress out and making you look like a fairy. He sits on a little stool, fingers beginning to pluck the strings on the harp and you fall silent as you sit down to watch Yoongi, eyes fluttering close after a moment just to hear the sound of the beautiful music playing as the wind carries it from room to room and over the ocean and forest that surrounds the palace grounds.

It's magical, every note perfectly played and echoing out into the world for all to hear.

This is the music of the Gods.

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Yoongi has to go somewhere after a while so you are left alone to yourself, happily skipping down the halls again in trying to see where your feet will lead you first; the wisteria or the galaxy room that belongs to Seokjin. Both rooms you truly want to see and knowing you have plenty of time yet too excited to wait.

You walk into a grand open space before blindly taking a right without looking back into the memories to know where you are going. Sometimes being lost is the best way to discover new things, your curiosity only getting the best of you as you giggle about in the halls. But then you feel a presence and stop walking, brows furrowed slightly with confusion and curiosity, wondering whether it is one of the Gods.

Until you hear a bark and fear crawls down your back as you turn and see a sight that fears you most of all.

When they hear the scream, they are quick to transport themselves to you in an instant with Jimin wrapping his arms around you and holding your face against his chest. You shake in fear, crying into his protective hold as Jungkook steps up to the guard dog whom they have simply forgotten was still around. You're afraid of dogs after those wild ones had been the ones to track your village down and almost kill you along the rest of your tribe. So he signals for it to leave as quickly as possible, the dog a little confused he had scared someone but disappearing at his master's order.

He turns back to you when it's finally gone for you to finally relax but as they watch you shaking in Jimin's arms and refusing to look up, their heart breaks at the sight. Jimin can understand your thoughts, mind retracing back to the memories on the day it all crashed down for you. He sees you reminded of when you were down in your basement, bleeding out, faking your death as the dog walked over and sniffed at you.

You can hear the continuous barking as it tries to tell its owner that you are still alive, that you're just faking your death. It growls your way when its owner shouts at it to follow him and you can still feel its eyes on you even as it leaves.

Jimin runs his hand up and down along your back, whispering soft soothing words to help you calm, to remind you that you are alright now, that they are here and nothing can harm you ever again. You know, he understands that you know, but you're still afraid of everything being just a dream and that one day you will indeed wake up from this beautiful world. Jimin holds you tightly in his arms, brows furrowed, meeting the gaze of Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon who shares the same conflicted thoughts and anger for what you had to go through.

Their precious girl, their precious soulmate who suffered so much because of human greed and the inability to feel as they do not hesitate one tiny bit upon killing a whole tribe made of small warriors, children, women, and elderlies who never hoped to ever fight in wars.

They can only pray for Seokjin and Hoseok to hear their anger and do well upon punishing the people that had done this to you.

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You asked them to leave you be so that you can remain alone for a while. Of course the Gods weren't going to allow you without complaint, trying to convince you otherwise as they worry for you and although you felt touched, you shook your head then, too tired to argue and just wanting to be left alone because you are so used to dealing with everything by yourself. So you walk around the castle again, footsteps now heavy and slow, just letting your feet carry you to wherever. It's isolating and lonely, a feeling you hadn't felt for a few days, returning with melancholy and fear.

You don't know what to do, how this will all work out, why you have even become a soulmate of seven powerful and loving Gods too sweet for their own goods. You don't deserve this, you deserve to remain where you were, back on the mountain, trying to survive on your own.

You can still feel the numbness of your fingers, your aching feet as it walks and walks, trying to find just simple things in order to live on each day. You can still hear the howling of the wind as it passes by and by, the snowflakes that falls endlessly from the ongoing Winter skies, the ghost of a village that had once been so lovely and full of life. Everything was so wrong then, to grow old as a seventeen years old mortal, crying and crying yet having the need to pick yourself up because you knew crying wasn't going to bring anyone back. You had to stand up, to pick up the shovels, to dig and bury, to wipe your tears away and suck it all up because of the humans that knew no difference between love and hate.

Still you never felt any vengeance towards them, just fear and pain because they could not understand to care or have a heart. The world is a scary placed filled with scary people and frightening things that will visit your sleep and taint your lovely dreams.

You know this is wrong, to run away and try to face your problems alone when you have soulmates, Gods who just wants to make it all better. You know it is wrong to take that away from them, to shut them out, and to put up a wall. But you are afraid to feel happy, knowing it will never last forever and that one day, even if this is all true, perhaps this will all end. You are afraid to give into the love, to let them take care of you. What if they find something within you that they do not particularly like? Would you have to change? Do you have to be perfect? They are Gods after all and you are just a lone human walking in the heavens.

Why are you here? Why have you tried to be happy when you know you cannot?

Something falls onto the foot of your dress, a flutter, a fluttering petal, then another. You look up, eyes trailing the path of the little petals that the wind has carried to your feet and there, right in front of you lies the one beautiful thing that had struck hard in the memories the Gods had given onto you.

A wisteria.

You remember how the Gods will visit this room of the celestial tree lying in the center of the palace, a circle opening roof lying on the top to give it its sunlight and rain when it needs it. Its leaves and petals fall around the foot of it, the wind carrying it to flutter a few feet away. When the Gods come, they will reach out and give it the power it needs in order to grow strong, the God of Spring being the most frequent guest since he had been the one to grow it in the first place. But you know how their love have made the tree stronger with just one simple touch. As each new soulmate is found, they will visit the tree and touch its vine, releasing their energy to the tree and helping it to grow to its max.

And you are the last one, the remaining soulmate that will make it grow into its full blossom.

A hand reaches out hesitantly, head tilted slightly to the side with wonder, and you see the way a vine begins to reach out as well. But just as you're about to let it wrap around your hand, you take your hand back to fall behind you.

Afraid.

"Why do you falter?" You hear the God of Spring from behind you, knowing it is him without needing to look back. His footsteps walk towards you but stops halfway. "I know you asked us to leave you alone but I cannot, my love. I know you are still frightened."

You do not say a thing for a while, just staring at the tree before you with thoughts running all over. He wishes he can read your mind but he will need to touch you for that and right now he isn't sure if he is welcomed to do so or not. So Jimin remains where he is, giving you a safe distance in case you absolutely do not want him around. Perhaps he should leave, let you be, but Jimin worries that the horrible thing your mind may lead you to think will only hurt you more and he does not wish to see you in any more pain.

"It won't be easy you know..." you say in a soft, soft whisper.

His brows furrow, wondering what you mean.

"...trying to love me."

Jimin cannot take it no longer so he steps up in front of you to look you straight in the eyes, his gaze serious and filled with pain. Not because you said he couldn't love you but because you think it will take so much effort just to love you. You, the sweetest most kindest and selfless soul he has ever met, someone who doesn't wish death upon the ones that made you suffer for so long, someone who only wishes the enemy could learn to love rather than getting vengeance on them. You who was only a teen when her tribe was murdered. You who was forced to grow old and pick yourself up when you were hurting the most, seeing the dead bodies of your family, carrying their bodies, burying them into the grounds of the mountain.

Jimin hurts because you do not see worth within yourself, he hurts because you cannot see yourself living a happily ever after, you who is too afraid to love and be happy because you are afraid it will backfire and your story will end with pain and suffering.

He takes your hand, pressing it against his chest to let you understand all the emotions he is feeling. He lets you understand his pain, his frustration and anger towards the ones that have made you see yourself in such darkness, and lets you understand that no, no it will not be difficult. It will be the easiest thing in the world.

"Do you know why?" He asks you. "Do you know why it will be the easiest thing in the world?" He feels that you don't so Jimin continues with tears the prick in his eyes and falls before he can blink them away. Your heart hurts at the sight and begin to cry yourself but Jimin is going to tell you. "Because I have already fallen in love from the moment I laid my eyes on you."

You fall perplexed. "But...you didn't know I was your soulmate then."

"I knew," he tells you. "I knew from the first moment you looked at me with fear. I knew since I stepped foot into your village. I loved you then, Y/N, whether you believe me or not. I loved you and I love you still. It may have only been just a few days but I love you so much."

"I do too."

The two of you look at the voice of the God of Hearth who had lean against the entrance way, picking himself up when you meet his gaze and begins to walk your way.

"I loved you before we even met," he says, "loved you from the first moment I was hurting because of the pain that connects us. My flame comes from Earth and the only way it can truly grow strong is if you are safe and warm. I have never felt stronger in my entire lifetime, I have never felt such flame burning in my heart. But even before I knew who you were, I knew I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, give you a home, give you my hearth."

"There is no ocean vast enough, no ocean deep enough to compare our love." The God of Ocean walks in from another entrance, voice deep and serious.

"There are so many chapters left for us to unfold," says the God of Knowledge. "There are so many more stories to come, for us to explore, for us to learn and understand one another."

"But as we've said before," Seokjin stands beside Jimin, "we have all the time in the universe to get to know one another."

"You do not have to love us now, you do not have to feel the same," Hoseok tells you.

"But just know," Yoongi says, "just know that we love you."

They see the tears in your eyes, how it descends, the way it escapes and trails down your precious cheeks, hanging along your chin before eventually dripping down. You sob as they hold onto you, soft touches to let you know that they are not lying, that everything is true and that they will make it better, they will make it right. If you'd let them, they will stop at nothing just to see that precious smile on your face, to hear your beautiful giggles echoing into the halls and rooms. They will love you like how a man can never love, like a God's immortal love that has no ending even as they may one day lose their immortality.

For years in your life you always wondered whether you will be blessed with another by your side or not, and wondering how it will ever happen. Even before the raid came in, a daughter who only cared for her mother through her times of sickness, never once spending time to look at another in the light of attraction and love. You've only seen your tribe as a family. It was never easy growing up alone after the raid, never easy to know that there was a possibility of you dying alone and the world will have no idea.

Yet they come in like a soft blanket, the exact thing you needed, giving you warmth and closure, providing you food and endless love. You are unsure of how you can ever be enough but they tell you that you need not to trust your own thoughts but to trust theirs instead.

Because they love you and find no faults in your flaws, no fault in you whatsoever. To them you are more than enough, more than the love of the world itself and they will never stop to help you realize that.

So when Jimin holds your face to gently brush away your remaining tears, you thank them through your thoughts. He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, whispering, "You have no need to thank us from now on. No Gods nor universe can ever stop us for wanting to love you."

Your cheeks blossom with roses at his soft words and you tell him, "I think I'm ready."

He understands.

So the Gods step back to allow you room for the wisteria who stands tall with patience no matter its slow withering. You reach out a little more confidently than before, watching as it joins you in the middle and feel it wrapping its vine around your hand and wrist. You close your eyes, letting it take your love and energy that flows from your body to heal the wisteria. It holds onto you firmly but does not ever hurt you in any way. It is gentle in his taking and you know that the wisteria will give back for the love you are providing it.

Giving you immortality for you to spend all of your life with the Gods who will never fall out of love with you.

When the wisteria unwraps itself from your hand, you know that it is done and let your hand fall back to your side. The eight of you watch as the tree glows of a thousand starlight, blooming to its max capacity with its shade of colors growing stronger than the years before it. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at the celestial tree who gives back light to not just you but your Gods who stands beside you.

You feel full and anew and smile gently when the glowing begins to fade while it remains tall with its blossoming vines.

When your head spins with dizzy and drowsiness, the Gods are right there to hold you. "You must rest now, my dear," the God of Spring whispers to you as your eyes begin to haze and fall closed.

"I'm tired," you say as darkness begins to consume your world. But they are right here beside you to let you know that you are alright. You know you are, this happens when one gives their love and energy to the wisteria, you've seen it in the memories.

"Mmn," you hear the voice again. So soft, so soothing, and your body falls to rest as you are held up into someone's arms. "Rest now, my sweet love."

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The birds chirp again, soft and melodic, sweetly singing you a morning lullaby. When you open your eyes and yawn awake, the God of Stars lays right before you while a hand from someone else holds onto you from behind. You look back to find the God of Knowledge who grips you a little more, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck and letting you give out a soft giggle.

Seokjin brushes your hair from your face as he watches you with a gentle gaze. "Good morning, dear one."

"Good morning," you sigh.

"Have you slept well?" You nod and he can feel your energy through the touch, relieved at the answer before kissing you on your forehead. "The others have yet to wake, it is quite early after all, and they've had a long night." You tilt your head to the side and he answers you before you can ask the question aloud. "No need to worry, sweetheart, we just had to deal with a few things in order to make this place more safer for you."

"Oh." You frown and he can already feel the guilt rushing in. "I'm so sorry."

"No, my dear," Seokjin is quick to say, "you have no need to apologize."

"I-I didn't mean for the dog to go or anyone else, I-I just-"

"You were frightened, my love, and no fear of yours will ever be taken lightly," he tells you as he take ahold of your hand. "You have no need to be sorry for something that is not yours to control. Those wild ones were at fault, it is not in your hands to choose what will frighten you and what will not."

Going through drastic measures just to make sure you are safe and protected, just to make sure you are comfortable at a place that will be your home for the rest of your life. You are touched by their actions, touched by everything they do for you and your eyes begin to tear up. Seokjin smiles softly at the sight of you, understanding what you mean through the touches and goes on to brush away your small tears.

"Come on," he whispers as he takes Taehyung's hand off him to sit up, "I know you have been curious to see my stars."

Oh.

Right, you are.

You grow excited as you gently untangle Namjoon from you and take Seokjin's hand. The two of you giggle as both Taehyung and Namjoon whine for someone to hold in their arms, finding the both of you gone so they reach for one another instead. "Let's go," the God of Stars whispers in your ears and the two of you run off hand in hand as if you are on a little adventure.

You remember the familiar walls into some place you had never actually gone before. The castle is huge after all, but it all comes to you as you look back on the memories that they had shared with you, watching and growing excited as Seokjin himself cannot wait to show you his own room that is filled with stars. You anticipate this moment most of all, knowing exactly where you will go yet also understanding that seeing it in person will be so much more incredible just as you have seen all the other rooms.

He comes to a grand set of golden doors that is designed with wreaths and vines with a star right in the center. "Ready?" He asks and you nod eagerly.

When Seokjin holds a palm between the two doors, it isn't long before it glows brightly and magically opens all on its own. You are met by a portal just on the other side and squeeze the Star God his hand to tell him that you cannot believe you are finally getting to see this. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and the two of you walk right into the portal that transports you onto a platform with the galaxy all around you.

Your heart beats rapidly at the sight of the stars, constellations amongst constellations, stars connecting one another, milky ways, and everything else you do not know the exact names to. Seokjin allows you to run towards the balcony, your body lurching forward as you hold onto the white railing and look down. The small island you are on hovers in the galaxy where the night surrounds it all as if you are floating in the universe.

The Gods only surprises you more and more no matter how much you have seen in their memories.

"This is so beautiful!" You breathe as you close your eyes for a moment to take it all in. "I cannot believe I am soulmates to not just one but seven Gods who holds so much power and have the privilege to see all of your worlds."

Seokjin smile when he walks up to you with a hand rounding your back protectively so that you do not fall from the small island. "We are the most lucky of them all to be able to share our worlds with you." He listens to the beat of your heart as it flutters and loves the way you lean back to curl up along his side. It is still a wonder how he was able to be fated with seven; six Gods and a beautiful mortal. No matter how the world may see it, the God of Stars understands more than anyone that names that have been written in the stars will never fall out of place.

He loves you so much just as he loves the six Gods and when he feels that you've heard his thoughts and feel the heat of your body rising, Seokjin lets you hide your face against his chest, a chuckle escaping him because he knows you must be blushing red. Oh how sweet their little mortal is with a gentle heart that is the most purest of them all.

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He watches you from afar, the sight of you in a new day under the bright sun that has become his whole life. The Sun God does not know how such beauty can exist. He has seen it in through the other Gods, always feeling such blessing falling upon him from the first moments he had first met them and even now as he stands years after, he still falls hard for the beauty that befalls each of his soulmates.

And now it is your turn, once just a mortal who now has immortality given by the wisteria. He watches you with a fond gaze as you look out the balcony that leads down to the garden unlike the one in your shared room. You have no idea he is there, your beauty only stunning him further. It almost looks as if you are glowing under the Sun, whom, he knows, has also become fond of you. He has her to thank, for leading him to your mountain, for letting them finally meet you. She has been through your worst days, watched you time and time again as you grew into the person you have become, hoping to give you as much light as she can.

He has read the Sun's thoughts, how she always felt guilty for not being able to give you warmth, but Hoseok knows not to blame her and he knows you would never as well. That is how kind he knows you are, a heart made of gold, and he knows that from now on, the Sun will always watch over you and protect you from anything that will ever dare to do you harm. He smiles graciously at her before returning his gaze to look upon you again.

"My love?"

You jump slightly at his voice but immediately relax when you know that it is Hoseok. You look away from the view to bless him with a sweet smile and he finds his heart fluttering. Oh how Hoseok loves being in love.

"Hello, Hoseok."

He smiles gently when you walk up to him and lean against his soft touches when he holds your face. You are happy right now, so happy, and it makes him proud of how far you have come. "Do you sometimes miss the cold, sweet Y/N?" He asks you, knowing that your whole life you have been surrounded by the winter cold.

You giggle at his question and allows his heart to burst. "Our tribe has always wanted to meet Spring," you tell him as you let him look back on your memories. Your village always speaks of the beautiful season, how they wish that even if it will last just one day, they would take it in a heartbeat. The young children will dream about it, the young adults complaining about how tired they are of the cold, the elderlies knowing they will see it one day when they lay on their death beds.

"And you?" He asks.

"I am happy things are the way they are," you tell him and he sees how you think of your first meeting with them, how frightened you had been at first, but also how relieved you were to find out you would not die that day but to live on and on. "I am so, so happy. After all, I met Spring the moment we met."

He wants to hide the fact that he wishes to kiss you but how can the Sun God ever hide anything from his soulmate? Not especially when the two of you are touching and you both can hear each other's very thoughts. So he slides his hand away from yours, clearing his throat a little awkwardly as he looks away, not before noticing the little blush that has made it onto your cheeks. He knows you are not ready yet and knows it is not the time just yet, understanding that you need a little more time. He will be ready when you are, when you can give yourself to them, not when he wishes for it to just happen.

Because Hoseok is a gentleman. He will not force something upon you and let you know his little wishes to grow closer to you because he does not want you to think that you must do something if he so wishes. He is still a powerful God, knowing fully well how you see yourself below his level and may sometimes feel self conscious because they are so high and mighty. He doesn't want you to feel as if you are obligated to reciprocate his wishes so he lets out a sigh.

"Forgive me, little one, I did not mean-"

You take his hand again to rest his palm right against your cheek and his eyes widen at the blush on your face and the understanding of what it is you are too shy to speak aloud of, feelings hidden inside, something only he and the rest can read.

You wish to kiss him as well, to feel his soft lips against yours, to understand what it is like to kiss for the first time, to kiss a God.

"My love," he worries, "you do not have to-"

"I understand, Hoseok," you've read his worries but still you are determined to do this, to let him know that it is not because he wishes to kiss you but the fact that you want this all on your own. You wish to kiss him. "Please?" You ask and he does not know how anyone can say no to those precious eyes of yours that looks up at him, reflecting that of a puppy.

He feels a slight shift in you and realizes right, you are not fond of the animal. "Forgive me." You shake your head in response to him, smiling to let him understand that you know he means well.

So the God of Sun beams softly. You are ready for him when he holds you with both hands, heart drumming hard against your chest with rosy cheeks adorning your face to let him know that you are also nervous. Nervous but excited. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours, breaths gently grazing against one another, and you close your eyes. He watches you through a hooded gaze before his eyes flutter shut the instant his lips meet yours in a gentle, gentle kiss.

Your lips are softer than what he has imagined them to be, softer and sweeter than any dreams that have invaded his mind. You sigh against his lips and he holds you a little more firm, the euphoric feeling both bursting within your bodies. Hoseok is used to this feeling as he is reminded of the countless times he has kissed his other soulmates.

But for you this is your first time, your first kiss, and the first time kissing another who was born to be yours from the beginning of time. Your head spins and when he pulls away, you are standing almost limping against his hold, feeling so breathless as you try to catch your breath.

"I should have gone easy on you," he worries but you shake your head, cheeks still caught aflame as you look up at him with glistening lips. You liked it, you tell him from your thoughts as you tiptoe up to press a little peck on his cheek. Hoseok chuckles as he feels his stomach bursting with butterflies.

But as much as he wants to swoop you up and carry you to the bedroom, his eyes catches the Sun behind you and frowns. He hasn't gotten more time to spend with you and when you hear his thoughts, you let him go gently. But he knows you are feeling a little sad knowing he has to leave right now so Hoseok gives you a small smile with a hand stroking your cheek. "I will be back in no time, alright?" He promises. Your cheeks never cools down, making him chuckle when you nod at him shyly. "Wait for me."

"Mmn."

When he disappears to transport himself elsewhere, your thoughts are in shambles as you walk back slowly to the bedroom. It takes a while with how slow you are going as you try not to think back on the kiss but how can you not?

Once you make it into the room again, the door closes behind you as you lean your back into it, eyes still widened, cheeks still red, and a finger comes up to press against your lips. You kissed him, you kissed Hoseok. Well, he kissed you but same thing. He gave you the first kiss you had once dreamt of, never knowing exactly whether you would ever receive such a delicate touch and now here you are in a palace made for your Gods, a life for you to live in forever.

"Love?"

You gasp at the sound, not realizing someone was in the bedroom but when you look up, it isn't just the God of Knowledge. Yoongi has joined him on the bed as well and you blush some more, embarrassed for the fact that they have seen you thinking back on your kiss with Hoseok.

You don't know what to do as they look at you quizzically and knowing how bad it will be if they were to stand up and come your way. Ever since you've met them you never minded being able to share thoughts with just simple touches, but now? Now you really understand how intimate this soulmate thing really is and you aren't sure whether it is a good thing at this moment.

"Are you alright?" The God of Music calls and you are quick to shake your head vehemently to rid of the thoughts.

