#I ask them of one thing. don’t go searching for my creations. I practically beg them of it

[myname-isnia]

I’ve spent the entire day carefully avoiding triggering any negative emotion in myself because the PMS is hitting me hard and I’m genuinely tired of being hysterical all the time, only for my family to come along and shatter all that effort into TINY LITTLE PIECES

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

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

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

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

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “As in bi-curious?”

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

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

    ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

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

  He’s lying. You can tell.

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

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

  He’s angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

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

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

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

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

  “Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

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

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

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

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

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

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

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

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

  “You’re bossy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

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

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

        ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Thank you.”

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

  “Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

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

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

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

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

  “Last time you said that…”

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

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

  “Who is it?”

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

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

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

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

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

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

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

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

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

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

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yoongi, what-“

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

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

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

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

   Brother?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Why not?”

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

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

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

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

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

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

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

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

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

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

   ||\\

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

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

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

  No. He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m sorry.”

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

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

  “What, now? Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

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

  “H-How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

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

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “My place.”

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

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

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

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

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

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

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

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

  “Not even then.”

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

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

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

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

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

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

  Alright. Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “B-But the protocol-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

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

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

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

  “So you rebelled?”

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

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

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

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

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

  “Because of the devil, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

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

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

  “Then why?”

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

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

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

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

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

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

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

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

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

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

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

  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

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

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Can we go home, please?”

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

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

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

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Trauma

Authors Note: I mixed in parts of the book series for the fun of it. I hope you like it!

Request: Could you possibly write a Jace x Reader fanfiction where the reader has been through some trauma and gets triggered when making out with Jace?

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jace were together for quite sometime before Clary came onto the scene. It had broken Y/N beyond relief when Jace had ended the relationship upon meeting this girl. Her whole world is then turned upside down when Clary destroyed the boat and possibly her entire life.

Warnings: Swearing, some references to incestuous behaviour and physical and mental triggers.

Word Count: 6,092

I was on the boat that day. The day where something suspicious happened with Clary and Jace while they were talking with Valentine. None of us Shadowhunters really know the true extent of what happened to shake up our entire world during that battle. No one other than those who were down in the bunker with Valentine.

It is not like I was meant to be there, on that boat. The morning of the battle, Jace had come to my room at the institute and was practically on his knees begging me not to attend. He knew something bad was going to go down and at that precise moment, I put it all down to the thought that possibly he was trying to protect me from getting caught in the crossfire. But there was something there, something unnerving niggling behind his eyes.

I had seen that look once before. The night that we broke up, when he swore to me that he had no feelings for Clary. Since that day we had remained civil to one another but things were not quite the same between us. I loved the boy but he had forgotten all about me now that he had his sister on the scene. Which is why it was so confusing when he came to my room that night to convince me to stay away from the battle. He pulled out all the stops, he even called me by the nickname he gave me when we were together, ‘Darling.’

Just like the day that I first heard the nickname, I was putty in his hands. He could manipulate me that well with one word. The worst part was, I knew it. I knew I was a pawn and yet I almost fell for it yet again. Almost.

That night I had waited until Jace and Clary had left to go and see Valentine on the ship. The inquisitor was busy talking to Maryse about what to expect tonight, which meant that I had a couple minutes to find Alec and convince him to let me join them. Everyone knew that Alec had a soft spot for me, I was like his baby sister. Isabelle was stricter with me, she always prevented me from going on the hunts mainly because she was terrified that I would either get myself hurt or her. She was not as convinced of my abilities as Alec were.

“Alec, please!” I pleaded as he tugged at the bow that was sliding down my shoulder. “Something is going on with Jace and there is a reason he is trying to keep me away tonight!” Just like me, Alec knew what Jace was really like.

“I can’t just defy the inquisitor and give her another body to protect.” The way that he said body made me shake with a small sense of irritation.

“Hey!” Smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand. “I am not just a body! I can protect myself and you know that.”

It took longer than I had imagined to get Alec on side but all my best efforts and manipulation techniques that I had picked up along the way worked a saint. “You better not make me wish I handcuffed you to the bed.” Alec huffed as he handed me back my weapon of choice with a wide range of arrows to complete the deadly device.

***

“Save those kinky thoughts for Magnus.” Quickly I pushed myself up onto the tips of my toes to place a soft peck on his cheek. Something I had picked up along the way while growing up with Alec. It was the kindest thing I could do after all the manipulation I had done over the years.

I had not realised how bad the battle was going to be until I was there. Dozens of Shadowhunters were slaughtered by the demons that Valentine had summoned using the Mortal Instruments. It was possibly the most haunting thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I had witnessed my friends and family die for one another while Valentine’s demons did not give a rat’s ass. They were truly monsters of Valentine’s own creation.

“Try and find Jace, Y/N!” Alec shouted over the grunts and groans on the top level of the boat. “We need to get out of here before anyone else dies! Be-” Before Alec could finish talking, he was thrown across the deck by one of the larger demons.

“Alec!” I screamed as I could no longer see him. Tears filled my eyes when I did not receive a response from him.

“Y/N do what he said. Go find the others. I will stay with him.” Isabelle was shaking my shoulder trying to get me to move from my frozen state. “Hurry!”  

I finally register and begin running for cover. There were bodies everywhere, some that I recognised and some who I had never seen before. However, that did not make me feel any less queasy than I did within that moment looking down on their lifeless bodies.

Across from me, I could see a doorway that must have led downstairs where Alec had just told me to search. Sucking in a long painful breath from the smoke above deck, I ducked my head in and began to calmly run towards the murmurs that I could hear down the other end of the ship.

“Jace, Clary, I am your father, your own flesh and blood. How could you think these dark things of me?” Valentine failed sincerity with every word that he spoke. “You should love me the way that you too love each other.”

There was a dark look in Valentine’s eyes. One of utter disgust and almost a niggle of amusement. “Although, the way that you two love one another is impure, isn’t it my children?” Valentine watched and so did I as his eyes flicked between Jace and Clary.

I should help them. Try and get them out of there alive. But what I was hearing was the one thing I felt that I needed to hear from the day that we found Clary at that club. “Any father’s dream is for his children to be full of love for the other. But I think that you two take the cake for the most devoted brother and sister that I have ever seen.”

“Shut up, Valentine!” Clary screamed as she brandished her weapon from her jeans pocket.

Clearly amused by the whole debacle, Valentine continued to torment his children as I stood by in the shadows. “It is true, isn’t it Jace. You love little Clarissa in a deeply tainted way. What would the Clave think of that?” He taunted further. “You even broke up with that feisty teen from the institute just so that you could sneak around with your sister when all the doors were closed.”

I saw that look in Jace’s eyes. The same look he gave me when I asked if there was something between the pair of them. Defeat. “Stop talking, Valentine.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I quite liked that, Y/N. She was spunky, wait what was the word I used before. Ah yes feisty. Your mother was feisty. A good quality for a successful Shadowhunter to have.” Valentine perched on the edge of a table as he continued to peruse the annoyance and irritation on his children’s faces.

“Admit your true feelings and I will let you go.” Valentine raised his hands as if he were offering a simple transaction and not one that was completely demoralising for everyone who took part. “Lie to me and I will send my demons to tear your sister apart limb from limb.”

“She is your daughter; you would not do that.” Jace screamed at his father grasping fiercely onto his Seraph blade.

Valentine sighed and all I could do was stand there and wait for the admission that I asked for months ago and failed to receive. “You are my son, and she is my daughter. But right now, both of you are in my way so do as I say or you will all die.”

Clary ran across to Jace and pulled him in for a hug. My stomach ached harder. She did the one thing that I feared. She locked her lips on top of his. That was all the confirmation that I needed before my legs gave way and I plummeted to the floor letting out a soft but vocal yelp.

All the eyes in that room darted towards my hiding place. At least my yelp had separated Jace and Clary from their make out session. It all happened so quickly. Within seconds, Valentine had grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the room with the two incestuous love birds.

Pulling back my hair to force me to stare at the boy I had loved for years clutching the girl he only knew for a matter of months and yet somehow loved her more. “What do we have here?” Valentine mocked as he knew the agonising pain that was now soaring throughout my body. Both physical and mental.

Jace leaned towards me. For a second, I thought that he was fighting to reach me, to save me even, but then he pulled back and stood alongside Clary with what was almost regret in his eyes. Almost. “Now don’t you think that little Y/N would like a front row show of what she had just missed?” Valentine taunted digging his blade into the side of my ribs.

“Don’t hurt her!” Jace spoke through his gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare hurt her.” On the word ‘dare’ Jace’s voice broke, I could hear the pain within his voice. But it was too late. He might care for me, but not like he cared for her.

Clary had out her mother’s stele and she was leaning against the wooden floor. Valentine was too busy marvelling in the chaos that he had caused to give his daughter the slightest bit of attention.

Jace’s eyes found mine and locked onto them. I could barely see him through the tears that were pooling in my eyes. It was over. He loved her, and I was nothing more than a memory to him. She was his present, and what might be his future.

“Open!” Clary screamed which was all I heard before the whole boat began to disintegrate into shards of wood. From what I can remember from that night, I was thrown out of Valentine’s grasp where I hit a rock-hard iron anchor. The pain that I experienced was excruciating, although the mental pain was almost as strong. I have lost him.

There was a loud crash and a boisterous cry from Jace as that giant anchor dislodged itself from the wall and landed on top of me. “Y/N!” His voice was getting quieter while the world began to get darker.

***

That was all I could remember from that day on the boat. Clary had done something to literally break apart the chaos that was forming both up and below board and yet I was the one who ended up in the infirmary for 2 months. I sustained major injuries and a few minor ones that were quickly healed with runes. But for the most of it, I was locked to that bed just like Alec had promised. Completely and utterly bed ridden.

I am not going to lie, I had visitors now and then. Although, for the most part of it, I was desperately alone. I had not seen Jace since that night. Alec showed up every day. He was my one constant that wasn’t just the drugs and horrible food I was receiving. Isabelle would pop by to gossip about how Alec and Magnus were becoming official even though their parents were not thrilled by the idea initially.

All those days cooped up there and I had not seen Jace. The one person I may have been delighted to see 2 months ago, but now I was not too sure that he was.

“Guess what?” Alec quizzed me behind his book that was positioned just below his chin. He had made his very own home from home set up in the corner of the infirmary. “I am not going to continue until you say, ‘Oh my gosh Alec tell me, tell me, tell me!’” He feigned a girly voice as if to impersonate myself. Picking up one of the cushions from the side of the bed, I threw it directly at his face. “Hey! I come here every day to help bring you joy and this is how you repay me? A cushion to the face?”

I laughed. I could always depend on Alec. He truly was my best friend here at the institute. Some days it even feels as though he is my only friend that I have here. “One, I do not talk like that; two, you are a jerk; and three, oh my gosh tell me!” I lived up to the fake voice that Alec had prescribed me.

Holding his hands up in defeat, “Okay I will tell you! Did you know that Clary and Simon broke up?”

“Why would I know that, Alec. You and Isabelle are the only people I see and this is the first that I am hearing this.” You pause and sigh. Simon was supposed to be keeping Clary away from Jace, and now he has basically opened the door for them to be together as they clearly do not care about the brother/sister relationship that they have.

“Alec? I am feeling a little tired. Do you mind if I get some sleep?” This was always the excuse that I used for Alec to leave, which he did even if he did linger slightly longer than he would have done.

“Alright. Love you peanut.” He kissed my forehead and stroked back my hair the way a brother would do for his sister. Everyone knew that if Alec had tried to do this to Isabelle, she would have snapped his wrist for being soppy.

I cried for a couple of hours after Alec had left. No matter how mean it was of me, I wanted Clary to stay away from Jace. Every time that I saw them together after we broke up, it broke me more and more.

***

While I sleep, I cannot prevent my mind from going places that I did not want it to. I could hear Jace’s voice clear as day. There was a sadness to his voice. Almost as if he were fighting back the urge to cry. “I have been such a dick, Y/N. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

In my dream he was holding my hand and squeezing it tightly. It felt so real almost as if Jace was really in the room with me holding onto my hand and speaking directly to me.

I turned my head slowly and let my eyes flutter open. “Jace?” My voice cracked as my body began to wake up.

His head was facing down when I first saw him but as soon as I spoke, he shot up and turned his head away from me. Lifting his hands up to his own face and then quickly replacing them to his hips. “Sorry, um.” He coughed still avoiding any form of eye contact with me. “I thought you were asleep. I will go. Sorry again.”

“Jace?” I whispered.

His head turned to face me and that was when his eyes locked onto mine. Even with his badass and fearless exterior, something flipped inside of that blonde-haired assassin. Those tears that I could hear in his voice that I thought were from my dream, suddenly appeared in his eyes.

I had not seen Jace cry in a long time. It was my kryptonite. Every time that I had seen Jace cry growing up, I always folded and any disagreement we were having would become irrelevant as I hated seeing the boy become so broken.

He stood there; his eyes locked onto mine as his tears ran down his face. “This is my fault. This is all my fault. You were hurt because of me.” His voice cracked in places and it shook over every word. I wanted to hold him and to tell him it was okay, but I always wanted to scream at him and to show him how much he had hurt me.

When I did not move or say anything he reached for my hand and pulled it up to his chest. “I miss you Y/N and I hate seeing you this way. Seeing you hate me.”

“If you missed me, where have you been for the past 2 months?” I cried letting my own tears fall from my eyes. “If you really missed me, you would have come to see me every day like Alec.”

Jace fell to his knees but kept hold of my hand. “I was here every day.” He whispered back. “I couldn’t face you hating me or possibly turning me away so I only came here when you were sleeping. I was here every day and every night while you were in the coma for the first month. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Jace, you hurt me.” I squeaked. “More than that anchor did.”

“I know. I am sorry, really, I am. One day I hope that you can forgive me.” There was something else though. Something he was not telling me; I could feel it.

“Jace, what is going on?” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It was getting more and more painful with every beat and breathing was becoming more difficult.

“Clary and I. We are not actually related. Valentine lied; he is not my father.” Fear washed over me. Without Simon in the way and now without the brother and sister barrier in the way, Jace was free to be with her. They were probably together now and this was his way to break it to me. My mind started going into overdrive. Thoughts kept entering my head with same speed that my heart belted in my chest.

“Y/N?” Jace screamed as my whole body started to shake. Then similarly to the boat fiasco, everything went black.

***

“What happened!” I could hear all the voices in the room but I could not see anyone.

“I told her that Clary and I aren’t related.” Jace’s voice was shaky, panic was clearly rushing throughout his body.

“You did tell her everything though?” Alec’s voice was booming in my ears as his protective brotherly mode was now engaged.

“I couldn’t quite tell her everything, once I told her the first thing this started to happen.”

“You have to tell her Jace! She fucking loves you, can’t you see that!” Isabelle chimed in. Glad to know that I was not subtle enough to slide past Izzy.

“I know! I am doing my best okay.” Jace barked.

“Magnus can you fix her?” Isabelle asked as she was clearly barking orders again at her brother’s boyfriend.

“I can but I will need some space. Y/N’s body has not fully recovered from the damage that she sustained on the boat. It appears that when an intense heart rate is inflicted her body begins to fail. I can help her with this one and do my best to fix the damage, but I cannot be sure that it will minimise the risks of this happening again. It is going to be a complicated spell, and even then magic may not even be her best option.”

“Magnus please.” Jace pleaded. “Do whatever you need to. I will do anything. I cannot lose her.”

***

I woke up to Alec’s head leaning on my shoulder. At some point after Magnus worked his magic, Alec had worked his way into my bed. Instead of waking up in the infirmary, I woke up in the comfortable and familiar surroundings that were my bedroom. Alec was snoring away on my shoulder but it was comforting to have him here with me.

I wiggled around in my bed to find Jace protectively watching over me from his armchair that he branded his spot in my room. There were dark circles under his eyes. I could tell that he had been awake for a long time which only made me more nervous as to how long I was out for. “Jace? What happened?”

It took Jace only a second to register that I was awake and looking right at him. “Hey, shh.” He said softly as he tried to avoid waking up Alec beside me. “Are you okay?” I nodded but it hurt a little to do so. Everything in my head was buzzing since the moment that I woke up. “I need to tell you something.”

My mind flashed back to the conversation that I was able to pick up once I had passed out. Although, I was sort of hoping that I had imagined it. “Before you got sick, I was about to tell you something.” I did not want to hear it. Jace’s face was serious, he was rubbing his chest as if he had indigestion or was having some sort of irritation from his t-shirt. “I cannot help but blame myself for you getting sick earlier. The thing is, I want you to know that Clary and I are not together.” He let his hand fall from his chest so that he could fiddle with his ring. “I knew it was not the right thing to do. We got into a massive fight when she said she wanted me to move away with her. I could not leave you. When you were in that coma, all I could think about was how much I wanted you to be okay. You were on my mind constantly. After the fight, I told her I did not want to be with her so she decided to move to Idris with Luke.”

I did not know what to say. That was a lot of information to take in all at once. “I want you to know that what you did on the boat, coming when I asked you not to. You put the fear of god into me. When I saw that anchor come down on you, I thought I lost you. I ran over to you but it had already done it’s damage.” He began to tear up as he wiped a stray bit of hair away from my eyes.

“I carried you out of there like a rag doll in my arms. I did not even know if you were alive and I had never experience anything as painful as that in my whole life. Y/N I was a wreck, you were the only thing that I cared about when that boat came apart. I realised then that you are the only thing on this god forsaken earth that I give two shits about and I thought I had lost you.” A tear dropped onto my arm as he no longer fought back the tears.

“What about Clary, I thought you loved her?” I questioned as the tears ran down my face. “What about her, Jace?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t love Clary. At the time I thought I did, but it has always been you. I love you Y/N, you are my person.” My heart melted as these were the words that I wanted to hear from the minute that I laid eyes of Jace Wayland. “If you would let me, I would like to show you that I can be the man you want me to be. If you give me the chance, I can be the type of boyfriend you want me to be.”

Of course, I love Jace. I always have. The tears soaked through the collar of his shirt which did help his cause. “Jace, that has all I have ever wanted. But you broke my heart when you ended things, how can I be sure you won’t do it again?” Throughout the whole conversation and sobbing, Alec nevertheless laid perfectly still while letting his snores reach new volumes.

“I won’t.” Jace’s beautiful eyes searched mine, “I will not do anything to hurt you ever again. I promise. Please Y/N, I need you.” Jace Wayland the mighty Shadowhunter was showing his true feelings and how could I turn him away after that. He laid one hand on my chest and the other on his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too Jace.” Jace picked himself up from kneeling beside my bed and led alongside me in the bed. His arms draped around my body as he pulled me into his chest. I have never felt as safe as I did in that moment.

***

I woke up during the night to find that Alec was no longer beside me. However, Jace was still cuddled up against me with his arm protectively placed over my hips. I turned to face him, my nose now up against his. “Training starts in an hour, Jace.” I whisper to him.

His body began to stir as he registered my words. Instead of opening his eyes and trying to get out of the bed, Jace grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. “No, I want to stay here.” He grumbled, nestling his head into the crook of my neck. “Plus, you will just end up kicking my ass if we go down to the combat room.”

I push him away slightly as I begin to get excited to get back into training. Magnus had told Jace that if I felt well enough, I could start training again today. The only downside was that I prohibited to go out in the field for possibly a long time yet. I am already out of bed and in the bathroom before Jace can even notice that I am no longer beside him.

“Jace come on, I need to get back into this. I have done nothing for a whole two months. I think my legs are starting to seize up from being led down all the time.” Another grumble from the bedroom. I pick up my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth. I gazed up at the mirror to stare back at my reflection. I had not seen my own face in days, I had dark circles under my eyes regardless of the amount of sleep that I was getting.

However, that was not what caught my eyes the most. It was the mark on my chest that made me stop dead. The toothbrush that I was once holding was now lying in the sink as I leaned in closer to the mirror to examine the scar. On my chest there was a long pink scar residing between my breasts. I knew for a fact that it was not there before the accident.

“Everything okay in there?” Jace called from the bathroom after possibly hearing the toothbrush hit the porcelain. I quickly discard my clothes and jump into the shower before Jace could see me or the scar. I turned on the water and let my mind go crazy. ‘Where was it from? How did I get it? It is so fucking ugly! I can not let Jace see it, what would he think?’ I push the thoughts away as I grab the towel from the side.

Jace appeared in the doorway as I stepped out of the shower with the towel already draped around my body. His moth was left open when his eyes searched my body. I tried my best to keep the mark covered with the towel. My cheeks began to flush and I was suddenly aware that I was naked underneath the towel. “You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N.” He declared as he decreased the gap between us both.

Jace’s hands rested on my hips while his eyes locked onto mine to ensure that his actions were okay. They were. His head began to drop closer to mine and once again that morning, our noses were touching.

My head jerked back when there was a knock on the door. Alec stood in the doorway holding his seraph blade in one hand and his bow over his shoulder. “Are you coming or what Peanut?” He shouted into my room.

I wave to him and tell him that I just need to change and I will be right out. I know he saw what was happening or what was about to happen and I could not be 100% sure, but I think that he had a slight glint of a smile creeping on his lips.

I turn back to Jace to see that he is disappointed. “When we come back can I have that kiss?” He asked me. I could not help but smile in response.