"Y-yeah." If your face doesn't give it away then it would be the shaking of your voice. Gosh you wish you could easily hide your feelings without someone being able to read it so easily with how it is written on your face. When you look up at them, your eyes instantly falls to their lips and you don't know how you will ever survive this.

Perhaps it would be easier if Hoseok was here to explain things, perhaps then you wouldn't find yourself so pressed to the doors and shrink back timidly as Namjoon and Yoongi leave the bed to walk up to you.

"Do you have a fever?" Namjoon frowns and his hand goes to fall against your forehead before you can stop him.

Oh crap.

"Oh." His eyes dilates when the touch allows him to read your thoughts and Namjoon sees the vision of you and Hoseok kissing just moments ago. Yoongi watches the two of you in confusion, how the corner of Namjoon's lips begin to curl and the way your face refuses to cool. So he touches your face out of curiosity and chuckles when he understands.

"Why are you embarrassed, hm?" The God of Music queries. "We are lovers, after all, kissing is just a sign of declaration."

Oh how you wish someone could just bury you alive. But of course the Gods were never going to allow that, but they understand what you mean. "I-It isn't just that," you say and when your thoughts are given to them, the two of them grins.

"Ah," says the God of Knowledge, "you wish to kiss us as well."

He didn't have to say that out loud.

They chuckle amusingly before Yoongi falls a little more serious as he brush your hair to the side. "My love," he calls, "you have no need to shy away. We are lovers now, soulmates, and if there is anything that you wish to do, it is alright for you to think such thoughts. Sleep with us, bathe with us, kissing us." You wonder how he has such bravery to say such things but is reminded all over again that they've done it all, done everything together. Images of them fill your memories and it makes your heart drum louder against your chest.

"I.." you trail off, eyes falling away from his out of embarrassment, "I-I know."

"Will you look at me?" He asks of you. You hesitate, of course you do, but Yoongi remains patient as he waits for your head to lift up and finally meet his gaze again. When you do just that, he gives you his precious gummy smile. "Look at you," the Music God praises, "I am so proud of you, dear one." He leans down to press a kiss on your cheeks, lifts his head a bit to kiss you on the forehead before his lips trail down, following the line between your brows and down to the tip of your nose.

"It's alright," Namjoon coaxes as he falls at your side, peppering soft kissing upon your shoulder.

You do not mind it so they go further. Namjoon continues his ministrations while Yoongi's lips hover above yours. When you give no refusal, he captures your lips and your heart grows rapidly against your chest. Soft lips nibble upon yours with gently wet sounds as he changes the angle and your mind becomes so hazy. Your fingers cling onto his royal robe, clutching it tightly as a small whimper falls from your lips.

When Yoongi falls away, Namjoon replaces his position. Your heart swoons, tummy filled with dancing butterflies all around, with thoughts filled with just them and them alone. His lips are sweet and gentle against yours, pressing upon them in a manner that has your head spinning all over again.

The moment they both finally release you, you fall against Namjoon's chest who holds you up because you have no strength to do so. One day you will get used to this strong burst of emotions, to the soulmate bond, but right now your eyes droop as you lean against Namjoon's hold who walks to the bed to lay you down gently. "It's okay," he whispers to you when Yoongi falls to your other side. They hold you gently, arms wrapped around your body. "Sleep now, my sweet dove."

You love them and they hear it but you want to say it aloud. Yet your sleepy brain does not let you utter a sound, too tired to even open your lips to mouth it. But they know and that is all you need for now.

You can tell them tomorrow.

.

.

.

"Jin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you...know?"

He doesn't have to read your mind to know what you mean by that. All the Star God has to do is look at the blooming pink rose adorning your cheeks to understand it all. He chuckles at the pretty sight and nods. "Of course."

Right, of course, meaning that the other Gods know as well. You avoid his eyes for your head to point towards the floor, fingers playing with one another as you gulp, trying to pick up the courage to ask him something else. Seokjin remains patient from where he stands, watching the stars as he always does, watching over everything. You aren't even sure if it is right to bother him with this but he has told you plenty of times that you are never a bother to him. If you wish to ask him things, he only encourages you to speak up.

"Why does..why does the soulmate bond, um..." you try to find the right words. Perhaps he will understand better if he touches you but you feel you are already bothering him enough. "Why does it feel..um...overwhelming?" Is that the right word? "Is it for the reason that we are made of eight souls and not two?"

The God of Stars hum. "That is part of it, yes," he tells you. "Soulmate bonds are very powerful, my sweet, so it only grows stronger when it is declared through intimacy. When there is more than one partner, the bond is even stronger than that of two souls because this is not common amongst lovers to love more than one, especially being able to share that love equally. The world happens for a reason, many grows jealous for our love, many despise us for how strong this bond makes us. And because of how powerful it makes us, there is a little drawback to how much energy it can give."

"That's why...that's why..-" you clear your throat and he grins at how shy you can be just saying the word, "that's why, kissing..u-um...that's why it makes me so tired?"

He chuckles. "Precisely."

"Oh." You frown slightly. "I can't imagine how it will be when we—" You gasp, catching yourself almost immediately as you fold your hands over your mouth and Seokjin turns his gaze from the stars to look at you with amusement. There is no mockery in his gaze, however, just pure fondness that makes your heart skip a beat because even though he does not say it and even though you are not reading his mind, his gaze alone lets you know that he truly loves you.

You cannot believe you have been so blessed to be given these Gods as your soulmates. Everyone dreams of a love such as this, to have another watching them with pure fondness and amazement, with a pure love. For them to feel safe and protected. For them to know where home lies the second they meet eyes with their fated ones.

Your God walks on over to you with slow steps, eyes never leaving yours as you look up to him when he holds a hand up to stroke your soft cheeks. "You will be alright when that happens," he whispers.

You don't know how he can say that so casually but then again, you aren't his first time and you aren't the only soulmate he has. There are six more, six wonderful Gods who loves you just as much as they love one another.

"Will I?"

Seokjin nods, humming. "We will take care of you, my love. Will you trust us when the time comes?"

To make love. Gosh you cannot think about it without being a blushing mess so you stumble back from his touch, embarrassed to let him read your thoughts because with him being so close to you, it only makes things more dangerous for the good of your heart. It beats rapidly against your chest and you are quick to turn, knowing you cannot look at him straight in the eyes when you are like this. One day you will have to come face this bravely but one day is not here yet and you still cannot even speak right with just the word kiss.

So you awkwardly clear your throat as he watches you nod from the back. "Y-yes," you stutter, "I will trust you then. But..but, um...I-I'm already a bother so you..you should, should get back to your stars. Goodbye."

You can hear him letting out a soft chuckle when you run back into the portal to transport back to the castle.

.

.

.

"Ah, there you are."

You turn at the voice with a hand pressed onto the floor and a head looking over your shoulder to find the God of Ocean and Hearth walking into the room of the wisteria. You gift them a smile as they walk closer, wondering why they have been looking for you.

"There is a banquet tomorrow evening, will you join us to meet the other Gods and Goddesses?" Jungkook asks and your eyes widen a little at the invitation.

"A banquet?" You echo.

He hums. "Everyone knows we have found our last soulmate and are very intrigued on why we have been keeping you hidden in the palace."

"There have been a few banquets prior to your arrival here but we know you hadn't felt too comfortable leaving the grounds just yet," Taehyung says. "And besides, we wanted you to get used to this life first and get used to us. Gods can be quite invading and we were too protective of you to just let you go while you had yet to know of everything."

You giggle softly at the God of Ocean's words. "You were afraid of me wanting to live elsewhere and not here with you?" You interpret and they pout cutely when you caught them. You shake your head lightly as you grin. "That will never happen. You are the ones who saved me after all. Soulmates or nor, I would have stayed with you."

"Well that's relieving," Jungkook chuckles as he scratch the back of his head. "So will you join us? We have no need to go if you are not comfortable, we can just stay here if you'd like."

You shake your head again. "I would love to go."

Their faces brightens with soft smiles before the God of Ocean takes a hand out to offer to you. "Supper is served," he says. You reach out to take his hand but stop in midair as you realize what that means, suddenly retracing sheepishly because right now you cannot afford any of them to hear your thoughts just yet. It is all over the place and you absolutely cannot let Taehyung hear this. His smile falters when he puts his hand back at his side at your rejection and you are quick to jump onto your feet.

"I-I did not mean it in that way, I promise!" You declare. "I just...um..-"

"I understand," he tells you otherwise with a small smile that does not hide his moment of hurt. "It's okay, little one. Come on, the rest are waiting."

As you follow them from behind, your hands tug at your dress uncomfortably, suddenly feeling bad for letting him misunderstand you in this way. Taehyung thinks you've rejected him and when Jungkook shoots you a small smile just the same, you know you've messed up. After all, they know you've kissed three of their hyungs and maybe, perhaps, very likely, they were hoping you were ready to kiss them as well.

But now you've only made things worse because you wouldn't allow them to read your thoughts that is filled with everything about them, just them. You can't just reach for his hand to make him feel better because then he will be able to read your thoughts and right now you cannot let him do so. Not yet.

Oh how you wish you were braver.

Dinner goes smoothly...you think. But it is when you are left alone to your thoughts in the bath do you not feel so great again.

It isn't right for you to be so silent when they have declared their love to you plentifully. You know you've told Namjoon and Yoongi but that was all in your head. You haven't said it aloud and the rest of them haven't heard it said to them yet. So perhaps that is why Taehyung and Jungkook had been a little more hurt by your rejection, believing you love only two of the Gods and not everyone.

But that is so untrue yet you aren't sure how to do it, if you are brave enough to do it. But then again, you ask yourself why aren't you brave enough? They have declared their love for you, showed you how much they care, always looking out for you and doing what is best to keep you safe and warm. What is it that you have to be frightened of? They love you and you love them and you know that soulmates written under the stars shall never break apart even through death.

So why are you not brave enough? Why must you keep silent and hurt them further? Making them believe you love some of them more than the rest?

It is untrue and you have to let them know, you have to let them understand. But as much as you want to hide with the fact that they can easily read your thoughts to understand it all, even though you know that will be so much easier, you also know that it will be best to say it aloud first, to declare it aloud before you let them see into your heart. You have to tell them first before you let your heart tell them the details of it.

When you step out of the bath and wrap yourself in a white robe, your eyes fall at the evening robe that hangs on a hook and the long mirror that lets you see yourself. You watch those eyes looking back at you, fingers falling upon your wet hair, tracing the outline of your face, your brows, your eyes, nose and lips.

And it makes you wonder why they love you.

They are Gods, such powerful Gods, possibly the most powerful Gods to ever exist all due to the soulmate bonds that keeps them connected. Your hand strokes your soft cheeks, lips staying pressed together with brows that creases just a bit. You are loved by seven Gods and here you are, now an immortal yourself, still trying to get the courage to speak your heart aloud.

It should not be this hard, right?

Maybe if you hadn't been forced to grow up so alone then perhaps things could have gone a lot easier. But as Seokjin had said before, the world happens for a reason. Your tribe being attacked, you being left to live alone for ten years, saved by these precious seven souls, and now loved by them all all because you are you. A kind, sweet soul who cares so much about the world.

Perhaps you indeed deserve such a love, perhaps you indeed deserved to live on.

Their love lets you reflect on everything and the longer you look at yourself, you begin to see tears brimming along your waterline as your heart cries for how much they have given you. They've showed you that you deserve anything and everything and now you must pick up the courage to let them know that you appreciate everything and has fallen so hard. You know it must not be easy for them either but they've always been so strong for you, keeping you safe, loving you when you had yet to accept the new life and know that you deserve such wonderful things.

They've done so much for you and you know you cannot let them think that one is more than the other. You have to let them know.

"Y/N?" You turn at the call of Jimin's concerning voice and gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Oh.

They've heard you crying and now here they are again, always trying to make sure that you are alright. Knowing this, more tears well up and falls away before you can stop them, making your heart ache a little more. Their brows knit together, eyes filled with worry at the sight and they try rushing to you but you step back with hands held up to stop them. "W-wait!" You cannot allow them to touch you.

Not yet. Not just yet.

Questions fall upon their faces and you close your eyes, letting a few tears fall freely, taking in a deep breath before releasing it shakily. When you open your eyes again, your lips curl into a soft, soft smile that confuses them even more. They think that perhaps you are trying to let them go, a pain shooting at their hearts, but when you open your mouth to speak, the tightness in their chest releases.

"I love you," you say. "I love you all so much and I just wanted to thank you," you wipe a tear away though more falls and you sniff, "for loving me while I was still at a loss and couldn't understand why." The lump in your throat tries to hinder you from speaking but you swallow it to push through. "I love you for all that you've done, being patient with me, keeping me safe, always thinking of me and doing all that is best for me. I am still so, so shy, and I'm not sure if I will ever find the courage to say these things out aloud again but just know, just know that as you are holding me and reading my thoughts, know that I will always be wishing to say everything out aloud.

"I'm sorry for not being able to say this before. I'm so, so sorry if I ever caused any misinformation to let you to believe I was rejecting you by not allowing you to touch me. Truth is I was just afraid to let my heart speak before I could do it myself. Because I know that the heart understands the inner conflicted feelings before I myself can say anything out loud. And I was scared because I didn't know whether I truly deserve this or not, whether I truly deserve your love. But I understand. I understand that soulmates that have been written in the stars shall never fall, I understand that, that our love is meant to be. I'm so sorry I've just realized it. I'm sorry."

"Oh, love." Jimin wipes his own tears away as they come to surround you. "My sweet one, you have no need to apologize."

"You've just been so patient and, and I..-"

"We know," Yoongi promises. "We know so hush, it's okay. You're alright now."

Jungkook cradles your head as Taehyung brushes your tears away. Seokjin holds your face and you feel a rush of the wind at your sides, drying your hair and replacing your bathrobe with the evening gown.

"We are so proud of you," Namjoon vows. "It is never easy to speak your feelings aloud but it's okay now. We understand, dear one, we know."

"I love you," you declare again, sniffling, and they smile, smile so softly.

"Oh, love. We love you so, so much. We love you more than the universe itself."

.

.

.

When they hear the familiar footsteps of the last soulmate to meet them by the entrance door of the castle, their heads turn your way for the world to slow down and fall away, nothing else falling into their line of vision except you as you walk down gracefully with a sheepish smile their way.

The dress you have on is a soft color in golden champagne, flowing freely down to the floor as it drags when you walk, decorated with shimmering golden vines that curls all around the dress. Soft pink roses connect together at the waist of your dress and falls atop your shoulder where the lace cape drags down your back. You also have on a beautiful crown designed in pink florals and golden butterflies, matching all that you are wearing. They do not know how you can impress them even further and show that your beauty comes different with certain occasions; when you wake up, the moment after you bathe, the night before you head to sleep, your casual dresses when you walk around the castle, and now here for a banquet.

You are ethereal, more beautiful than anyone they have seen before and their hearts beats rapidly just knowing that you are theirs.

Everything about you is beautiful and they already know for sure how some of the Goddesses will grow jealous of this beauty of yours once they set eyes on you, and how the other Gods may try to catch your attention. They shake their heads at the images, mentally scoffing and rolling their eyes because you are theirs, you belong to them just as they belong to you.

"Wow," your eyes dilate at the sight of them and a little soft pink reaches your cheeks before you avert your gaze to the floor shyly. "You are handsome," you tell them and their hearts swoon.

"And you are more beautiful than Spring itself," Jimin says as he holds your chin for you to look up. You smile sheepishly at him and he chuckles, taking your hand into his. "Are you ready?"

When you arrive at the banquet, you stick to their sides, never releasing your hands that holds onto Jimin's arm because everything becomes unfamiliar and it is not the same garden you are used to back at the palace.

This one is large and gorgeous but it can never compare to the one the God of Spring has made on his own. Pretty flowers round the stoned paths in roses, pansies, lilies, and many more. The lampposts that station around the garden are wrapped in green vines that curls all the way to the tip, and pretty fairy lights shine everyone's paths. You look around like a curious little kitten, blinking surprised at all that surrounds you. The realm of the immortals is definitely more beautiful than Earth can ever be.

Ah, but then again, you've only been in one place and that would be your mountain and the snowy grounds that surrounds it. Yet you are sure Earth is still less beautiful.

Beside you, Jimin laughs softly as he's read your thoughts and you are reminded all over again that soulmates are given such ability, making you giggle yourself.

"So this must be your last soulmate." You shrink into Jimin's hold as you are met by a Goddess who smiles so beautifully your way. She is gorgeous and you find yourself shying away at her stare. "Oh she is so cute," the Goddess practically squeal when she coos, making your cheeks catch aflame and allowing your Gods to chuckle.

"She is, isn't she?" Hoseok beams proudly as he pets your head.

"Tell me, how in the world did you all manage to find yourselves another beauty?"

Catching the sight of the familiar seven Gods, more comes on by upon hearing the Goddess going on about you, curiosity filling their minds and you shrink further back at the sudden attention. Many comments upon your pure, gentle soul who looks too cute and beautiful for anything and it makes you even more flustered by everyone. Eventually (and thankfully) the crowd falls away when your Gods ask them to give you space and not horde around you. They do not say it allowed but you can feel their protective selves becoming more visible and you giggle, allowing Taehyung to playfully pinch your nose because he is not particularly fond of you calling them cute when they feel such way.

You are theirs after all, and no one should continue looking at you for much longer than a few minutes. You should be only for their eyes to see especially when you look particularly beautiful tonight. Perhaps you like this side to them, and when they hear your thoughts, it is your turn to huff and shy away all over again, making them laugh aloud.

After moments of walking around to personally meet a few Gods and Goddesses along your soulmates' sides, you are left alone to freely explore on your own. The curious side to you walks around to make little conversations with a few immortals on your own though you are still a little shy when it comes to talking to strangers.

You walk around the maze garden that falls a bit deserted while everyone mingles around the large center. You follow the fireflies that blinks like little flashlights, feet bouncing lightly as it trails away from the brightness of the garden banquet. Your dress trails behind you as you stray away from the center, running from right to left with just the fireflies as your source of light, getting yourself lost in the maze. But you know that you will be alright. After all, if your Gods need you, they can easily find you with no difficulties.

"Hello there."

Your breath hitches, jumping at the sudden sound because you hadn't expected anyone else to stray from the garden and walk in the maze. When you turn to the source of the voice, it is the sight of a God you think you have seen before while reading some of Namjoon's books. It must be the God of the Underworld, Hades. He watches you with a sly smile that falls lopsided against his lips, body leaned against a hedge before standing straight to approach you with light steps.

"I have never seen you before," he says, voice deep as a brow raises before snapping his fingers as if he's just realized something. "You must be their last soulmate then. Y/N."

It is a bit surprising even the God of the Underworld knows of you but you decide to pay it no mind, only nodding as you hope your voice does not come out too cowardly. "Yes, I am."

It doesn't work because Hades chuckles knowingly. "You have no need to fear me," he tells you but it isn't really him you become so frightful of. No, your eyes only dilates as your breath is caught up in your throat when you watch in horror at the sight of the animal that walks up from behind him. Hades' brows furrow as he falls at a loss at your trembling figure and the way your body turns from him, hands clasped around your lips while your eyes shut tight.

Cerberus. Three headed dog.

You are too frightened to scream. One because you do not wish to disturb the peacefulness of the evening banquet and two because you can't. Tears brim along your eyes while you try to hide the whimper that begins to fall from your lips behind your hands. But it doesn't really help. Hades can hear it muffled out of you.

He has no idea what you are frightened of. Surely he isn't that scary, is he? "Is something the matter?"

"P...please get it...g-get it..a..away."

A laugh falls from him as he realizes what is happening. "You're afraid of dogs? I knew mortals were quite weak but I had no idea they were this weak."

Someone wraps their arms around you, pulling you in close to their chest and you don't have to look up to know who it must be just by their scent and the touch alone. "Leave, Hades," the God of Stars command in a grave voice as Jungkook silently tells you that all will be alright, that they are here now and you have nothing to be afraid of anymore. But you can still feel the presence of the dog and it only reminds you of the cruel memories that has terrorized you plenty of times. Jungkook understands, of course he does, because no matter how connected you are with the Gods, the God of Hearth shares something a little deeper as his hearth comes from Earth.

So a hand comes behind your head as the other remains on your back, his touches whispering soft gentle words to soothe your pain and comfort you through the memories.

"This is a banquet, is it not?" You hear Hades saying and through the feeling of Jungkook's protective and caring self, anger burns his body so immensely you are surprised this is him. You're used to your Gods being so kind and gentle, never have you actually ever witnessed their angry sides.

"I will not repeat myself, Hades." You do not have to touch Namjoon to understand his anger as well. They are all angry as you hear growls from the back of their throats all hinted towards Hades who does not fall back even when asked to. The pride within him restricts him from doing as he is told even though the God of the Underworld knows he cannot go up against the seven Gods who are the most powerful especially when together. Your Gods are fuming with wrath, not fond of anyone threatening their soulmate's safety which in this case would be you and you can hear the thoughts of Jungkook as he holds you, knowing he will burn the whole garden down if it means Hades will leave.

But their anger towards the God of the Underworld elicits growling from his loyal dog who does not like anyone trying to go up against his Lord and it makes you whimper, body shrinking more towards Jungkook who hears your thoughts.

You don't care about Hades or anything anymore, you just wish to go home. So he lets out a sigh though he is still riled with anger and turns to the God of Knowledge. "Let's go, Namjoon."

You feel their eyes turning to you at those words before sighs leave their own lips and you are brought back not a moment too soon.

"We're home now, little one. You're alright now."

But you don't leave Jungkook's arms, still so, so afraid because the horrible memories of that Winter day will not go away despite Cerberus now nowhere to be seen. His eyes fall with pain and worry as he holds you, meeting the Gods with an understanding gaze and just letting you cry it all out. Your heart hurts, body still trembling, and when you feel you cannot hold your body up for much longer, Jungkook picks you up to walk on over to the bed and have you sitting right on his lap.

"Shh, it's okay, my love, it's okay." He continues whispering soft words to your ears, rocking your body gently against him while pressing soft kisses upon your head. The others come to surround you, hands holding yours, pressing kisses upon your shoulders while you sob and sob.

"You're okay, you're alright. Everything will be alright. We're right here. We'll always be here."

"..Scary..." You whimper.

"I know, I know. We'll make it all okay again, alright? You have no need to be afraid anymore."

"We'll always be here. We'll protect you from all that threatens to harm you."

"You're our precious mate and we will never let anything happen to you again."

"We'll make it better."

.

.

.

You awake at the feeling of gentle fingertips running along your face, stroking it with soft touches, and small incoherent whispers beside you. They fall into a comfortable silence when they feel your mind drifting out of unconsciousness. Once your eyes finally releases from the haze, you see both the God of Ocean and Spring looking down at you as they prop themselves up against their elbows.

"Good morning," Taehyung greets with a gentle smile.

"We are here, love," Jimin says when your mind is reminded of the nightmare you had before, blurring your vision and feeling so thankful that they are here right now. The God of Spring leans down to press a soft kiss to your head and almost instantly you feel your tense body relaxing once more, mind now clear of anything that would harm you.

"Thank you," you whisper, voice still trying to adjust to the waking world. He nods at you and you feel another kiss placed upon your temple. Taehyung brushes away the tear that fell when you blinked and kiss the fingertip that held onto the salty water droplet.

"Feeling better?" You nod and he smiles, relieved. Your brows knit just slightly when you realize no one else is in bed because you do not feel anymore presence to fill up the empty spaces. Usually when you have woken, all of your Gods would still be around before breakfast is served and they'll run off to their own duties. The God of Ocean hears your thoughts and returns to stroking your soft cheek. "You slept in this morning, my love. It is almost noon," he explains. "We have agreed on two of us staying here until you awake so that you would not have to be greeted by the emptiness of the room."

"Oh," you frown. "I'm sorry."

Jimin shakes his head. "No need, my little flower, you had a rough night after all. Now come," he helps you sit up as Taehyung uses his powers to wheel a tray of food forward, "you must be hungry."

There are plates of fresh toast and sweet biscuits along with two eggs, a cup of milk, and a bowl of sliced fruits set onto the tray that is placed onto your lap. Your two Gods do not allow you to use your energy as they feed you on their own, letting you bite slowly and taking your sweet time. It comes to no surprise that the food is delicious because everything you you've had will always be the best. This is the house of Gods after all, and they will have nothing fall below standard.

When you grow full, they let you run off to the bathroom to get ready for the new day though help you with brushing your hair. You sit in between them on the bed as Taehyung runs a brush through your soft hair and face Jimin who plays with the soft delicate touches of your fingers. You see his subtle smile when the God of Spring stares at them, his thoughts echoing to you with nothing kept a secret. It is odd to him how small you are, hands a tinier size than his despite how small his is compared to the rest of the Gods and especially the one behind you who has the largest of them all.

Everyone's hands engulfs his and yours and he is proud to be able to engulf your own. You giggle as his thoughts passes onto you and Jimin looks up, grinning sweetly. "Little rose, I have heard the mortals spreading myths of how the size of how hands reflects the size of our hearts but I say that is preposterous."

Taehyung laughs. "I say the myth is fair."

"Fair?" Jimin scoffs. "That's only because your hands are ginormous."

"And so is my heart," he hums.

"Maybe so but look at us," the God of Spring clasp your hands together and holds it up for the God of Ocean to see, "our hands may be small but our hearts are much bigger than it."

"Hmm...perhaps you're right."

"Perhaps?" Jimin echoes, scoffing again and this time with huff. "My heart is big and you know it."

Taehyung shakes with a choral of laughter before he releases the brush to sit it on the soft mattress and reaches for Jimin's hands that had fallen out of yours. "Love, you know I was only playing." With you in between, the God of Ocean pulls Jimin forward just slightly so that when he leans in, his lips can meet Jimin's cheek.

"You missed." The God of Spring still feigns to be upset so Taehyung chuckles at his lover, leaning in again to capture Jimin's lips.

Your heart skips a beat and perhaps they hear it, perhaps they feel it because their kiss does not last long and now their heads are turned your way. You grow petals pink after being caught and the two of them looks at one another with a sly grin curling at their lips before they return the attention on you again. You swallow, heart beating hard against your chest as your eyes fall away shakily because you know they can hear your thoughts.

"Hmm..does the little one want a kiss too?"

You shrink at the question, feeling your face heating up even more because they know, they can hear your thoughts yet Jimin asks that.

"I want to hear you, little one," the God explains. "After all, you said it yourself, did you not? Your heart understands what you want before you can try to say anything out loud."

Taehyung hums. "And that whatever is said in your heart, you want to say them all out loud but you are far too shy."

"Can we hear it, love?" He holds your chin and lifts it easily, lips curled upward to a side as he looks down at you and your heart only burns some more. His thumb delicately traces along your lips as Taehyung's fingers gathers your hair to put it a side so that your neck is exposed for him to softly graze against. Jimin leans in at your distracted mind filled of both him and the Ocean God, forehead resting against yours with his nose just centimeters away from yours, breath hitting you as he speaks. "Hm, love? Can you do us this little favor?" He smells like soft petals and peaches perfectly combined. "I want to hear your sweet voice."

You hesitate but you can never take your eyes off him no matter how bold Jimin's gaze is, feeling the need to just give him all that he wants. He grins knowingly at your thoughts, feeling his ego boosted and your eyes fall away shyly again. He pouts and you almost want to giggle at how desperate he is for your attention so you give it to him again, cheeks still flushed. "I..." You gulp, brows furrowed and not knowing whether you are brave enough but their touches encourages you on, telling you to go on, that they'll take care of you. So you let out a soft sigh. "Jimin.."

He's excited. "Hm?"

You look away for a brief moment before meeting his eyes again. "Can you..can you kiss me?"

Jimin's heart flutters as he grins brilliantly. Oh, what a sweet little soul, he thinks. "With pleasure."

When he captures your lips, it is so soft and delicate. Jimin's hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you in towards him closer as if you are not close enough, lips dancing with yours as he effortlessly takes the lead. Taehyung's fingers circles your neck and down your exposed collarbones and you are sent to heaven, an eternal bliss, a mind that is filled of them and just them. Jimin kisses you like you are a precious gem, like you are so fragile and he cannot bear to break you.

When his lips pull away, another hand comes to your face to turn you and your lips are captured by another, barely given any time to take a breather. "Mm...so sweet," Taehyung whispers against your lips and you feel Jimin's hands flicking your hair down back behind your neck again. He peppers kisses to your neck and you make a little sound into Taehyung's lips. It all feels so sweet and blissful but the familiar overwhelming feeling returns and your head spins.

When the God of Ocean leans away, he chuckles at the way your strength had left you and holds you up to have your body resting against his chest instead of falling back onto the mattress. "Dizzy?" Jimin observes after leaving your neck, his fingers coming up to brush your hair behind your ears. You nod weakly. "Don't worry love, the more these moments happen, the dizziness will no longer return and you'll come to embrace this overwhelming feeling."

"That's not fair, you already tired her out before I could get a chance." When another voice comes in, the three of you look up to find the God of Hearth near the doors as he tsks lightly, arms crossed against his chest while he pouts cutely.

Taehyung laughs. "You are to blame for not taking up the chance to remain here with our little love."

Jungkook huffs. "I had business down on Earth."

"You went to Earth?" Your brows raise, mouth forming into a little 'o.'

He nods as he walks forward to reach the bed. "I go there pretty often. The Earth needs my hearth after all, but I am usually disguised as a mortal."

"Where do you usually go?"

He sits in front of you while you're still using Taehyung for support and he takes a hand, smiling as he greets it with a kiss on the back. "The north and southern poles or anyplace near it." He pauses for a second before speaking again. "You know, I have not found any other hidden tribes who resides on mountains."

"We had a sister tribe," you tell him and he sees through your memories of the stories the elders would go on and go about back when you lived on the mountain. "I assume they were possibly raided as well and no one survived. Perhaps the snow buried their homes."

"Mortals can be quite cruel," Jimin sighs.

"But it's okay," Taehyung says as he plays with your hair, "Hoseok and Seokjin has condemned the murderers."

"Right."

"How are you feeling, my love?" Jungkook asks as he looks at you with some concern. He isn't just asking about the aftermath of the soulmate bond but of the night before as well, wanting to know if you really are alright again. They're still so protective of you, hating any pain and affliction to fall upon you and would do anything just to relieve you from them. You are reminded of that moment at the garden and your eyes fall to the hands that holds your own. "What is it?"

"You are all so sweet and kind," you say, squeezing his hand as you turn to look at Jimin and Taehyung before returning your gaze to the one before you, "and after last night, I know I would never want to get on your angry sides. It was scary."

They chuckle, knowing you mean well and Jungkook holds your palm up to press a kiss there. "You will never have to fear of our wrath pointing your way," the God of Hearth vows. "How can we ever get upset with you? You are our lovely little flower."

"The seven of us alone does not fight very often," Jimin says. "After all, we are soulmates, we're all soulmates, so we understand each other more than anything and anyone. There is no reason to hold secrets, no reason for misunderstandings to ignite."

You are reminded of that moment back at the wisteria, refusing to let Taehyung hold you and allowing him to look and feel hurt. The God takes your hands from Jungkook and presses a gentle kiss to your head after hearing your thoughts. "Moments like that can happen, though," he tells you and lets you see the memories of that time he and Yoongi almost went to bed upset and hurt. They of course resolved the problem in the end before anything could get worse. "As long as we communicate, love, there is no need for anyone to lose their temper."

"Okay."

He hum. "Okay?"

You nod as you look up at him with a loving gaze before it falls and you're looking back at Jungkook. The dizziness has gone away and your mind isn't so hazy in blindness anymore. You'll get used to this, you know you will. After all, kissing them is rewarding and quite lovely so you'd be glad to getting used to the strong soulmate bond. The God of Spring and Ocean chuckles knowingly at your thoughts, leaving Jungkook in question when you look down with a blooming blush because he isn't touching you.

The God of Hearth doesn't go on to touch you though, because he feels you will tell him if you want or place your own hands on his skin. The moment lasts a few long seconds more before you're letting out a sigh and deciding to be brave about it. You want to kiss the youngest one of the Gods so you will and you can feel Jimin and Taehyung both waiting with anticipation and excitement.

"Kook...?"

"Hm?"

"May I?" You ask. His brows furrow with confusion and he's about to reach up to touch you but you hold your palm up to stop him, causing him to blink but place his hand back onto his lap, respecting your wishes.

"Go on," he tells you though is unsure of what you mean.

You take a deep breath again, hearing the two Gods beside you silently cheering you on as you step up to your knees and watching Jungkook with an intense gaze. He waits, anticipating what will happen, when you place your hands on his shoulders and lean in to press a quick peck right on his lips.

His eyes widen at the sudden and unexpected kiss that was honestly way too quick to him to truly enjoy. So he chuckles at the way your cheeks roses even more because you are so shy and he's proud of you taking that courage to take the first step on telling him what you want without him needing to touch you. He hears your thoughts now, ones that whispers soft i love you's to him and Jungkook's eyes crinkle as he shows you that boyish smile. He puts his hands on both sides of your waist and pull you onto his lap, lips pecking right upon your own.

You're beet red and he laughs, pressing another quick kiss before he leans in again for it to last longer. His kisses are playful and sweet and it makes you chuckle out sweet giggles that echoes into the large room, sounding like music to their ears as it mixes with the smacking sounds of kisses and your Gods' soft laughs.

Your morning that day is filled with the soft ringing of laughter echoing into the room with the wind carrying it out the open windows that leads to the balcony.

.

.

.

The garden is even more beautiful than the one you had seen at the banquet, walking down a lone path under the starry night skies. You cannot sleep that night but your thoughts are filled with only pleasant thoughts. The purple blossoms that follows the path you walk on is divine, a type of flower you know must not exist on Earth with how ethereal it looks. It glows only at night, light sparkles glittering and falling out into the skies from the center of its petals. You close your eyes, welcoming the night breeze as it passes along your side, thankful for the fact that one of your soulmate is the God of Spring.

The stars above shines brightly, creating a blooming milky way that is entirely different from the view on Earth. How did you fall so lucky to be written under the stars with wonderful Gods whose hearts are made of gold? You are so lucky to be blessed with loving Gods who will not hesitate to do anything for you.

"It isn't fair, you know." You jump a little at the sound and turn to find the God of Stars standing a few feet away as he leans against a pillar with a slight frown.

"Jin," you sigh, greeting him with a smile before pouting at the sight of his furrowed brows. "What isn't fair?"

"I am the oldest," he says, making you even more confused. "Do you not believe that I should have been the first one, or one of the firsts, to claim your lips?"

Oh.

He sulks at the fact that you have kissed all the Gods saved for him, an underlying insecurity falling upon him though he hides it behind a pout and a playful tone. But you can understand your God of Stars without him needing to explain or you needing to touch him. Seokjin is a patient God, one who will never rush anything if you are not ready just as the rest, but you know that it must confuse him to come to know that you have already shared lips with the others.

"I'm sorry," you say sincerely as you come to walk towards him. Seokjin stands straight from the pillar and takes a small step back at your approach. You stop, frowning.

"No, my love," he tells you with a small smile that is all too painful. "You do not have to force yourself if you do not wish for it."

"Oh Seokjin," your heart falls for him. He worries for you, not wanting anything to be forced no matter how much he wants it because he is a gentleman. Seokjin is afraid, you can see it in his sad smile, and if these past months has taught you anything, it'd be that you have come to understand them a little better without having to feel. "I promise you I am not feeling forced to do anything," you say as you start walking again and falling silently relieved when he does not move this time. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant for this to happen when I kissed them."

"No," he sighs, "I know you did not. You have no need to apologize, I just-"

You take his hand once you come close enough and let your face sweetly nuzzle against his palm. You let him know that you want this, you truly do, and that you aren't afraid of it anymore. Perhaps another step further is still further in the future but right now, as you're taking things step by step, you want this, you want to share kisses with them. With all of them.

"I want this," you say it aloud as you gaze up at him with a sincere gaze.

He falls silent for a moment, just watching you as if he is mesmerized, as if he is entranced, and it only makes your heart flutter because you can hear his thoughts. "Really?" He asks though he can feel you. You respond with a small nod. "Hm," he hums softly, thinking. You want to laugh at how he's deciding to play hard to get with this and roll your eyes.

"Do you want it?"

"Do I?"

"I'll give it to you."

"Will you?"

It is even more hilarious when the two of you can understand the confirmed feelings by the touches so you chuckle and he follows along to the amusement, echoing your gentle laugh. "But just know," you hold up a finger, "I am no expert just because I have kissed the six of you already."

He hums. "I know."

But he makes no move and it leaves you standing flustered. "You..y-you can't," you stutter, "you cannot expect me to make the first move?"

Seokjin shrugs. "You did it with Jungkook."

"But that was just a little-"

"No excuses, my dear." he tells you, pouting. "Do you not believe that you owe me a little something? Hm?"

You mirror his pout and let out a small sigh. "Alright," you decide and take a deep breath. You don't know how you will ever get used to this when just one little peck gets you so flustered but because Seokjin is still a bit upset, you know you cannot refuse his request. You have to do this for him. So you place your hands on his shoulders, mimicking the action you had done with Jungkook and close your eyes shut with feet tip toeing up because he is tall, and press a kiss right on his lips before letting out a little crying sound as your head buries against his chest out of embarrassment.

The God of Stars laughs. "It's not funny," you chide with a pout and can still feel the lingering sensation of his lips.

"My sweet galaxy, do you really believe that I will accept a little peck as a kiss?" You huff and leave his arms with flushed cheeks, your pout deepening. He grins at the way your eyes refuses to meet his, knowing the exact reasons why. But he understands so he lets out a sigh. "Alright, I'll let this one slide since I love you and you're my shy little star."

He backs you up against the pillar, taking your face into a hand and squishing your cheeks. You don't know how he can act in such a way that makes your heart skip a beat but also be so playful about it. So you let out a soft whine, cheeks puffed out with your lips turned into a duck because of the way he holds your face. "Seokjin~"

He laughs that cute laugh that only makes things worse for your heart and you huff again. "Alright, alright," he says, calming down. At least he's feeling better so you know you aren't exactly upset with him. Seokjin smirks at the thought though there is an underlying soft fondness in his gaze as he feels thankful for you, only reminded of how much he loves you. Seokjin pulls your face forward and leans in, pressing a soft kiss but leaving too fast just like you had done.

You're about to say something when he leans in again, this time slower and more sensual. The grip upon your face releases and is replaced by both hands that holds you in a gentle manner as he presses you up further against the pillar. Your heart skips a beat, beating rapidly against your chest at how skillful and sweet he is. Your mind retraces back to those memories that belongs to him, knowing the God of Stars has the most experience in such field. He's had experience even before meeting his soulmates but who can blame him? His face alone will make anyone drop to the floor and it makes you a bit at a loss on how you should feel. He's yours now, so you won't have to worry about anyone else, right?

"Focus on me, sweet one," the God of Stars whispers against your lips to let you take a little breather for just a split second before he's capturing your lips and heart again. "I'm yours, my dear," he vows and nibbles along your lower lip. "I'm yours."

Your thoughts are filled with nothing but him while your heart continues to race on and on into the starry night.

.

.

.

The God of Sun watches you from the doorway while you sit in a comfortable armchair near the center of the room with a piece of clothing on your lap, thread and needle in a hand as you sew through something white and fuzzy onto the golden fabric. He smiles at the sight of peace and serene, knowing how you like to keep yourself busy and use some time to do things you like.

Most days you will read in Namjoon's library, or walk around tending to the garden, or becoming friendly with their elements; the wisteria, the sun, the stars, and the fishes in the ocean. Today you are in your own element, sewing something that looks like something they have gotten for you. You like to redesign a few things if you can, giving your own touches along their spoiled gifts because it makes you feel closer to them. He smiles at the sight, loving all that belongs to you. Your heart and thoughts are the most gentle out of everything.

Thunder rolls outside, causing your head to perk up and look on over towards the opening balcony where the windows instantly falls closed on their own upon the sound of rain beginning to fall from the clouds. It has been cloudy this whole day so it wasn't a surprise to Hoseok that it's beginning to rain but you look a little surprised, eyes probably too focused inside to notice the weather.

But you don't mind the rain because anything aside from the constant winter you had been used to back on the mountain is beautiful. Sunny days are gorgeous, rainy days are pretty.

A gasp that falls from your lips leaves him to quickly revert his attention back on you and he sees the way you whine as you hold up your forefinger, whimpering. Hoseok is by your side in an instant as he surprises you by picking you up and moving you towards the sofa where he sits you on his lap, a hand coming up to hold your pricked finger and hold it to his lips. One kiss alone is enough to heal the pain and take the blood away.

"Hoseok.."

"Did you not tell me once that a seamstress must never fall distracted?" He reminds you as he brings his lips to greet you on the temple.

"It was the thunder's fault," you pout and he erupts with a laugh before another voice walks in.

"You cannot blame mother nature for your moment of recklessness," Taehyung says.

At the sight of the rest of your Gods arriving, your heart flutters with excitement and Hoseok chuckles knowingly. "I have a question," you say clapping your hands together.

Jungkook takes the seat you had sat in before, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jimin sitting on the sofa directly from you and Hoseok, while Namjoon sits across Jungkook and Yoongi comes on to settle himself beside you and Hoseok. "What is it?" The God of Knowledge prompts.

"Does it ever snow here?"

Jungkook raises a brow. "That sounds like you want for it to happen."

You shrug lightly as your eyes fall back on the work in your lap, returning to pick up your needle to begin threading through again. "I was just thinking," you say with a soft smile, "I don't think the snow will bring back bad memories anymore. After all, I was born on a snowy day and grew up with it my whole life. I just want to be reminded of the good times back on that mountain, be reminded of everyone there."

They watch you with a soft gaze, fondness falling upon them as they smile because of how much you've grown. Yoongi brushes your hair to the side, a hand stroking your cheek in a gentle manner. "We're so proud of you, little one."

You look up, beaming.

"Well, anything can happen," Jimin tells you. "We'll just have to wait for December to come."

"I came here around January," you remember, confused. "Shouldn't it have snowed then?"

Hoseok props his chin up against your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck. "You wanted to meet Spring, remember? So we had to make it happen, because our sweet soulmate could not take the cold anymore and we didn't want you to continue suffering." Your heart blossoms with a thousand heartbeats that escalates, fingers pausing on the needle as you look up at Hoseok. He hears your thought and squeezes your side. "When it comes to you, love, we will do all the impossible just to make you smile."

You fall silent for a moment and can feel the tears beginning to brim as you look through his thoughts. "You were going to make it Spring  all year round?"

"Of course."

You have heard that Summer can grow very overheated, the sun becoming overwhelming from time to time that no mortal likes to leave the house just as Winter can get quite cold. But it's already been months, somewhere around July, and the heat has yet to come. This place is paradise because of them, being able to control the weather in however way they'd like, being able to make it Spring all year round just for you. Because you wanted to meet Spring. Because you liked Spring.

Your lips quiver as you drop your needle and turn to wrap your arms around the God of Sun. "Thank you," you whisper when the rest almost has a heart attack at your tears. It's soft, so much softer than the storm that falls outside. It doesn't scare you so you're fine, knowing the plants need their water from the clouds. And you know that no matter how quiet you may be, they hear you, they always hear you.

"Oh love," Hoseok sighs contently as the Gods come to surround the two of you.

They love you so much and everyday when you think you're already at the end, you end up falling deeper and deeper in love. Perhaps as the years passes on and on, the love will grow even more than it is at this moment. You are so blessed to have them in your life, to be saved by them, your soulmates. No other love will ever come to compare with theirs. "I'm so happy," you sniffle.

Yoongi sends you a gentle smile when you look up again to look at them all. His hands reaches out to cup your face, fingers brushing away the tears that have fallen. "We are too, my sweet muse." Namjoon hums softly in agreement while Jimin takes your little work to set it aside on the coffee table inside the circle of furniture so that the needle doesn't accidentally hurt you again.