***

Training was my favourite part of the day. The only problem was how competitive everyone got. Jace was the worst. But today it felt as though he was going a little too easy on me and I was unsure as to why.

I pulled him aside after the third spar that we had where he clearly let me win too easily. “Jace what is going on?”

“What do you mean what is going on?” Jace was a terrible liar and he knew that I knew it. “Fine, it is quite embarrassing okay.” I raise an eyebrow as he continues to talk his way out of this one. “I keep thinking back to this morning and I, well it is quite uncomfortable to fight you when I am having to fight something else forming downstairs.”

My eyes gaze down his body and I finally twig at what he was trying to decipher to me without everyone else in the room hearing about his dilemma. “It doesn’t help that you are wearing an extremely short pair of shorts that is making your arse look desirable?”

I laugh a little at seeing him at his weakest during training. “It isn’t funny okay?”

I stop laughing when I saw that Alec had caught us no longer completing our training during our allotted time in the combat room. “Come on Alec will get annoyed if we don’t try and use this time wisely.”

Jace picked up his blade and held it out to you. “Go easy on me, would you?”

***

“Well you didn’t exactly go easy on me, did you?” Jace whined as he pulled his sweaty shirt off and threw it into his hamper. “If I knew any better, I would think that you knew exactly how to manipulate the situation.” He kept his back to me as he through on another clean shirt from his drawer. It was my favourite light blue shirt that he only ever wore around me when we first got together.

“Consider yourself lucky.” I protest as I discard my boots in the corner of his room. “At least I let you win once. That was generous of me.” I scrunch up my nose, the way I know he likes. Apparently, it makes me look all cute and innocent. When we first met, Jace told me that when I smile, I scrunch up my nose. He found it adorable and I caught his attention from an early age.

I felt the light touch of his hands slide around my stomach and laid delicately on top of my skin. His head rested on my shoulder. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispered into my ear. I do not think that I will ever get used to hearing him say those words to me. I turned around in his arms and hooked my own around his neck. Just like that morning, his head started to close the distance between our faces.

The feeling I got when his lips touched mine was almost as if someone had put the whole world on pause. We were the only two people in the entire universe within that moment. Do not get me wrong, Jace and I have kissed before. But this time it felt different. When our lips met I felt as though my heart was finally whole again. My whole body ached to be close to him.

It was not long before the kisses became more heated. I felt Jace’s hands become firmer on my hips as if he were holding me desperately close to him. Did he feel the exact same need that I did? I folded up in his arms and allowed him to direct me over to the bed where he gently laid me down onto the mattress without breaking the kiss once.

Between every other breathless kiss, he broke away to moan the words ‘I love you’ repeatedly as if he were trying to convince himself that this was happening. His hand locked onto the side of my face where he began to caress my cheek and his lips connected and disconnected with my own. While his other hand held onto both of my own above my head.

Jace’s kisses were smooth and tender and they were the one thing that I wanted more than anything in this entire world. His lips started to relocate down my chin and onto my neck. His sweet lips sucked at the skin just below my jaw which made my breath get caught in my throat. My heart was beating rapidly as I could not believe that Jace and I were finally in a place where this was possible.

It was not until his lips reached my chest where I started to panic. My mind flashed back to the discovery that I made that morning before the shower. My head started pounding as my heart rate started to beat faster than I thought was possible.

“Stop!” I cried as I attempted to push Jace off me. I clutched my shirt together and brought my knees up to my chest. My breathing was rapid and the world started to blur again.

Jace rushed over to my side and held onto my arms. “Breathe Y/N. Slowly, come on you can do it, copy me okay?” I watched as he tried to guide me through each breath. “Good, now slowly drop your legs for me. It will make it easier.” I did as he said and continued to mimic the breathing techniques that he was demonstrating to me.

After 5 minutes I managed to get my breathing back down and my heartbeat back to a regular rhythm. Jace was sat down beside me holding onto my right hand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked calmly.  

At first, I thought about lying to him, hiding the truth from him. But I could not do it. “I have a scar.” I manage to squeak. It sounds stupid but it really was hard for me to say. “I have a scar on my chest and I didn’t want you to see it because you might think that I am ugly.”

Jace squeezed onto my hand and pulled me into his chest to comfort me. “Don’t be silly. I think that you are beautiful and nothing is going to change that.” He moved from my side to kneel on the floor between my knees. “Will you show me?”

He raised his hands up to where I was holding my hand over the exposed area. Slowly and gently he guided my hand away from my chest. When he saw the scar, his expression did not change. Almost as if he had seen it before. His thumb stroked over the scarred tissue of skin. Tracing the line from the beginning to the end. “See it is disgusting.” I whimpered at his touch.

He slowly shook his head and placed his hand over the top of it. “No, this is a constant reminder that I can never hurt you ever again. Your heart is now protected.”

I let him hold me tight as I cried. “My heart is yours.” I sobbed into his arms.

“And so is mine.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. I never really knew how true that was until I saw that Jace had the same scar on his chest. When Jace told Magnus that he would do anything, he really did mean it. I owned half of his heart. “I told you Y/N, you are my person.” His lips connected sweetly with my forehead as he held me closer to him.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 18

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 18

----------

The akuma of the day turned out to be the editor-in-chief of the tabloid that tried to spin a story about Damian and Allegra. It might’ve had something to do with the fact that the Mayor’s office, Kane Industries, and Wayne Enterprises were going after his newspaper for libel and slander. The Printer was defeated by Pink Tigress, who was working with extreme prejudice that day. Ladybug arrived just in time to purify the akuma. 

After it was all sorted out, the group retreated to Wayne Manor, where they met Chloé waiting for them. 

“Good. You’re here. Now it’s time to plan a counter-attack.” 

“What?” Marinette asked, surprised.

“Counter-attack on Erica and Lila. They practically declared war with that stunt!” Chloé raved on.

“Huh?” Damian was equally confused.

“Apparently, ‘The Printer’ was paid a rather large sum to have this article published without checking credibility. He did these things before.” She explained.

“So they actually started to play dirty?” The bluenette asked

“They didn’t!” Tim ran inside the cave, panting. “How in a hundred treadmills can you run so fast?!” He stared at the blonde.

“Puh-lease! I just used a short-cut.” She huffed. “One could think you accuse me of… physical training.” She made a disgusted face, but she was smirking. 

“Tt. So did they attack us or not?” Damian scowled and started to sharpen his sword. Where he got the sword from was not important at that moment. Everyone long since gave up on trying to track all his hidden weapon stashes. 

“They couldn’t. Neither has that amount of money. I traced it to a foreign account registered on Emma Rose Blake.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she stumbled back as if the name slapped her. “ Adrien… ” she whispered.

“What!?” Damian was on his feet in an instant.

Sabine grasped her dagger before her expression turned soft and she walked to hug her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re not alone.”

“I… Adrien snuck out once. He wanted to watch that movie that starred his mother.  Solitude. ”

“I remember! That one threw a wrench in my search for a while.” Tim beamed.

“We stumbled upon each other and he took me with him…” She remembered and blushed lightly. “I only saw the intro, but from what I found out on the internet, his mother was the lead. Her character’s name was Emma. Rose. Blake.” She told each word separately, making sure they got the message.

“So that bastard thought he could get the two of you to break up?” Chloé asked. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! The two of you are the sweetest, most loyal couple in the whole of Gotham. And besides, the blasted spell wouldn’t let anything like that happen. We’ve seen the effects.”

“Tt. It does work both ways.” Damian’s face was twisted in a scowl. “And I reserve my right to skin the cat and feed him to sharks. I’m sure Penguin will let me borrow some.” 

“I’m… not sure if you’re joking…” Tim stared at his brother, worried about his sanity.

“I’m not.” The youngest Wayne cut him off. “That flea-ridden alley-cat is intruding on my bond. My marriage. The league… It’s the single most sacred relation for the members of the league. For me.” He grabbed Marinette’s hand. “And he will suffer for trying to separate us.”

For a moment, Marinette stared at him, taken by surprise by his revelation. Then, she cuddled into his side.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I know.”

“Also,” Chloé decided to interrupt the cute moment, “you’re trending.” She showed them a video.

Marinette and Damian were standing on the table in the cafeteria, holding hands.

“...I trust Damian with my life. I’m his and he’s mine!” She declared. There was steel determination in her eyes, but also flame that burned bright.

“I’m hers and she’s mine.” Damian echoed. He had an identical expression on his face. They raised their joint hands before turning to one another and sharing a quick kiss. In the background, many people cooed at the romanticism of the scene. Then, a black butterfly sneaked through the window. Marinette looked at it and grasped it from the air. When she opened her hand, it was a mess. 

“Not today, Hawkass Junior.” She seethed. Then, like a queen she was, she and two blondes by her side left the place among applause. 

“Someone recorded it?!” She started blushing profoundly. Damian’s cheeks were also red. 

“Tt. Who did that?” 

“Claude.” Chloé smiled. “But that’s not the important part.”

“Then what is?” Sabine asked. “Also, I want a copy of that video.” In response, her phone vibrated.

“Maman?!” Marinette moaned.

“The ‘Not today, Hawkass Junior’ is breaking the records on Twitter and Tumblr.” She smiled. “You’ve become a sort of a hero today. MDC is now  the  designer. Jagged Stone went live and he spent five minutes doing nothing but praise you!”

“Only five minutes?” Damian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Penny found him and dragged him by the ear from the screen. After that, it was only Fang posing before the camera.”

“That’s… That’s Jagged alright…” Mari giggled. 

Damian only huffed. 

Chloé’s phone vibrated and she opened the link. She laughed for a good two minutes before she was able to speak. “Mayor Kane... just declared... ‘Not today, Hawkass Jr.’ to be the official motto... of the campaign against his terror.” 

“Can I make an MDC shirt with this?” The designer beamed. “I know! I’ll make a pillow! No! A…”

“You can make an entire collection, sweetie.” Sabine was grinning. “You’re the hero both in and out of the suit.” She cooed. “And you’re so cute! I’m totally sending this video to Sandra! And uncle Cheng! He’ll love it!”

“Maman!” Marinette moaned again, but she was smiling. She had people that wouldn’t abandon her. 

--------

Two days later it was finally Saturday, which meant a bit of freedom from the kids at school. In hindsight, Marinette preferred it when she was not that popular. Of course, Chloé did what Chloé did best and worked her crowd control magic. She wasn’t constantly accosted at school. At least not by most. Maps made her into a personal hero of sorts.

Now though, it was Saturday, which served as an excuse to stay late in bed, spend the whole day with Damian before spending the evening watching cheesy movies with Chloé and her mom. It would be a perfect Saturday. 

She got dressed in her favorite red dress, making sure to wrap the rope dart under the sash. It wouldn’t do to leave home without any means of self-defense. Not in Gotham at any rate. Her hair fell down her back and curled slightly. On her left wrist, she put a small gold bracelet with a single pearl. It was light and didn’t attract too much attention, but made her whole outfit stand out slightly. She paired it with high stockings and black ballet shoes with silver ribbons. After a thought, she picked a black glossy leather wristlet. Damian promised they would be going somewhere special. 

When she got downstairs, he was already waiting, dressed in a semi-formal outfit. His suit was of course MDC original. He had dark trousers, a white shirt with the topmost two buttons open and a jacket with sleeves rolled to his elbows. All in all, it gave a bit of a roguish vibe, different from what he wore on most occasions. Marinette made sure he wore nothing but her creations. He tried to protest that it was too much work, or at least pay her something for it. She threatened she would forbid him from paying for anything for her. Damian made a mistake, arguing that she was living under his roof. Her response was to start calculating rent. He relented and allowed her to dress him up to her heart’s desire.

“Hello, Habibti.” He smiled at her. 

“Damian! Will you tell me where  we are going?” She hugged him. 

“Not yet.” He said mysteriously. “We’re going somewhere special and I want to surprise you.”

“Daaaamiiii!” She tried again but to no avail.

“Tt. You hang out with Maps too much.” 

“She’s cool.” 

“She’s irritating.”

“That’s just because you’re not willing to give her a chance.”

“She thinks I’m Batman.” He huffed.

“Curious why.” Marinette retorted, smirking. “I’m sure the fact Robin led her for a gift hunt had nothing to do with it, am I right?”

“Tt. I admit nothing.” He tried, but a small smile made its way on his face. Curses! Why did she make him so mushy? 

“I knew there was a heart somewhere deep inside.” She continued, smirking triumphantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. All people have hearts.”

“Even Erica?”

“She’s not a person. She is just walking irritation.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Marinette said. They were walking down the road, bantering to and fro.

They arrived at the gate, where a sports car was waiting for them. Damian took the driver’s seat and pointed her to the shotgun. The car radio was playing the song they danced to during their dance-off. It was full of life and brought back some fond memories.��

“Can I know where we are going now?” She begged. 

“Not. Yet.” He said with a confident smirk. “You’ll love it though.”

“Fine.” She relented and remained in her seat. Marinette decided to focus on the sights outside the window. 

They were driving through the city. She saw that the mayor wasted no time and ‘Not today, Hawkass jr.’ indeed became a city-wide slogan for the campaign about positive thinking. Marinette had a not-so-small suspicion that Chloé and Allegra had something to do with it. She wouldn’t put it past them to artificially boost the popularity until it exploded. Not that she complained that much. If it helped stop more akumas, she was all for it in fact.

Finally, the car pulled in front of the Gotham City History Museum. Or at least Marinette thought it was the museum, from the angle she couldn’t be sure. Before they got out, Damian handed her a blindfold. 

“You’re joking?” She stared at him. “It’s a museum.”

“How did… Nevermind. I have a surprise for you.”

“Why would… No way!” She connected the dots. “But… But we didn’t do that much!”

Damian looked at her with a mixture of amazement and mirth. “I’m surprised Bourgeois didn’t share the news with you.”

“She was too busy hanging out with Cass yesterday.” She then got a pensive expression. “The two of them hit off better than I thought.” 

“True. I’m disappointed with Cassandra, but alas.”

“No, you are not. You’re happy that she’s making friends.” Marinette countered with a smile. 

“You have no proof.” He dropped the blindfold and got out. “Come on or we’ll miss it.”

In response, Marinette put on her sunglasses and also got out. On both walls of the museum, there were giant posters of Ladybug and Black Cat in their heroic poses. He was standing straight on the dark background, with both hands on the baton that served him as a cane. He was looking left, toward the Ladybug poster. He looked serious and a bit intimidating. Ladybug on the other hand was smiling and overlooking all the passers-by. They’ve used her new suit, for which she was eternally grateful. Marinette would probably burn in shame if they decided to stick with the original. 

Inside, Damian led her through the entrance, showing the tickets. They went straight to the Superhero hall, which previously was called just Bat-hall. Marinette was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. She remembered the statue unveiling back in Paris, but it was after months of activity. Here, Gotham accepted two more heroes after a few weeks. Granted, Hawkmoth jr. was much more persistent and his akumas more destructive (plus they had even worse fashion sense), but Marinette still didn’t consider herself special enough.

Reporters from various newspapers crowded around the podium on which stood Mayor Kane. Allegra was by her side. When the young blonde spotted them, she winked at them and smirked. Marinette waved to her in response while Damian guided her toward the front row. He was a Wayne. He didn’t settle for anything else.

The ceremony was lovely and Mayor Kane spoke kindly about the new heroes. Not once she broached the subject of their age. The statue itself was tall, with all three Miraculous users standing side by side, Ladybug in the center, and slightly forward. After that was done and the mayor answered some questions, Damian prodded her slightly and the two snuck out unnoticed. He led her toward the back and onto the stairs that led to the rooftop and the couple was away from the prying eyes. They walked up and opened another set of doors that led them outside. 

The day was a bit chilly, but several heaters placed on the rooftop made it feel perfect for how they were dressed. In the center, there was a blanket with a picnic basket and a small heat-isolated container next to it. 

“Damian!” Marinette giggled when he hugged her from behind and nuzzled into her neck. 

“A surprise.” He whispered. 

“But… How… Why… And on the rooftop?” She gave him a questioning look.

“Heaters needed a power source.” He answered before leading her to the blanket. “And it was closest to the previous attraction.” 

When they sat, cuddled together, the boy pulled a small box of strawberries. Marinette immediately snatched it from him and tasted it first. She practically melted at the taste. Seeing the look of betrayal on his face, she smirked and picked another. 

“No.” He protested when she put it before his mouth.

“Come on Dami. A plane needs to land.” She kept smirking. Damian tried to keep his dignity, but ultimately he gave up and allowed her to feed him. “See? It wasn’t that hard.” 

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He grumbled. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Okay… Only Chloé and Allegra.” She giggled at the horrified look on her husband’s face. 

Deciding to change the subject as fast as possible, Damian asked “Did you like the statue?”

His wife beamed. “It was amazing. I showed you the one in Paris. I mean that one is okay too, but this was actually much better! It acknowledges not only me but all three of us. We are a team and I want us to be represented as such. And did you notice that they actually replicated the tail behind you fluttering?”

“It was indeed adequate work.” He replied, reserved as usual. 

They sat in peace for a bit more, with Marinette occasionally feeding Damian a strawberry. They didn’t really need to speak, instead just enjoying the monotonous sound of cars before the museum and relaxing with each other’s embrace. 

Feeling a bit mischievous, Marinette tapped Damian’s shoulder and made him turn to look at her. As soon as their eyes met, she leaned and fed him another strawberry. Except this time instead of holding it with her hand, she was holding half of it in her mouth. This, of course, led to two of them kissing. Both of their lips tasted like strawberries. 

It wasn’t a long or passionate kiss, but it was still full of love. 

When they broke, Damian had a funny expression on his face and Marinette giggled. He shrugged and pulled a thermos from the container, pouring both of them a cup of hot chocolate each (together with marshmallows). 

Damian regaled her of some of the tales about his great detective skills and how often he saved the day. She kept giggling and pointing out obvious mistakes, to which he huffed good-naturedly. He tried to stay away from subjects related to the League of Assassins and his childhood, but Marinette coaxed some stories out of him, careful not to prod too much. She respected his decision to leave it behind, but at the same time, she wanted to understand him. In the end, they just laid on the blanket cuddled together, with all the sweets consumed. 

“Damian… I love you.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

“Yes. You told me that at the airport. And several times after.” His logical brain responded before emotions took reins and he continued. “I love you too.”

“But I feel like it was always in response to something you said. I wanted to tell you that from myself. I love you.” She cuddled closer to him and he hugged her. 

“ Habibti, ” he whispered.

“ Mon chéri, ” she answered. 

After some more cuddling and looking at how the evening sun slowly set behind the monumental towers of central Gotham, Damian finally untangled himself from Marinette and got up. He helped her on her feet and turned the heaters off. 

“It’s time to go. We have two more places to visit.” He informed her and led her down to the museum proper. They snuck out of the staircase and joined one of the trips unnoticed, before leaving the building and avoiding anyone seeing them. It was fun to do teenage things sometimes. 

-----------

Their next stop was a small Italian restaurant that was out of the way and mostly empty. Damian had a table reserved there and made sure to pick one that was out of the way, in the corner that overlooked the whole place. What Marinette didn’t know was that he paid to have the tables next to them kept empty. 

They settled on a vegetarian lasagne with grilled swiss cheddar, spinach, and ricotta. Marinette wasn’t a vegetarian herself but after their little picnic, they wouldn’t fit two separate dishes. She enjoyed the tastes Damian introduced her to since they met each other. Especially (to Plagg’s delight and Tikki’s mirth), she loved the various cheeses that he exposed her to. While she sometimes still ate meat, it happened more and more seldom. Alfred’s cooking was on par with her uncle’s. 

Their discussion was much lighter now that they weren’t entirely alone. She smiled when he accidentally referenced Game of Thrones. He tried to deny it but in the end, he had to confess or people would think he knew what a ‘meme’ was. That was humiliation beyond what he could survive.

“...I’m just saying that if it’s a bit strange that Allegra and Claude always disappear together.” She finished her speech. 

“Tt. As if my cousin would lower herself to dating the clown.” He huffed. 

“I didn’t say they’re dating. It’s just that for at least two weeks now they kept slipping away.” 

“You’re imagining things, Habibti.” He dismissed her concern. 

“Okay, but what about Felix and Jon? They also run aw… ay…” She suddenly froze when a large group of people pushed their way into the restaurant. On the front, Lila and Alya were guiding them right to where the couple was sitting. 

Marinette heard Damian curse under his breath before suddenly everything was enveloped by thick, black smoke. She felt someone grab her wrist and pull her into a nearby door. They found themselves in the kitchen, Damian leading her between working cooks. Marinette saw how he pulled a phone from his pocket and texted the restaurant owner. He also paid double for the trouble with the smoke bomb. Luckily, the owner apparently understood the need for a quick getaway. The class on the other hand would be in for a rude awakening.

“That was close…” Marinette sighed in relief. 

“Tt. I should’ve challenged them to a duel for interrupting us.” Her husband scowled. 

“I told you no killing.”

“They would survive… probably.”

“Still. Now, where is that secret birthday party supposed to be?” She had a hard time keeping a straight face when he choked on his own saliva and stared at her with wide eyes. 

“It was Claude?” He asked harshly. 