"You may look pretty when you cry, my love, but we prefer your beautiful face when you smile instead," Taehyung says.

"Sorry," you giggle.

He beams, sighing. "There it is."

Seokjin takes a hand of yours. "We can make Winter return if you'd like. It will definitely not grow as cold as it was on the mountain, however, because we would never want you to freeze and see you in pain."

"Thank you." You squeeze his hand.

"I have another good news." You look on over at Jungkook with anticipation, head tilted just slightly to the side as you blink, wondering what he wants to say. He takes a second, pulling something out from his pocket then shows you his fist before opening it right in front of you. Your breath hitches at the sight, eyes widening and tearing up all over again when you catch sight of the nostalgic memory hidden on the object he holds out to you alone.

"My mother's bracelet..." you breathe when a tear falls and another comes. You had lost it one day traveling through the snow and because the strings were too frail to even hold together after you tried fixing it, it snapped and slipped right out of your wrist when you weren't paying attention. You tried to look for it when you realized it was no longer there but it had been impossible to do so under all that snow. "How..?"

"I saw it in your memories," the God of Hearth says as he smiles and gently goes to brush your tears, "so I retraced the steps back when I returned to the mountain. I know how much it means to you." The bracelet is in a much better condition, strings now strong and firm along with the colors of the beads looking as bright and new as it had been firstly given to your mother. You have no words, too touched that saying thank you again sounds too worthless to say so. But he hears you. He understands. The God of Hearth takes the bracelet to roll it onto your wrist with a smile.

While the rain continues falling and falling, dropping against the windowsill constantly, your heart is warmed with delight and love that you have no words that can perfectly describe how you feel. But that's okay because as long as your Gods are here, touching you, they can understand all that cannot be described with words. "I love you," you tell them instead, sniffling.

Namjoon chuckles. "No more tears, okay?"

You nod, wiping away the remaining tears on your own before showing them the smile that they love so much.

"That's right," Jimin muses, "you are the most beautiful when you smile."

[iphoenixrising]

The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

**

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal. 

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.” 

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference. 

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger.  That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–” 

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.”  And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit. 

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends. 

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

**

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him. 

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes. 

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

[artsy-moonwalker]

Would you go into more details about your OC’s backstories?? They all look so cool 😆

I would love to! Thank you so much for this question :)

I'm going to focus distinctly on their childhood for these descriptions.

(mentions of drug addiciton, war, and violence)

Before I get into their backstories, it is important to address their environmental situation for context.

In their childhood, there was a civil war going on within America. This is a fictional war, of course, taking place in the early 2000s. Lenis, Everest, Flint, and Darryon all have their parts to play, and the war affects the four in different ways. While Lenis, Everest, and Flint are trying to escape war from their hometown and cross the country, Darryon and his siblings are attending shelters and risk their lives trying to help in any way they can.

So now that we have some context of their biggest childhood dilemma, let's get into the four individually. I won't go into complete detail to avoid any spoilers I'd like to share later on, but I will dive into their personalities and importance. I don't know how long this post will be, but I'll try to keep it as short as I can.

Lenis, 13 years old - tall, blond, a bit tan, a distinct scar on his left jaw, brown eyes

Lenis lives in a small town in Ohio. It's a bit run down, and his house is in bad shape. Considering his family is lower class, he doesn't have much money to spend, and he gets by with what he has. He lives with his two strict parents, him being an only child. But he takes care of a stray cat that lives in a forest behind his home that he calls "Otter." Whenever he tries to get the cat to stay in the house, his parents don't allow it. They can't exactly afford to take care of an animal, especially when they have to pay for his monthly medication and doctor visits.

He has a bone condition where his bones are incredibly fragile. He can't walk for very long, and running is even worse on him. It doesn't take a lot of force to break a bone either, and he's had to visit the doctor numerous times for fractures and snaps. So he has a medication that helps him not feel the aching as much, and allows him to walk or run for a time. He is in no way a strong person. His physical strength is constantly challenged and he feels like a burden to those he loves whenever they have to make sacrifices to just to help him. Especially when it comes to his best friend, Everest.

He is always being protected by Everest. He's taken multiple punches for him, he has to carry him sometimes, he can't do a lot of outdoor activities with him due to how easy it is to get injured. Lenis hates this. He hates being held back and he hates that his best friend has to be held back too because of it. He often tells Everest that he can do things himself, but that ends with him getting hurt more than not.

Lenis really is a grateful and humble soul. He tries to find the good in every situation no matter how painful it can be. This is especially apparent for his friends. If anything is troubling them, he will do what he can to get them through it. His optimism was a lot more prominent when he was a child, though. After escaping war, he finds it difficult to find the good in bad situations. But that doesn't mean he won't try to. It's safe to say the light in his eyes are faded as he grew older.

Everest, 13 years old - short, red head, blue eyes

This is Lenis' best friend, that's how everyone at his school titles him. Because he is constantly by his side more than he is alone. He knew Lenis since he was a toddler due to their mothers being friends, and ever since then, Lenis would nickname him "Evvy." Everest was always like a brother to him. He was incredibly protective and would often put Lenis before him.

Emotions and Everest don't exactly work well together. He tends to be reserved. Cold and bitter, even. If he's showing any extreme emotion, it tends to be anger or frustration. But he has a soft spot for Lenis. He's really one of the only people around him that can make him smile. Other than his mom, of course, who he lives with down the street from Lenis. His mother was pregnant before he left home; his father having left after a short and abrupt divorce. Little information was given to him about why that occurred. But his mom was happier, and that's what he wanted. He was never close with his father anyway.

Everest knows that his protectiveness over his friends, especially Lenis, can be a fault at times. He's gotten hurt many times due to it, both mentally and physically. And it isn't even because his friends are defenseless. He knows they can protect themselves if they need to, but he cannot help himself. He can't let them get hurt if he can stop it. He speaks bluntly, and his words may go over a few lines, or he may be prone to starting arguments, but he is incredibly selfless. He means well in every action he takes despite all of that.

Flint, 12 years old - short, black buzz cut, large dark eyes

Flint is a troubled child to say the least. He's callous towards others, he seems to only care about himself, and he isn't afraid to use force and threaten violence. He was Lenis' biggest bully after ending his friendship with him in a desperate fit to steal his pain medicine. Yes, Lenis and him were friends before that. And Flint truly wanted to continue the friendship, but he needed those pills. Lenis wasn't going to just give them to him. So he had to resort to violence, thus harming Lenis, and regretting it later.

It's easy to think that maybe Flint had a drug addiction, and stole Lenis' pills because of that. But that isn't the case at all. It wasn't because of an addiction, it was for a much deeper reason.

His younger sister, Penny, was facing a horrible sickness that was going to kill her if she didn't get the right treatments. His mother, being constantly intoxicated with alcohol, spent all of her money on things she didn't need. So she couldn't afford Penny to have any treatment at all. Flint, who has been basically raising his little sister, decided to take matters into his own hands, and find any possible way to make her feel better. Even if it meant harming Lenis for some pills.

Flint loves his sister more than anyone. Or loved, at least. She unfortunately didn't make it long after the pain medicine incident.

He wants to be good, he really does. But Flint is difficult to get along with. Especially with Everest. Much like the red head, Flint has a short temper, and they always fight with each other. But also like Everest, he has a soft spot for Lenis (he is sort of like the peacemaker of the group). Flint is incredibly emotional, and he always says what's on his mind, even if they're not so nice things. He feels regretful for a lot of things, though. He's trying to be a better person, and befriending Lenis again is something he is determined to do.

Darryon, 12 years old - Average height, black curly hair, dark eyes, has an intense burn scar along his face

Darryon lives in California with his siblings, and only his siblings. His parents died in a car crash while they were on their way home from a relative's house. The war was breaking out, and they were caught up in it at the worst possible time. Darryon's oldest brother was a soldier in the war, and his oldest sister was her younger siblings' guardian while he was gone. He has five siblings, not counting himself. Three girls and two boys. And he is very close with each of them, especially his oldest sister, Carlitha. She followed shelters, and he did the same. For a long time, she was concerned for his wellbeing considering just how dangerous a job like this was. They were always venturing in war zones and had to face many hardships. But even at a young age, Darryon wanted to be part of something bigger than himself. His parents' death were a big motivator in his efforts, and he found that helping others get through the war was an effective coping mechanism.

He didn't go through these hardships without consequences, though. On one occasion, a shelter he was attending got bombed, and he was caught in the flames, leaving the brutal burn marks you see on him now. These marks filled the mouths of the other kids at his school when he tried going back. But how can anyone go back to a normal life after that? Luckily he had a good group of friends to back him up during his good and hard nights.

He has a very distinct sense of humor, and finds it easy to entertain himself when no one is around. Some of the kids at his school think he's weird because of his behavior at times. He talks to himself out loud, he has a funny laugh, he has a few imaginary friends (one stays with him even in his adulthood), etc. But he embraces those things more than anything, and his friends don't care, so why should he?

When he isn't helping at a shelter, he finds time for himself or his family. For example, he's very fascinated with nature, and enjoys drawing what he sees around him in a sketchbook. He's pretty good at it too. What started as drawings of birds or gardens soon turned into drawings of burnt landscapes and debris of towns. He liked to draw the people he would meet in shelters as well, and he kept every drawing, not knowing if that person survived after they parted ways or not.

Darryon's story does collide with the others at some point. He and his sister go to great lengths around the country, of course they're going to befriend Lenis, Everest, and Flint at some point, and it will certainly stay that way.

If you read this far, thank you! I really hope this little introduction to them has intrigued you, and if not, that's okay too :) I want to share more about them later on, and I plan to write out chapters to get the full story soon as well. I've been working on this story for more than a year now in private, and I'm really having fun, so I'm excited to share it with you. Thank you again!

[bloodied-teardrops]

Anon

I loved your headcanon of yandere Levi with a short s/o! Could you make headcanons for the rest of the brothers please????

They’re all tall and I love it as a small person.

Warning for mentions of maiming and cannibalism

---

Lucifer

Regardless of your height, he’s going to treat you like a pet because of how weak you are compared to him. And other demons. It’s much better for you to be his pet partner than anything else in the Devildom.

You being short just makes it so much easier for him to carry you around in one of his arms as he goes about his day. At a desk? You’ll be in his lap and you better not interrupt him while he works. The only time you get left alone is when he has to leave you alone or is going to be crowded with a bunch of demons.

He enjoys dressing you up, especially in his own clothes. They’re so big on you, it’s adorable. If he just so happens to hand you a collar, you better put in on. Or he will and he’ll make it tight enough that you’ll be uncomfortable the whole time and you won’t be able to loosen it..

Mammon

Mammon doesn’t really notice your height unless he’s putting jewelry on you. Then he notices how things tend to be long on you, if you have thin wrists and ankles, he’ll take note to get smaller pieces to better fit you.

There’s not much of a difference from how he would treat you if you were taller. You’re his regardless and he takes care of what’s his!

Well, he might be a little bit more careful with you because the size difference just reminds him of how small you are. How fragile. Like a baby animal and those are so weak and easy to kill. Good luck trying to leave his side or his room!

Satan

He calls you kitten and little one more often if you’re short. Satan goes out of his way to find more pet names that refer to your size while sounding sweet. Whether or not you enjoy it is up to you, but he’s never going to stop even if you ask.

He likes reminding you of the size difference. Of how much bigger and stronger he is compared to you. Does he have a slight complex due to being shorter than Lucifer? Just a little bit. But if it makes you feel any better, there’s plenty of things for you to roll yourself up in in his room. He finds it precious if you happen to make a blanket nest on his bed. Just like a little bird.

Except you’re never going to fly away from him because he won’t hesitate to cripple you. He might even if you don’t make an attempt to escape because you’d be so dependent on him if you couldn’t walk. Ah, but he doesn’t want you to hate him so how can he make it look like an accident?

Asmodeus

Oh! Aren’t you just the cutest doll? As one of the shorter brothers, Asmodeus lives for how tiny you are compared to him. Needing help to reach all the things in the house, Asmodeus loves how much you have to rely on him. He did move things to lower shelves in his room, but everywhere else? Rely on him, cutie!

He adores having you in his lap or in his chair, you’re just so small compared to him. Maybe he should get you a matching chair? Smaller to be just right for you. But you look so cute with his stuff too. Ah! He really can’t decide. There’s so much he wants to do with you.

But Asmo also loves putting tight pieces on you with straps digging into your skin. You look so cute in oversized things, but tight things? You’re so tempting, it’s honestly a miracle you manage to put the whole ensemble on before he’s tearing it off of you.

Beelzebub

You’re so tiny compared to him and he both loves and hates it because on one hand, it’s really easy to pick you up, but on the other hand, if he isn’t careful, he might break you.

He just has you lay on him when you sleep, holding you firmly so that you can’t get away and get yourself hurt without him to watch over you. He never wants you out of his sight. Beel will take you everywhere with him because he’s so scared that some demon will think you’re a tasty little snack (which you are and maybe he fantasizes about it a little, but it mainly manifests in making you come on his mouth all day and night) and eat you the moment he takes his eyes off of you.

Beel’s much more protective and thus, much more violent to anyone he thinks might be hurt you. You might be subjected to the sight of Beel eating another demon more than once.

Belphegor

You’re the perfect pillow. Just right for holding close and never letting go in his sleep. He’s always pulling you against him to cuddle no matter where you might be. Belphie especially likes to lay on top of you. He could crush you and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Don’t worry, he’s not that careless to do that, but he will threaten you with it.

He won’t pick you up, but he will drag you along with him wherever he goes. Compared to his pillow, he prefers you. You’re so warm with the blood pumping in your veins. Even if you happen to be cold from sweat, he doesn’t mind. Sleeping with you is always so nice.

It’s so much easier to transport you too since you come with your own legs and it’s more easier to get his lover in with him instead of a pillow. There’s no point in you sitting in a chair when you can sit in his lap and then the two of you can just take a nap at the event.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You’re Safe Now

Prompt: aaaa, i love your story ‘imposter syndrome’!!!! I love the dynamic between black and purple, it’s so sweet!! but what would happen if purple was a little kid, and a stowaway on a ship, and black ended up finding them? how differently would black react to an even sweeter and tinier purple??? (if you could write a small one shot or somethin based off of this, please do!!! only if you wanna, though!!!!)

Ahhh yess! ahhhhh yesss more of protective black, this time with little baby purple!I didn't wanna full on call this an au in the tags, but this is an alternate version of my longer fic 'impostor syndrome,' except purple is a lil bb. you don't have to read that first but you can if you want to--this one is more of an alternate timeline where there's very little context in the first one important

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, but nothing explicit

Pairings: impostor!black adopts lil bb crewmate!purple, nothing romantic

Word Count: 3471

Black is a senior Impostor. Deadly. Dangerous. This is hardly the first mission they've been on and it is far from the hardest.

...it is the first one with a stowaway.

“You fucker!” Red claws at their suit with the fury of a frenzied animal. “You’ll fucking pay for this!”

 Black muscles them into the airlock and slams the door shut. Red pounds their fists against the glass.

 “I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me? I’ll—“

 Black’s fist slams the button and the airlock opens. Red’s furious body vanishes in the sudden decompression.

 At least the anger was a welcome alternative. For all the work that humans had done to build up their reputation as fearless, remorseless, and absolutely uncaring about anyone other than themselves, so few lived up to it. Especially in death.

 Black rolls their shoulders back and strides off down the corridor. The ship is empty now, save for their own steps echoing off the metal walls. Good. They can barely breathe with the stench of human fear roiling off of every surface. And soon enough they’ll be off this damn ship, back to Polus.

 They shake their head as they round the corner. They really are getting on, aren’t they? Mission after mission after mission. They all blur together after a while.

 Black stops.

 Tilts their head.

 Takes one big breath in…and out.

 What is that?

 Another scent. Not fear, that won’t go away for a while, but something else, riding the undercurrent. Something…less acrid, less bitter.

 They take another breath. Their maw begins to snarl.

 Red was the last crewmate. There aren’t any more humans registered on this ship.

 So why can Black smell another one?

 They fall into stance quickly, one hand going to their knife, the other checking the rest of their weapons, before stalking along the corridor. Their footsteps are silent against the metal floor. Their suit melts effortlessly into the shadows.

 Their maw rumbles in anticipation.

 Electrical. Of course.

 No one would bother to hide in a death trap unless they were certain they weren’t going to be looked for. Black feels their mouth turn up into a smile.

 Blur together they may, but a mission does have its fun moments every once in a while.

 Their footsteps barely give them away over the humming of the room, creeping inside under the flickering lights. They close their eyes for a moment to scent the air again.

 The human is close.

 Black turns, pivoting effortlessly on the balls of their feet. Their gaze lands on the space between the lights panel and the back of the computer terminals.

 There you are.

 They creep closer. Closer. A shadow falls over the machines. Inside, there is a human.

 Black leans forward and—

 —stops short.

 There is a human here, but not—well, not what they expected.

 They’re not wearing a suit, that’s the first thing. Instead, they’re wearing a shirt that dwarfs their frame and a pair of trousers covered in singes. Their hair is tied back messily, but not enough to keep it from getting caught on different parts of the machine.

 For another, they’re fucking tiny.

 Not just because they can fit into this small space—how did they even get themselves in there?—but because their head looks barely bigger than Black’s hand.

 Also, why is there a human juvenile here?

 Black shakes themselves. No. Now’s not the time to lose concentration. They refocus on the child.

 The child looks back at them, blinking slowly, their hands cupped around something in their lap. They tilt their head as much as they can as they stare at Black.

 Black tilts their head.

 The child mirrors it.

 They tilt their head the other way.

 So does the child.

 They lift their hand up to give a little wave.

 The child’s arm looks hurt, they realize, as a little wave comes back.

 “Hey, there,” Black says after another moment, “what’re you doing?”

 The child scrunches themselves further into the gap. “Hiding.”

 “I can see that.” Black runs a finger down the machines. “What’re you hiding from?”

 “Everybody.”

 That takes Black by surprise. If the child were just trained to hide from Impostors, sure, but…everybody?

 “Did the—does the crew know you’re here?”

 The child shakes their head. Black squints as they take their bottom lip between their teeth, chewing so hard it looks like it must hurt.

 “Hey, hey,” they call, “don’t do that, you’ll make yourself bleed.”

 “I’m supposed to.”

 Fucking what?

 “You’re what?”

 “I’m supposed to be quiet,” the child says, and damn right they didn’t mean make themselves bleed, “this keeps me quiet.”

 Black shifts, crouching down properly to stare at the child. They’re so…small.

 “Why are you supposed to be quiet,” they ask, lowering their own voice, “what are you afraid of?”

 There’s a pause. Then: “nobody wants to see me. They don’t like to know that I’m here. So I’m quiet and then I don’t get in trouble.”

 They curl up a little tighter.

 “…I don’t want to be in trouble.”

 Unbidden, Black’s maw snarls. They dragged a child onto this ship and forced it to hide away? Under threat of…who the fuck knows what?

 “I’m sorry.”

 They snap out of it when they see the child flinch away.

 “Hey, shh,” they caution, “you’re going to hurt yourself on the wires.”

 The child doesn’t listen, still shying away. Only when Black realizes their maw is still rumbling and forces it to shut the fuck up do they relax a little. Black sighs, glancing over their shoulder.

 “Come here.”

 The child’s eyes widen.

 “Come here,” Black repeats, holding out their hand, “or at the very least, come out of there, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

 They shake their head furiously. “Can’t. Can’t come out. They’ll be mad. Can’t be found.”

 “Whoa, hey, easy, it’s okay, no one’s mad.”

 “You are. You will be. I’m not supposed to make noise. I’m not supposed to be found.”

 “I’m not mad,” Black says patiently—since when have they ever been patient with something that wasn’t a mission?—still reaching out, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 They keep shaking their head. “Getting spotted means punishment. Punishment hurts. No. I’m safer back here.”

 Another wave threatens to fully split Black’s maw. What the fuck happened to this child? Why the fuck are they here? Children are supposed to be safe, cared for by their people, not cowering in a dangerous place because being seared by wires is safer than being out in the open.

 And why did the crew know nothing about it?

 For now, though, the now-familiar scent of fear hits them and they bite back a curse.

 A child is a child, human or not.

 “Hey,” they call quietly, trying to soften the rasp of their voice, “hey, listen to me, just listen, okay?”

 They shift, trying to make their posture as non-threatening as possible.

 “I’m not mad at you,” they continue, watching the child’s eyes follow their every move, “I’m not going to punish you. I just need you to come out of there, okay?”

 Those eyes narrow. “Why?”

 “You’re hurt.” They indicate the child’s arm. “I want to have a look and make sure it doesn’t get worse.”

 Unconsciously, they cradle it to their chest, even though the suspicious look doesn’t go away. “Grown-ups don’t care if I’m hurt. They just want me to be quiet.”

 Black swallows their rage. “I care,” they say instead, “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

 “Are you going to hurt me?”

 “No, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 “But I hurt myself and you don’t like that.”

 “I don’t like the idea of you being in pain,” Black says through forced patience, “and I want to help.”

 “Why?”

 Why, indeed. Black ignores it and wiggles the fingers on their outstretched hand again.

 “Because you’re still too close to the wires,” they say instead, “and if you stay back there much longer, they could hurt you very badly.”

 The child’s gaze finally softens and oh, oh, they look so small.

 “Come here,” Black calls again, gentleness seeping into their voice, “please?”

 “…you promise you aren’t mad?”

 “I’m not mad.”

 “Promise you won’t hurt me?”

 “I won’t hurt you.”

 The child shifts a little. They hug their injured arm to their chest and take their lip between their teeth again. Black lets out a soft noise, wiggling their fingers again.

 “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

 Finally, finally, they start to move. They shakily try to get on all fours, crawling out from the gap, only to let out a sharp cry when their shirt gets caught on the machines.

 “Shh, shh, easy,” Black soothes, “it’s okay, you’re just a little stuck.”

 “I can’t—I can’t move—I—“

 “Easy, just look at me, okay?” Their frightened gaze snaps to Black. “That’s it, baby, just look at me, I’m right here.”

 “I’m stuck!”

 “I know, baby, I know, shh—“ Making sure their gaze is still on Black’s helmet, they reach a little further into the gap— “try and take my hand, baby.”

 They reach, crying out when they try and rest their weight on their injured arm.

 “Shh, shh, other one, baby, you can do it.”

 Their hand is so small and soft and fragile. Black fights down another wave of anger and holds tight.

 “I’ve got you now, baby, now try and come to me.”

 “I can’t, I’m stuck, I’m—I—“

 “I know, baby, just try for me.”

 Out of their line of sight, Black grits their teeth and lets a single tendril flick out, disguised by the shadows, and yanks their shirt away from the blockage. They barely have enough time to reel it back in before they suddenly have a lapful of human child.

 “Hey, hey, easy, baby,” they murmur, “you’re alright now, see?”

 The poor thing is still trembling in their lap, their face all but buried in Black’s chest. Black coos, wrapping their arms tightly around the shaking bundle and softening the suit into something a little less abrasive.

 “Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, you’re out of there now, you did great.” Their maw rumbles softly. “I’m right here, I’ve got you, you’re okay now.”

 It takes far too long for scared little fingers to reach out and clutch at Black’s suit.

 “There you go, baby, just hang onto me,” Black rumbles, rocking them a little back and forth, “you’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay now.”

 “They’re—they’re gonna be mad at me—“

 “Who’s gonna be mad at you, baby?” Whose ass do I need to kick?

 “The—the crew, I’m—I’m not supposed to be here—“

 Stowaway, Black’s brain realizes finally, they’re a fucking stowaway.

 “The crew is gone,” they say instead, gently pulling the little thing closer, “it’s just you and me now, baby.”

 The child stills. Then they look up and Black almost coos at the blatant hope on their face.

 “…you mean it?”

 “Yeah, baby,” Black murmurs, running their hand through the child’s hair, “just you and me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 “So…” Those little fingers clutch a little tighter. “…I don’t have to be scared?”

 Oh, baby…

 “No,” Black says softly, “you don’t need to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”

 “You won’t be mad at me and punish me if I do something bad?”

 “No, baby.”

 “Oh.”

 Black blinks as the smell of fear slowly begins to fade, replaced by the softer, sweeter scent from before. In their lap, the little one shifts closer, their arms going shyly around their torso.

 “Can I—can I stay here for a little longer, then?”

 “Of course you can baby, we can stay here as long as you like.”

 The child immediately snuggles up to them with an eagerness that takes Black by surprise. Less than a moment ago, they were shying away from them, suspicious, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, and yet here they are. Curled up in Black’s lap.

 Black’s grip on them tightens marginally.

 Children are supposed to be kept safe. They are supposed to be raised to know what care looks like, to know what it is to be treated well so that when they do go off on their own, they can recognize what it looks like when someone mistreats them.

 Hiding away, afraid to make a noise, stowing away on a spaceship is not what that means.

 The child squirms in their lap and they look down.

 “Am I holding you too tight?”

 They shake their head, still squirming. “Tickles.”

 “What does, baby?”

 “Your tummy.” They shift again. “Tickles.”

 Ah. Black’s maw is humming, contented with the knowledge that the child is safe now, here in their arms, in their lap. A smile tugs at the corners of Black’s mouth as they rumble a little louder, watching as the child squeaks.

 “Alright, alright,” Black murmurs after a moment, stroking their back and making their maw be quiet, “that’s enough.”

 The child goes to hug them again only to wince.

 “Your arm.” Black touches it gently, noting the way they hold it awkwardly. “Can I have a look?”

 The child nods, cradling the limb to their chest and placing it in Black’s hand. It’s fairly badly bruised, but other than that, intact.

 “Can you bend it and unbend it for me?” They do. “Thank you. I don’t think it’s broken, I think it’s just bruised.”

 “It hurts.”

 “I can tell.” They give their waist a squeeze. “How about this, let’s go to the medbay and I can get you some bruise cream and an ice pack?”

 “I’m not supposed to—“ they stop themselves, swallowing heavily— “you said…you said the crew was gone?”

 Black nods. “Just you and me, baby.”

 “So I can…I can have the ice pack? A-and the cream?”

 Oh. “Yes, baby, of course. You’re allowed.”

 They nod shyly. “Then I…I want to go.”

 “Can you stand up for me?”

 They try, only for their legs to give out almost immediately, tumbling back into Black’s arms.

 “Hey, whoa, easy, baby,” they murmur, “it’s been a while since you stood up, hmm?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Shh, shh, none of that now, it’s not your fault.” Black gets them settled again. “May I carry you?”

 The child’s eyes go wide. “You—you would?”

 “How else would we get to the medbay?”

 “O-okay.”

 “Yeah?” The child nods. “Can you give me your hands, baby?”

 Black takes the offered hands, guiding them around their neck and softly bidding them hold tight. In one smooth motion, they slide an arm under the child’s legs and stand, pulling them into their arms. They stand still a moment, letting them get used to it.

 “Alright?”

 The child nods, tucking their face over Black’s shoulder. “Why isn’t your tummy doing the thing anymore?”

 “Do you…want it to do it again?”

 Another nod. Well, that’s easy enough. Black smiles as the child sighs, relaxing into their maw as it rumbles softly again. They make their way to the medbay, setting the child carefully down on one of the beds and fetching what they need. As they turn around, they see the child staring at the floor with their eyes shut.

 “Hey,” they murmur, hustling back over, “hey, what’s wrong, baby?”

 “It’s really bright,” they mumble, “hurts.”

 Right, they’ve been in the dim light of Electrical for…who knows how long. Black turns the lights down a little.

 “Better?”

 “Mhmm.” The child’s gaze lands on the scanner. “What is that?”

 “That’s the scanner. It scans your body to see if you’re healthy.”

 “Wow.”

 “Mhmm.” Black holds up the tin of bruise cream. “Can I put this on for you?”

 “Will it hurt?”

 “No, I’ll be very careful.”

 “Okay.”

 As Black starts to spread a thin layer of the cream over the worst of the bruising, the child lapses into silence, occasionally swinging their legs back and forth.

 “Are you an Impostor?”

 Black’s hands falter for a moment.

 “Yes.”

 They’re going to be afraid again. They’re going to find out I killed the crew and they’ll—

 “Does that mean you can shapeshift?”

Black’s head jerks up. “What?”

 The child cocks their head. “I heard that Impostors can shapeshift, is that true?”

 “Yes…yes, we can shapeshift.” Black gestures to themselves with their free hand. “Technically, I’m doing it now.”

 “You don’t actually look like that?”

 “No.”

 “Oh.” The child swings their legs again. “Can I see you shapeshift?”

 “…if you want,” they say after a moment, “but I’m going to need you to close your eyes for me.”

 “Why?”

 “Because I get embarrassed when people watch.”

 “Oh. Okay.”

 As the child closes their eyes, the rush of trust leaves Black more than a little heady. They close their own eyes, rolling their shoulders to let their human shape form, finding a smile still on their face as it settles into place.

 “Okay, you can look now.”

 The child cracks one eye open, only to gasp in delight and reach out for Black’s face.

 “Easy,” Black chides lightly, “I still need to finish your arm.”

 “But you’re really pretty!”

 Unbidden, heat rises to Black’s cheeks as the child cups their face in their hands, staring at them with the wonder of someone seeing the stars for the first time.

 You are the most adorable thing I have ever seen.

 “I like this face,” the child declares, squishing it a little, “I like it a lot.”

 “I’m glad,” Black chuckles, “and I’m happy for you to look at me while I finish tending to your arm.”

 “Can I play with your hair?”

 In response, Black takes their free hand and rests it gently on their head. “Try not to pull, okay?”

 “I won’t.”

 The child lapses back into silence as Black finishes fussing over their arm. Their fingers card shyly through Black’s hair, uncaring about the slight pressure the bandages put as Black finishes wrapping the bruises.

 “There,” they murmur as they finish, “all done.”

 “Oh.” The child looks down. “Thank you.”

 “Of course, baby.” The hand doesn’t leave their hair. “Having fun?”

 The child nods, their own flush blooming on their cheeks. Black chuckles, raising a hand to gently cup their face.

 “What’s this for?”

 “Can I stay with you?”

 Black blinks, a little taken aback by the sudden question. The child’s hand trembles on their head and they reach up, holding it and giving it a soft squeeze.

 “You’ve—“ they swallow— “you’ve been really nice to me and I—I like you, so I want to—can I stay with you?”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “Yeah, baby,” Black murmurs, smiling as the child’s face starts to split in a wide grin, “you can stay with me. I—oof.”

 They barely have a moment to open their arms before the child all but throws themselves at them, hugging them tightly. Black chuckles, their maw purring, holding them tightly.

 No one is going to hurt you ever again, baby, I’ll take care of you.

 “Thank you,” comes the shy mumble.

 “Of course, baby,” Black murmurs back, pulling them away enough to see their face. They frown, seeing something in their hands. “What’s that?”

 “It’s a, um…” They hold it up, studiously not meeting Black’s gaze. “It’s my flower.”

 Black’s eyes widen. “Indeed it is.”

 A little purple flower with two green leaves.

 “It’s pretty.”

 “Mhm.” The child looks up at them and raises it to—

 I am going to die. I am going to die, right here, because this is too cute.

 The child tucks the flower shyly behind Black’s ear.

 “Now you’re both pretty.”

 “Oh, baby, thank you.”

 The child nods, still looking away. Black can’t stop smiling.

 “Hey,” they call softly, “what should I call you?”

 “Um—“ the child twists their hands together— “I don’t, um…”

 Something twists in Black’s gut as they realize that probably their name hasn’t been…fondly recalled.

 “You can pick a nickname if you want,” they encourage, “I won’t mind.”

 “I don’t have any nicknames.”

 Black thinks for a moment.

 “What’s your favorite color?”

 “What?”

 “Your favorite color,” Black repeats, “do you remember how the crew used to call each other by their colors?”

 The child nods. “Are you—are you going to call me by my color?”

 “Is that okay?”

 “Mhm, but then…do I call you Black?”

 Black smiles. “If you like, yes, I’m Black.”

 “Hi, Black,” the child says shyly, “I’m Purple.”

 “It’s nice to meet you, Purple.”

 “C-can I still stay?”

 “Of course, baby,” Black murmurs, “you can stay.”

[arysthaeniru]

...I hear you’re doing drabble giveaways? :) I would love some nishitani/majima!! I saw you wanted to write a nishitani lives au and i hope you end up doing it because I would love to see how you write them ❤️

Aaaahhhh, thank you for this request <3 I hope you enjoy this little snippet, I really like Nishitani’s dynamic with Majima, because it’s so much about temptation and vices and flagrant hedonism that makes Majima value himself more as a person. Nishitani’s whole shtick is about pleasure and when Majima of Yakuza 0 is convinced he doesn’t deserve that, it makes for an excellent dynamic. 

Somehow Nishitani has found Club Sunshine. Majima notices him on one of their busiest days, on the tailend of dealing with a problem customer, who'd had issues with the quality of their champagne. He's cloistered himself in one of the back booths, entertained by Saki-chan.

Majima snaps to attention and rushes over to the booth, even though Saki hasn't made the hand signal for help yet. He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "Out." He says, shortly, and feels a slow curl of rage within him as Nishitani just turns to give Majima a once-over, slow and lingering, smirk spreading over his face.

"Majima-kun, I didn't think ya'd turn down a payin’ customer." Nishitani drawls, with a self-satisfied grin.

"Payin’ customer or not, yer trouble. Out." Majima snaps, stiffly.

Saki turns to look at Majima, anxiously, but she doesn't seem especially perturbed by Nishitani's presence. What is it about his charm where somehow, girls who dislike being taken for granted, are magically alright with Nishitani's presence? The girls at the Grand too, had been surprisingly unfazed by Nishitani breaking Majima's 'Look-Don't-Touch' rules. "Majima-san..." she says, in that tone that means she's worried about him.

"Ya all good here?" Majima asks Saki, gently. For all that she's a strong woman who is used to taking care of herself, Majima wants her to know she can rely on him to defuse anything uncomfortable for her.

"Don't be so paranoid, Majima-kun. We're getting along just fine!" Nishitani squeezes Saki's bicep, in an overly-friendly way, and Majima scowls when Saki just giggles, not even vaguely discomfited.

"Not talking ta you, am I? Shaddup."

"I'm fine, Majima-san." Saki says, with a sunny smile.

Majima grimaces to and turns his gaze on Nishitani. It's a busy night. He really can't insist on running Nishitani away, not if he's going to behave himself and get them money. He's got other girls to take care of. "One step outta line, and I call the police, pronto. Ya won't get ta fight me at all." Majima says, firmly, and turns on his heel to walk away, before he can get a response.

Inbetween getting refills for Yuki and towels for Erranda, Majima hears snippets of their conversation all evening.

"I like my lovers strong, intent. Makes everything more fun, ya know?" "Nothin’ draws the eye more than a girl who's confident in herself." "Gotta love somebody who can take care of 'emselves."

The whole time, Saki just laughs, handles herself with her usual graceful aplomb, steers the conversation in pleasant, easy directions, showing off her prowess as the former star of Club Jupiter, perfectly adept at handling rougher types.

Majima seethes, quietly and tries to not watch them, listen to them. But he can't help it. Whenever he has even a momentary breather, his peripheral senses can't help but turn towards Nishitani. He justifies it to himself as keeping an eye out for trouble, but if he's being really honest with himself, that's not the primary reason.

Majima's always been drawn to strength. It's the one thing that has always shaped his path, shaped his destiny. It had been what had drawn to him to Saejima, like a moth to the flame, in the middle of those Tokyo streets as a youth. It had been what convinced Majima to chain himself to Shimano’s yoke, get the man’s motifs and markings all over his back. It had been what made Majima so comfortable in Fei Hu’s shop, and so familiar with Lee’s rough approach. A mixture of sheer adrenaline, blood-thumping through his entire chest, a shot of courage, fury and wild chaos, and desire, slow and cloying, curling up in the pit of his stomach, making him light-headed and short of breath. Majima’s life has been defined and drawn around strength, power, desire, ambition.

And Nishitani’s powerful. He’d felt the surges of his strength, precision and cleverness throughout that short fight through the Grand’s centre-stage. If Majima had slipped even once, if Majima had been anything less than perfect, propelled by the fury of confusion, he would have died to Nishitani’s blade.

That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.

Especially not when considering Nishitani’s about twenty years past his prime. He’s from the same generation as Shimano, Sagawa, those old fucks who’ve caged him in, trapped him down. With freckled sun-spots smattered over wrinkling skin, and touches of grey to the roots of his hair, and his scarred, calloused hands, Majima shouldn’t be drawn to him in that way. Old, pervy fucker, he should represent everything Majima hates most about the generation of yakuza above him.

But he can’t help it. Nishitani’s presence is like a livewire, electrifying, dangerous, addictive. And Majima couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

When the evening shift draws to a close, Majima leaves Youda and Yuki to be in charge of wiping down the place and saying goodbye to the last of the customers. He dips out for a smoke instead, to try and gain control of his fraying nerves, to pull himself back into a modicum of calm. He can’t lose himself in this.

He’s not yakuza anymore. Just a man desperately trying to stay alive long enough to let Saejima kill him. And a man trying desperately to preserve any sense of goodness, keep that fragile spark of a girl safe inside that cold warehouse... none of him has room for Nishitani’s advances.

And yet...

“You ever consider lettin’ yer hair free, Majima-kun? Just for a moment?” Nishitani drawls, voice dangerously close to Majima’s. They’re outside the club now, and he’s not a paying customer anymore. That makes this interaction dangerous.

“No.” Majima says, puffing out a cool breeze of smoke straight into Nishitani’s face. The fucker doesn’t even flinch, just grins, that lightly mocking smile.

“Not even once? Shame that. Pretty things like you only gets better when they cut loose a little, live free.” Nishitani says, sauntering around to prop himself up over Majima, trapping him into the wall. It’s at once a threat of aggression, and a threat of something else, something more sensible. His hand comes in close, as if to caress Majima’s hair, but he stops just short of doing it, balances it against the wall instead.

Perhaps he senses Majima’s internal tension, perhaps he knows that Majima will deck him the moment Nishitani lays a hand on him. Or maybe it’s something like respect for Majima’s rules. (Majima dismisses that thought immediately, Nishitani wouldn’t know respect if it came up to him and sucked his dick.)

Despite himself, Majima swallows a little, as he takes another deep inhale of the cigarette. “The fuck do you want? I ain’t tellin’ you where Makoto is.”

Nishitani grins. From up close, Majima can smell the alcohol on his breath, whiskey, cigarettes and something else, a little deeper. It’s not exactly a good smell, but it’s a familiar smell, a comfortable smell. Nishitani is the epitome of the yakuza lifestyle that Majima had grown up desiring.

“Don’t worry, Majima-kun. I ain’t here for that today. Got a little proposition for ya, instead.” he says, licking his lips. Majima can’t look away from his mouth, the slight pinkness of his tongue against his surprisingly dark lips, and so he almost misses Nishitani’s next sentence. “Got a job I need ya ter do for me.”

Majima frowns. “The fuck would I do that for?”

“Issa job only you can do” Nishitani grins, and waggles his eyebrows. “Compensate ya handsomely, of course.”

Majima rolls his eyes, but honestly, for cash-money, he’ll do just about anything for anybody, short of prostitution. Anything to get his debt to Shimano and Sagawa square. “What?” he asks, pretending to be bored, pretending none of this interests him.

“There’s this gambling club I run that’s been real trouble, lately. Won’t listen to a damn word I say, and they seem to be squirreling some cash away, some big winnings they managed to poach from a pack of fools. Can’t have that sort of shit on my turf.” Nishitani says, with a casual ease. “I’d send my boys in, but ya see, someone seems ta have done a number on ‘em, and they look about as threatening as a flock of pigeons, all covered in bandages like they are.”

“You could do it yerself.” Majima says, gaze darting down to Nishitani’s feet. Just over the edge of his socks, Majima can see the bandages, and he’s noticed that Nishitani holds himself with a limp. He’s clearly still injured from their fight, when Majima had shoved his fucking knife right inbetween his tendons.

“I could, but ya see, they know my face. They’d gear up for trouble the moment I stepped within a five-foot vicinity. You on the other hand...” Nishitani leans in, that smug grin only getting bigger.

Majima snorts, before he can stop himself. “Ya say that like everybody in this town doesn’t know my face, too.”

“Lord of the Night.” Nishitani agrees, and his voice hums with approval. “But ya see, yer reputation precedes you. Everybody knows ya don’t start fights, ya end them. So if you started a fight at the gambling parlour, not a damn soul would expect it.” There’s a crazed glint to Nishitani’s eyes, reflecting off the neon signs from the bars around them, and Majima shouldn’t be considering this at all, but he is. The thought of going in and smashing heads of people who actually deserve it always gets Majima’s blood simmering. He can’t help himself. He’s a creature nurtured on a diet of violence, and the Hole has changed him. It shaped him in the image of its own cruelty, and Majima had let its madness into his soul, or he would never have lived to see the sunlight again.

Majima wonders what had made Nishitani this way.

“The fuck would I jeopardize my rep for? For you?” asks Majima, dangerously.

“I’ll owe ya one, just the pleasure of seein’ ya go crazy in there.” Nishitani says, leaning inwards, mouth just centimetres from Majima’s ear. “Whatever ya want, name it.”

Majima’s skin is alit with goosebumps, he feels like a leaf in the breeze, one touch would undo him, undo all of Majima’s tightly laced boundaries, would unravel everything that has kept him safe and alive. If Nishitani pressed even an inch closer, Majima would agree to just about anything he asked. And they both know it, it’s the electric spark between them, Nishitani’s complete understanding of how fragile everything about Majima’s existence is.

But Nishitani doesn’t touch him, just lets his breath caress the inner curve of Majima’s ear and pulls back, eyes glinting with maleficent amusement.

He wants Majima to make the step on his own. He wants Majima to come apart at his own behest. Fucking sadist.

“Well. Let me know. Ya know where ta find me.” Nishitani says, slow and languid. “Be seein’ ya, Majima-kun.”

He saunters away without a care in the world, and Majima lets the cigarette drop from his mouth and presses his back against the wall outside Club Sunshine, desperately trying to quell the fire within him that blazes in indignation at letting Nishitani just walk away from him.

[fragileizywriting]

rain

AO3 | Start here | Next Chapter

Chat Noir hates the rain.

It’s very easy to explain why, and it’s not that hard to understand, because there is that whole cat demon part— because hell doesn’t have rain, so of course it would be his luck that he never got used to it— because it makes Marinette’s scent disappear and wash out of his nose and makes everything all muddy when he tries to sniff the air and, well, he really feels better when he knows where she is.

Marinette herself, the darling little witch, doesn’t hate it as much as he does. She doesn’t use her nose to sniff for him, since she’s only human, so she isn’t too upset when the grass starts to upturn that sappy scent that makes him sneeze— but he does catch her mouth starting to twitch downwards at the sign of the clouds turning dark in the sky, already succumbing to the fact that she’s going to have to listen to him whine about it until it stops raining again.

Ah well. If they’re miserable, they’re at least miserable together.

He relies more on his sense of magic when he’s washed out like this, which is fine— if he’s searching for her, which he often is, he’s able to find her easily just by the way their magic push and pull against each other. His magic searches for hers even without him wanting to, it’s embarrassing. No amount of internal berating is able to stop his magic from curling into the air and wanting to wrap around hers to form a unified ball, because their powers are so connected with each other they fit and nestle into each other like missing puzzle pieces, and his magic wants nothing more than to be attached to hers.

He’s never asked her if she feels it. If she feels the puzzle pieces, and how they fit together. He knows that she’ll just chalk it up to it being because of her summoning him up onto Earth, or that she’ll say that it’s because his magic wants to make sure that the person who he’s assigned to won’t try to run off on him. She’ll skirt around the issue. She’ll completely deflect. Even as their magic push and pull back and forth, curling and uncurling, keeping each other precious company.

He doesn’t need his nose to find Marinette.