“Of course not. Did you really think I would forget my birthday?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“You did forget Christmas.” He pointed out. This time, it was Damian’s turn to try and not show any reaction to how she started spluttering. 

“That… I… But… It… We… It was something completely different!” She finally shouted. 

“Whatever you say, Habibti. As for the party… Let’s go. They should be ready by now.” 

------

Chloé was running around the club they rented for the evening. She was doing at least seven things at once, but that wasn’t important. She needed the party to be perfect. She already made sure that all guests were in place and she was now fixing some of the decorations that were not to her liking. She had trouble balancing all the things she was holding and placing them one by one. Then, someone took the weight from her.

“Maybe I can help?”

“Thank you Maribear…” Then, Chloé’s brain registered. “Maribear!?”

“Surprise!” The bluenette cheered.

“How?!” The blonde jumped back, startled. 

“Tt. She blackmailed me.” Damian grumbled from behind his wife.

“Um… With what exactly?” Tim walked from his hiding place. The rest of the guests followed through. 

“Now. It wouldn’t be effective blackmail if I told you, right?” Mari turned and looked at him with a smirk on her face. 

“True. Happy birthday, sweetie!” Sabine was suddenly behind her daughter, Chloé, and Damian. She managed to startle all three of them. 

“Maman! Don’t scare us like that!”

“Payback’s nice.” Her mother and Chloé responded at the same time. 

“They got you there, Angel.” Damian decided to repay her for the blackmail. 

“Hey! You’re supposed to take my side!” She giggled. “Besides, it’s my birthday.”

“I’ll try to remember next time.”

With that, the party started.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[alpaca-writes]

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

[dreamdaddydutch]

Pairing: Javier x reader (written as gender neutral) Warnings: Smut 18+ Word count: 2,238  Summary: Set around the time the gang begin to come under strain and Dutch starts to loose control. The reader takes themselves away from the camp to be able to just ‘breathe’ for a moment and think - Javier (established relationship) comes to find them and make sure they’re okay. The tension they both feel is hard to get rid of, it’s in their shoulders, the weight plays heavy on their minds, but Javier knows what will help.

- Like quite a bit of my fanfiction/general writing at the moment, this was very much written as a response to everything that’s happening in the world at the moment and the uncertainty. It’s been a long while since I wrote any rdr2 smut!

As you stand at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley you know you should return to camp and that the others will soon start to worry.

Why did everyone have to worry all the time? The over-bearing nature of some members in the gang was enough to drive you crazy at times. But it wasn’t just that, no, it wasn’t the concern for your well being which annoyed you, rather it was the concern of one individual, Dutch van der Linde. When anyone was gone for too long the whole camp could hear Dutch fret. For someone who claimed to love his gang and refer to them as a family, he didn’t particularly come across as trusting these days. 

When you sign you hope your shoulders will drop, releasing some of the tension you’ve been carrying with them as you relax, but it doesn’t work. There is one thing you know for certain that will help you to let go and unwind but it’s difficult with everything else that’s been happening to get the time alone and where you’ll be undisturbed.

Nothing is certain anymore, things you thought would take just a few weeks to be over and done with are taking months. You look forward to the next Season but when it comes it’s just the same. There is nothing worse than feeling trapped and right now that’s all you feel and the frightening thing is that it’s beginning to feel like it will be like this forever. An owl lands on a branch near you with a catch in it’s mouth, there was a time where the brutality of this would have turned your stomach and you’d have had to look away. But now you watch the creature with sympathy and understanding as it rips into it’s prey with talons. Everything is just trying to survive.

It’s a partially starry night, the kind that you and Javier loved when you were first together and things were easier. He’d tell you stories about the stars and the names behind the constellations, you couldn’t always be sure if these were well known myths or whether they were of his own creation but either way it didn’t matter. Javier was such a wonderful storyteller and you knew he’d make a wonderful father.

You leant against a tree trunk and sighed again knowing that in a moment you would really need to turn back to camp before a search party was sent out to look for you. But then you heard footsteps behind you, a second went by as you panicked wondering whether it was friend of foe. Your hand went straight to your pistol.

“Hello?” You said, trying to sound as strong and sure of yourself as you could.

“Y/N is that you?”

You breathed a sigh of relief, noticing this time that your shoulders really did seem to relax somewhat, “Javier….”

“There you are I’ve been worried, did something happen?” He asks as he appears in front of you. Although it’s dark you can still make out his features, his dark eyes sparkle in the moon light and really you feel annoyed that you didn’t work out it was him before. His scent was carried on the wind, leather, woodsmoke and a woody aftershave with hints of juniper berries. 

Your pistol away, Javier took you into his arms, “Is everything okay?” He asks softly stroking your hair. 

You’ve been holding back the tears for weeks, just wanting this moment of peace and intimacy where you could cry and be honest with him. The tears don’t take much encouragement to flow so Javier holds you tighter and nuzzles into your neck, “I promise everything will be okay,” he reassures you.

Anyone else and you wouldn’t have believed them but with Javier you do, you have to. There is no one you trust like you do him.

“I just want to be free of all this uncertainty, I just want to be safe and for things to go back to normal,” you confess as you pull away. 

Javier still holds your arms, then one hand reaches for his handkerchief which he uses to wipe away your tears, “It will, I promise. I’m sorry y/n what can I say? I know I haven’t been there for you as much as I should mi amor.”

You can tell how hurt he is and that he truly regrets not being able to be there more for you now. For a second you find yourself hating Dutch for how much he demands of Javier and the others, but you believe in Javier even if Dutch can be hard to trust. 

You nod and kiss his cheek, “Nothing to apologise for, I love you Javier I just need a bit of time with you away from the others is all. I just need to feel close to you,” you confess.

Javier kisses you deeply without a word, his hands trail into your hair and gently massages your head down to your earlobes.

“Javier take me to the other place,” you beg as the kiss breaks. 

He searches your eyes, feels the pulse at your wrist and knows exactly what it is you need from him. He too has felt it recently, the darkness that seems to ever creep closer. He knows that unless something changes and soon it is only a matter of time before it falls to pieces. Javier just hopes that whatever happens it doesn’t tear you apart and that somehow you will survive this. He has hope it is possible.

For now there are few words that could comfort you it’s all been said before and the longer the darkness drags out ahead the more the words are repeated. The more you hear them the more hollow they start to sound and you begin to question whether everything will return to normal again or if this is now the reality you must live with.

Javier leans in, instinctively you close your eyes and he presses a gentle kiss to each eye and then your nose. He wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, one of the only places where you feel truly safe. When his lips meet your the fear melts away and nothing exists outside of that moment apart from the two of you now connected. 

When Javier pushes you back onto the soft grass it’s gentle and he falls with you, his weight feels like a comfort blanket smothering you in protection and understanding. 

With Javier there’s an intimacy that you’ve never felt with anyone else, it took so long for the two of you to let one another in or even begin to get close to one another considering how long you had known each other. That now when you hug or kiss, when you touch one another, taste one another and in those moments when he enters you and you become one. That is your purpose in life, the greatest peace and joy you could ever know is born when you make love for the first time. 

So now despite the chaos around you and all the noise, there is a silence that descends as he takes your lips in his own, as he grinds against you making you softly pant and your need grow for him. He sets you ablaze and speechless.

His hands make quick work of removing or undoing the items of clothing necessary for the two of you to become one. It’s just one hand, he’s skilled at that, the other strokes your cheeks and comes around your neck holding you in place as he continues to kiss you, muttering words of love and promises in between breaths. 

You can feel his length pressed hard against your core, despite his trousers still being in the way you can feel his excitement as it meets your heat.

“Javier…” you moan when the kiss breaks, another kiss to your nose, your forehead and he’s stroking your hair, soothing you and promising you that no matter what happens it will be okay in the end it has to be. 

He palms at your chest through your shirt, squeezes your nipple between his thumb and index finger. A knee pushes between your legs to open them and so he is able to apply pressure to your most sensitive part. 

Already so hard and pre-cum leaking from his cock, he uses this to help slick your entrance. When he slides into you there’s a moment where it hurts because it’s always in a quick, fluid motion and being outside as you are there was little time for foreplay, no that would come later. But for now he glides into you, you’re ready from just kissing, his dry-humping and his sticky lubricant. You gasp, he covers your mouth and smiles that wicked smile that lets you know you belong to him and him alone, but that he loves you and would never hurt you. 

Once inside you clench around him, his eyebrows furrow a little as they do when he experiences extreme pleasure and he lets out a soft gasp as he beings to slowly move in and out of you. At first these thrusts are slow and shallow, he allows you to stretch to his length and girth, allows you to get used to that feeling of being completely full up on him and then when you start to relax into his arms and begin to thrust your hips upwards in time with his, then the pace quickens.

You know it won’t take him long to come, again in private he enjoys to take his time. Edging the both of you is one of his specialities but now there is a necessity to come, to be close. It’s practically animalistic as he continues to grind against you.

One of his hands is reaches for your face, his thumb tenderly rubs over your bottom lip leaving you a quivering mess, opening your mouth to allow his thumb to slip in between as you suck him.

He bucks his hips faster and his eyes screw tight, you know sucking him like this drives him crazy, that he’ll be thinking about what you look like when it’s his cock in your mouth instead of his thumb. Again it’s the connection that makes it so hot, he fucks you as you suck him and everything is so gorgeously connected. 

His other hand reaches down between your legs to pleasure you in rhythm with his own body, determined that you should come before him. 

Although this pleasure is short lived and within no time at all you will be back at the camp, the bliss the two of you experience during this moment is like nothing you’ve felt before. As your orgasm starts to build everything else trickles into nothingness, it’s just noise somewhere in the distance and doesn’t mean anything. The darkness can’t hurt you but neither can the light, nothing is allowed in between your two bodies as they dance in the night. You can tell from the expression Javier is wearing and from the way he moans your name that he too is feeling it. He too has been able to completely escape from his daily struggles and the pressure he so constantly feels. 

You know he loves you he says it all the time without words. 

His kisses show you and it’s in the way he strokes your hair and squeezes your hand when he knows you’re afraid. 

You reach orgasm just a few seconds before before him, the sound of your moaning as you climax combined with you tightening around him is all he needs to be sent over the edge. 

As he comes he cries out your name, not caring if anyone hears as he spills his seed inside of you.

As his body shudders he kisses your neck, soft gentle kisses and words of reassurance. The moment your orgasm is over it doesn’t take long for the creeping dread to return, but it’s different somehow. That weight you were carrying on your shoulders and all the tension that was cascading through your veins from the top down somehow has melted out from your fingertips and toes.

Making love to Javier is a grounding experience that reminds you you’re loved, reminds you that you’re safe and that it really will be okay in the end.

Lost in your thoughts you don’t notice Javier staring at you, a slightly concerned expression on his weary face.

“y/n?” He says softly to bring you back to him.

“Sorry Javier…I’m here,” you smile up at him.

“You okay?” You realise that he’s still inside you, you like it when you lay for a few minutes after orgasm with him like this. Staying connected for as long as possible, joined together as one.

When Javier finally pulls out and zips up his pants he is silent, he ensures you too are done up and tucked up warm. He stands slowly so to keep his balance, still clearly a little wobbly after his orgasm. 

He reaches down to help pull you to your feet and into his arms, he rubbed your back slowly, “Better?”

“Yes.”

He pulls you in for a final kiss, one that’s slow you wish never had to end, before he takes your hand and accompanies you back to camp. 

[ratcandy]

UHHH THE SECOND IDEA FIRST

OKAY Time's disastrous universe let's get it boys

Below is a VERY long personal-story related ramble because a lot happens here and there's a lot to explain and I'm being enabled (c/w death, a LOT of memory erasure, Gods being idiots, and. If I need to add anythin else here someone better let me know hehehe)

feat some dumb lil doodles here n there because i felt like it

Exposition time first!

At the beginning of everything, eight universes were created, each differentiated by color. A Universe Owner is assigned to each universe, and that entity is then responsible for their universe's laws of reality, the lives of the characters, and... whatever else they decide to mess with. This is so I can allow myself a lot of freedom in making stories in many different areas n such without worrying about it following another story's rules >:)

Okay exposition time done! for now!

One day out of the blue, the God of Time decided that they wanted a universe all for themselves. They wanted to create life!! They wanted to make a world!! It'd be fun! It'd be a whole vibe!

So, against the wishes of the God of Balance, Time made a ninth universe and fruitlessly tried to keep it hidden from everyone else. This backfired instantly. A huge argument broke out between Time and Balance, as the latter was pissed, but Time won in the end and was allowed to keep their universe. Balance is just upset there's not a nice even number anymore. He'll get over himself eventually.

Straight up having a great time now, the God of Time went hogwild and fleshed out their universe to the best of their ability. Beautiful lush forests, stunning pink skies as if it were in a continuous sunrise, crystal-clear waters that glimmer ever-so-brightly!! Yes!! Pretty!! And immediately after, they created creatures!! And people! To inhabit their world!

Elegant flying beasts, colorful people of all shapes and sizes, bustling towns with trade and life and energy and!!! Yes! Yes!! Vibes!!

Time was living their BEST life.

But. Well. This is my story. things gotta go wrong now

SO! First, something to note about how the God of Time works:

Time's primary job is to keep the Time Fire from ever going out or touching the ground. The Time Fire is an eternally burning flame, forever shifting from vibrant color to vibrant color, getting bigger and burning stronger with every passing millennia. It also... y'know. Allows time itself to function. If it goes out, time will stop. If it touches the floor, time will go NUTS and parallel/alternate universes will go haywire, clashing into one another and messing up reality.

The God of Time, luckily, has powerful psychic abilities.. The tall mans just put the Time Fire in a sort of protective bubble, constantly floating above the ground, and left it in a temple at the center of their universe. Epic. All works out

Well. All SHOULD have worked out.

At some point, Time left their universe to have a meeting with the Gods, and on their way to Oblivion - often a meeting place for deities - they witnessed something Very Unfortunate.

One of the Universe Owners, Hesit (white universe), was being torn to pieces by an intruder in the higher realm. By killing and consuming Hesit, possession of the white universe was transferred to said intruder: a big asshole named Vexis. Time tried to confront Vexis immediately after. This was a mistake, as Vexis panicked and attacked Time. Seeing as Gods cannot die, Vexis instead trapped the god in his newly-acquired universe - binding him there forever.

So now Time is imprisoned in the white universe, lost and confused, not knowing how to get back out. And Vexis doesn't plan on telling anyone about this.

The other gods soon realize that Time has gone missing. Very soon, actually, because... well. With Time being swept away into the white universe and being held prisoner there, uhm. A certain something important isn't being held suspended anymore.

The Time Fire.

It hasn't fallen yet, but it's gradually sinking toward the ground, and sometHING has to get a hold on it soon!! Or HELL WORLD!!

Balance loses his MIND!! We have to do something about this before time becomes a catastrophic, unfixable disaster! And also we're missing a god!! This is not good!! At first, Balance goes looking for Time, but realizes he doesn't really uh... have the time to be doing that

So, in desperation, he searches his mind for possible solutions. He gets one, crazy idea, and practically begs the God of Death to help him pull it off. Death agrees, because this is the one (1) time Death acknowledges that the mortal realm being in danger might be a bad thing.

To put a long plan short, Balance used Death to turn the Goddess of Pain into a pseudo Goddess of Time.

Pain had previously been wreaking HAVOC, and Balance was NOT happy about it. Way too many mortals were dying, then not dying, then losing their sanities, then losing control of themselves, and it was just. Very messy. He didn't feel great about using her to replace Time, but he didn't have many options. And he needed someone to take over. So, he and Death worked together to erase Pain's memories and turn her into a Goddess of Time.

They couldn't give her psychic abilities, though. So, how'd they deal with the Time Fire? It now permanently rests on Pain/Time's back. As in, the flame is constantly burning her spine for all of eternity, steadily searing her flesh but never allowing her to die. She's grown progressively numb to it over many, many years, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate for her.

Balance feels awful about this. Especially since Pain/Time doesn't remember who she was, and believes she's always been Time. This is how it's always been. The universe around her is one she made, one she owns. Anytime Balance stops by to visit (as Time cannot move now from the temple with the fire), she greets him so kindly, so happy to have company... and he just feels terrible, knowing what he's done to her.

Well... at least that's settled. This cannot possibly go awry in any way shape or f----

The new Goddess of Time is trying her best to make creations for her universe. After all, that's what she's always done! These are her children, essentially, and she needs to have more. This, uh... well, the Goddess of Pain was not made with creating in mind, rather destroying. So, despite her valiant efforts, half of her creations come out... a Lil Messed Up. But she loves them all the same and keeps them around!!! Even if they're... worse for wear, or not quite like the rest!! They're her children. Yea!

At some point, however, her creating takes a bit too much from other universes' energy, and a mortal from another universe just ends up appearing in Time's. His name is Dustivan, and he is reasonably confused. One moment, he was vibing with his sister and her wife, and the next-- where the hell is he. why is the sky pink. who is this block man approaching me

The block man in question is named Maurice, and he is a sort of guardian for Time's temple. The Time that's always been here. The Time that has always looked like that and never been any different! (All of the Original Time's creations had their memories wiped, too. This Goddess of Time is the only one there's ever been! That's your mother, see. There is no other Time. She created you. Don't worry about it)

Maurice greets Dusty under the assumption that this man is just another new creation, and is soon told that "Uh, no, I'm... from some place else? I have a family? And a home, elsewhere?" M. Maurice is a lil confused. But he asks Time about this.

Time has no idea what he's talking about, either, so Maurice just... calmly escorts Dusty away, promising to get back to him later. We'll figure this out, man, don't you even worry about it

Now, there's a bit here that's only loosely developed! That being Dusty's stay in Time's Universe! Lil man meets a lotta folks, gets used to this weird world he's living in, makes good friends with Maurice and Maurice's maybe-more-than-friends-:flushed: friend Arin, aaand has a great experience! Because Time's universe is incredibly serene and peaceful, even with the new management!

Straight up vibi--- oh no wait what's this

Somehow, Maurice, Arin and Dusty find out about the whole... thing that happened with the original Time, and Pain being turned into the new Time. Maurice and Arin get their memories back and freak out a little while Dusty is just standing there like "big rip on you guys I guess"

Shenanigans ensue and Maurice goes back to Pain/Time, thinking it'll definitely work out if he tells her everything that happened so her.

Hey so it doesn't work out

Pain regains her own memories, and becomes ABSOLUTELY PISSED OFF, shedding the form forced onto her and returning back into the Goddess of Pain. In her transformation, however, she shook the Time Fire from her back, screaming in the agony that caused her, and. well.

she hit the floor (she hit the floor) next thing ya know, time fire got low low low low low low

Time itself was sent into disarray. The God of Balance felt it happen, FREAKED OUT, picked up the God of Death and just BOOKED IT into Time's Universe, dashing toward the temple. But it... was no longer a temple! It was very much destroyed. Balance is faced with the rubble of the former temple, the Fire just chillin on the ground, Arin bleeding to death after being attacked by Pain, Maurice fretting and trying to keep Arin alive, and Dusty aboutta also fucking die because Pain is angry. Alongside the bodies of whatever other poor creations/people just happened to be nearby the temple when this went down. Which was probably quite a few, as the temple was almost always open to visitors.

Death and Balance did the exact same thing again, though with added struggle. Pain was reverted to Time, the Time Fire was yeeted right back onto her spine (followed by a shriek of... pain), and Balance practically collapsed onto the floor hoping to never get up again

Death, however, forced him up, gesturing to the creations around them and uh. hey. their minds. wipe 'em Balance was very tired by this point, but began wiping the survivor's memories, running into Dusty and realizing "hey wait a minute. you're not from this universe" and just kicking that idiot back to where he's supposed to be. might've forgotten to wipe that one's mind but uh i'm sure that's not important

And that's essentially the end of that plot thread! Life continues as if nothing happened, afterwards. Time was restored (though a fuckton of "discrepancies" are now notable throughout the universes, as if time went Wonky or something), the people are thriving, and Maurice & Arin... the latter of which did indeed survive... are wondering if there's something important they were supposed to remember.

nah. probably not

there's a few side stories with characters in Time's universe, including another survivor of the Pain Realizing Who She Is incident... though he got the hell outta dodge and managed to keep his memories. making him a sort of fugitive as Balance has to track that idiot down and fix that problem but!!! this is already a very, very long post, so. WOO

[dinosaurs-last-day]

I heard your requesting writing prompts? Remus putting animal ears on everyone just to see how they react

Ofc Nonnie!

Read it here on ao3!

____

Remus was bored. Bored out of his mind. He wanted something to do, something entertaining, something that involved messing with his fellow sides, something that involved chaos.

He watched from the shadows as the other sides went about their day, hoping to be inspired. He thought about kidnapping one of them, but that just didn't interest him at the moment. Maybe making them relive some of Thomas' worst nightmares? No, he didn't feel like doing that either.

He watched as Patton plopped onto the couch, playing with the sleeves of his cat onesie. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. Remus jumped out of the shadows and threw himself at Patton, who let out a scared shriek.

"Remus what are you doing?" Patton asked as Remus sprawled on top of him.

Remus smirked. "Making things more interesting," he said, waving his hand and tapping the top of Patton's head. Immediately, soft grey cat ears appeared, connected to the stop of Patton's head. Patton's hand reached up and felt the ears, giving them a soft wiggle.