But if there’s one of their precious hens on the run, because the thunder scared the little bird off— and Marinette is keen on trying to find the poor thing before any wolves do— well, there’s not much he can do.

Hens do not have magic, as far as he’s aware.

The sound of rain is loud in his ears. It’s not a roaring thunder, but it’s no drizzle, either— it plasters his hair to his face and makes his ears sag down from the weight. He’s miserable, just like he is when there’s water involved and he’s introduced to it unwillingly. He can pick up the noises of water droplets hitting all the leaves in the back woods as he searches the area for Henrietta— it’s loud and invasive to hear the branches whistle from the soft draft.

“Did you find her?” Marinette’s boots sink into a wet and nasty pile of leaves behind him, and he all but finds himself with two heavy armfuls of the witch as she stumbles while trying not to fall over. He tries wiping out some of the water from her bangs with one of his hands, but the strands are so drenched that they end up just curling in the direction of where his hand passed through— he can’t help but smile at her, even if he’s a little exasperated.

He sighs in defeat, looking back into the woods. The clouds above make it so that it’s impossible to see through, even with his night vision. “Maybe it would be better if we go looking for her after the rain is done, Princess.”

“But she could be terrified out here all alone!”

“She’s a tough bird,” He tries to flick his tail free of rain to no avail. Miserable. Absolutely miserable. It’s going to take him forever to dry off. He can see the resulting fight once he tracks water back into their house already, and he’s not excited for it in the slightest. “You saw how she demolished that racoon. There wasn’t any fear in her eyes.”

Chickens are ruthless. He’s thankful he hasn’t tried to show up into the coup in his cat form— he’d be pecked to death. He’s not even sure if he can actually die, but trust in a chicken to make his life difficult and figure that out for him in his stead.

“But—”

“—And any predator who attempts to go hunting right now is a sign that there’s trouble. It’s far too wet to be trying to hunt without a nose, so only the truly desperate go out. We’ll have bigger problems than just Henrietta to worry about if that’s the case.”

Her face pinches as she continues to think about it. “Oh, no. Are you talking about that fisher from last week?”

“We—” Well, “—I killed it. You saw all the bite and scratch marks, remember?”

Marinette hates watching him go hunting. She finds the spectacle almost nauseating, and he can’t really blame her— there’s far too much teeth and far too much hissing for it to be considered a fun thing to watch.

But absolutely under no circumstance is he going to let a dirty animal attack his property without him putting up a fight.

The hens may be a little apprehensive of him, sure, but they’re warming up to him— they’re family, even if the hens don’t agree. He’s really trying his best not to terrorize them anymore, but it’s been a gradual process. It’s taking a little bit of time— they’re aren’t as completely trusting as they are with Marinette and they flee the coup sometimes whenever he barges in on their clearly busy mornings— and Chat’s starting to suspect it might be because of his fangs. Or claws. Maybe his ears. Or his height, even. Something about his appearance makes the hens a little skittish, but they’re still their hens. He’ll do anything to protect them from harm, even if that means getting into a fight with an animal the size of one of his legs and leaves nasty bites.

Trying to figure out if he should fight the animal in his cat form or in his normal form had been exhausting. The fisher was much too big for his cat form, even with a supernatural bite force and supernatural speed— but fighting the fisher in his demon form had just been embarrassing whenever that angry rodent-esque animal decided to weasel out of his grasp. He ended up nearly burning the whole animal alive once he’d gotten a good grip on the tail just purely out of frustration.

“What if it’s another fisher?”

“Princess, I would’ve smelled another one.”

Her shoulders drop. It dawns on him, then, that she’s starting shake like a haphazard leaf on a branch in the middle of the storm, she’s so cold. Her small, fragile hands in his are so ridiculously cold, he’s certain she’s under a freezing spell. “You can’t even smell Henrietta. She’s out here, cold, and hungry— it’s raining too much for her to be comfortable anywhere other than the coup—”

“She’s going to be okay.”

“I miss her so much, Chat. It’ll be my fault if she gets hurt— I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I shouldn’t have kept the fence open— I thought they knew better— but the thunder— Chat, I’m just so stupid—”

“Princess, come on.” He sighs. If he doesn’t stop her soon, she’s going to berate herself until she cries. She’s getting there, he thinks— he can’t tell if the tracks of water on her cheeks is because of the rain or because of her watering eyes, but he doesn’t want it to last any longer than that. “We’re being useless out here, and you’re going to catch a cold in the rain if you stay here longer. Let’s go inside, let’s worry about Henrietta in the warmth of our house.”

“But— but—”

He raises a brow. “I’ll haul you back into the house myself if you don’t go.”

Marinette sags. “Alright. Alright. We’re sitting ducks out here, anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Henrietta wouldn’t like us getting sick because of her.”

“Perhaps.” He’s a little iffy about it. Henrietta isn’t particularly fond of him.

“Chat,” That brings a smile to her face.

He’s thankful. So, so thankful to see that hint of a smile that turns the sides of her pretty lips up. “Trust me, Princess. Everything will be okay.”

“I do trust you,” She blinks at him, agreeing easily. He tries not to give into rubbing at the mark on his chest as it burns with her honesty. It’s a dangerous thing, he thinks, to have someone like her be so trusting of a demon like him— he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. And from someone who deserves more than just him.

Either way, he eases her into turning her entire body to face the back of their little house. Hopefully there’s enough firewood to draw a bath for her, or at least get out of those petticoats and aprons that are most likely absorbing so much water and is making it impossible for her to move as swiftly as she usually does. He guides her back into their cottage with a hand on her lower back, careful of any more nasty leaf piles, turning one last time to the woods before ducking his head to enter through the door.

AO3 | Start here | Next Chapter

[friendofhayley]

In the midst of chaos, it’s healthy to sometimes soothe ourselves with fiction so thank you, fic writers, for providing us with a safe space. Anyway here’s a list of the best fics I read this month. This rec includes 18 fics from Game of Thrones, One Direction, Teen Wolf, and The Witcher fandoms. The starred ones are *special*

Sanrion (Game of Thrones)

1. A Change of Fate by TheTruffalo | time travel fix-it fic - slow burn - BAMF!Sansa - all the unexpected friendships - 119k+

What would happen if Sansa Stark travelled back in time to the beginning of Game of Thrones? How would she change the future? With her knowledge of the future, marriage to Tyrion Lannister, allegiances to the Targarian Dynasty and lets not forget her tutelage under the notorious Lord Baelish, what will she change? She is not a Little Bird this time, no, now she is a wolf. This time she will come out on top. The question is, who will she bring with her and who will be the collateral? It is all in the days work when playing the Game of Thrones; and she has learned from the best.

2. *The North Remembers* (series) by K_R_Closson, tasalmalin | BAMF!Sansa - the revenge tastes so sweet - time travel fix-it fic - more action than romance - 3 parts

When Sansa and Theon flee Winterfell, they encounter someone who can give Sansa a chance to start over. Sansa has to determine what she can change and what she has to accept to get a future she wants.

Larry (One Direction)

3. haunted by the ghost of you by @missandrogyny | real estate agent Louis - angst and fluff - memory loss - enemies to friends to lovers - 49k

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

4. I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works | enemies to lovers - rough sex - unrequited love - Louis is such a bottom brat - 39k 

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

5. thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in by @absoloutenonsense | friends to lovers - heavy mutual pining - misunderstandings - fluff and angst - 52k

Harry’s alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam’s latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis’ financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

6. *What’s It Gonna Be?* by @shesarealphony | GOD TIER FIC - based on this music video - there are lesbians!! - gay found family !! - 35k

Louis and Bebe, best friends since childhood, have crushes on two of the most popular kids in school, and in an attempt to increase their respective chances, Louis befriends Harry Styles, quarterback of the football team, while Bebe befriends Clare Uchima, head cheerleader. Only… the plan… doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Zouis (One Direction) 

7. Gravity Always Wins by @writeivywrite | canon - friends to lovers - ot5 - misunderstandings - 17k

The truth is: if they weren’t in a band together, Zayn wouldn’t be friends with someone like Louis.

8. keep you like an oath by @ohnokonecny | strangers to lovers - Louis is a force of nature - American AU - fake relationship - 18k

Zayn doesn’t recognize the man through the peephole, but he looks harmless enough, so Zayn swings the door open, barely able to get out a greeting before,

“Hello, would you be interested in being my boyfriend?” The stranger asks.

“Uh,” Zayn mumbles, looking between the man and the space behind him, waiting for someone to jump out at him and tell him what’s going on. No one does. And the stranger is still grinning at him, blue eyes shining and teeth on full display as he waits. “Who are you?” Zayn finally asks, when the stranger makes no move to give him more information about what’s happening.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

9. hope is the thing with feathers by @shanastoryteller | author wrote Survival is a Talent and you can tell because it’s amazing - first of a series - BAMF!Stiles - alive Hale family - 28k

Then he’s facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There’s Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that’s his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man’s chest so he knows he’s alive, but he’s not waking up.

He shoves away his hood so he can shout, “Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there’s a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!” Nothing, he’s not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they’re having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

There’s a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it’s all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet.

10. Every stumble and each misfire by @everchanginginks | future fic - deputy Siles - BAMF!Stiles - soft Derek - 14k

Stiles hasn’t seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It’s a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek’s return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.

11. Hide Of A Life War by @etharei | BAMF!Stiles - Sheriff finds out - suspense - found family - 26k

The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

12. Pale Skin and Fragile Bone by fakinbrilliance | BAMF!Stiles - mates - don’t underestimate the Hale pack - found family - 62k

Stiles asks Derek to teach him self-defense.

13. *Sweet Buns* by @pantstomatch | omega Stiles - misunderstandings - pining - Derek is bad at feelings - 17k

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

14. The Seven Lives of Stiles Stilinski by @glorious-spoon | angst with a happy ending - pining - time travel - hurt/comfort - 25k

Stiles disturbs an abandoned temple and catches the attention of a goddess of time and fate. When he starts time-traveling involuntarily through the past, he’s not sure if she means it as a curse or a lesson–but no matter when he travels to, he always seems to end up at Derek’s side.

7. *I know that you love me, even when I lose my head* by LunaCapisLupus_22 | amnesia - internalized homophobia - omega Stiles - BAMF!Stiles - 135k

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

15. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill | SO much angst with a happy ending - slow burn - BAMF!Stiles - PTSD - 70k

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

16. *Not Your Disney Romance* by Rawren (Deshonanana) | THIS IS SO GOOD - the perfect mix of crack and angst - disabled Stiles - mind control - 42k

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack’s alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

Geraskier (The Witcher)

17. Landfall by round_robin | merman Jaskier - soft Geralt - future fic - trust porn - 10k

Geralt spotted Jaskier’s blue breeches neatly folded in the sand by the rock, his boots next to them, doublet unbuttoned and blowing in the wind. Those too blue eyes looked even brighter next to the sea and his heart skipped a beat. “Jaskier,” he sighed. He didn’t know what else to say.

While relief flooded Geralt—Jaskier was alive and well, no evil befell him after Geralt stupidly pushed him away—Jaskier didn’t seem to share his feelings. His lips turned down, shoulders slumped. Finally, he said, “Are you here to kill me?”

18. ‘My Own’ by @valleyofwitcher | creature Jaskier - found family - Kaer Morhen - they’re soft for each other -  43k

Jaskier has been hiding his draconic ‘heritage’ for as long as he could remember. And travelling with Geralt and Ciri, it didn’t seem to be an issue. That is until a notice comes up about hunting dragons.

All of a sudden, everything is thrown into disarray as he has to face feelings and impulses he had been suppressing for years, nothing seems safe anymore. Geralt tries to fix it.

[stfulinz]

Murderously Obsessed - Chapter 2

Plot - Kai Parker’s back and he’s worse than ever. He will do whatever it takes to ruin Mystic Falls and this time, nothing  and nobody will get in his way.

Y/N watched as Damon’s body collapsed on the ground, the sound of his neck snapping cut heavily through the air. Kai Parker emerged from the doorway with a devilish grin commanding his face, his arm stretched out as he walked towards the elder Salvatore’s limp body. He kicked Damon in his rib-cage twice, just to make sure he was actually out and not just pretending, it’s a no risk zone when it comes to the vampire with the anger issues, he thought to himself.

Kai sauntered his way to the girl bleeding out on that alcoholic Ric’s table, he honestly wondered if the school knew about their prestigious History teacher hiding liquor in school lockers, would they keep him? Probably. Mystic Falls is a fucked and hopeless town and it honestly didn’t take a genius to figure out why the Scooby Gang loved it here. Probably because they’re all equally fucked and hopeless in their own ways.

His train of thought about ruining Ric’s career so that the old man could drink himself to death was cut short when he heard a soft sigh coming from Y/N. He watched closely as she blinked through her tears, still trying to put pressure on the stab wound and it was only then he noticed that her white t-shirt was lifted up - revealing her stomach. Since she was bleeding non-stop, the rest of her body lost color; she looked so weak. The only source of light was the moon, which reflected off of her skin and he found himself thinking how beautiful she looked. She was just as pale and pristine as the white moonlight.

And then he hated Damon for touching her and lifting her shirt, even if it was to help, and out of sheer spite decided to snap his knees.

Y/N didn’t notice when Kai got so close to her until he rested his hand on her cheek, the other hand went over her own, putting light pressure on the wound. “Please, don’t kill me, Malachai. Please”, she heard herself begging and even though she was the one saying those words her brain could hardly register them. Her ears were ringing non-stop with pain and she felt like she was speaking into fog and mist. She didn’t even know if he heard her.

A small tear escaped her eye and fell right into Kai’s palm, the same one that cradled her face ever so gently. It was hard to believe this is the same guy who stabbed her and temporarily killed Damon all within the span of 40 minutes because he looked at her with so much concern and hurt right now that she almost felt bad. She felt bad for dying.

Kai felt his palm getting more wet as she blinked through more of her tears, he watched her put on a brave face and try to hold it in until she couldn’t anymore and just started sobbing hysterically in his arms. Her vacant hand grabbed Kai’s jacket and pulled him closer as heavy sobs ripped through her body, he was surprised how hoarse her voice had become due to all the torment when he heard her ask, “why am I not dying? There’s no more blood in my body, how am I alive?” She shook Kai more violently than ever, “what did you do to me!?”. Another sob. And another. Until she just conjured up a full blown anxiety attack.

Malachai was honestly staggered at her rage, he watched her rough breaths vanish into the air. Chilly winter air finally settled in and he wondered if she was Hypothermic.

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re angry”, he found himself saying with furrowed brows, “you’re the one who is accusing me of killing you. I should be angry with you, Y/N”.

“Accusing you? Malachai you stabbed m-”

“- Don’t ever call me that”.

“Malachai,” she said with extra emphasis and he rolled his eyes in annoyance, “you stabbed me”. She was mumbling so softly that Kai was having trouble understanding her.

“Ok, I did, so what? Blame Steven for that, I overheard him and Damien talk about draining vervain out of someone by bleeding them out and I thought to myself, huh, I was looking for a way to make you stop taking your daily dose of vampire repellent, or in my case, heretic repellent” Kai laughed at his own joke when he got no reaction from the gorgeous girl in his arms and he stopped talking because he thought about how badly he wanted to kiss her right now, her hand was still on his jacket and her lips were slightly open and she was so close all he had to do was lean in and then-

“Stefan and Damon”, he watched as her lips moved but couldn’t even focus on the words because he was so consumed by her he honestly felt like every nerve in his body was on fire from her touch.

“Huh?”

“Stefan and Damon, that’s their name. Not Steven and Damien”.

“Right. That’s what I said,” Kai was honestly taken aback by the fact that she still had the ability to focus but figured it was for the best because he needed her to stay awake. “Anyway, I didn’t know how to stop you from taking it because they mixed it in your morning coffee so I started to bring coffee for you myself but that did nothing because you just started drinking 2 cups of coffee. No offense, you’re so addicted to caffeine it’s sad, I mean how are your teeth even intact anymore? Is your brain okay from all the energy juice you take?”

Y/N refrained from making a snarky comment about his own eating habits and decided to stick to the point instead of engaging with him in a battle of wits, “Finish the story, Malachai.”

“Hey,” he said gently and then pressed on her wound with so much strength that Y/N screamed with every ounce of energy in her body, pain overwhelmed her from the top of her head all the way down to her toes and a fresh set of tears pricked her eyes, “I thought I told you not to call me that, gorgeous.”

She was horrifyingly surprised at how good Kai was at causing agony, his demeanor was relaxed and his face had an easy look to it, she disturbingly wondered for how long he had been planning this, how many times he had practiced and thought this through in his mind to be so damn immaculate.

Kai removed his hand from her stomach, staring at how beautifully blood soaked it was before licking his fingertips. He closed his eyes and hummed quietly in satisfaction.

“Y/N, you taste so sweet I might have to start calling you sugar, instead.”

She didn’t respond, so Kai continued to talk her mind off. “Nothing is ever really easy with you, which I find to be adorable by the way - always stay feisty, so I just chose the hard way. It’s almost like I tried to be the nice guy and compel you without hurting you but you didn’t want that so this,” he said while gesturing to her battered and bloodied body, “is completely your fault.” 

Y/N had to close her eyes because she couldn’t even look at him. Trepidation filled her up. All this because he wanted to compel her, she was so smitten by Malachai Parker that if he just simply asked her to stop taking vervain, she would’ve. In a heartbeat. She truly would’ve done anything if he asked, and that’s why the emotional pain here was much bigger than the physical pain. Which is saying a lot because she’s pretty sure he stabbed her right through her gut. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing this though; to let him know how uncomplicated this could’ve been, to tell him that she feels more hurt and betrayed than angry. That would put him on cloud nine.

“How am I still alive?” she whispered numbly.

“Oh, yeah, I put a spell on you but all that’s irrelevant”, he waved off-handedly, and she just wanted to break his nose more than anything in the entire world.

“What about Damon?”

Kai sighed, now he was mad. And amused. He couldn’t decide which one, he huffed and stepped away from the fragile girl and smirked smugly, deepening his voice to impersonate Damon - “that’s for me to know, and for you to dot dot dot”, he tapped his finger in the air each time he said dot. “was that good? I thought that was pretty good, Bon Bon would be proud.” His smirk dropped as he saw Y/N’s head lull. The spell was wearing off.

“Kai, listen to me-”

“Enough chit-chatting, time’s up”. She had never seen him this serious before, his clean face was set in focus and his jaw clenched as he moved forward and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to enough proximity to maintain eye-contact. His gray blue orbs, a perfect mix of chaos and calm pierced through her soul as she watched him mouth words that she would forget the very next second.

“You will get up and walk to the Salvatore boarding house all bleeding and confused; balling your eyes out, when they ask you what the hell happened - tell them Damon stabbed you in a fit of rage. Repeatedly. He tried to feed off of you but you ran before he could get a hold of you. You couldn’t make sense of anything but the only logical explanation is that Damon turned his switch off when you told him Elena still loved Stefan. He knew she could never entirely be his so he didn’t want her at all. None of this matters, Damon kept repeating repeating to you before he pierced a butcher knife through your stomach in the Mystic Grill kitchen. You hate him for this, you will never forgive Damon Salvatore.

They won’t know how to help you, they’ve never seen something like this - so just gently say Kai Parker. That’s where our story begins, sugar. Forget this conversation happened, Y/N. Forget you saw me here. Forget all of this. Only remember what I told you. Go.”

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 9

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 9)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Logan tries to find another memory, and comes back with something bigger. Virgil opens up to Remus. More facts about the night of Logan's arrest come to light.

And Janus is definitely out to kill the necromancer--but Roman learns something unexpected when he discovers this plan.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: ...so I felt bad about the cliffhanger. >.> XD

Also, I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the words 'pari' and 'geni' were gender neutral terms I created for this world for Logan's parents. They're twisted up with Latin roots for 'parent' or 'creator' because his folks are nonbinary.

Extra apologies for this one because no beta and I just got eager and wrote this in one day. Send help. XD

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1033, A.A.

The first thing Logan noticed when he woke was the heat. Even with all the little luxuries he earned as a well behaved prisoner, he never woke up warm.

The memories were slow to trickle back to him through the haze of sleep, gentle rain splashing against the surface of his mind.

The assassination. The Green Man. The new quarters, his first private shower in ten years—soft spun cotton lounge clothes instead of the rough, drab, ill fitting uniform of the dungeon's prisoners.

Gentle fingers filled with strength laced securely through his. Strong arms, warm skin...

Logan opened his eyes, and found himself with his face tucked against the curve of a neck. Lifting his head with great reluctance, he found himself faced with a sleeping Roman.

The beauty of it nearly stopped his heart.

Loss had stripped some light from his features, worn them around the edges and haunted his eyes, but in repose his features were smooth and unburdened. He looked younger, surreal in his serene perfection. Something about the act of watching Roman sleep felt important...precious, even familiar...

Roman stirred then, and Logan acted without thinking, reaching out to smooth his fingers through Roman's hair. It was soft against his fingers, warm and silken and he repeated the gesture just for the pleasure of feeling it.

“...'lo?...”

“Hello, Roman.”

Roman hummed, and the arm Logan only just realized was wrapped around his shoulders tightened, pulling him closer against Roman's side.

“Lo.” he murmured, more confidently this time as he opened bright green eyes. “You're here.”

“It appears I fell asleep after our discussion. Apologies.” Logan replied, but could put no real conviction into the words. Something inside him...ached in a beautiful way he couldn't give words to. He didn't know what it meant...

For just a split second, his vision blurred, and Roman was younger, smaller, dark hair lightened by too much time in the sun...

...Logan's mind grew fuzzy again, but not with sleep. He recognized the feeling now, the haze of magic that let him reconnect to Virgil, to a fragment of his past...

The Loom of Memory. Roman spoke about it last night, telling his stories about them as friends—as kindred spirits.

“Logan?...”

Logan shifted to lay on his back, reaching for Roman's hand.

“Virgil restored one of my memories through a piece of personal magic I embedded in an object of power.” he explained, speech slurring just a little as his eyes grew heavier. “If...you took part in a ritual to give me...my power...”