"Wait did you give me cat ears?" Patton asked, a mix of shock and excitement in his voice.

"Of course Pattycake! You're a kitty man now!" Patton gasped, giggling.

“Maybe I should turn the others into animals like you! You’d all be so cute!” Remus giggled, a sight that slightly unsettled Patton. Before Patton could comment on the whole ‘giving the others animal traits’ idea, Remus hopped off the couch and skipped into the other room, leaving Patton to play with his new cat ears. 

The first side he came across was Logan, who greeted him respectfully, looking up from his book to say hello. Remus watched as Logan went back to his book, pondering what animal to turn Logan into. He remembered Logan’s onesie, remembered the alicorn, with it’s wings and horn. He wanted to give Logan wings but decided against it simply because that would be a lot of work.

“Hey LoLo...” Remus went and sat at Logan’s feet, begging for attention.

“Hello Remus, how are you today?” Logan asked, setting his book down to show that he was paying attention to the creative side. 

“I’m good! I had this idea and I gave Patton kitty ears! He is one adorable feline if I do say so myself!” 

Logan’s eyes widened. “You gave Patton cat ears?” 

“Of course I did! Weren’t you listening?” 

“Are they anatomically correct?” Logan’s eyes had a sparkle to them that Remus knew he wanted to see more of.

“Yep! I may be chaotic but i’m not lazy. Oh, before you go to look at Patton’s new kitty ears, I wanted to give you something!” He waved his hands and a horn appeared, connected to Logan’s head, just at the hairline. Logan’s hand reached up, feeling the horn before he jumped up to find a mirror to examine it. Remus hummed as he watched Logan poke at it. Finally, he got bored and headed off to find another side. 

He wasn’t looking where he was going as he skipped down the hallway, accidentally barreling straight into Janus. The two fell to the floor dramatically. Janus knew that Remus would never apologize, so he just dusted himself off and got back to his feet. 

“Janny wait!” Remus said when Janus turned to go. Used to Remus’ random antics, Janus turned around. 

“You’re a snake.” 

“My aren’t you a smart little cookie today!” Janus teased. Remus ignored him, clearly thinking hard. When Remus was thinking about something, Janus knew that most of the time, that wasn’t a good thing. 

“I mean, I can give you doggies,” Remus muttered, not caring if Janus heard him. “But snakes don’t have ears and you already have your scales and a forked tongue...” 

“What are you up to Remus?”

“Giving everyone animal features. I thought it’d be interesting.” 

Janus tried not to laugh. This was definitely Remus’ tamest idea in a long time, so he decided to humor the Duke. 

“And you want to give me dog features? Even though I’m a snake?”

Remus shrugged. “You already have all the cool snake features, other than venom but venom isn’t aesthetically pleasing to me. I can’t see it. I want to admire my work and unless you plan to go around attacking people, which I know you won’t do for me, then there’s no point.” 

“You could just not give me any new animal features.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Well where’s the fun in that? Now stay still, you’re going to be the cutest little puppy snake ever!” He walked over and tapped Janus’ head, watching as two floppy dog ears appeared out of thin air. 

“Great! Now I must find another victim!” Janus watched as Remus bounced away, chuckling a little bit as he tried to kick down Virgil’s door.

Remus kicked hard, the whole door shook. On the other side, he could hear Virgil shout for him to go away. Of course Virgil knew who was at his door, who else would try to kick it down? 

“Virgie, let me in! I wanna play!” Remus whined as if he was a small child who was denied a play thing. 

“Go away Remus! I don’t want to do whatever disgusting thing you have planned!” 

“It’s not disgusting I promise! Just let me in!” Remus continued to sound like a needy child, so Virgil sighed and opened the door. Remus cheered as he walked into the anxious side’s room, flopping on Virgil’s bed. 

“Do bats have ears?” He asked Virgil, staring up at the ceiling. 

Virgil sputtered, surprised. “I don’t know, Logan would be the one to ask.” 

“I don’t want to ask Logan.” 

“Then look it up,” Virgil went back to his chair, where he was reading a comic that’s title read “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys.” Remus made a mental note to steal those comics later.

“I always have to do all the work!” He said, summoning Thomas’ laptop and googling his question. He marveled for a moment at the cute little bats on the screen, before turning to Virgil, who was still reading the comic, and waving his hand, making bat ears appear on the top of Virgil’s head.

Virgil immediately felt the change and his head shot up to glare at Remus before he rushed over to the mirror. 

“Remus what did you do? Get those things off of me!” 

“Chill down emo! They’re just bat ears. I think they suit you!” Remus left the room, leaving Virgil to try and pull the ears off, but they were connected to his head. 

“One last victim! Time to visit my dear sweet brother!” Remus bounced off, searching for his princely twin. 

He found Roman in the imagination, practicing different techniques with his favorite sword.

“Heyo Romano!” Remus said, watching him.

“Brother,” Roman nodded, smacking the attack dummy with the edge of his blade.

“I want to play with you.”

“Like, a sword fight?” Roman stopped attacking to face the other creative side.

“While that does sound fun, that’s not what I had in mind. We can do that another time. For now, come here.” Remus pointed to the ground right in front of him. Roman hesitated a moment before walking over. Remus smacked his forehead gently, trying not to laugh.

At first, Roman was confused on what just happened, but then he felt the change. He conjured a lake and looked at his reflection in the water. The shriek of horror he made was enough to send Remus sprawling on the ground, clutching his sides as he laughed. 

“You fiend!” Roman shouted, grabbing his sword again. “You gave me pig ears!” 

“I can give you a piggy snout and tail to match if you want!” Remus teased from where he lay lying on the ground. 

“Why would you do this?” 

“I gave everyone animal features!” 

“Did you give everybody pig ears?” 

“No, just you.” 

Roman charged at his brother, who just jumped up and ran out of the imagination. Roman followed him, the two running around the house, loud shouts echoing through the halls. 

“What is going on?” Patton asked as Janus grabbed hold of Remus and Virgil held Roman back. Remus was cackling like a maniac. 

“He tried to turn me into a pig! Look what he’s given me!” Roman said, pointing to the pig ears.

Remus shrugged. “They suit you.” 

“Now Remus,” Patton began. “That is not a kind thing you did. Please give your brother back his normal features.” 

Remus yawned. “Can’t, I’m too tired. Used so much creativity on all of you that it wore me out. Imma take a nap. RoRo can fix it all though if he really wanted to.” Remus wiggled out of Janus’ grip and laid down on the couch, instantly falling asleep.

“I can’t believe him!” Roman fumed. 

“Roman,” Logan interrupted Roman’s brooding. “You have creative power too, just wish away the features.” Roman made an o shape with his mouth before waving his hand and the pig ears vanished. Virgil made a motion to his bat ears and asked for them to be gotten rid of and Roman got rid of everybody’s new animal features. Patton seemed slightly disappointed to lose his cat ears, but overall, everyone was glad that Remus was asleep, unable to cause more chaos in the moment. 

Remus sighed in his sleep, knowing that his amazing creations had been gotten rid of. It didn’t matter, he could always cause more trouble later when he was awake. 

[secondhand-trash]

Ashido Mina(BNHA)- Spring Flowers

A/N: I know that this is way earlier than the time I’m supposed to post this but I will be in an examination hall at that time so I decided to post it now uwu this is the fic I wrote for @bakuismybitch for the @/bnhaclaimedmysoul spring time event^^ sorry that I haven’t been messaging you as much as I should and that this falls short comparing to my other stuff, I kinda overestimated my ability to balance life qwq

Description: you might not be able to go out to enjoy spring as you want to but Mina is determined to bring spring to you.

Word count: 1735

When quarantine was first announced, Mina had expected that she would be the one badly hit by all this. She was the energetic one in this duo, the one that couldn’t go a day without being around other people and the one who wants to go out. If one of you would go insane because of being trapped inside he confines of your house, she could almost bet on her last existing brain cells that it would be her.

And oh boy was she wrong.

At first, you seemed to be rather indifferent by all this. “It would be fine,” you had said when her hands flailed around while she whined about how long it would be until you could do all the things you liked to do again, “there are plenty of things we can do while being inside!” You were the one who would make her get up early in the morning despite no longer having a schedule because you read that maintaining your regular habits was good for the mind. There were pages of home workout videos and craft tutorials on the search history of you browser, she was still astonished that you managed to find so many different way to sew puppets out of old socks. You had took upon yourself to make something different for lunch every single day and she had to practically beg you to stop baking after having sourdough for a week consecutively because you wanted to test out all sorts of recipes and fresh bread doesn’t last long. So, which she would now scold herself for being so stupidly optimistic but didn’t know any better at that point, she was truly convinced that the only issue you would have is the eventually shortage of space to accommodate all your creations that spawned from your boredom.

She knew that something was wrong the moment she woke up one morning and saw that it was way past the time you would usually wake her up at. It was a gradual change, but the more she picked up on your wilting spirit the more concerned she was. Lunch started repeating, you nearly forgot to feed your starter one week until she asked about the little jar of dough in your fridge, you started breaking ramen into pieces and call it a snack. She could see you physically spiraling down and it was very worrying to witness. 

The breaking point when she realised that she had to step in and pull you back was when she walked out of the room one night and saw you wrapping yourself under a cocoon made out of blankets with a nutella jar in your hand, your eyes an empty void as you stared at the glowing television. No lights on, no anything, just the pale light from the screen shining on your face and making you look so souless. Mina’s eyes travelled back and forth between your still frame and the television. Why were you watching the weather channel at 1?

“...Are you ok?”

No response, you didn’t even move. Gingerly, she climbed onto the couch next to you and gave your shoulder a light poke. “(y/n)?"

Nothing, not even a budge. You jumped when she called for your name again, this time louder and with a bit of a squeak to her voice. Clumsily, clutching the jar that nearly dropped, you coughed in embarrassment. “Oh, mina,” you chuckled almost too stiffly that it sounded more like a huff, “you’re still awake?”

“Yeah...” she narrowed her eyes, “what are you doing?”

“Ah, you see,” you put down the jar of chocolate spread, pilling the blanket away from your body as you gave your nose a light scratch before continue, sounding almost way too matter-of-factly considering how eerie this all was, “I was thinking that since we can’t go out, maybe I’ll imagine what it is like everywhere else to make it remind myself of what spring looks like.”

All the little cogwheels that had been spinning and spinning in her mind finally clicked into place when she realised what all of this was about. Spring, yes, it was spring already. She didn’t even remember that it was already a good quarter into the year with how long she had been staying in but you sure did. You had always thrived during spring, something about the smell of grass in the humid air and the warmth that was seeping back from the winter cold always put you in a constant good mood. So the fact that this bit of joy was no longer available had put you in a slump that you were sinking deeper and deeper into made total sense.

“Guess I should go to bed now,” you said nonchalantly, as if you weren’t staring at a slow motion shot of a random place in the world like a zombie just mere seconds ago. You collected the half-finished jar of nutella and hoisted the blanket in your arms, looking at your very dazed girlfriend like she was the one who was doing something weird, “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Mina said as she scurried up, thinking of what she could possibly do to stop you from finding comfort in the weather channel, “yeah.”

You woke up to the sound of pots banging and cabinet doors slamming shut, a squeal mixing in between at times. Your foggy morning mind was telling you to go back to bed, that you did not have the energy to handle whatever it was that your girlfriend was up to. But just as you were about to flip onto your other side and take up the now spared up vacancy on your luring mattress, a sharp screech followed by a series of profanities made every hair at the back of your neck stood up. You sighed, no longer feeling even an ounce of sleepiness and rolled so you were facing the ceiling.

You needed to go check if she is alive, didn’t you?

Poking your head from the door, you could see Mina carefully pinching a piece of bread with the very tip of her thumb and index finger. She was almost flinging it into the pan before quickly retreating her hand as fast as she could. The sizzling echoed through the kitchen and you watched as she poked the bread with the spatula with caution.

“Mina?” You tilted your head when she snapped her head up, yellow eyes widening when she saw your confused face, “What are you doing?”

She didn’t say anything so you looked past her shoulders to look at what’s in the frying pan. If anything, your confusion had only grown. The bread was soggy, the edges browning and sticking to the bottom of the pan. There were clear stains of what was put in there before left around the bottom, some already starting to burn into black char.

“Mina what are you making?” You asked and your girlfriend scratched the back of her neck rather sheepishly.

“This was supposed to be a surprise,” she said, “I was gonna make you breakfast.”

“Aw that’s so sweet!” You cooed and then you finally connected the dots of what she was trying to do deconstructing the kitchen so early in the morning, “Is this... French toast?”

“Yeah!” She chirped, literally scratching at the pan to flip the frying toast and it made your heart ache at how it was likely that you were to say goodbye to that pan after this, “Is it not obvious?”

You blinked, not having the heart to tell her that you would have no clue if you simply stare at the pile of burned bread that was placed on a plate. “Did you add any butter to the pan?” You asked, referring to the burn that stuck to the pan.

“...you need to do that?”

You chuckled, “Do you need help?”

“What? No!” She flailed her hands in the air as she tried to push you out of the kitchen, “Just chill around and wait for the food! This is about you, I don’t want you to even lift a finger!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, shooing you out of the kitchen, “It’ll be done in a few.”

“Ok,” you said rather skeptically, “just... call for me if you need anything.”

It didn’t take long for you to hear another groan from the kitchen and for Mina to weakly beckon you for help. You laughed, knowing exactly that this was bound to happen.

With a good square of butter in the pan and some relentless scraping later, you had the plates of toast on the table with a generous amount of syrup on top. You eyed Mina curiously when she didn’t sit down, running around the house and grabbing the computer in her hand.

“Mina what are you doing now?” You said, almost not sure if you find this amusing or confusing.

“You see,” she said as she turned on the computer, “I know that you like spring and you’re sad that we don’t get to experience the season, so I decided to do something fun and have a picnic indoors!”

You snorted when she pulled up a picture of the lily fields at a nearby park and placed it right by the table. A gif of butterflies on her phone which she carefully steadied with a mug. “You know how those youtubers like to use have a fake fireplace in their backdrop?” She said, seemingly pleased with her little set up, “I figured we can do the exact same thing but with flowers.”

This whole thing was a bit funny, if you were being honest but warmth bubbled up inside of you at the thought of Mina going out of her way just to make things a little bit more enjoyable for you. You laughed when she lined up your sock muppets and arranged them in a circle, going as far as to putting an empty cup in front of them.

“What is a picnic without friends?” She winked as she poured out a glass of orange juice for you. Raising her glass, you grinned at how hard she was trying to put on her serious face. 

“Cheers to spring?”

You smiled. The glowing screen might not even come close to the real thing, but you still felt the fresh giddiness that the spring flowers would always bring you.

“Cheers to spring.”

[fletchphoenix]

Fruitless Exploration

Hi gamers! This is Chapter 1 of my newest project ‘The Rise And Fall Of Ulla Ruddiger’! I love love love Ulla so much and wanted to try my hand at explaining some key points in her life. Don’t worry - the coffee shop AU is still happening, but this will too alongside it! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count : 4994

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Since the beginning, she’d always been an odd child. Ginger hair that covered most of her back was unkempt and left to be as wild as it wanted, her electric blue eyes always darting around each and every environment she was in to take it all in and assign to a slot in her memory. Faint, mocha freckles were dotted all over her - hands, face, legs..you name it, there were probably freckles there. Her small figure was admittedly an inconvenience, preventing her from doing many things, however it had the potential to be a useful asset too, the fact that she could move quicker than her taller peers was a feat she was rather proud of. She knew she wasn’t the conventionally attractive person too, with all these features combined with her manic personality, ever changing depending on the person and boom! You had a whole cocktail of weird in front of you when it came to Ulla.

  No one ever hesitated to let her know that she was weird all throughout her childhood either. Being the socially inept girl she was, it only made it easier for the other kids to target her. Countless days had ended with her appearing home with new cuts and bruises, or water tipped over her by the other kids. It was relentless bullying, looking back on it. She never let it get to her though -  she just did what she always did! She pretended it didn’t phase her whatsoever. Just kept moving forward and ignoring it. No matter how many times they’d try and hurt her, she’d just ignore them. They’d try to hurt her by calling her weird, but she knew she was weird - and she liked being weird. In her eyes, she wasn’t hurting anyone by being weird, so she’d keep going and doing her own thing. 

  Maybe that's why, at such a young age, she got into alchemy along with her twin brother, Ulf. She never had to worry about having free time to spend with friends, since she never had any, unlike her twin. That’s probably why she was better at the subject - Ulf was always so concerned with his social life, but not her. All she needed was her alchemy. It was the perfect outlet for her too - delicate processes requiring all the attention in the world, as one drop could throw off the course of the whole experiment. She excelled, surpassing her brother in the subject and going on to research it further in the future, with Demanitus as her main idol, taking inspiration from all his inventions.

  As they grew older, Ulf drifted towards the engineering side of science like their mother did. Ulla, however, stayed on course and obsessed over alchemy. She finally felt as though she were contributing something to the world with her experiments - creating small helping hands around the house for various different problems. For example, she created something she liked to call ‘Shampoo’, this enriching the hair and providing it with necessary nutrients for growth rather than just water. And it worked! As a first individual project, she thought she’d done pretty well! That put her on the radar as a young teen, selling her creations to other people to assist them, and even commissioning for certain projects. 

  No one in their town really understood her love of the subject, but they understood how well it benefited them. Suddenly, they had access to smoother hair, cleaner clothes, pain relief...which meant Ulla profited greatly and used her funds to keep expanding her knowledge, purchasing book after book after book. It did feel awfully lonely though, only finding solace in books rather than humans. She used to beg and plead every night for someone, anyone, who knew and had the same passions as her would just spontaneously materialise in town for her to talk to. To her luck, as if her prayers had finally been answered, Donella had arrived in town,

  She must’ve met Donella when they were simply teenagers - thirteen or fourteen, the grey haired girl well beyond her years in terms of maturity. She was strikingly pale, her grey hair making her look as though she were in her late thirties, though she was only a few months older than Ulla. Her green eyes were calculating, figuring out a person’s deepest insecurity as soon as they entered her line of sight. She was unbelievably tall and skinny too, having at least four inches over Ulla and her figure was extremely defined in the clothes she wore almost every day. They were polar opposites, but they made it work in their favour. They balanced each other out really, her eccentricity and over-energetic nature combined with Donella’s maturity and normality helped them tremendously throughout their time together and they soon became a force to be reckoned with. It was refreshing to find someone who was just like her - with the same passion towards alchemy and Demanitus’ inventions, and someone her age who understood her and didn’t ridicule her whatsoever. She never knew anyone like her - maybe that’s why they grew so acquainted with each other in only a few weeks.

  She was bitter at first towards Ulla, constantly viewing her as inferior knowledge-wise and that she was “just like the other kids in town” which couldn’t have been further from the truth if she’d have just gotten to know Ulla in the first place, however when she one day found Ulla’s makeshift business in selling products she made through alchemical processes, she suddenly became very interested. She’d consistently ask what Ulla had used to make various different solutions, and in exchange, she’d trade some steps with her. It was like a partnership at first - mutually beneficial - until Ulla worked up the courage to ask Donella to hang out with her on weekends and after school to help her make some products, to which the other humbly accepted, and slowly but surely, a friendship was born between the two. 

  Donella, despite her youth, was a force to be reckoned with - her intimidating persona almost immediately warding off people, sometimes just one particularly aggressive glare from her striking, green eyes was enough to scare off people for good. Ulla knew the softer side of the teen though - one where she’d let her walls down for just a few moments and let herself live in the moment. Like the time where Ulla had fallen asleep at her desk, and Donella had carried her all the way up to her room and placed her in bed (even taking the time to tuck her in, despite knowing Ulla could and most definitely would kick the covers off her sleeping form during the night) or when she’d have a slight glimpse of a smile during Ulla’s infamous rants. Nonetheless, she only ever showed this side to Ulla, guarding it from everyone else, Ulla feeling honoured at that fact. 

  “Don’t touch that.” Donella’s voice carried a warning tone, Ulla’s hand immediately flinching back from touching a glass beaker, filled with a colour changing liquid. It wasn’t anything new to her, but they’d always fascinated her to no end. It was fascinating what alchemy and science could achieve sometimes, and seeing other people’s twists on things she already knew how to do was a way to be enlightened into the inner workings of someone else’s mind. However she was quickly torn away from that thought, the other teen standing behind her, taking her wrist and pulling her along down the cobbled road to bring her back on track. Right, of course. They were going to the library to read up on the Eternal Library, as Donella has persisted they do for many months, much to Ulla’s confusion.

  She didn’t get her friend’s infatuation with the place - hell, for all they knew it really was a myth and they were just grasping at straws even trying to research it. It was out of character for Donella, really, to be searching for something they didn’t definitively know was real or not - she was very much the realist out of the two - which confused Ulla to no end. But that didn’t seem to bother Donella in the slightest as she practically dragged the ginger woman through the streets, her iron grip burning a deep crimson mark into her pale skin. She knew her friend didn’t mean to be overly harsh with her, it was just her acting on her frustrations and impatience, (which to her credit she hardly ever showed. Ulla couldn’t remember a time where Donella had yelled at her, even when they were teens, ever the patient person when it came to her) but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t sting and make tears well in her eyes. She was...freakishly strong and sometimes Ulla forgot that, but before long she was given a bitter reminder. 

  “Don, give it a break please, you’re burning my arm.” she pleaded, her hand immediately shooting closer to her chest as soon as her friend’s grip ceased and rubbing it as carefully she could to help with the fleeting pain she was feeling in her wrist. Donella let out a sigh of what felt like guilt, taking Ulla’s wrist in her hands as gently as she could before taking out a small tube of cream from her pocket and applying it generously to the wound, massaging it in gradually. The stings of pain were numbed over time, the burning sensation stopping altogether once Donella had finished. Must’ve been one of her new formulas, thought Ulla, as they continued down the streets of Ecrin, Donella slowing her pace in an act of mercy to Ulla and allowing her to look around at the stalls and shops in more detail and take it in. It was the little things Donella did that showed she cared about her friend, hoping the rare displays went unnoticed by her, but they never did and Ulla silently logged them in the back of her mind each and every time. It was those moments where she saw the true Donella behind the facade she put on daily...those were the moments she truly cherished.

  One store in particular caught her eye, beakers and test tubes set out behind paned glass, unfortunately slightly cracked in the corners from the bad weather that frequently cursed the town. Thunderstorms frequented the town, ferocious winds cursing them with collateral damage almost every month. To Mother Nature’s credit, however, the town was blessed with thick, white blankets of snow every year around Christmas, so that was always a bonus. If Ulla ever had children, she hoped she’d be able to show them this town and the white Christmases that were always guaranteed each year, to allow them to experience a true snowball warzone and to make snowmen in the yard. However, with the way she was, she’d never even had a boyfriend before, scaring off almost every guy within three feet at any given time, so marriage and children was the last thing on her mind. 

  Her mind shot back to the store, it slowly fading from her view as they inched closer and closer towards the town’s library - the biggest one in the whole kingdom of Galcrest, otherwise dubbed as the ‘Earth Kingdom’. It was strange, really, how every kingdom had its own little nickname. She’d never paid it much thought before but it was obscure. She’d been born and bred here along with her brother, but had the sneaking suspicion Donella wasn’t, despite the teen’s insistence. She’d theorised she was born in Pittsford (or the Iron Kingdom, as many called it due to its reliance on the metal for...almost everything), which was spiked from the literal spikes and general dark, jagged aesthetic of her clothing, hell, even her features were jagged like the rest of that kingdom’s citizens, and that she’d travelled to Galcrest in order to escape the economic divide that plagued the kingdom. Ulla had never been able to gain any answers though, Donella kept her past under wraps from Ulla thought, never letting anything slip through the cracks. Ulla often found herself dreaming up scenarios to do with Donella’s past, her wild imagination coming up with absurd situations that, by the time she’d finished thinking them up, she’d realised just how absurd they were and gave up with trying to piece the other’s backstory together. 

  The more stores they passed, the more distracted Ulla seemed to get, her focus constantly shifting from one thing to another and then to another. She couldn’t help that she loved taking in everything around her - examining the surroundings and letting herself adjust to them slowly. And in her defence, it was a mad town to be in with stalls and stores blending in with each other in a way that just naturally flowed. Lanterns stood tall in the streets, standing at ten foot at most ready to be lit when the darkness finally came, placed inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if anyone really used the sidewalk ,the city had a sufficient lack of carriages so people were free to just walk wherever they wanted through the streets. Ulla liked it that way, though. She had a tendency to wander freely sometimes, so just knowing that there weren’t any restrictions pleased her to no end.

  “We’re here.” Donella called bluntly, glancing at Ulla with her cold, green eyes feeling like they were staring right into her soul. “Come on, we don’t have all day.” Honestly, the building looked threatening, countless floors inside concealed by a towering structure outside decorated with marble steps and pillars leading up to some tall, dark oak doors. It was in the centre of town, but the amount of space it took up was both shocking and impressive, considering the amount of knowledge this place held. Unphased by the daunting building, the silver woman led the way into the library, with Ulla following gingerly behind her, slightly embarrassed at being caught off guard. She’d always prided herself on being attentive, if a little imaginative, so to have the slender woman catch her out like that was...embarrassing to say the least. Still, she trailed along after her, Donella seemingly knowing where to go as they navigated through the mass of volumes.

  Shelves upon shelves upon shelves were surrounding them, their glazed, dark oak sides reaching taller than Ulla could even see and loomed down on them. There must’ve been thousands- no, millions of books in this place, hence it being one of the biggest libraries in existence - well, apart from the mysterious ‘Eternal Library’, but that was potentially just a legend, regardless of how much Donella had insisted it wasn’t, so Ulla kept it away from that category. Their boots made soft clicks on the library floor as they walked across it, the tiles so reflective that she could see her own face in it, with the occasional dirt smudge in the corner of a particular tile here and there. In the centre was a circle, the centre of it marked by a large globe, and, at forty-five degree intervals, there was a staircase leading up to various parts of the library. Donella headed up the third of these staircases, it being marked with a teal band on the banisters, and Ulla followed suit, their footsteps muffled by the matching teal carpet that covered every inch of every step.

  The upstairs was also covered in a mass of bookcases, Donella expertly maneuvering between the shelves with Ulla struggling to keep up with her pace, but desperately not wanting to get lost in this labyrinth of a library. It had happened to her once before - her attentiveness and general disregard for what was happening around her causing her to bound ahead to the fantasy section of the library without her parents coming with her. You could imagine her shock when she turned to find them missing, bursting out into immediate tears and sitting on the floor until her father scooped her into his arms and pressed many comforting kisses to her forehead as they’d left. From then on, she’d never come to the library alone as she knew she’d just get lost somewhere and have to be rescued by Donella begrudgingly. 

  Donella’s movements halted, Ulla walking into her and causing the other teen to be sent stumbling forward. A glare met her almost immediately after Donella had regained her balance, softening into a sympathetic frown as Ulla frantically apologised to her, being met with grey hair after Donella directed her attention to the shelves. She skimmed them, pulling over a ladder and ascending it. “You check the bottom, I check the top. We meet in the middle.” Donella declared, reaching into the shelf and taking out a crimson, hardback book before skimming the pages in silence. Ulla obliged, picking up a leather-bound book and carefully opening it. “Not very talkative today then, are we Don?” Ulla joked and, upon seeing no amusement on her companion’s face, she quickly turned her attention back to her book and got to work.

  They’d been doing this for weeks - aimlessly searching through books about alchemy and Demanitus to find at least one indicator that the library existed, however their attempts proved fruitless with a sufficient lack of results. It was exhausting work to look through books all day to find information on something they weren’t sure even existed. In Ulla’s eyes, it was pointless in every single way, their time would’ve been better spent performing alchemical processes and improving their knowledge in that! Nonetheless, her tired eyes kept searching through the book, placing the first one back and picking up an emerald, hardback one entitled ‘The Many Inventions Of Demanitus’. That sounded promising, she thought as she began to read, the parchment pages showing signs of wearing from use over the years.

  Who was she kidding, they could spend years searching this library and not find anything at all. It had already been weeks, and Donella knew the true extent of this library. However, the idea of the Eternal Library sounded very attractive indeed if it was a real thing. A place with infinite knowledge, books on any topic imaginable littering the walls...it sounded like a grand place, though seemingly impossible. For all they knew, magic didn’t exist, the only hints of it being the sundrop’s flower and moondrop’s moonstone, which were only legends and no one was even sure they existed, much like the Eternal Library created by Demanitus. Besides, how would you even get to a place like that? If it were as simple as just a simple door, it would’ve already been discovered. How was it even made? If it had infinite knowledge, did it constantly update with a volume of every single book in existence? The thought made her head hurt, so she stopped thinking about it and persisted with her reading. 

  It had long since gone dark outside when the librarian called for everyone to leave, Ulla and Donella having cleared out two whole shelves in their search (an impressive feat, considering the shelves in question were probably over fifteen foot in height and ten foot in width and they were only two people). Donella descended from the ladder, shaking her head in dismay as Ulla opened her mouth to ask the same question she always asked. The disappointment was evident in the other teen’s face as they started to make their way through the maze of a library, descending down the stairs and Ulla letting Donella take the lead in guiding them out of the mass of shelves and towards the seven foot tall, dark oak double doors that would take them back out into the streets of Ecrin. “There’s always next time, Don. Don’t feel disheartened!” Ulla declared with a smile, her hand resting comfortingly on her friend’s shoulder, though the was cautious to spread her fingers so they fit in between the spikes. 

  Donella let out what Ulla could only assume was a grunt of agreement, pushing open the doors in front of them and letting the cool, fresh air of the town hit them both in the face without a care in the world. It took Ulla aback for a second, the sudden chill travelling right down her spine and causing little goosebumps to form over her skin. She hadn’t realised how stuffy the library was if you’d been in there for so long. Still, she stepped outside beside Donella and began to head home. Evidently, it had been raining, reflective puddles formed in potholes in the empty streets that the inner child in Ulla had to suppress the urge to jump into, no matter how tempting it was to act like she was still a carefree child for just a moment.

  She’d always loved the city at night, especially on a clear night today where the stars could be seen gleaming in the sky as clear as day. Her mother used to tell her all about them - telling her about all the various constellations that were scattered in the sky (her favourite was Leo, seeing as that was her’s and Ulf’s zodiac signs according to her father), and how they were always constant. Her mother even showed her how to chart stars - an interesting lesson given her easily distracted nature, but she tried and in the end, she did it!

  Donella abruptly moved in front of Ulla, taking her hands gently with a troubled frown on her face. “I got you something.” she muttered, reaching into the leather satchel at her hip that Ulla strangely hadn’t noticed she was carrying. It suddenly clicked - it was the one Ulla had made her once, she could tell from the randomly placed, chestnut patch of fabric that sat in the middle. She’d resorted to that after running out of leather, hoping Donella wouldn’t have noticed (she did, almost immediately). Donella thrust something into her chest, the action causing Ulla to stumble back but Donella’s hand snaked onto her waist to catch and steady her. She pulled her hand away as quickly as she’d put it there, and Ulla could swear she could see a light blush dusting on her research partner’s cheeks. “Okay bye.” Donella responded quickly, speeding in the opposite direction to Ulla before turning a corner and disappearing completely from Ulla’s sight.

  Ulla raised an eyebrow, a confused smile on her face. Donella getting someone a gift AND getting embarrassed? Well, that was new..she thought before checking the item against her chest. A small gasp left her mouth as she realised what it was. It was a first edition copy of ‘Advanced Alchemy’, the one thing she’d been begging for for months, but could never find along with a teal notebook, marked with the words ‘Ulla’s Research Journal’. It was the best gift anyone could have given her, a smile gracing her features as she did a little dance in the street, unashamed of her excitement and happiness. She just HAD to tell her mom! She immediately started running home, giggling and laughing as she did.

  “Mom! Mom!” she yelled as soon as she threw open the door. “Mom, look what Donella got me!” she thrust the book into her mother’s face, giving her no time to read it before pulling it away and raising the notebook. “And my very own study journal! Isn’t that cool, mom?” 

  “Yes, very cool, Ulla. Now young lady, care to explain to me why you promised you’d be back before sundown, and it's been sundown for countless hours now?” Her mother’s hands moved and rested on her hips. She’d...completely forgotten about her promise to her mother, it slipping from her mind after the first hour or two of research. She winced back, preparing her apology before being scooped into the air and spun around. 

  “Give the kid a break, Arlayna. She was just researching is all!” her father declared proudly as he hugged his daughter close to his chest before setting her down on the floor. She was a splitting image of him, albeit with a more feminine hairstyle and figure, inheriting her electric blue peripherals, ginger locks, mass of freckles and jawline from the man. Her mother, on the other hand, looked like Ulf who was sat at the table with one of his friends, talking about something or the other. Ulla didn’t pay attention though, she was too busy bragging to her dad about her new prized belongings. “That’s lovely sweetheart, I bet you can’t wait to get started!”

  A loud gasp left her mouth. “I need to get started!” she exclaimed excitedly, placing a kiss to both her parent’s cheeks before sprinting up the rickety stairs, down the hall to her room. She virtually threw open the door, striding through and jumping onto her bed which moaned in protest at the sudden weight influx. She paid it no mind though, she was far too excited to get started with her new book. She lay back, her head against the pillows before opening the book in excitement. She couldn’t believe she actually had it in her hands! It was a dream come true in her eyes, joy and exhilaration building in her stomach as she lit a candle beside her bed and began to read, angling herself so the page was illuminated by the soft glow of the candle’s flame. 

  Her room was pretty bare compared to her other sibling’s room - containing a bed, a desk and a chair, a guitar and a bedside table all made from wood and created by her father. Her real highlight, though, was the shelf of books containing information on all things alchemy. Over the years, she’d steadily built up her collection of books on the subject, Donella also providing her with some on the rare occasion that the other teen was feeling generous. Her common excuse was that they were ‘hand-me-downs’, but Ulla could tell from the immaculate quality that they were always new. The subject fascinated her and truly was her passion, her pride and her joy, all of her previous work being noted down on pieces of parchment in a box beside her desk. Now, however, she had her own research journal! She couldn’t be more ecstatic! She’d have to thank Donella later, she thought, before starting to read again. 

  Elias opened the door to his daughter’s room ready to say goodnight to find her asleep, the book she’d been so excited to start covering her face as she slept, oblivious to its awkward placement, the candle beside her bed long since burnt out. A chuckle left his throat as he moved through the small room, watching out for all the creaks, before gently setting the book aside (being sure to mark the pace, because what was he? An animal?) and pulling the covers over his daughter. He placed a kiss to her forehead, heading to leave before something stopped him. He glanced back at his daughter’s sleeping form with a slight frown tracing his features.

  “She’s a strong girl, Elias.” Arlayna whispered softly from behind her husband, setting her candle on top of a table in the hallway. It illuminated her face perfectly, the glint of her golden eyes showing fully and her black hair finally loose of its usual bun - she truly did look like an angel in her husband’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed with her in his arms. He placed gentle kisses onto her forehead as she continued to speak. “She’s never let the school kid’s taunts bother her before, and Donella doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to hurt her like they do. She’ll be fine.” she reassured him, wrapping her arms around his neck to return the embrace.

  “I know she can handle herself, but she’s still my little girl and I’m never not gonna worry about her, love. The kids mean the world to me and to see them ignoring the things that are hurting them...it just makes me feel like she doesn’t trust us enough to talk to us, or that I’m a bad dad for not pursuing the topic with her.” he let out a sigh and pressed his forehead against his wife’s, letting his eyes shut and take in her warmth, conflicting against how naturally cold he always was.

  “She’ll come to you if she needs help, and you aren’t a bad dad. You introduced her to one of her biggest passions in life, alchemy. You gave her an outlet for her skills and I think she’s very grateful for that, she just forgets to tell you that sometimes. Now come on, sweetheart. It’s about time we got some sleep, yeah?” Arlayna moved out of the embrace and held out one of her dainty hands to pick up the candle she’d previously left discarded. A reassuring smile was illuminated by the soft candlelight and Elias felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love, as she let the angelic woman in front of him lead her down the hall and towards their bedroom. 

  With a sigh, he looked back down the hall to his daughter’s room, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that steadily bubbled in his stomach at the thought of her. That was soon interrupted by his wife’s arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, her chest pressed against his back and forehead against his nape. “Elias please, it’s cold and I want to go to sleep with my loving husband holding me in his arms to protect me from the freezing cold outside.” she groaned and he finally relented, closing the door to their room. However, as he lay awake with his wife’s head on his chest, absentmindedly playing with her hair, he couldn’t help the thought of his daughter filling his head. He bit his lip.

  She was destined for great things. He wasn’t sure when, but he just knew she was.

[jj-lynn21]

Castlerock: All Hallows Eve Ch 2

Ch 2: Accident

Ch 1: Creation  ch 3 chaos

continuation of characters from  A Castlerock New Year’s Eve party

Warnings: angst, jealousy, creepiness, lots of Steven King Book /movie references.  

tags @loomiz​ @dragsraksllib​ @super-pink-a-palouza​ @goblincxnt​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @sunshineandskarsgards​ @taintedglass​

“Of course, you can go with me my King.” Genevieve giggled. “You’re right, Henry, while we are in Castlerock. You are so Brilliant.”  

She grabbed the newly created clay statue. Then she took up the paintings under her arm. She was running a little late, but he assured her the paintings would be bought from the gallery. They would be placed where they needed to be. 

Nadine had been trying to get a hold of her. She was getting worried when Gen didn’t answer her cellphone, so she clocked out early telling her boss it was an emergency.

“I know she is jealous.” Genevieve talked to the hooded robe clad six-inch clay statue sitting in the passenger seat. “Alright I will call her. But I still don’t think I should tell her about you.” She sighed. “Alright.” She parked in front of the gallery and called Nadine.

Nadine fumbled for the phone in her purse as she was driving. When she looked away just for a second a semi-truck came barreling around the corner less than a mile ahead. The driver swerved toward her as his coffee dumped in his lap.

Nadine answers the phone. “Fuck woman I have been trying to call you for...oh shit.” She sees the truck coming straight for her and screams.

“Nadine!” Genevieve screamed into her cellphone.  

A horn blared on the other side of the phone. Nadine had swerved just before the semi-truck hit her head on. She went off the road slamming into a tree. Her head smacked into the wheel before the air bag decided to deploy. She sat up blood drizzling down between her eyes.

“I’m alright.” Nadine said more to herself than Gen on the phone. She was in shock.  

“Stay there, Nadine.” Genevieve begged here. “Don’t try to move. I will call 911.”

“I’m good.” Nadine mumbled as her eyes got heavy. Light headedness over took her.

Gen hung-up. “I know I’m late, but I have to call 911.” she pounded the numbers frantically. “No, I will do it after. They will wait.”

“Hello, 911. How can I help?” The operator said.

“My girlfriend was in an accident.” Genevieve cried.

“Can I get your name?” The operator asked calmly.

“Genevieve Duchamp.” Gen answered.

“Okay Genevieve, is she bleeding?” The operator was typing as she questioned the caller. “What is your girlfriends name?”

“She isn’t with me.” Alligator tears ran down Gen’s cheeks. “I think she lost control of her car. I was returning her call and thought she was at work. But she was driving home because I didn’t answer her call. She was in the accident because of me.”

“It’s not your fault Genevieve.” The operator tried to calm her. “What is your girlfriends name? Do you know the route she could have taken from work?”  

“Her name is Nadine Tessio.” Gen grabbed a tissue from her purse to dab her eyes. “She usually takes Maple Street up the hill to our place on Red Way. “

“Thank you, Genevieve.” The operator kept typing. “I am dispatching search and rescue to that stretch of road. Just try to stay calm. Take a few deep breaths. They will be taking her to Derry Medical.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes.” Gen started her car back up.

“Don’t rush over there Genevieve.” The operator advised. “Nadine would not want you getting in an accident.”

“I won’t rush.” Gen took a deep breath. “Thank you. I will. I know it is important to you.” was the last thing the operator heard before Genevieve hung up.  

She was hearing his voice again telling her she had to take the art inside. The paintings of him had to get to their destination. That would only happen through this gallery.  

“Alright, I guess you're right.” She turned the car back off. “But you stay here. I hope they still take them. I am an hour and a half late.”  

Genevieve got the paintings inside. The curator rushed over to her.  

“I’m so glad you finally got here.” The man snapped his fingers and a someone came out from the back with bubbly water and hors d'oeuvres. “I just put some feelers out about getting these and practically have them sold already. I didn’t know what I was going to do if you decided not to sell. Have a snack and a drink while we sign the paperwork.”

“Thank you, Mr.?” She put the paintings against the wall before sitting at a table nearby.”

“I’m Mr. Gaunt.” The man studied the paintings closely. “Mr. Edward Gaunt. These are really memorizing, Miss. Duchamp. Five thousand for all ten, correct?”

“That sounds reasonable.” She grabbed the papers. “Where do I sign. I want to get this done quickly. I had an emergency situation come up so I would like to get to that.”

Mr. Gaunt smirked as he sat in the chair across from her. “Of course. Sign the bottom of the pages and I will write a check. I didn’t mean to keep you longer than you wished.”  

She thought he sounded a little creepy. She quickly signed the twenty-page contract. Then left with a nice fat check that more than likely would go to her girl’s hospital stay. Genevieve raced to the hospital.

“I don’t know that for sure, Henry.” She talked to the statue on the way. “Of course, I will still throw the party. You will protect me, right?”

Nadine was stumbling on the side of the road when the search and rescue vehicles found her. Blood was dried to her face. A cut was visible though her sliced up jeans. Her hands cut up from crawling part of the way before getting up to stand.  

The EMT cleaned her wounds and put steri strips on the worst slashes until the Doctor could stitch her up. Nadine mumbled incoherently as they rushed her to Derry Medical.  

Genevieve was worried when she talked to an ER nurse and all they knew was that no one had been brought in for hours. She was panicking as sirens could be heard from an ambulance pulling in the bay. The double doors opened at the side entrance.

“Is she alright?” Gen screamed as they were pushing Nadine down the hall to an open room. “What happened?”