“The Warping.” Roman murmured, rolling on his side. Gripping Logan's fingers tight, he looked down into Logan's face. Something about it tugged at the back of Logan's chest, something that was pulling him back into darkness again.

He could fight the pull. He did not try.

Gripping Roman's hand tight, Logan let his eyes shut.

“Hold on...do not let go.”

As he sank, Logan distantly felt warm lips brush his forehead.

“I never have. I never will.”

********** ...threads. Everywhere, itching, brushing, bothersome. This time, he pulled away from them, just a little. He flexed his fingers, and the shuttle was there, secure in his grip.

He tried to concentrate on seeing it this time. Pulling back, stepping away.

…there.

The loom was massive, the warp glowing softly with a gentle radiance that begged to be touched. Running his fingers over it, Logan sighed with pleasure—warm and whisper soft beneath his fingers, spreading through his hand and up his arm to settle in the core of his being....but loose.

The warp was too loose. Just a little tension was needed for a neat, tight weave.

Logan reached out to try and tighten the warp, but...something was wrong.

“...Logan?”

Who's there?

“Logan, it's me.”

...oh. I...

“Do you need help?”

I—I think so. I don't understand what's happening.

“It's okay—to be honest, I didn't understand then and I still don't. Just take what you need.”

I'll be careful this time.

“Don't worry about it. Just...don't leave me.”

I promise. In fact...will you stay?

“Stay? I...is that all right?”

I do not know—but there's only one way to find out. Help me, if you can.

He tugged gently at the thread—this time, it came smooth and easy. It was hard to do still—simply because it was so distracting, the ecstasy of handling it, letting the warp slide through his fingers and tug sweetly as he secured it to the loom—

When he was done, when it was ready...Logan set to work.

********** 1023, A.A.

Logan was so warm and so comfortable, he never wanted to wake up...but he knew he had to, for some reason.

Opening his eyes with a yawn, he turned his head—then grinned when he realized that Roman stayed.

There was something about seeing him in Logan's bedroom that felt secret and special: Roman, his Roman, with his face half buried in Logan's pillow and mouth slightly open as he slept. It wasn't a pretty sight: he drooled just a little, and he was laying on Logan, one arm and one leg thrown across his body, something he usually hated...

But Logan could feel his weight, his warmth. He was messy and heavy and too much...and he was tucked into Logan's bed, his fingers meshed tight through Logan's to rest on Logan's chest. This handsome prince, this good and loving and dangerously earnest boy that wanted with a ferocity that scared and dazzled Logan, eluded palace guard and the king himself just to help him. Just to stay.

Roman was everything good and just and right in the world. However, Roman was also two years older than him, he was royalty—and Logan was Necromata.

Secret and special was all Logan was ever going to get.

Staring into Roman's sleeping face for a few more precious seconds, he tucked the memory away somewhere safe in his mind and his heart before he gently squeezed Roman's hand.

“Roman?”

“Nnnnngh.”

“Roman. It's morning.”

“Nnnngh—guh? What?”

Roman came awake abruptly, and Logan's heart trembled at the muzzy confusion in his face. It made him want confusing, unattainable things, so Logan settled for smiling.

“It's morning. Sunrise—are you still okay?”

Roman nodded with a jaw cracking yawn, further upsetting Logan's already fragile, confusing state of mind by tucking himself forward until their foreheads touched. “Yeah, 'm fine. Remus'll cover for me 'till at least after breakfast. You?”

Unable to stop himself, Logan tucked their joined hands against his chest for a second, sealing the feel of it as deep as he could into his memory as he nodded. “Grandpap won't be back until tomorrow, and Pari lets me skip my morning chores if I'm studying.”

“Which you are, technically.” Roman pointed out with a smile, staring into Logan's eyes.

“Falsehood. I'm laying about in bed.”

Roman seemingly had no answer for that, and didn't respond—but also didn't move.

Logan couldn't bring himself to urge him into action.

“Where did we leave off last night?”

“Hmm?”

“The geneaology. How far did we get?” Roman pressed gently, a laugh in his voice that made Logan's heart tremble again.

Taking a deep breath, Logan managed to pry himself from the sanctuary of his spot tucked into the curve of Roman's body. Sitting up, he reached for the last book they'd been reading through before they gave up their research for sleep.

“We got as far back as King Thomas Cameron IV—the one who married the first Lord and Lady Stewards.” Logan explained, flipping to the right page. “They reorganized the line of succession for same sex and polyfidelitous families within the royal house of Sanders.”

“Right, right...Lady Valerie was the great granddaughter of Sir Edward, fifth cousin of King Thomas Roman I.” Roman mumbled, sitting up to peer at the book in Logan's hands. “Least the stories say.”

Logan fought a swelling of frustration as he flipped ahead a few pages. “Most of these are stories. Stories, lore, and speculation. There's no proof here—and there are a lot of missing records, which I find strange for a royal lineage.”

“Well, Father had some records sealed for privacy.” Roman admitted. “That's how I knew about Sir Edward. He was a mage of some power, but his family withdrew from the monarchy generations ago. They're no longer part of the line of succession, so their presence exists only in the Tomes.”

Logan hesitated, shutting the book in his hands. “The mage's histories? The ones kept at the Royal Academy library?”

“Yep—well, most of them.”

Logan looked at Roman sharply. “What do you mean, most of them?”

Roman's eyes went wide as he froze. Logan's pulse quickened.

“Roman? What do you know?”

Roman looked, for a moment, like he wanted to bolt...but then took a deep breath, gathered Logan's hands in his, and began speaking.

********** 1033, A.A.

Logan's eyes snapped open as the Loom dropped abruptly away, leaving him with an ache in the marrow of his bones and a chill he couldn't quite dispel. As he sat up, warm arms immediately encircled him, tucking him against a wall of fire that eased the chill and soothed the hurt away.

“Logan? Say something—are you all right?”

For a second, Logan just leaned into him and shut his eyes. It wasn't complete, vague and nebulous and full of holes, but a new memory was hanging loose in his head, barely attached. He could almost picture the room, a few snatches of conversation...but the feeling was the only part he was sure of.

Secret and special...good and right...

I loved him.

“Logan, please. What happened?”

Logan pressed his forehead against Roman's collarbone for just one more second, the sweet pulse of longing rippling through his bones, igniting an energy that was alien to him.

I love him.

“I am satisfactory.” he assured Roman, slowly straightening. He reached up to rub his head. “I...slept here last night?”

Roman nodded, his hand settling on Logan's shoulder, warm and heavy. “You don't remember waking up?”

“I...maybe? I was...the Loom.”

“You entered that trance again—you asked for my help, and I gave it. Like I did during your Warping, but this time my hand was glowing—like the last time you were channeling. You wanted to reconstruct a memory, did you succeed?”

Logan nodded, then shook his head.

Books...Grandpap...sun bleached hair, a special and secret cocoon in his childhood bed.

Flinching, Logan fumbled for Roman's hand, ripping it off his shoulder and squeezing hard.

“Roman.”

“I'm here, Starlight—what do you remember?”

“I...don't know. Just—my brother.”

“Virgil's not here.”

“I have to find him. Now.”

********** Virgil was going on twenty four hours wide, staring awake, and wasn't enjoying it.

Well...much.

Reluctantly following the crown prince through the lower levels of the castle, he hated to admit that for all his crazy, Prince Remus was kind of a fascinating guy. He was smart, yeah, but—more than that.

He was brilliant, in a way that was frightening. He babbled with barely any coherence, went off on tangents, talked to himself, but there wasn't a single wasted word. He talked about his brother with perfect devotion, discussed violence with absolute reverence, and spoke about death like...

Like he was Necromata. In between the stories he shared during the night—stories about Roman's secrets, three years of carrying on an ilicit friendship with Logan—he went off about Virgil's people with a flawless understanding of who they were and what they were about.

All while revealing, with all his stolen knowledge, that he didn't know jack shit about them. Everything he ever learned was heresay and speculation, but...but through the stories he saw the foundation. Remus was a quintessential outsider, but the respect he showed for the Necromata made Virgil ache inside.

Fuck, Remus actually gave him a little hope for the future.

“This way—this is where I found Roman after it happened.”

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Virgil jogged to catch up with Remus. “We don't have a lot of time, Remus—Logan is supposed to try and resurrect your father this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah—we have an hour, I know.”

“Two.”

“What?”

“Two. The sun will be well above the horizon then—doesn't do anyone any favors to be too prompt when it comes to making sure the Barrier is closed, unless you want to end up with someone else in your father's body.”

Remus glanced at Virgil over his shoulder—then snickered.

“Could be funny.” he decided, ushering Virgil ahead of him. “Through this door—this is where I found Roman the night your brother was arrested.”

“Where was he? I never realized he was anywhere near us when we got caught.” Virgil huffed, shoving the filthy, heavy wooden door open to emerge into a dingy stone tunnel.

“Before this castle had lower levels beneath this one, this was meant to be a sewer.” Remus explained as Virgil took a few more steps into the tunnel. “It's on some early plans for the palace, but hardly anyone remembers it's here. I got nosy when I was six and found it—Roman and I have used this to get in and out of the palace undetected since we were little.”

“He must've told Logan.” Virgil muttered, peering up at the grate overhead. Above him, through the bars he could see scattered straw—the inside of an empty dungeon cell. “That's how he got us in here.”

“You were here that night?”

Virgil turned to face Remus, smiling a little without any humor in it. “He didn't tell you about that, huh?”

Remus shook his head in silence.

Virgil scoffed, turning his gaze upwards again.

“Not all that surprised. Hell, maybe he didn't know I was here, either. I wasn't supposed to be...truth be told, I was always certain that I was the reason Logan got arrested. It's why I tried to get him out.”

“What were you, four years old? What were you doing here, and how could you have been behind it?”

“I was nine.” Virgil replied quietly, unable to tear his gaze from the grate of the cell above him.

“And I was here because a Weaver needs his Spider.”

********** 1023, A.A. The tunnel was absolutely terrifying—dark and wide and squat. Grandpap would have to double over to walk through it, big as he was.

Virgil did not want to be here. He wanted to be home in bed with his blanket, listening to Grandpap's bedtime stories about the Before Times and the wicked king that was slain, plunging their tribe into eternal darkness.

Logan was here, though—and a Spider had to stand with his Weaver. Protecting Logan was his responsibility now, and he couldn't let his big brother down.

“...find the book in the office...”

Voices, up ahead. Echoes carried down towards him, making Virgil flinch hard enough that he stumbled and fell.

Silence. More voices, garbled and echoing...

A hand on his collar, dragging him to his feet.

“Virgil, what in the name of the Seven Hells are you doing here!”

When Virgil landed upright, he came face to face with the shadowed features of his big brother, blue eyes glimmering in the barely there light.

“What are you doing here, Logan?” Virgil shot back. “You snuck out without me! You're 'posed to bring me on important stuff, I'm your 'Pider!”

Logan spun around, as if he were about to address someone—but then froze. His shoulders hunched the way they always did when he forgot to thank the spirits of the ancestors at his altar every morning, nervous and unhappy.

Turning back to Virgil, Logan narrowed his eyes.

“This isn't Weaver stuff, Stormcloud, so you can't tell anyone. Especially not Grandpap.”

“I swear on the 'Pider's Thread, Loganberry.”

Taking a deep breath, Logan nodded. “Okay...okay, you can come. You'll actually be helpful to find...never mind. Just do as I say, and don't ask questions. I can't answer them?”

“Why?”

Logan raised a warning finger at him.

“Don't. Ask. Questions.”

Virgil slammed his mouth shut, but didn't argue as Logan took his hand and led him down the tunnel and into the palace of the king.

********** 1033, A.A.

“What part of the palace did you hit?” Remus asked.

Virgil shrugged. “Not sure. It was dark, I was nine and terrified...I've tried to track it since I enlisted, but haven't had much luck. All I know is it was somewhere in the lower levels 'cause that's how I found the tunnel and got away. Wasn't near the dungeons either, not really—when we got caught, Logan steered me towards a lit, open door. It was some kind of office, and I found an open grate that led me to it.”

Virgil faced Remus again, pointing upwards. “This is under the dungeons, but you said this was where you found Roman after Logan's arrest?”

“Yup.” Remus replied, popping the 'p' sound at the end. “Near the end of this particular tunnel, down here.”

Virgil glanced behind him, in the direction Remus pointed, Turning back to the prince, he jerked his chin in that direction.

“Let's go.”

The pair fell into step beside each other, easily matching pace. Remus was a little taller than Virgil, so he was slowing down to let him keep up. Virgil didn't appreciate it.

He didn't.

“You know, Roman didn't help you get in here. I did.”

Virgil turned sharply towards him. “You're fucking with me.”

“Identical twins? In a poorly lit room, you can't make out the streak and the 'stache, Sweet Cheeks.”

“But...why?”

“Because you were trying to help your brother, and mine couldn't. Help you, that is.”

“Why couldn't he? Why did he admit to doing it?” Virgil asked.

“Did he actually admit to anything last night?” Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

Virgil opened his mouth...then closed it.

“Not outright, no.” he realized aloud. “But why couldn't he help?”

“Virgil!”

The sound of that voice, echoing off the walls of the tunnel, was a flashback in time. For an instant, Virgil was nine and terrified again, being led into Souls Knew What by his big brother...running for his life and trying not to choke on his sobs, knowing he'd left his big brother to die.

Spinning on his heel, Virgil found himself faced with the sight of the tunnel's end where he and Remus had been heading anyway. The door was open, and Logan stood side by side with the familiar figure of King Roman.

At least, until Logan bolted forward, barreling towards Virgil until he had a death grip on him.

“Unghf! Loganberry, you're...crushing me...”

“He panicked as soon as we got down here.” Roman explained, raising his voice to be heard as he jogged towards them. “He's been off since he woke up earlier. He tried to reconstruct a memory...”

Virgil sighed, wrapping his arms around Logan for a second to give him a comforting squeeze before he shifted to reach for Logan's hand.

“C'mere, Loganberry...lemme help you...”

The moment their fingers meshed, Virgil felt the pull on his consciousness—Logan drawing on his focus, pulling raw thought from his head that sent his awareness of his surroundings spiraling into a pinpoint.

Virgil's eyes slid shut, his head lolling back in familiar fashion—but this time, before the darkness took him, warmth flooded the base of his skull and softened his tumble into oblivion.

********** “Hey—hey! Wake up, Storm!”

“Remus.”

Roman watched his brother stand beside the silent cadet, one hand on his shoulder and the other cradling his head, supporting him as he half sagged where he stood. There was a look in his eyes Roman wasn't sure he'd ever seen before, something like panic...but not quite.

It was familiar...but fuzzy.

Moving to his brother's side, Roman touched his shoulder.

“He's all right, Remus.”

“How do you know?”

“Because this is what familiars do. I've...seen it before.”

Roman blinked, startled by the words that came out of his mouth—but once he said them, he knew it was true. He had seen it before...somewhere among Logan's people, but where?...

“What are you four doing down here?”

Roman looked back towards the direction Remus and Virgil had come from, flinching when he spotted Janus at the end of the tunnel with Patton at his side.

“Lord Janus? Pat—what are you doing here?” he asked, moving towards the pair.

“I came 'cause Janny asked me to.” Patton replied, staring past Roman to where Logan and Virgil stood, deep blue eyes filled with worry. “What's goin' on? Janny?...”

With a sigh, Janus discreetly slid a hand up Patton's spine, only just visible as yellow gloved fingertips appeared near his nape then vanished with a soft whisper of leather on fabric.

“Go, darling. See if you can help.” Janus urged.

Reaching behind him, Roman saw Patton catch the gloved hand and squeeze before he hurried down the tunnel towards the trio of Remus, Logan, and Virgil.

Facing Janus, Roman folded his arms. “You didn't answer my question.”

Janus glanced past Roman, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from Patton for a long moment before he finally managed to set his gaze on Roman.

“I'm an assassin. I'm not supposed to tell you why I do anything, Your Majesty.” Janus pointed out.

“So you're here to kill someone?”

Janus sneered, mouth setting into a thin, tight line.

“If you must know,” he growled quietly, “I came here to kill the necromancer.”

Roman's heart froze, blood running cold.

“No, you're not.”

“Majesty? Get your hands off me. Now.”

Roman blinked, not even realizing that he'd backed Janus up against the nearby wall, and to his shock had a hand wrapped around his scaled throat.

“Give me a reason why I should.” he asked flatly. “You'll have a harder time getting to the necromancer if you have to stop and kill me first.”

“Oh, for the love of—I'm here to kill the necromancer, not your pet prisoner!”

“I...what?”

“The necromancer that assassinated your father and is trying to assassinate you.” Janus spat, finally shaking Roman's grip so he could straighten his cloak.

“I...don't understand.”

Janus finally tugged the clasp of his cloak straight, and when he met Roman's gaze, his own mismatched eyes were filled with something far warmer than any man might expect to see in the eyes of a spy like him.

Janus was looking at him with sympathy.

“Your Majesty...Logan may be one of the Necromata, but he is not a necromancer.” he whispered.

“Of course he is! He--”

“--may have been a necromancer once upon a time, but he isn't any longer. The root of necromancy is memory—with no memory, he should have no magic. No mere necromancer can beat the Cleansing that way, it's impossible.”

“Then...?”

Roman turned away from Janus to stare down the tunnel. He watched Virgil and Logan both slowly come to their senses, Logan opening ice blue eyes as Virgil started to straighten, supported by both Remus and Patton.

Over Virgil's shoulder, Logan's gaze met Roman's, and for just a moment those gemstone eyes flickered with the soft, blue-white light of his magic.

Janus's voice spoke right next to his ear, shaking him to his core.

“Logan is not a necromancer, Your Majesty...he's a Lazari.”

[sunonyoreface]

Forest Nymph | Geralt of Rivia Pt.4

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read my story! This is part four of my first series.  I love hearing your feedback and criticism so feel free to reach out!

Warnings: swearing, gore, forest fire, physical violence

Word count 3053

Thank you to @henrycavilledits​ for letting me use their gif!

You wake up to the overwhelming smell of smoke.  When you breathe in it fills your lungs and dries your throat, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.  Your eyes water and burn when you open them.  It is thick, filling the room with ease, obscuring your vision of even the closes objects.  You slowly raise a hand in front of your face and watch the smoke gracefully swirl around it. The world is deathly silent.  Is this a dream?  

“No!” A voice in the back of your head yells at you.  “Get up.  Get the fuck up and get out!”

You sit up in your bed, your vision turns to static at the quick movement. Your cottage is filled with smoke. What the hell is going on? Is something in the kitchen burning?  But you weren’t cooking anything.  You haven’t started a fire in months.  Something is very wrong. 

You stumble once or twice over your feet as you try and make your way towards the kitchen.  Your mind is groggy, disoriented from already excessive smoke inhalation.  You search around for your shoes but they seem to have disappeared.  Your movements are slow and sluggish.  Bound to get you killed at this point.

“Get out of there!” The voice says again.  But first you need your shoes. “No!” It protests. “Just get out!”

You at least need your pack.  It has everything you own that is worth anything of value.  It sits in the corner near the door where you left it before your nap. When you put the pack on it weighs ten stones heavier than when you set it down, but that doesn’t matter.  

Your door pushes open with ease and the sight in front of you is straight out of a nightmare.  Everything is on fire.  Trees, shrubs, fallen debris, even your cottage has started to burn.  A wave of unbearable heat washes over you.  The bitter smoke, while not as prevalent is the only thing you can smell.  The scene is completely overwhelming.  

As far as you can tell the wind is blowing west, towards the deeper part of the forest that spans out for thousands of miles.  East, lies the village which sits at the edge of the treeline. Beyond the village is the rocky terrain which eventually falls into rough seas.  Fire is being blown towards you and the only way to escape it to go through it.  

Only a single patch of green remains east, you take off sprinting towards it. Your heart pounds in your ears, but the only thing you can hear is the roaring fire.  Trees snap and tumble to the ground around you in a blaze of popping embers.  The sound of destruction is deafening.  

It doesn’t take long before you feel a sharp pain on the underside of your bare foot.  Shoes God damnit.  Why didn’t you grab your shoes?  Doesn’t matter you need to keep running.  You continue on with a limp and only seconds later you feel another sharp pain.  After a while you don’t even feel your feet anymore. Maybe all of your flesh burned off and only bones remain.  Even if it has, you don’t have the time to stop and check.

What you had thought to be a patch of green paradise only turns out to be a few trees that got lucky.  You have to continue on into death and destruction.  You choke and gasp for air but never stop once.  If you stop, you’re dead.  At this point you have no clue if you are even running in the right direction. The once distinguishable landmarks that you previously used to guide you into town have turned to coal and ash. But finally, you spot a chance of hope. A clearing in the woods. At last!

The clearing morphs into the village of Asenguard and you have never been more relieved to see such buildings.  Closer, it looks as though there has just been a fresh snowfall. But no such thing happens here in the middle of summer.  No, the thick white layer resting upon every rock, roof, and stable top is ash from the fire. It covers everything.  Villagers rush around carrying lanterns in one hand and buckets of water in the other to put out odd fires that started around town from drifting embers of the much larger one now behind you.  If the wind switches direction, they will all burn to death.  You now stand at the edge of town, but no one even notices.  There are much bigger problems at hand.

You need to find Thea.  Right now, she is the only person who can help you. If she will even let you through her doors.  At this point she’d be better off to turn you into the King’s army.  But you can’t think about that now.

Thankfully she lives on the edge of town.  It is easy to skirt past groups of people, by using buildings and other broad objects to hide behind.  Her cottage sits peacefully under a layer of ash and behind a thicket of shrubs that remain untouched by the fire.  You knock on her door quietly, yet urgently.  

“Oh Briar!” Thea gasps at your appearance.  “Dear God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I really need your help Thea.” She quickly checks our surroundings for any witnesses but finds none.

“Of course, dear child.”  She says warmly.  In the back of your mind the thought crosses how you are decades older than her, but you don’t say anything.  “Come sit down, I’l- Oh dear! Your poor feet!” She gasps in shock.