A security guard pulled her back from the scene. The curtain closed. The doctor, nurse and several emergency room students worked on stitching her up, running an IV and getting her stable.  

“Wait in the waiting room Miss.” The security guard’s voice was kind but firm. “They will come to talk to you when she is stable.”

“Just tell them Genevieve Duchamp is waiting.” She sat bouncing her knee. “I talked to the 911 operator.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them, Miss Duchamp.” The guard tilted his head looking at her. “Any relation to Teddy? Yesterday I was at Teddy's Amoco getting my car fixed. That man can tell some stories. Your grandfather was one of those boys that found that kid's dead body in 1959.”

“Yes, he’s my father, kind of.” She rolled her eyes. “I heard that story a million times at least.”

Teddy Jr. was just as fucked up as his Father. He was barely ever around when she was growing up. Her Mother Annette had enough by the time Genevieve was ten. For some reason they stayed in Castlerock. Her father still came around. Her Mother still had a weakness for him physically but would kick him right out, usually screaming obscenities, by morning.  

When she was an awkward teen her Father told her, she should just go on an adventure with a bunch of friends. Hopefully, they could find a dead body like his Dad. He thought it was the coolest thing to ever happen to the family name. He always wanted to find a dead body but never did. She thought is was an awful thing to what to see.  

The gas station his Father left him made him a good enough living. She never wanted for much. He paid for art lessons she wanted after she graduated high school. Her Father just used the college fund he was saving for her. He just gave her what was left after paying for her lessons so she could find an apartment with a good art studio. Which she did.  

The Guard went back to tell a nurse Genevieve was waiting. Within an hour Nadine was awake. A nurse came out to take Gen to see her.  

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 20

Chapter title: To Thine Own Self

A/n:  TALK ABOUT A BAD CHAPTER AM I RIGHT FELLAS...EYYYYYY. Anyway its Virgils birthday so i wanted to get this chapter out earlier!! Because my boi!! its his birthday!! Im love him!! Im very sorry to how bad this chapter is, its funny cause it basically contains nothing of substance. All I know is that Virgil is a flirty man, anyway enjoy some trash!!

First | Previous | Next

words: 3221

summary: Its Virgils birthday!

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, blood mention

Ao3 Link  

“Lo?” Patton shakes the lawyer softly, his coat tickling his face softly. Logan startles awake, his glasses falling carefully upon his lopsided face.

“E! Equals Mc scared!” He exclaims, Virgil groans from across the room toppling over to where Remy snores. “What time is it” Logan murmurs, sitting up as he adjusts his glasses. The knot tightens as Patton watched Logan adapt to the morning. His face flustered as the lawyer looked his way. “Oh, good morning Patton” Logan greets.

“Hi” He barely squeaks, he shakes himself out before extending his hand to Logan. Once their fingers connect, a quick warmth spreads over them, their bubble returns locking them safely away from the world. Soon Remy snores himself awake, pop! Patton watches as the bubble crumbles around them. “W-what happened here?” He questions, turning away from Logan.

“The case!” Virgil remembers “Patton! We have something to show you!” He rushes, swiftly taking Patton's hand unbeknownst to the quiet panic that flows over Patton. The relief when Virgil releases him is almost too much, its silly he knows but its a reflex. “Ok, we stayed up all night working on this” He shows Patton the board

“It was all a lie?” Patton reads, his soft eyes tracing the plethora of evidence. “What does that mean?” He inquires, the others turn to each other not sure how to respond. “You all need sleep” Patton decides, he adjusts his scarf making his way towards the door.

“Pat, come on” Logan begs, the lawyer turns cocking his head. “This has to mean something, I believe you ok?” Logan states Patton swallows. “George is innocent”

You'd think after months of fighting tooth and nail, Patton would gleam at those words. But as his eyes fell upon Logans, his entire body felt exhausted, defeated from the battle. Should he never emerge victorious he had already lost, lost something so special, nothing else compared.

“Maybe, but it doesn't matter now” Patton laments “Nothing we can do” He watches the board, a heavyweight places itself upon his chest. Pushing deeply as it constricts his every movement. He sees the others want to say more, after all, they had spent all night, sloppily theorizing. However, the doors opened as two small pairs of feet ran towards him.

“Papa!” Valerie cries jumping into her father's arms. Patton embraces her freely, preparing as Remus joins him, allowing himself to sit in Patton's other arm. After a brief shriek of laughter and moment of kisses, Patton smiles at Emile.

“Thank you so much for taking them last night” Patton gestures, wanting to never let this moment end. The dream he’d held for so long, sometimes he wondered how it ever became a reality. How he, out of all people, was blessed with children.

“Liam?” Patton calls listening as the door squeaked open, a piercing yet familiar sound. After a pause with no response, the lawyer stood from his desk, feeling lightheaded during this dark hour. He pushes through the house, stumbling blindly, a quick fear as rustles happen. He shakes his head allowing a quick smile to spread across his face. “Nothing to fear, I'm safe” He lies

“Cupcake?” A voice from out of the empty dark calls out, Patton really hated the nickname. Oh, how selfish that was. A sweet nickname, a sweet person and Patton hated it.

“Over here” He replies, his hands searching the wall finally reaching the lights. Allowing them to flicker awake. “Hi” He smiles softly, Liam grunts practically tripping over himself as he reaches the couch. Patton leans over, kissing his forehead carefully, adjusting his partner's hair.

“Beer” Liam requests, paying no mind to the kind gesture Patton performs. He could smell the alcohol practically wafting off of Liam, but it was late and he didn't have the energy to...run if need be. Once he returns with his opener, he sits. “What?” Liam mutters as Patton watches him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had any more time to think...about what I asked you?” Patton began slow, making sure to keep his words simple. Liam huffs, rolling his tired eyes.

“You think you can raise children?” Liam mocks, Patton looks to the window, something comforting about the way the stars twinkled. It reminded him of someone, he couldn't pin it. He smiles again, a facade arises.

“I do, and I think you can too” Patton hopes, more convincing himself really.

“Then you are a fool and really naive if you think that pursuing this is a good thing” Liam finishes, the beer emptied before Patton can process his words. He tumbles as he makes his way mumbling angry to the room. A practically shattered Patton remains, the softest of tears fall from his eyes.

“Patton?” Logan waves gently in front of his face. The lawyer blinks before the lights come back on behind his eyes. He shakes slightly adjusting to his surroundings, shooting a quick look to his children.

“Sorry, must've spaced out!” He smiles shaky, nervous laughter practically pouring from him. “I'm really sorry but I have to go” he announces, the twin's yawn, leaning safely into their father. They loved Emile, they loved all of their dad's friends, but no place, no home, no person would ever feel as safe as Patton. Before he goes, Patton spins on his heel to face Virgil. “Hey, don't forget, my house this Thursday, birthday dinner” He reminds, Virgil bites down a smirk but nods

“You know it” He nods, almost excited at the prospect of some normalcy to return to his life. For almost the entire time he and Patton knew one another, Virgil would spend his birthday evenings at Patton's house. The lawyer would cook an extravagant meal full of the detectives' favorite foods, he would give him gifts and shower him with praises. It didn't change once the kids arrived, it simply improved. No matter what happened during the day, that was set. Breakfast with Roman, lunch with Logan perhaps. A quick ‘Happy Birthday Virge’ from either sure, but Patton's house, seven pm sharp? That was set in stone, and should they grow old, and expand their families far and wide. Virgil knew...it would always be like that.  

~~~

“And...done!” Roman cheers to himself, the rough tips of his fingers simply begging for a break. He marvels at his creation, nodding satisfied as he places the gift delicately in his drawer. Making sure its kept safe and hidden until Thursday.

“Judge Reial?” A rasped knock at the door beckons Roman's attention. His gaze falls upon a man waiting at his arch. He stands smiling as the man approaches. “I'm judge James McCoy” He greets, shaking his extended hand. A firm yet soft touch, a quick shiver as they part both sitting once more. “It's an honor to meet you” James admits, Roman feels his face arise. The heat spreading quickly, surely this was a joke?

“Likewise?” He tries, James chuckles. A deep boom, so smooth it moved across Roman pleasantly.

“Apologies, I just transferred here. I've read about your work...I mean you're incredible in court.” Roman had to wonder if he had the wrong person, he was just...himself. “I was requested to come here for a case, then I was offered a job and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to work with you” He gushes, Romans blush only grows.

“That's so sweet thank you” Roman finds his bearings, a coy smile upon his face. “I mean, I get it all the time” He jokes, mission successful as yet another smile and laugh falls from James’s mouth. “Surely you didn't just move out here for me?”

“Don't flatter yourself” James teases, a smirk upon his face. Roman bites his lip stifling a laugh. “No I mean, I was iffy about taking the job but then my partner….he broke up with me so...new start ya know?” James explains, a raw honesty to his words. Roman nods, trying not to get excited at the developments as they unfold.

“Would you like to have lunch?” Roman blurts, a new sparkle in his eyes. James purses his lips “Thought we could maybe get to know each other” He proposes, Jame wants to hide his smile but his lips have their own mind.

“I'd love nothing more” James agrees, he collects his things at the ring of his phone standing as he goes. “It has been an absolute pleasure” He extends his hand once more, once again tickling Roman with possibility. “Lunch” He finalizes

“Lunch” Roman swoons, his back melting into the chair once more. He can feel his feet tap below him, dancing as the ideas sing throughout his mind.

“Hey Ro” Patton smiles through the door, Roman ushers him in. “You look giddy, what's up?” An uncertain expression befalls the lawyer, Roman shrugs into a shimmy.

“I just met someone” Roman marvels, realizing just how weird his insides felt. It felt like he had reverted ten years, a shiny new judge, he was dumb and easy to trick. He tripped over himself to be seen, and now here he was. People wanted to meet him, to see him. And for what? He wasn't some here, he wasn't this outstanding citizen. He sent people to jail, to spend the rest of their lives suffering.

“Bad people Ro” Virgil would take his hand, their words in whispers as Damian snuggled against them snoring softly. Roman wouldn't dare meet his eyes, fear of falling apart under their caring honesty. They weren't pools of dark mystery, they were swirling clouds of determination and ambition. Virgil's eyes radiated all he conquered, Roman loved them.

“What if they weren't bad? What if I made a mistake” He fears, the words only rising in panic. Virgil cups his face, his gentle hands tracing Romans almost perfect features. “What if I'm just like...him?” Roman dreads even the idea, but he knew it was always there. Forcing its way through the blockade. Virgil leans forward, taking Roman's lips on his own, knowing full well the judge would melt into the gesture. That for just this moment he would feel loved.

“You're not your father Roman, you never will be” Virgil assures, digging the point as far as he can. “Just this conversation, your concerns now, prove that. You care” He identifies, Roman wants to cry, but because for once in his life, he believes that maybe just maybe he really isn't. That all of his efforts and work, paid off. He is not his father.

Roman should feel sad, he misses Virgil so much. His stomach tug as even the slightest thing causes him to reminisce. But he's not, he loves Damian and he...cares for Virgil. Knowing that he's safe means the world. And something just cleared for him when Virgil uttered the words. As though he finally understood. He was...almost free. Should Virgil ever want to pursue him again or not, Roman would…

“Be ok” Roman mumbles, Patton stops his rocking of the stroller, the twins remain sleeping. “I'll be ok” He gleams. Patton forces a smile, nodding proudly of his friend. I wonder what that's like.

“That's good Ro, I'm proud of you” Patton squeezes his hand, his gaze returning to his source of joy. The twins sprawled across the stroller, sleeping carefully, cuddled with their respective stuffed toys.

“I...have a date!” He tilts his head, uneasy smile “Kind of?” He questions, Patton laughs.

“Oh?” He wonders, biting his lips as Virgil's name appears in his head.

“He's a judge, he just transferred here, he's cute and we are having lunch together” Roman finishes, drumming the desk lightly. “Guess too fast is my middle name!” He jokes, Patton swallows as his own words trail his mind, the crushing look Logan gave him replaying like an old station.

“Light and breezy” Patton nods slowly.

“Light and breezy!” Roman sings, feeling genuine, deep-rooted happiness. Unaware of the fragile demeanor of the lawyer across from him, as his world threatens to crumble, the regrets of everything he's ever done in his mind. The desperation as his heart aches to him, calling out to Logan, the phrase ‘miss so much’ we an understatement. He yearned for something he left of his own will, what an absolute...idiot he was.

Don't get emotional Patton

~~~

“I will be there soon Pat...yeah I love you too” Virgil chuckles, stuffing the phone into his pocket as he pushes through the door into the precinct. The still quiet of the building causing unease in the detective so used to the bustling bounces of the room. He turns into the room fully expecting to have the frozen solitude to himself, alas as the lights flicker on he releases a soft gasp. “Roman?” He whispers. The judge stands idle by Virgil's desk, a small amber box alight in his hands.

“Hey” He smiles, the exhaustion under his eyes visible.

“What are you...what are you doing here?” Virgil questions, their voices remain ever so soft.

“Happy birthday” He rushes, skipping a few steps. Virgil's eyes widen as he nods, taking a step forward. Roman looks enchanting under the dim lights, his aura blazing passion.

“You remembered?” He's not sure why he questions it every time, Roman has never forgotten his birthday. He's never had a reason to assume someone, especially his friends would forget, and yet he lives in fear.

“Of course” Roman laughs so sweetly, it barely makes a sound “December nineteenth, you were born at exactly six forty four pm. You didn't cry at first so your mom was pretty worried, but it turns out you were just a little shy” He chuckles, neither understand why there are tears making their way down the men's cheeks. “You were a pretty light baby. Your favorite birthday was your sixteenth when your mom took you to a concert for the first time, but your sixth comes pretty close after you got to tag along with your dad on a case” Roman recites, the absolute adoration flooding his eyes. “You always spend your evenings with Patton, no matter what.” Roman moves closer, allowing the distance between them to circulate warmth.

“What are you doing?” Virgil hopes, maybe a little too much that he gets closer.

“I have a gift…” Roman's eyes move towards Virgil's lips “For you” He states, carefully he lifts it placing it in the detective's palm. “I know its small but uh...happy birthday Virge,” He says, overwhelming conviction. Virgil carefully undoes the ribbon, the paper falling with it. Virgil sucks in, his breath falling short. A small cloud, with lighting coming out of it, sits at the bottom of the box. “It's a worry stone, carved like a storm cloud”

“Because I'm your storm cloud?” Virgil groans, a knowing smirk. Roman laughs nodding sweetly.

“Because you are my storm cloud” Roman leans in stopping himself, he knows he's going to regret his next move but he takes his waist and locks their lips. Virgil allows it to happen, his arms snaking their way around Roman's neck.

“What was that?” Virgil questions, not entirely opposed to the idea, his arms remaining.

“Think of it as a breakup kiss, and a birthday present” He shrugs, Virgil chuckles shakily. “I have a proposition,” He says removing his arms, taking hold of Virgil's hands.

“Oh do tell” Virgil plays with Romans fingers in his own.

“You say we’re moving too fast then let's start again. From the top, Virge you're basically my best friend” Roman can't keep still, Virgil feels the warmth spread as he stays safe in his arms. “I'm not gonna let that slip away, and I'm not gonna let Damian slip away. Come on, I know you miss me” Roman teases, Virgil pouts stretching Romans arms behind him, he leans in planting a kiss on Roman.

“Maybe just a lil bit” Virgil states, Roman, shakes his head still smiling.

“Virge...I'm serious” Roman begs, Virgil nods allowing him to continue. “I wanna do this right, please” He requests, Virgil has no qualms.

“Yes of course” He purses his lips feeling Romans phone buzz, he smirks coyly, removing it from his back pocket. Roman barely puts up a fight. “Oh? Who's James?” Virgil wonders, Roman rolls his eyes “Come on best friend, whos the dude, I bet-” Roman leans in kissing him

“We can start tomorrow” Roman tries to grab his phone back but Virgil lifts above his head shaking it. He takes it scrolling through the previous texts giggling after each one, a contagious joy spread from the two. And before the hour strikes seven, it's just them in their delighted aura.

~~~

“I think alcohol might have been a bad idea” Roman jokes, Logan grunts sitting down as he simply takes another sip of his drink. “Come on Lo, we should head home” Roman suggests, feeling the high of Virgil's lips upon his own drain away

“Im...going to propose to Patton” Logan decides, he flops on the couch, the music quiets as the people around him continue. Roman guffaws, a bellowed laugh.

“Yeah, alright Logan. I think you have to be dating first” Roman takes a calm sip of his drink, observing the world around him. Logan

“I'm not kidding Roman” Logan sits up, adjusting his glasses “I've known him for ten years. I practically know everything about him” Logan shrugs “I know he takes his coffee with cream and two sugars, a hint of cinnamon. I know that his favorite color is the rainbow because it changes every day. I know today its violet for Virgil's birthday. I know that he checks on the twins at least three times before going to bed himself.  I know that there are only two people who can touch him without causing him to flinch. I know that when he balls his fists he digs his nails so deep into his skin he draws blood.” Roman doesn't want to listen anymore, his heart hurts as he watches Logan defeated

“Logan you do-”

“I know that turtlenecks provide him some sense of comfort as they wrap in warm coziness. I also know he used to use them to hide scars” Logan takes a shattered breath “I know that when he kisses me my heart beats a million times faster…” Logan rubs his forehead frustrated “I know that he can never have his eyes or hands away from the twins. And I know that...that” He pauses sucking in his huffed tears

“Logan? What?” Roman wants more

“I just like him so much” Logan moans, sprawling across Roman. “I wanna give him butterfly kisses” He pouts, Roman laughs stroking the lawyers head gently. “Do you know what those are? With the eyes?” His pout only furthers, as tears well in his eyes. He clutches to the pillow, his glasses drooping.

“I know bud, I know” He whispers carefully, not wishing to ruin the night further. Its funny, Roman had only seen Logan like this once before, and it was also about Patton. It's almost ironic in a way.

“Mm, my phone is buzzing” Logan mumbles, his arm making grabby towards the device. Roman takes it for him, asking him to put in his code. “What's happening?” He mutters into the couch pillow. Roman reads, the grin slowly disappearing.

Logan, please help

Patton was being vague, and Roman couldn't handle that

[writeyourownlifestory]

L-I-G-H-T-S U-P

Chapters: 2/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapter one can be found here

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

I get a little lonely Get a little more close to me You're the only one who knows me, babe So hot, you're hurtin' my feelings (woo) Can't deal

Richie had very little idea what he was supposed to be doing.

Okay, correction, he had a decent idea. It was a simple interview. Ask a couple of questions, hopefully, get a couple of answers. It wasn’t being filmed nor were they doing something dumb to pass the time. Just a simple sit down with a punk rock legend in the making.

Richie had written down almost a hundred questions, half of which he wanted to scrape because they just seemed so generic and boring. This might have been just a stereotypical interview but the person of interest was anything but typical.

Dr. K had changed things for the better in the music industry. He didn’t stick to social norms, but he also didn’t jam his uniqueness down your throat. If you wanted to see him, you would see him. If you didn’t want to pay him any mind, that was fine too. Dr. K had said on more than one occasion that he wasn’t there to entertain the small minds of the world. The people who would see him would see him and those who heard him would listen.

Richie listened very clearly. Almost nightly. He wasn’t lying when he told Bill he had seen them sixteen times in the past eight years. From small dingy bars deep in the city to the biggest venues the state had to offer. Richie had been there for it all, cheering on this amazing band and buying up their merch to boot.

Richie thought about wearing one of their shirts, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. He stuck with his regular business attire, making sure that nothing was too wrinkled or had a strange mess to it.

He thought about doing something with his hair until he finally snapped himself out of this little fantasy he had going on inside his head. This wasn’t a blind date; wasn’t some matchmaking at the hands of Bill. This was a serious business and Richie had to take it seriously.

Richie was gangly, with wavy hair and thick glasses. Sure, some guys found him to be cute, but he gave credit to his charming personality. He put on a mask to get by but in reality, he was just a lonely guy who didn’t know where he belonged.

So when the day came, he told himself just to relax because nothing would come from this. There wasn’t going to be a magical spark between the two. He wasn’t going to let go of his career and start touring with Dr. K as his personal assistant slash roadie slash groupie.

He was just a guy interviewing for his place of work and Richie reminded himself that repeatedly as he arrived at the location Bill gave him. Red Balloon records were serious business that only took on the best of the best. Richie gave his name and flashed the pass that he always kept on him from Paper Boats just to show he was legit.

He was sent up automatically and was practically buzzing in the elevator up. When he arrived at the top, a red-headed woman greeted him, offering a polite smile as they walked through the hall. She was dressed smartly in a suit of her own, high up against her neck and tight at the waist. She offered a quick handshake before they got moving.

“Beverly Marsh. You’re a little early, but that’s all right. K likes punctual people.” She revealed.

“Figured it would be better to be early than late.”

“Better late than never as they say,” Beverly commented with a knowing smile. “I hope you have something good to ask him.”

“Way to put the pressure on,” Richie muttered, following close behind her. “I tried to choose questions he hadn’t already been asked before, but there are only so many non-generic questions out there. I’m sure he’ll be asked the same bullshit by the other magazines.”

“Dr. K isn’t doing any other magazine interviews. He’s agreed to only speak to a Paper Boat representative. You, specifically.”

“What? You’re kidding.” It wasn’t unheard of for a celeb to only speak to one news outlet, but for him to choose to only speak to PB when he had so much to release seemed a bit out there. Richie wondered if Bill had worked his magic on Dr. K’s people and convinced them to sell the story to Paper Boat and only Paper Boat.

“You’ll be the only so I certainly hope you make it worth his while.”

“No pressure there,” Richie muttered, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Don’t be worried. Dr. K is very easy going. Just don’t make this into a big deal.”

Richie snorted, giving the redhead a quick side look. “Right. Speaking to a premature rock God. It's no big deal.”

Beverly chuckled, stopping outside one of the doors. “He isn’t a God. He’s just a guy with a lot of talent.”

“Here I thought the lead singer of a punk rock band would want to surround himself with people who stroke his ego.”

Beverly shrugged, reaching for the doorknob. “He’s not the lead singer of a band anymore. And K doesn’t surround himself with anybody he doesn’t want around. Constantly hearing how wonderful you are can be pretty boring, don’t you think?” Opening the door, Beverly gesturing inside. “He’ll be with you in just a moment.”

The room was empty but set up comfortably. There was a small bar with drinks and a table of snacks set up. Caramel popcorn and peanut M&Ms filled up the bowls. Richie grabbed a couple of candies, tossing them in the air and catching them. He walked around, admiring the room. It had that vintage rock and roll vibe to it. Vinyl along the brick walls and posters of all the bands the record label signed over the year.

Sitting in a cooler were glass soda bottles and Richie lifted one, searching for a bottle opener only to come up empty. Shrugging, he brought the bottle to his mouth, hoping to open it with his teeth the way he used to in college, but that proved futile. He was older and his teeth weren’t as strong as they used to be.

“It’s a twist-off,” A voice from behind him said.

Richie turned and the bottle nearly slipped through his fingers as his eyes settled on the new person in the room.

It was him, his morning glory.

Dr. K.

He looked exactly like Richie hoped he would. Utterly gorgeous.

He wasn’t dolled up in eyeliner or hair gel the way he would if he was on stage or dressed in the best designers for a photoshoot, but he still looked too good to be true. Dark jeans with a dark jacket, a Ramones tee shirt hugging his toned body. His skin was pale, showing off every mark and freckle he had to offer.

His hair was shorter now; another shock vibing out through the music world. First Trashmouth loses their lead and then the lead loses his hair. Richie didn’t mind it though. The shorter cut framed Dr. K’s face ever so perfectly.

He was absolutely gorgeous and Richie felt like he was a six-foot tall garbage can on fire just standing in the same room with him.

Richie watched as Dr. K came forward, going to grab a bottle out of the cooler. He twisted it open with ease, offering it to Richie to switch out with the unopened one he was holding. Richie took it, still not saying a word as he watched the other man open a second bottle for himself and begin to drink it.

“What? Disappointed it’s not beer?” Dr. K asked him curiously.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Richie mentioned.

Dr. K shrugged off, sipping slowly at his drink. “As they say: it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He mentioned, taking another swig of the soda bottle. “So. You’re him, huh?” He asked, looking him up and down slowly.

A tickle of nerves ran along Richie’s back and after nearly spitting out his sip, he placed the bottle down beside him. “Yes. Hi. Richard Tozier; representative of Paper Boat magazine.” He stuck his hand out, offering a shake.

He wanted to be professional, but he wondered if that came off lame. Lame was the last thing he wanted because anything that wasn’t punk or rock and roll was incredibly lame.

And Richie was very sure if he looked lame in front of Dr. K he would throw himself in front of a moving train.

Luckily for him, Dr. K didn’t seem to mind. He offered a polite smile and reached out to shake his hand. His shake was tight and simple, though Dr. K did linger a bit longer than expected.

“So, shall the interview begin?” He offered, gesturing over to the couch across the way.

Richie scrambled to take his seat, wanting to make room for everything that was begging to come out of his mouth.

“First I just want to say thank you for allowing us to do this. I know you aren’t a very public person so to be able to do a one on one with you is truly an honor.”

“People are hungry. Might as well feed them.” Dr. K replied slowly.

“Right. Okay. So a solo album. Why now?”

“Why not now?”

“Right, okay. Great answer.” Richie cliched his pen and began writing that down. “So the album. Do you have a title for it yet?”

“We have a few things bouncing around but nothing has been decided yet.”

“And it’s all original work that you’ve written on your own?”

“Oh, the contrary; my first big solo album will be a complete list of some of my favorite songs already in creation.”

Richie pauses, looking up. “So a cover album?” He questioned, pushing his glasses up. “Why? I only ask because you’re an amazing songwriter! Surely you can make a whole album up on your own.”

“Your flattery is charming. And I have many ideas for songs but there are already so many songs out there and I want to lend my own voice and specific style to them.” Dr. K paused, smiling then. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

“Dr. K gets off with a zinger! Impressive.” Richie scribbled everything down, leaning back in the chair as he grew more comfortable. “Okay so. Cover album. Do I get to know any of the songs?”

“It will be between fifteen and twenty. We’re still narrowing it down.”

“That’s quite a lot. Any particular reason?”

“I’m greedy.” Dr. K shrugged, sipping slowly at his bottle.

Richie focused his eyes on the pad in his hands instead of on the bottle that Dr. K had his mouth wrapped around.

“I will say each song has been chosen by me personally. Little ditties that touched me in one way or another during my life; going all the way back to my childhood to now.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“I do, though I can’t say without revealing anything.”

“What about in general?” Richie inquires. “Come on. Even a rockstar has to have a favorite song.”

Eddie smiled softly, almost dismissively. Richie thought he was going to ignore the question or request a skip, but instead, Richie would himself getting the answer.

“Clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away. I've done alright up to now, it's the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness calls….”

Richie blinked, his mind desperately trying to get past the fact that Dr. K just sang to him to recognize the song.

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” He asked aloud, his eyes squinting behind his glasses. “Your favorite song is by Whitney Houston?”

“Are you not a fan?”

“What? No, it’s not that! Whitney was iconic. Rest In Peace Queen, but I just meant. It’s surprising! Especially for somebody with your record.”

“Even rockstars can have a soft spot for a good pop song,” Eddie told him with a small smile.

Richie, having found himself staring, scrambling to write everything down. He paused, collecting his thoughts so he could wrap this up. He didn’t want to leave yet but he didn’t want to take up any more of Dr. K’s time.

“Why now?” He asked suddenly. “Why go solo now?”

“My bandmates have lives of their own. Wives. Children. I have neither. Besides, I lived my life doing what people expected of me. Thought I’d have fun and throw a wrench in their plan for me.”

A knock on the door came. After a few seconds, Beverly opened, sticking her fiery redhead inside. “K, I’m sorry to interrupt but Stanley is on the phone. Legal mumbo-jumbo.”

“Duty calls.” Dr. K sighed, standing slowly from the couch. Realizing the interview was cover, Richie stood as well, shoving everything back into his bag. Dr. K didn’t move right away. He stood in front of Richie, that same damn smile across his lips.

“Thank you. Really. Having this chance had been a total career changer.” He mentioned to him, pausing just before they could separate.

Richie always took his job seriously but come on, how detailed could you get about something when the story you were writing was on giant chocolate chip cookies or watching celebs balance pies on their heads? This was the first legitimate of Richie’s career and he was incredibly grateful for the chance.

“Do you think I could bother you for a picture? I know it’s super unprofessional, but you’re like my idol.”

Dr. K laughed then. Not mockingly, but rather with surprise. There was a glimmer in his eyes Richie couldn’t recognize, though he didn’t get the chance to question it as Dr. K came to his side in moments.

Richie scrambled to grab his phone, holding it out so he could capture both of them. They smiled wide, standing beside one another closely as the picture was taken. Richie was definitely going to make that his lock screen the moment he got home.

He offered his hand, one final shake and Dr. K took it without question. “It was nice to see you again, Richie.” He said, giving the hand one last squeeze before Beverly ushered him out.

Richie stood there, offering a lame wave as he was left alone in the room. A solid minute passed before Dr. K’s words repeated in his head.

Nice to see you again? What the fuck?

[redhoodieone]

It’s Cold in Here Part 7

A/N: And hereeeee is Part 7! Wow, and there is more to come because there are more scary and dangerous things ahead.  So, enjoy this part, and wait for the next one. 

Warnings: Language.

  I woke up around six in the morning because I knew I couldn’t stick around to see and talk to Jason. I quietly got up from his cuddling embrace and got dressed and left without looking back at him. I even snuck around Alfred, who was in the kitchen making coffee, and I got into my car and drove off.

The second I get back to my home, I wash up, shower, and I find myself searching through the kitchen for something to eat. But after not going grocery shopping for a while, I end up eating the last slice of bread with the little spoonful of peanut butter at the bottom of the empty jar.

I then contemplate what to do today. I know I have work tomorrow, and today’s my last day off, and there’s got to be something I could do to stop me from obsessing about tonight’s encounter with the mysterious text messenger.

The fact that I must go alone makes me anxious, but I know I don’t have any other choice. My thoughts are interrupted from a knock on my front door.

Oh my God. Could it be Jason?

Fuck.

I shove the rest of my piece of bread into my mouth, and race to the door. I hesitate to open the door, but once I gain some sort of little confidence, I open the door.

It’s Dick.

My heart starts to pound in my chest. Why is he here? What’s going on?

Dick’s dressed casually; black pants with a white shirt and blue sweater on. His dark hair is gelled and messy like always, and his ocean blue eyes are focused on me.

I move aside and let him inside. The tension between us is awkward and I do feel like there’s a chill between us. It’s as if I just allowed a stranger into my home.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Dick finally asks. The way he says it sounds practiced, and a little heavy. “Please?”

I want to laugh, just to make him feel uncomfortable since he has no problem making me feel uneasy right now. “I guess we have to, right? Since our relationship is pretty much over except for who’s going to end it first,” I say.

“I...I don’t want us to be over. I still love you, and I want you to be with me,” Dick confesses, as he sits down beside me.

“W-what? Dick, you can’t be serious! You’re...into guys too, and you cheated on me. How could I be in a relationship with you after that?” I ask, suddenly feeling ambushed by him.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I know what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have slept with him and lie to you, but I can’t just break up with you right now. Look, I had a moment of weakness. I fucked up. But it’s not going to happen again. I’m not gay or anything,” Dick continues, as he begins sounding more desperate and nervous.

“I know you’re not gay, Dick. You’re...bisexual. But that’s...that’s not what bothers me. I mean, it did in the beginning but it’s something I can’t change or ignore. What bothers me is that you cheated on me; it’s still cheating when it’s with a woman or a man,” I say, no longer frightened to keep silent. Dick needs to know the truth. “And the fact that you keep wanting us to be together just makes this relationship fake. Why would you want to put me through that?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT BRUCE TO FIND OUT!” Dick yells. He’s clearly afraid, and angry about the whole thing.

Dick begins to cry. He pulls his hair, and cries looking down at the carpet.

“All my life, I had to be perfect. I was supposed to be the best. My earliest days in the circus as the star acrobat along my family, when Bruce molded me into being the perfect sidekick Robin and to be a man a woman deserves. True, I haven’t exactly treated women right from time to time but being with you is something I feel like I was meant to have,” Dick says, wiping his tears away. “But as any perfect creation comes, it comes with flaws. My...sexuality is my fault.”

I feel guilty beyond words. “Dick, don’t say that...”

“It’s true! Imagine what the tabloids would say: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Son Dates Another Man! What Has Happened to Gotham’s Straight Ladies Man?!’ It could destroy our family. It could destroy me. I would be named the ‘queer’ of the family! Or those worse names homosexuals hear.”

“I-I understand your fear and all, but don’t you think you’re overreacting? The world is slowly changing now, because of the LGBTQ communities. Most advocates and activists are speaking out, and most of the time the publicity is positive. Maybe your real fear is coming from you. Maybe you have yet to accept yourself. Not everyone around you is going to think differently of you, especially the ones who love you,” I say, hoping to break through Dick’s strong, stubborn walls. “You can’t keep pretending to be someone you’re not. And you can’t have me pretend to be in love with you.”

Dick’s clear blue eyes look up to me in confusion. “You-you don’t love me anymore?” he asks softly.

“I love you Dick, but...I’m not in love with you anymore. Our relationship...is different now. I know you can’t choose which gender you want for fun or for a serious relationship, but I think you’re torn between what you want to discover and pursue now. This is clearly new to you, and while you figure it all out, maybe you need to be single to do that,” I admit.

Dick breathes heavily. He rubs his eyes, and after a while, he takes my hand and looks at me.

“You’re right, Y/N. You’re right about everything. I...I should have handled this better, but even though I still fucked up, I’m still in love with you and I still want to be with you. My feelings for you haven’t changed at all,” Dick confesses.

“What about Wally?” I finally ask.

“What about him? This isn’t about him. What happened between us doesn’t mean anything. He knows that, and I know that. This is about us. I want a future with you, a family. Did you honestly think I would have all that with him?”

The pain in my stomach hurts more than ever. I know Dick is wrong, and he’s being more ignorant than usual. But arguing right now isn’t going to help us. I suddenly feel tired and very exhausted from this talk. I lean back until I completely lie down on the couch, as my legs are on Dick.

“I’m sorry, I just...don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. I’m tired, and I think I need to nap,” I say. I sound sleepy and he should know I’m not faking it.

“I’m tired, too,” Dick says, as he kicks off his shoes and lies down behind me.

I don’t want Dick holding me, but when his arms wrap around me and he pulls me closer to him in a hug, that it brings me back to a happy place like in the beginning. His smell, his touch, and his affection makes me fall all over again.

“You-you slept with Jason, right?”

His question startles me at first. “Yes.”

“Was he...better than me?” Dick asks quietly.

It would be easy to tell him the truth; that yes, sex with Jason made me feel more pleasure and love, but I can’t deal with the truth anymore right now.

“It was okay. It was just sex,” I finally say. “You’re better, because you know how to make me feel important.”

Dick’s breathing is calm again, and he holds me tighter. “Good, I-I didn’t want you to have a bad time but just knowing our sex life makes you feel important is more than enough for me.”

I close my eyes. I want to wake up and see that this was all a dream.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“I-I want to spend the night with you. Would that be okay?”

Dick’s practically begging me now. But since I can’t exactly be honest anymore since he refuses to be honest, I realize I have to go to Ace Chemicals alone tonight.

To face the unknown text messenger.

“I actually have to go to Zatanna’s tonight,” I lie, hoping he would buy it. But I mentally slap myself for not talking to Zatanna or Artemis today to make it more believable. With my luck, Artemis might still be hungover with Connor, while Zatanna did in fact sleep with Tim. “Artemis wants a girl’s night to dish on her hookup with Connor. I already accepted the invitation. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I should have known you would already have plans since you’re an amazing girl. I’ll probably hang out with Jay, Tim, and Dami anyways. I’ll just see you in the morning then.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” I agree.

“Let’s just take a nap first. Let’s us forget everything,” Dick says sleepy.

It would be good to forget everything. It would be like all this never happened. No heartbreak. No cheating. No lies. No one-night stand Jason.

Jason?

My feelings for Jason resurface again, because no matter how many times I try to drown them, they just float back up to the surface because they’re un-drownable.

Before I know it, Dick’s already sound asleep.

I guess it’s easy for him to block everything out, while I’m here suffering in silence because my heart and head want to burst.

I know I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I don’t have time to sit and worry about Dick’s denial, or how I have secret feelings for Jason.

Because all I know is that I’m going to finally find out who has been harassing me about Dick, and once I find out who it is...I’m going to end them.

Take them down.

Kick their fucking ass.

And make them regret fucking with me by using threats and fear.

Because when anyone threatens to hurt and destroy those closest to me, they’re just asking for a ticket to die.

And I’ll gladly give them a ticket for death. 

Comments, questions, and notes are greatly appreciated! 

[jenovahh]

想不起来 - 15

Your weapon practically glints in the low light of the room as your calloused hands, worn and torn from battle slowly show a gentleness to your weapon that most would think you incapable of.

Still, you surrender yourself to your habit; a time of peace before a big battle you know comes on the morrow. It is almost a time of bonding, of clutching your weapon that is capable of life in death in that the death of one can save the lives of thousands. At least, that’s what you hope to achieve by defeating Vauthry, ignoring the looming possibility of the light within you tearing you asunder.

“You become more and more like yourself, with each passing day.”

Slowly, you gaze up from your work, seeing him haloed in the moonlight of your open window. Shadowed in darkness, his silhouette looks every bit imposing, even with his signature slouch as the weight of his lost world sits upon his shoulders.

“More like myself?” The words on your tongue taste strange, mumbling them to yourself once again. “Was it not you who told me to not think of myself as two separate beings? To not think of myself as the past?”

You can barely see his brows furrowing in the darkness of the room, his aether brushing against yours almost harshly. You refuse the connection, staring him down until you get an answer from him. “You remain as unrepentant as ever.” you huff, turning back to polish your weapon. Before you can even put cloth to metal, it vanishes from your lap, and you slowly begin to count backwards from then. “And childish as ever.”

“Childish?” He repeats, sounding truly offended. “I liked it best when you did not have so many of your memories returned to you; you weren’t nearly as mouthy.” He tuts, watching as you slowly rise from the floor.

“I am not mouthy, I am angry that you interrupted my ritual.” You growl, moving to stand before him. Your aether buffets against one another, his resisting your anger far too easily but you won’t back down. “A ritual, that you know of too well Emet-Selch.” you speak lowly, not bothered by his frown.

“You are so serious hero, engaging in such an activity as if you might perish. Do you not have faith in your own ability?” He purrs, voice low as those golden eyes twinkle in the low light. It never ceased to amaze you how bright they sparkled even in darkest of rooms.

“I am not worried about my own ability. I don’t know what to expect from you should I fail, and that is what worries me.” You begin to turn away from him but a rough hand on your arm brings you back to him, staring into stony eyes. He is searching for something again, but you don’t know what else he could possibly look for. “Release me. Unless you plan to enlighten me on whatever plans you have in store.”

You jerk your arm to free yourself, but he only grips you tighter, nearly to the point of pain. “Does it bear repeating?” he whispers in the quiet of the room, barely audible. “Have I not already said that I would not let you go, after going so long without you?” The look he levels with you has your knees feeling weak, a distant memory teasing at that final barrier in your mind. Even still you won’t let him charm you like this, unwilling to stand down and let him seduce his way out.