You look down for the first time and cringe at the sight.  The thicker protective layer of skin that normally covers them is gone.  Instead fresh raw skin, which is red and blistering, seemingly still cooking like a piece of meat you take off the fire and let sit for ten more minutes, remains in its place. The pain has been pushed out of your mind until now, and the overbearing feeling rushes back into your body.

“Oh my I-I’m going to throw up.” You manage before emptying your already barren stomach on her wooden floor.  The taste of acid fills your mouth, but at least it isn’t smoke.  Everything still smells like bitter, greenwood smoke.

“It’s alright dear, just let me get you a chair.”  She sits you down gently, quickly making sure you’re alright before disappearing for several minutes.  Thea comes back with a cloth and a bucket of water.  Several containers of home brewed salves lay in her arms.  She washes you gently, delicately dabbing the patches of your burnt, blistering skin.

“I can’t believe they did this.” She whispers, her voice cracking. “That goddamn king and his fragile ego.”

“The king did this?”

“The king, his army, or the farmers.  There isn’t a difference really.” She sighs heavily. “It’s you they’re after.  This place isn’t safe for you anymore.”

The salve stings at first, but it soothes away the physical pain in your feet and other burnt areas.  Her words make tears well up in your eyes.  Do they really hate you that much?  They will risk burning down their own homes as long as it means you won’t have one either.

“I only tried to do the right thing.” You murmur.

 Geralt’s senses are on high alert.  The forest is on fire and he can almost guarantee it was those drunks who started it.  He’ll kill them.  Rip their heads right from their shoulders and stake them up for the world to see.

“Jaskier go to the next town, I’ll meet you there after.”

“What do you mean? What are you going to run straight into the fire?” He yells at him.  “Are you perhaps short of a marble?”

“There’s someone I need to help.”

“Geralt if that’s how you plan on dying, I can surely think of more pleasant ways to go!”

Geralt doesn’t respond.  In fact, he likely didn’t even hear Jaskier’s last call.  He and roach are already off towards Asenguard.  Roach’s hooves thunder against the dry road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.  They had been walking at a leisurely pace for about two hours, maybe longer.  Even at Roach’s full gallop it will take him an at least half an hour.  That’s still way too long for him.  He needs to get to you before the fire does.

 “Briar!” Thea cleanly slaps you across the face. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.  If you do that now the smoke will stop you from ever waking up again!

“What the hell!”

“Sweetheart I’m sorry, but I’ll do it again the next time I sense you drowsing off.”

Your mind feels foggy and fatigued.  Thea says it’s from smoke inhalation, but you just feel all around exhausted.  The blisters on your arms and legs are already almost healed.  That is one of the perks of being a dryad, you heal quickly and can help others heal too.  Your feet, while sore, will be fine to walk on in a few hours.  But you can’t wait a few hours.  You need to leave as soon as possible and get as far away as imaginable from Asenguard as you can.

“Thea?”

“Yes darlin’.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why yes you can, I was just about to make a room for you.”

“No, I can’t.”  Your eyes meet hers and then she understands.  You can’t stay.  If you do, and they find you here, they kill the both of you.  She stays silent for a moment, eyes concentrated on a pot of herbs in her windowsill.  

“Look, I have a friend who lives northwest of here, near Norwich.  Another healer, her name’s Daegon.  She owes me a favour and I’m sure she’d love to have you for a few weeks until you figure things out.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do something like that for me.”

“I insist, it’s too dangerous for you here and I want to know you’re safe. I’ll even send a signed letter with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile at her sadly. “You have done so much for me.”

“Don’t even think about paying me back.  Just come visit me once things have cooled down a little bit, eh?” A warm, genuine smile spreads across her face.

You don’t stay for much longer.  Thea gives you a pair of leather shoes and what she claims is “just an old cloak” that was collecting dust, along with a signed letter, and pemmican which will stay good for weeks.  You will never be able to pay back her kind soul.  With that, you disappear into the night.

 When Geralt reaches the village the worst of the fire has already spread westward with the wind.  He already knows there is no stopping such a beast.  It will continue to decimate the land for hundreds of miles or until an unruly downpour puts it all out.  The last place he saw you was out west.  She could be dead already, a whisper in the back of his head tells him, but that only angers him more.  

The villagers pay him no mind as he rides Roach through the streets.  They’re too busy trying to prevent their own homes from burning to the ground.  Those drunks are still around here somewhere, he just needs to find out where.  There is no doubt in his mind that they are the cause of this destruction.  He takes a small glass bottle from a pocket and pops the cork off before drinking a black, greasy liquid.  They will pay for this.  That he is sure of.

Sure enough, he finds them on one of the side streets near the alehouse, still shitfaced.  They barely notice him approach.

“Alright,” Geralt snarls at the group, his eyes are already pitch black from the elixir.  The men look terrified.  “Which one of you fuckers started that fire?”

“What the fuck!” Yells one of the men when he sees Geralt’s face.  He has the face of a predator.

“You heard me! Now which one of you was it?”

“N-none of us! We swear!”  He unsheathes his sword and stabs the man who was just speaking all in one fluid move. The rest of them stand there, speechless and terrified.  Geralt can smell shit in at least one of their trousers.

“Someone better start talking, or else.”  The or else is silent, but they hear it clearly.

 On the other side of town, you quietly slip in and around old sheds and stables.  You only have a few hundred meters before you reach the main entrance to the village, then it’s a homerun.  You slyly step around any debris on the ground and stay out of sight.  People are still around putting out small fires, but most have gone back home.  

A cold metal hand snakes around your arm and yanks you out from the shadows.

“Over here!” One of the king’s guards yells for backup.  His grip is strong and the metal joints pinch your skin. You frantically try to writhe from his tight grasp, but there is no getting out of this one.

“It’s the witch!” Another guard yells as a group of them approach you.

“She’s come to get revenge on the king!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not- “

“Shut up witch!” Why do they keep calling you a witch?  Did the Witcher not tell them?

“Cut her throat.” One of them orders and you let out an audible gasp.

“No.” You relax for a moment before he says “The king has to do it.”

You start thrashing and screaming in their grasp as they take you towards the castle.  You fight with every ounce of might you can manage.  Your almost inhuman screams pierce the air and carry for miles.  They will not take you easily.  Not after they burned your forest.

 Geralt almost doesn’t hear your scream in his fit of rage.  Two more of the men are dead and he wasn’t planning on quitting anytime soon, but that sound, it makes his heart stop for a moment.  That sound isn’t human.  It has to be her, he thinks, there’s no one else it can be.

He drops one of the drunken men bloody and bruised, but still alive.  For now.

Roach races to the scene faster than ever before.  The knights stand just outside the castle gate, visibly surprised to see a Witcher here.  A Witcher whose face has morphed deathly pale, and whose eyes are soulless pits with no remorse.

Your heart skips a beat when you see him.  You still can’t be sure whether he is here to kill you or save you, but right now, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

“What is your business here?”

“I’m here for the witch.”

“You’re too late, we have her already and if I remember correctly the king banned you from Asenguard.”

“He didn’t ban me.” Geralt speaks clearly, had his eyes been their normal colour, his words would not have been taken so threateningly by the guards.  “He said he wanted me to bring her back. That’s why I lit the fire, to smoke her out.”

Your eyes snap to his in horror.  He did that? A new kind of anger and hatred starts to brew under your skin.  He destroyed your forest. Your only home.

“Oh, so you started the fire? Funny cause I remember Freud over here setting it.”  Geralt’s throat tightens when he realizes he has been caught in a lie, but the only thing you feel is relief.  At least it wasn’t him.  

Geralt reaches for his sword.  He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but there is only one ultimatum.  

“Let her go.”

In this very moment, King Cassius himself steps forth from the castle’s thick walls.  He is adorned in purple velvet and his shoes slowly click on the brick leading outward from the castle.

“I thought I told you to get the hell out of my kingdom, Mr. Witcher” He drawls lowly.

“Just give me the girl.”

“No.” Cassius simply states and that seems to be enough.  Geralt lurches forward towards the group of knights, sword help high in the air, ready for battle.

Their grip around you tightens impossibly stronger.  Off in the background you see the more of the king’s troops marching towards you quickly.  Your heartrate shoots through the roof.  You were so close to escaping, but now.  Now they’re going to kill both of us, you think.

The harsh clanging of swords fills the air.  Metal on metal.  The sound of battle echoes deeply in your ears.  Geralt moves swiftly, expertly, like a ruthless murdering machine.  Then you realise he is as close to such a thing as can be.  Witchers are made to kill, designed to hunt and destroy their prey.  So, when a guard’s head roles off his very own shoulders, you shouldn’t really be surprised.  

They outnumbered him eight to one, but four are already dead.  A spark of hope ignites itself in your chest when you realize you might actually make it out of here alive.  Another guard drops like a fly and the other two back off to guard the King.  At last, there is only the one with his constricting, snake like grip around your throat and torso.

“Step any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Then I’ll kill you anyway.”

He shoves you to the ground and attempts at sprinting back to safer territory, but Geralt throws one of the other guard’s sword at him with great power. It pierces his armour and impales him with ease.  He never stood a chance.

Your eyes finally meet his own.  Despite his hollow look, you can easily make out the feeling of relief in his eyes. Or maybe you are simply projecting your own feelings of relief, either way, you can’t be happier.

“Thank you.” You whisper through the ghost of a smile.

“We need to leave.”  

As Roach carries the two of you out of the Kingdom of Asenguard the last thing you hear is the raging voice of King Cassius.

“This is a declaration of war!” He roars.  “Of war!”

---

Pt.1

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613040114715820032/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my

Pt.2

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613171373679034368/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2

Pt.3

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613415372067143680/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt3

 Tag List: @nadia-rosea @ nerdstuff1994 @whatawildone

[cormorantgospel]

We’ll never be those kids again

Canon-divergent AU of Harry’s fifth, sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. In fifth year, some of Harry’s self-destructive behaviour is channelled into hooking up with Malfoy, and this is enough to tip the scales and make Draco accept Dumbledore’s offer and desert the Death Eaters. Part 1, Part 2

-

This is how the last year of the second wizarding war passes: before the summer has ended, the Ministry falls to the Death Eaters, and in the same breath, so does Hogwarts. There are puppets put in place; the school and the government keep running under the thinnest veneer of normalcy, but it takes more effort to pretend now. Pretending is a luxury reserved for those who do not feel the looming closeness of September and mandatory Hogwarts attendance as a death sentence. Those who do not have to decide between trying to flee abroad and going underground. Those who do not have to wonder which of their friends they can still trust if they reach out.

-

It’s the last year of the war and Ginny is the only Weasley who returns to Hogwarts. By the time she boards the train, she has not heard from Harry, Ron or Hermione since the wedding, where they disappeared. She keeps quiet when people speculate about their disappearance. People still ask her about Harry. She was popular before, but this year her popularity is different. The younger students all know her name for some reason. She notices the way people glance her way during quiet common room conversations, when the names of the muggleborn students who haven’t returned are mentioned, when people dare to complain about Snape or the Carrows. For a while she thinks it’s because they want her to be Harry. If he had been here, they would all be looking to him, not her. It’s just that some of his infamy has rubbed off on her.

It’s Luna who tells her otherwise, in the greenhouses, during Herbology.

“You don’t look scared,” she says. “Everyone can tell.”

“That’s bullshit,” she says. “Of course I’m scared.”

Luna just hums.

“But not of the Carrows. Not of Snape.”

Ginny shrugs.

“They’re just bullies.”

“Most people are scared of bullies.”

The first part of the school year they spend their free time in the seventh-year boys’ dormitories. You never know who’s listening in the common room or the library. They’re a mixed group, some sixth-years, some seventh-years. Of course, it’s bothersome because they can’t invite their friends from other houses. Really, that’s all the conversation is at first – all of them wondering aloud if there would be a better place to hang out. It’s Dean who brings up the Room of Requirement. It’s Neville who mentions Dumbledore’s Army, who brings out the galleon as if he’s embarrassed to still have it.

“Other people might have kept theirs too,” he says with a shrug.

That’s all it is at first. A small group of Gryffindors who activate the galleons, just to see if Hermione’s protean charm still works. Who wait in silence in the Room of Requirement to see if anyone will show up. That’s all it is at first, but it quickly becomes something more.

Outside the walls of the castle, a war is raging. Inside, everything is the same. There is the sorting and house points and quidditch games. In so many ways, Voldemort is still the scared, abandoned child who found a home there, just as Harry did, and he cradles the traditions of the old school, guards them out of reverence and nostalgia, having forgotten long ago that these traditions are not the things that made Hogwarts a home.

There is a war outside the walls of the castle, and one inside it too. There may be classes and homework and feasts, but there is no safety there. It is not a home. The children learn magic, but mostly they learn to hide, to become invisible, to cast silencing charms on their beds and cry only when no one is there to see. It is, once again, a place where detentions leave scars. Where Luna squeezes Ginny’s hand under the table when Amycus Carrow’s vicious eyes fall on her and she is called to the front of the class. A girl in red and gold and a girl in silver and green face each other in front of their classmates, but only one raises her wand. She hesitates, but only for a moment. Ginny waits, and she is quiet and she is brave, and she might not be afraid of bullies, but she is afraid of the pain, because it is not the first time she has done this. They have Dark Arts once a week. The Carrows have favourite targets, and she has made sure she is one of them. She can feel her heart like a panicked bird in her chest. She wants to run. She wants to raise her wand to defend herself. She doesn’t.

There are more members of Dumbledore’s army than just Luna in this class. They all sit quietly and watch as Ginny drops to the floor. Their war is a quiet one. There is nothing stoic about the way she writhes on the floor or the way she screams. The Slytherin girl lowers her wand quick. She is praised by her teacher. Ginny slowly gets to her feet and both students take their seats. Another pair is called on.

Luna puts her arm around Ginny’s waist when they leave class. The Slytherin girl locks herself in a bathroom stall and waits for her hands to stop shaking.

-

There is a small group of students who meet in the Room of Requirement, and as the year goes on, it grows bigger. Luna leaves stacks of the Quibbler in there. Neville talks quietly with the younger students, though Ginny can’t imagine what he tells them. He brings murtlap essence and willow bark for the ones who get hurt. Ginny sometimes teaches hexes, or shield spells, but less and less often as the year goes on. You can’t fight Death Eaters with bat bogey hexes, or at least, you can’t when they’re running your school and your government. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt because they tried to fight when they should have complied.

“We’re not exactly a defence club this time,” she tells Neville the first time they stay in the room overnight.

It’s late, but neither of them can sleep. Neville looks at the hammocks that appeared as soon as they needed them, for the students who can’t go back to their common rooms anymore.

“No, I guess not,” he says.

“We’re barely even a resistance movement. And we’re definitely not an army.”

“Does that bother you?”

She hesitates. She’s so tired her bones ache.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “I just hate that we can’t do anything.”

“We are doing something.”

And they are, she supposes. Refusing to participate in the brutality of Dark Arts lessons. Smuggling as many copies of the Quibbler into the school as possible. Showing the younger students the secret passages to get around the castle unseen. They’ve made a safe place in the Room of Requirement for the ones who need to hide for a while. They disrupt the daily life at Hogwarts as much as possible, sabotaging hallways and classrooms whenever and however they can. They have managed to start fires during three “muggle studies” lessons so far. It just feels so small. She sighs. “I know,” she says. “But I want to fight. I want to… I want to fucking kill them.”

Neville nods solemnly.

“Yeah”, he says. “Me too.”

-

There’s always at least one of them staying in the Room of Requirement overnight. When it’s just her alone, she lies awake until the early hours, listening to the breathing and the restless sleep of their refugees and their soldiers. When Luna is there, she crawls into Ginny’s bed without asking and puts her stick-thin arms around her. She seems so fragile, with her odd, airy speech, her easy smiles and her wide eyes, but she isn’t. Ginny used to put herself between Luna and her bullies, tell them to piss off when Luna couldn’t. She has never been scared of bullies, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared. And she probably wouldn’t be able to explain it to anyone if they asked, but she knows that somehow, this, Luna climbing into her bed and holding her until they both fall asleep, is the same thing. A way of letting someone else borrow your strength.

It’s not like people don’t know. It’s not like they don’t see the way her and Luna touch each other’s hands and hair and shoulders. She waits for one of them to bring up Harry, all her angry arguments lined up in her throat, but no one ever does. She almost wants them to, just so she would get to make her case out loud.

She does feel bad. She misses him so much. She is so scared for him. That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry with him too. For breaking up with her. For leaving her behind. For taking Ron and Hermione with him, but not her. For the way he was watching Draco Malfoy over the summer.

-

This is how the last year of the wizarding war passes for the kids who have to end it: They spend the year roaming around the English countryside in an old, ratty tent, following up on vague clues, chasing gut feelings. They fight too much and bicker when they aren’t fighting, and none of it feels very heroic.

Harry lies awake too many nights, trying to sleep and giving up on sleeping, staring into the dark instead, trying to make himself believe that this is going to work. And sometimes he’ll pull out the marauder’s map and look at Ginny’s dot in the girls’ dormitory, or feel his heart beat fast and hard in his chest when she walks the hallways long after dark. Sometimes, more and more often as the weeks go on, her dot disappears, even at night. He knows that means she’s in the Room of Requirement, but it still leaves him feeling sick with nerves. And it’s so fucking unfair that Ron thinks Harry doesn’t have anyone to worry about.

Sometimes his mind slips, and he realizes he’s been watching the wrong common room, following the winding corridors of the dungeons instead of the towers, looking for a name that he knows isn’t there. Old habits die hard and all that. When he catches himself at it, he tucks the map away and feels guilty.

-

(The rest of this story will be uploaded to AO3, with updates every Sunday.)

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 974 - Initial Thoughts

Sweet Baby Jesus

WHAT A CHAPTER! Support the official release of course but check this out ASAP because it is just taking things up a gear Spoilers for the Chapter and Believe Me, You Don’t Wanna be Spoiled On This

We start the chapter with a mini explanation to one of Wano’s big mysteries. Unfortunately it seems that Komurasaki’s ‘death’ was just smoke and mirrors, a hidden blood bag in the kimono. I can swallow it sure but it seems rather safe, also it doesn’t explain other stuff like the body, she had a mass funeral I would expect there to be a body.

Also Hiyori used the money she fleeced off of men to give to Kyoshiro’s Ushimitsu Kozo activities, which was fairly obvious mind you now that we know that Kyoshiro is Denjiro

Kaido’s size still miffs me, we know how big Orochi is and we know how big Kaido is but it still looks like that Kaido has downsized to fit a room. It was a bit more understandable in the decades past flashback but not the months past flashback

Interesting though is that Kaido has a question for the Scabbards, it explains why they weren’t killed but then again why just the ones that time jumped? Surely Kaido could’ve just gone see Shutenmaru or started searching for the Minks at that point if he just wanted info from a Scabbard. Maybe he’s curious about Hiyori? She is unaccounted for in their list

The moment they confirmed a spy I completely missed the obvious hint, born in a theatre...my mind had racked thinking that it could’ve been someone who didn’t time jump, but bitter as it may be it turns out a scabbard was a traitor after all, a hidden Kurozumi

Urgh, even in death that Hagwitch returns to annoy me ¬_¬

But we skip back to the present, a small boat voyaging the remnant Scabbards setting off as Shinobu and Momo watch on. Kin’emon knows there’s a traitor but doesn’t want to suspect any of his comrades, but then, BUT THEN

He out and out admits it. Kurozumi Kanjuro. It is shockingly twisted, the kabuki man had played a role, lived a role so much. It wasn’t any ill will towards those who he called friend, maybe not even ill will towards Oden himself, but he did it anyway, for revenge. Kanjuro revealed himself to be soulless, devoid of emotions and waiting for a good moment to die, it’s almost like Haku or Kimimaro from Naruto

But the madness gets laid on thick, mocking the fact that Yasu died for nothing and that he was able to evade suspicion because of how deeply into the role he was in. Just think about it, Kanjuro was key to defeating Sugar and thus key to defeating Doflamingo, he did all this stuff that’d anger Kaido to maintain cover. Could that backfire on him?

The bigger twist though is that he’s not a talentless artist, he had already perfected his DF, it’s easy to draw badly when you can draw well. I’m a little lost on this part though, was the Kanjuro accompanying them a drawing all along? Does that mean Kanjuro was disguised as Shinobu at the port? We’ve seen her use her DF so she couldn’t have always been Kanjuro. But it seems that Orochi wants Momo first before Kanjuro could die, it all seemed rather dire with Kaido’s forces glaring down at them

But no sad ending this time, the grin is on! The Sunny from one side, the Polar Tang from below and the Victoria Punk (I guess Kaido decided to keep it?) from the other, the allies are at another port and the three captains are here.

Kid seems to have changed his mind on alliance, if only to take Kaido’s head and it seems that Luffy was captured at one point too? They could’ve just been talking about Law though

‘To go after samurai in a tiny little boat’ *muffled screams about when Sabo was in a tiny boat*

When you’re at the Sea, you Fight Pirates!

Hell. Yeah. That’s a way to end a chapter And no break in sight! We reach a moment almost 12 years in the making with the 3 Captains standing side by side once more, it’s all the hype moments and it leans a little in on my 5 Captains theory, all I need now is for Drake and Hawkins to turn on Kaido, because as powerful as the trio are, taking Big Mom AND Kaido will not be a feat I feel they’re ready for. We’ll likely get a mini flashback though about the leading up to this moment, explain how the Sunny survived the cave-in and why the allies are in a different port. But we’ll also have to get Momo free from Kanjuro, or protect him when he faces Kaido once more.

A side note though, I’ve noticed that there has been another underlying theme of the Wano arc besides the fragility of alliances, and its the theme of facade.Think of all the characters who were living two lives in this arc; Hyou, Kamazo, Kiku, Hiyori, Kyoshiro, Gyukimaru, Yasu, Drake and now Kanjuro, even the Straw Hats in Wano had to lead different lives, this theme is meaningful and I don’t think it’s quite shown us all that it’s meant to, but that only means that the story is gonna get more exciting

Buckle Up Guys, Goda’s taking us for a ride.