“Look at you, so full of defiance, so willing to face me, despite the imbalance.” His tone has dipped back into that condescending edge, his other hand coming up to cup your chin in hand. “Such ferocity...such will.” Eyes half lidded, you feel rather than see the darkness creep along your skin, becoming suddenly aware of how little clothing you wore at night. It writhes up your legs, feeling much like a caress. “We have always been like oil and water in most ways.”

“Is that why you’ve not ceased to infuriate me, despite the state of my soul?” You growl, resisting the urge to press into him. His eyes narrow further, feelings that felt both your own yet not bubbling forth. You pay little mind to the dark magic as it slips under your clothes, caressing soft skin. “For someone so powerful, you know how to hold back.” You lean in close, lips nearly brushing his jawline. “When will you finally take me, as you did so many years ago,” 

Your sentence is stopped entirely as his hand covers your mouth, his eyes the fiercest you have ever seen him. There is a great amount of rage there, a torrent of lust buffeting against your aetherical senses as you stand strong against him. “You have not yet earned the privilege.” The words are hissed, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees though that is not why goosebumps raise on your skin. “You still have not given me what I desire.” Grabbing you roughly, he brings you close against him, tendrils of magic binding your wrists together. He does not deign to divest you of your clothing himself, simply snapping his fingers once to leave you bare and wanton before him.

He gazes upon you quietly, eyes ablaze with lust, his movements still precise as silk gloved hands glide across your skin. “You think to appeal to the rash young man of your memories. So ready to exchange words and argue and fight at the drop of a hat.” His smile is fond, as if thinking of a pleasant memory. “Unfortunately for you, sundered as you are, I have had the centuries to grow from the...man I once was.”

Your breath is caught in your throat as he lowers you to the bed, unsure how you got so near it in the first place. “I have had centuries to learn control.” There’s no breaking out of the magic he has bound you in, no fighting against his form as he hovers above you. “What is it that you want?” Your breath is shallow, chest rising and falling, back arching as you try to get any sort of contact. A smirk slowly forms at his lips, a single hand trailing downwards. 

Leaning forward, he presses his lips to your chest, so deceptively gentle. You arch into his touch immediately, wanting more, but too prideful to demand it. “Shall I awake more memories of yours?” he murmurs, breath tickling the fine hairs on your skin. His tongue darts out, licking further down that has you shivering in his hold. “Memories of where our bodies would be tangled for hours upon hours on end.” You release another shiver as his breath runs over the trail his tongue had left, watching with hazy eyes as he lifts a hand to his mouth, holding your stare as his teeth gently tug the glove off his hand.

That hand now reaches for your chest, groping and teasing, brushing across a nipple but never pinching it betwixt two fingers. The other glove soon follows in a similar fashion, the hand that was hidden beneath it snaking under your back to press you closer toward him, where the arch of your back could do no more. You writhed against him as best you could, your legs trapped between his as he did nothing but touch you. As the minutes ticked by, you could sense a feeling of that reverence from before, his aether though still tense and coiled tightly against him, still out poured a wave of admiration as he tended to your body.

“Emet-Selch,”

He nips you with sharp teeth, earning him a high squeal. “My name.” He orders, hand trickling down to where your arousal lies needy and wanting between your thighs. He runs his fingers across it, your hips jerking into his touch as best as they can in this position, a broken cry of his name from your lips. “Such impatience. A drawback of your mortality.” he sighs, trailing his fingers, teasing lightly. “In the days of eld, did I worship your body for days in the same way I worship his grace...” he places a gentle kiss to your chest with a smile, distracting you as he slowly slides an oiled finger inside you. “In a way, you had tempered me then.” His laughter is light, as if you are not falling short of begging for him to touch you.

“O-Only you could make light about being tempered...” you manage to get out, words failing you as he slides another finger inside, your long moan reverberating off the stone walls. “Hades,”

“Shh. No talking.” He begins to thrust his fingers, slowly driving your pleasure higher. “You do not have days but only mere hours, before you must march to determine the fate of this star.” Taking your chin in hand, he bids you to face him, smug as if you are not willingly not walking into your potential death tomorrow. “Are you afraid hero? Of what’s to come?” He curls his fingers to hit that spot within you, making you lose your breath for just a brief second. “Are you ready to put your life on the line for these miserable failures?” He increases his pace, not breaking his stare as he pleasures you.

“T-They are not,” you can’t find your words, not under the sheer amount of ecstasy he puts your body through. “Please Hades, more,” you beg, finally giving in, whining as he slows his pace. 

“Not yet, my love.” He coos, spreading his fingers within you. “I enjoy hearing you call my name far too much.”

“You shouldn’t say such...embarrassing things!” You blurt out, tugging your hood further down over your face. Flowers burst to bloom around you, almost wildly out of control. 

“Well I must, if they cause such beautiful magic to be created.” Emet-Selch’s laugh is as clear as a bell, making you turn to face him once more. Slowly, he peels his hood back, dark hair mussed save for the one silver lock in front of his face. Reaching out he plucks a flower, lifting it to his nose as he takes a whiff. “Your happiness breeds such interesting creations. Could you blame me for flattering you so?”

Making his way near you, he slowly pulls your hood back, pushes your mask away from your face. “Would you allow me the same pleasure? Perhaps then you will understand.” His voice is the gentlest you had ever heard it, a tenderness so genuine, you murmur your name silently. “What was that?” he asks, leaning in closer.

“P-Persephone.” you grumble, watching as a grin spreads across his face. 

“Persephone.” He repeats, rolling the name around on his tongue. “Persephone. Persephone.” A grin grows on your face with each iteration, heart beating out of time as he tries to taste each syllable. Your face heats, hands coming to cover your cheeks, which surely must be steaming. 

“Persephone.” He says it with such adoration, that it nearly blows you away. Smiling, he peels your hands from your face, replacing them with his own. “Now you understand don’t you?”

“I do understand...” you breathe, releasing another frustrated moan as he denies you again.

“Understand what?” He asks, staring back into your eyes.

“That I want you to call me...Persephone.”

In that instance, there is a perfect stillness, his expression so blank, his body so still you feel as if time itself might’ve stopped. It is only as a hand moves to cradle your face, that you are you rooted in reality, feeling his aether crash against yours. “You know your name.” he whispers, pulling his fingers from you. Your bindings break, arms moving to wrap around him as his clothes melt away, his forehead resting against your own. “You know your name.” he repeats, moving to kiss you so passionately, you struggle to match him.

There is urgency to his movements now; his hands spreading your legs so that he may get between them, letting you feel his length against your thigh. “So long, so long have I waited,” he lines himself up with your opening, the head easily slipping inside that has you throwing your head back in ecstasy. As he slowly pushes inside, he shrugs your arms from around him, taking them in his hands and pinning them to the bed, eyes dancing across your body. A choked moan passes his lips, arms trembling as he slowly reigns in the control he had flaunted but a while before.

You had never felt so full, nearly at a loss for the sheer perfection of him filling you. His fingers could never do justice to what it felt like to being physically joined with him, leaving you afraid that if he did let you connect on that aetherial plane, you might truly be too overwhelmed with too much sensation that your mortal body could handle.

Slowly, he moves once he feels you’ve adjusted, your legs locking around his hips, your hips meeting his thrusts as best you could. You hear him whisper a curse in some foreign tongue, his eyes clenched tight as he lets out a long moan, finally opening his eyes to look at you. “Persephone.” He whispers, the sound of your name on his lips ringing in your ears just as they had millennia ago. His hands rove across your body, as if they cannot decide where to stay, what to touch. All you can do is moan and whimper beneath him, eyes shut tight as wave after wave of bliss assault you.

“Faster,” he cuts you off with a kiss, your tongue dancing with his as his hips go slower in what must be spite. The fire in your belly burns steadily as he pulls nearly all the way out, only to push back in to let you feel the length of him. With each plunge does your barrier crumble, allowing his aether slowly to blanket your own. The feelings of his love and his lust are slowly reflected against your own, until it feels as if you become nothing but pure feeling itself.

You can barely hear him in the fog when he speaks. “Magnificent, is it not?” It’s almost as if his voice echoes around you, as if he has pulled you into that plane where only you and he exist, but you can still feel yourself rooted in the reality that is the First. “It has been some time for myself, and how I have missed it...to be truly connected.” His face hovers above your own, looking so unbearably composed in comparison to the lust filled mess you feel like. “You are doing well, for it being your first time.” he praises, giving an unexpectedly hard thrust that has you crying out. “How long can you last I wonder?”

Magic pours across your wrists, keeping you bound so that his hands remain free to roam across your body, his mouth following suit. Soon enough he does spirit you away to that realm of his making, darkness filling all of your senses. Time feels as if it ceases to flow as he controls your pleasure, having long lost track of the orgasms he saw fit to assault you with. If this is what he had held back for so long you know already that you would’ve never gotten anything done. You would have spent those hours and those days tangled with him as he spoken of, even as the world fell apart.

The thought that his hold on you was that strong, was only mildly concerning.

He clutches you tightly, the two of you on your side, his arms wrapped around you as he slowly rocks his hips against you. You are tired, but can’t find it within you to deny him. “I can feel your exhaustion.” he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, burrowing his face there as his hips increase in speed. “We have been at it long enough.” You’re glad he’s whisked you away far from the Pendants, for the sounds of your coupling are so lewd and so loud that there would’ve been no covering up just what was going on inside your room should someone stop by for a surprise visit. His hands do not roam, just hold you snugly against him, your back to his chest as he drives his cock as deep as your body will allow.

You can barely cry out his name anymore, throat raw from saying it far too many times. You only moan weakly with each thrust, feeling his mouth open so that his teeth may scrape gently across your neck. “Persephone.” He breathes, and you feel the connection slowly warble around you, his aether wound even tighter than before. “Oh, Persephone.” The sound of your name from his lips has you coming around him, crying out pitifully as your body clenches around his length. With a few more thrusts he follows suit, more prepared to deal with the assault of his aether that would leave you drowning otherwise.

As the two of you catch your breath, you close your eyes for but a moment, opening them again to see the moon of the First outside your window. It seems like it hasn’t moved, and you wonder if time moves differently in whatever pocket of the universe he stashed you away in, or if it moved at all.

Nothing is said as cool night air brushes across the two of you, content to remain with his length inside your body, as you close your eyes for the final time that night.

And as usual, he is not there when you wake.

[slothgiirl]

Y/N and Harry are best friends

“Hey you,” you call out, arms outstretched towards your best friend, Harry, “long time no see!” It was ironic, you'd graduated uni and moved to london just as Harry went on his world tour.

He smiles widely, enveloping you in his arms, smelling of musk and dark florals and something warm that you couldn't name but always associated it with Harry. “Miss me much babe,” his eyes sparkling as he teased you easily, all these months meant nothing now that you were together again.

“You have no clue,” You answered honestly, “I had no one to bother late at night or eat my terrible bread creations.”

“It's a recipe,” he says with a shake of his head, swinging you both slightly, “I don't know how you can mess it up!”

“Whatever mr I can't park,” you snap back.

“At least I can drive.”

You both burst out laughing and he lets you go briefly before taking your arm in his, and leading you into the restaurant, both of you pretending not to notice the far off paps in the corner of the street. It came with the territory and the mad obsession the media has with your friend.

It was monday afternoon and you'd been looking to this for days when he told you he was flying back from japan, which sounded like a dream. You'd never been further than Scotland.

“Cebu is always so freaking good,” you tell him, taking a sip from your vodka cranberry, “but tell me more about japan! It looks so cool! I'd love to visit the Aniu or sleep in one of those cube hotels.”

Harry laughs, drinking from his own beer, “It was cool. I mean I sent you all those pics didn't I! It was good to get some downtime after the past year.”

“At least you make friends easily,” you say, scrunching your nose, “my first term at uni was so lonely, I don't know what I'd have done if I'd never met Julia.”

“You just have to talk to people I mean you wouldn't love you! I spilled coffee on you and you didn't completely hate me. That's best friend material.”

“Think that says more about you than it says about me,” you laugh. “Still Japan is much cooler that spending the workweek in a lab.” It had been cool at first, but the novelty of being out of school and getting paid and not having exams had worn off by now.

“You get to do crazy wacky science,” he teases, “how long until you’re an x man!”

“I'd rather be spider-man,” you tell him without missing a beat, “when the rami movies came out I spent a good few months looking for spiders in the garden to bite me.” It had been so dumb in retrospect but you'd always hoped one day you'd wake up with superpowers.

Harry roars with laughter, “how'd you get into Oxford again?”

“Don't be an ass,” you reply, “we can't all being amazingly talented singers.”

“You forgot the wildly attractive part,” he says with a smirk, leaning close to you.

Unable to help yourself, you snort, “there goes your giant head again!”

“Hey,” he protests, looking the very picture of offended. If you didn't know him any better, you'd think you'd gone too far. But there's a hint of smile pulling at the corner of his lips and you just laugh.

“My most sincerest apologies,” you respond a girl to match his on your own face. Harry has a way of just making you so freaking happy no matter what else is going on. There's never been a time in your friendship when talking to him hadn't made you feel better.  “maybe bangs?”

He brings a hand up to his chest, mock offense written into his expressive features before his face lights up with glee. You know you're in for it now. “Oh where oh where has my baby gone,” he sings just loud enough to for you alone to hear.

“Stop,” you protest, flushing red and laughing, tears welling up in your eyes. You teared up easily when laughing. “Please the puppies are begging you to stop!”

Harry laughs, his gaze completely focused on you, “did you finish the art project you were working on then?”  

Despite him being the only person you trusted with your super secret art projects, you still felt yourself blush, hand coming up to brush stray hairs back behind your ear, “the initial photography, but I’m still working through the editing. The ones I've finished are coming out almost the way I pictured them.”

“Almost?”

“Well things are never exactly how you imagine them are they,” you note, “or maybe I'm just overthinking things and have been working on them for too long.”

“You probably just need a pair of fresh eyes,” Harry says as they bring out your food. Their eggs in tomatoes looked deceptively simple and yet yours were never as good.

“Smooth,” you utter, grinning at him. “Do you hit up everyone's DMs like that?”

Harry shakes his head, “no but really baby, can I see what you have so far?” His lips are drawn earnestly.

You nod, “sure, we can make a movie night out of it too. I've been dying to try out this no bake chocolate cream pie.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie?”

“Deal.”

*

You slump on the cheap ikea couch you and your roommates had pooled cash together to buy once you get home, bag full of snacks.  

“Tired,” Julia asks from the kitchen, shamelessly eating straight out of the pan.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “Arjun called in sick and since I'm the newest hires I got the short end of the stick and pulled a double shift.”

“Isn't work amazing,” Julia replies, bring the pan and an extra fork for you, settling down next to you. “My boss called me this morning at 6am and had me call a bunch of places in India to find some extra fabric for a client. I wasn't due til 9!”

“What an outrage,” I deadpan.

“Maybe we can still be witches in the midlands,” she offers, “or raise cows in the highlands.”

“God that's such a mood,” you sigh, taking the fork and eating her cheesy pasta dish. “I thought working in a lab would be nice and easy compared to school and it is but dealing with my boss and the hectic hours has left me with no social life.”

“Right! I've missed so many parties and good djs because I'm on call talking to far off places sourcing textiles! I just hope I get promoted so I can go on trip to source and not just spend all hours of the day being an errand girl.”

You nod, mouthful of pasta, “I heard hospital labs are pretty good but I've been told I need more experience.”

She laughs bitterly before gazing at your loot of snacks, “Harry coming over?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “we’re watching a movie and pigging out after a long ass week.” You has been looking forward to it all day despite how drained you were; to the bone, to the point coffee wasn't much help.

Opening snapchat you see harry's sent you a couple photos.

Him in a ruffled white shirt, loosely buttoned, caption reading in the mood for a period romance? ;))

The next was of him in a tastefully ripped shirt that probably cost more than your rent, and a worn flannel, or a rom com?

The there was Harry wearing an old dark knight shirt you'd gotten him for his birthday at a charity shop, or will we go full superhero landing!?!

Rolling your eyes and smiling your reply with a blurry selfy, the most dramatic frog to ever prince.

“God I can't wait til we're all sixty and you've both been married and divorced and finally get together,” she says teasingly, “or worse it's like you're both gotten together and your s.o’s are the third and fourth wheel!”

“Shut up,” you tell her, “we're literally the same. You spent most of fresher in my dorm once we met. You made me help shave your back.”

“That's friendship bitch,” Julia says with a laugh, “just keep in mind Imma be like dead to the world.”

“Wow,” you state, “you've come such a long way from being a complete party animal.”

“Right,” she mutters, “I miss drinking and showing up hungover to class.”

“It's all downhill from here,” you tease.

She swats your fork away from the pot, “what a depressing thought.”

*

Harry texts you to let you know he's here and you buzz him up, hugging him before saying, “i might have to steal this sweater from you.” It ridiculously soft the way only old sweaters are.

He laughs, “I brought a bottle of rose.”

“ooh let me try this knife trick i've been practicing,” you tell him as he kicks off his boots and settles in.

“Don't want to die today but thanks.”

“Harold,” you respond mock affronted. “So what movie have you chosen for us today art hoe?”

“You're the one who can quote the cool girl monologue by heart,” he retorts, grabbing the wine opener and starting on the cork. Unlike you, he managed it without cursing for half an hour and deciding boxed wine wasn't a bad idea.

“The movie harry,” you say, grabbing a couple of blankets and pillows for the couch along with your art journal.

“Searching,” he answers, “Sarah said it was really good and slept on.”

“And even if it's not there's always chips and hummus.”

“Very true,” Harry responds, pouring wine into mugs like a maniac and settling down next to you on the couch, his own worn journal in hand. “But it's Sarah and Mitch they have great taste in pretty much everything.”

“High praise coming from you,” you note palming through your journal, over the drawing and words you'd written down over the last few months.

He grins, looking perfectly at home in your modest flat. Harry has never been weird about being famous and rich and- it made it that much easier to be friends with him. To forget about all that and just be friends with Harry, not Harry styles. “It is ain't it,” he utters lips curled into a sinners smile, the kind he gave girls and boys when you went out to clubs.

“There goes your big head again,” you retort, putting your journal down and curling up with a handful of popcorn.

“Oi!” Harry furrows his brow staring you down for a second before launching himself at you, pinning you down and tickling your sides, “take it back!”

“Never,” you yelp, giggling madly, Your arms against his chest as you push him off easily. It's so easy to be comfortable with him, he's just such a hugger and you can't say you don't like it, the warmth and security you feel.

He laughs, “so long as you let me see your journal baby,” is his only response, chest still shaking from laughter.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” you respond jokingly. The sense of humor middle schoolers had still there in your head.

“Deal,” he replies, shifting so his head is resting in your lap, passing you his own journal before grabbing yours off the coffee table. You'd never felt as grown up as you did when buying a coffee table, even more so than buying pans and dishes instead of eating everything out of a mug.

Mindlessly, your fingers run through his hair, soft and silky and starting to curl up behind his ears. You wonder if he'll let it grow out again. You prefer him like this but it was fun to braid his strands of hair.

His journal is more full of words than drawings, in his sloppy scrawl, like in old letters. Leather bound parchment, it's tons nicer than your own moleskine you'd gotten on sale, with the true victorian era feel you'd been obsessed with in your younger years.

There's a dreamy quality to the writing, fragmented thoughts that he trusts you with.

The tv plays quietly in the background, you’re too immersed to say anything, to break the comfortable silence with any words, occasionally reaching for a chip, smothering it in hummus.

In the beginning, when Harry had first crashed at your small cramped flat at uni, he'd drunkenly looked through your journal, well one of your journals, covered in all your loose thoughts and many many drawings and sketches, ideas for pieces that you'd spend what little free time you had doing.

You'd gotten annoyed and a little mad, because your journal was private and personal and who did you think you were? Frida Kahlo? It wasn't like he'd meant to, drunk and a little high. It wasn't one of your best moments but he'd bought you a cuppa tea the next morning before you'd woken up and let you flip through his own journal, just to make it up to you.

That's how he'd become the person you trusted to show your art to.

“Don't laugh at my sad attempts at poetry,” he mutters, his gaze meeting yours somewhat self consciously. His cheeks are flushed red but you can't tell if it's from laughing or because he's actually embarrassed.

“Trying to be just like Bukowski,” you tease. You'd never actually read anything by him, you just read about him being kind of an asshole in real life.

He rolls his eyes at you, “ever since you sent me that song I can't think about him the same!”

“I just thought you'd want to know. That song is such a depression mood though.”

Harry grows serious, looking up at you. Your hand stills in his hair. “Are you alright?”

You nod, “yeah I'm fine I was just joking.” It's true. You haven't felt depressed in months, haven't been bad in longer. Progress.

“You'd tell me if-”

“Oh course,” you cut him off with a smile, closing his journal. “Want to see how my latest and greatest projects progressing?”

He smiles softly, “why else do you think I'm here for?”

You smack him lightly with his own journal, getting up and getting your laptop. This latest idea of yours has come at the cost of having to learn to use digital editing. Thank god for youtube.

Harry sits up and watches as your scroll through some of the more finished pictures of both women and men you'd reached out to, dragging Julia with you to feel braver about approaching strangers. Something you wouldn't have done a year ago.  

Their pictures have been edited to exaggerate their insecurity, ranging from overly larger noses to small eyes and thin lips. It had been an idea since you'd read about Jacqueline de Ribes who someone had said how sad it was if you didn't have a great big nose like she had.

“Especially in this era of face tuning and filters and contouring where everyone is trying to hide what they feel insecure about,” you tell him, watching the shift of his lips, his pensive gaze, trying to gage his reaction. No one but you has seen these. Although when you’re done they'll also be sent to your models, who'd been nice enough to open up about their insecurities to you. Maybe it was easier to talk to strangers you'd never see again about these things. Wasn't that the whole idea behind therapy?

“At first I only edited it slightly but I didn't think the idea came across as strongly and in your face. I mean maybe by airing out and owning our insecurities we can overcome them? Or maybe just stop idealizing one specific type of feature?” These were the questions that you thought would be answered by doing this, but there didn't seem to be any easy answers.

“I like them,” he tells you, “It's like things you wouldn't have noticed I mean most people are alright looking and then you actually get to know them and it all warps how you see people. Like gee doesn't Tom look like such an bloody asshole.”

You snort, shaking your head, “you had me in the first half I'm not going to lie.”

After that you both mess about, putting on parks and recs for the hundredth time, skipping to the second season when Ben and Chris come in. It's still as funny as the first time you had watched it.

It's late and your both half asleep on the couch and smiling at the tv, legs bumping against Harry's much longer legs.

“I should probably go,” he mutters.

“No stay,” you tell him, “it's late and you can just crash with me.” You’d both slept in the same bed lots of times by now, the initial awkwardness long gone as you stopped to you underwear and an old t shirt that was long enough to pass for a dress.  

“Should I be worried about your alarm?”

“I can actually wake up even if my alarms just on vibrate,” you let him know, because god you wish you didn't have work tomorrow so you could wake up late and go get overly expensive breakfast at the dinner down the street who made the fluffiest american style pancakes. It was a treat you loved to get yourself.

Harry helps you drag some of the blankets into your room, tossing them onto the bed. You curl up next to the wall, nestling into the covers. From the corner of your eye you watch Harry pull his shirt off before kicking off his jeans, ripped at the knees.

He's fit and you can't help but mentally trace over the butterfly he has tattooed that you thought stupid at first but had grown on you.  Gracelessly he flops onto the bed, sliding under the covers.

“Your feet are always freezing,” he complains which just makes you kick him lightly. “Ow! Woman!”

“Shut up and sleep,” you tell him turning over on your side, curling into near fetal position.

“But what about going on my phone for an hour in bed?”

“Good night harold,” you say in lieu of an actual reply.

“I won't let the bed bugs bite you.”

“Your so dumb,” you whisper fondly, closing your eyes and easily falling asleep after a long day.