#PEAK/01 Front Sight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fireflyinsummer · 3 years

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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.

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likeastarstar · 3 years

Text

9:01 PM- Jungkook

"Oh hell no."

"What do you mean? You said you'd pay for the a round if I ordered the Uber- pay up!"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, slamming down his credit card before Taehyung decided to go on further. He knew well enough that he wasn't about to let it go. Jimin laughed and ordered another round of shots, Jungkook's treat of course.

"Consider it payback for all those times I let you sleep on my couch when you decided to drop out of college." Yoongi quipped, sending him a very annoying smile.

Jungkook scanned the karaoke bar they were in, wondering when this place got so popular. He and his friends had been coming here since he was still a college student, primarily because it was so deserted that the drinks were dirt cheap and no one was around to notice that all of them sucked at singing. Now it seemed to be a popular spot, so popular they had to get a reservation just to get their own room.

"Yeah, well, clearly me dropping out paid off." Jungkook grumbled, taking a shot from the tray being placed on the table by the very speedy waiter.

"Yes! To Jungkook dropping out and ending up richer because of it!" Jimin cheered, holding up his shot.

Yoongi and Taehyung followed suit, Jungkook grinning despite his facade of a bad mood and joining them.

The night only got more chaotic from there, Yoongi demanding that he practice his rapping skills for half an hour until Tae stole the mic from him. Jimin was in the middle of singing his typical ballad when Jungkook and Tae decided it was time for more shots, stumbling out of their karaoke room to order them.

"Hey, do you hear that?" Tae said, slowing his pace halfway to the bar.

Jungkook hummed in response, already clocking what Taehyung was mentioning. "Yeah, that's a good song, I should sing that one next."

"Who would be cocky enough to sing this song on the main stage?" Taehyung snorted, gesturing to the large open stage in the middle of the bar open for anyone who didn't feel like signing in the privacy of a room. It was flashy and the guys usually avoided it, opting for the most private room so they didn't have to worry about looking like idiots in front of anyone else.

"Let's go see," Jungkook shrugged, only then hearing the voice of a girl beginning to sing as the music got louder.

Whoever it was, they sounded surprisingly good. Like, really good. The pair got closer as Jungkook's curiosity peaked, a crowd already forming around the stage. There wasn't much of an elevation to the stage and whoever it was must have been small, because the boys couldn't see who was actually singing at all, until they moved towards the side.

Legs.

That's the first thing Jungkook zeroed in on. The girl holding a mic with a bright smile on her face was all legs. Clad in leather pants that hugged her legs and a tight white shirt, Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off of her. She hopped around the stage carelessly, giggling into the mic every now and then in a way that clearly showed that she wasn't taking any of this seriously, even taking a shot halfway through the song. Jungkook felt the back of his neck get hotter as another girl joined her on stage, the two of them dancing in a way that had Tae shaking his arm to make sure Jungkook was paying attention.

Which he was, considering he may or may not have just fallen in love at first sight.

"The girl in leather sounds better than the other one," Tae commented bluntly, "She's hot."

All Jungkook could do was nod dumbly, too focused on committing the way the girl hopped around the stage randomly to memory. She whipped her hair around and Jungkook noted how soft it looked, wondering if this meant God really was real. He must be, if there was a woman like this on earth. She handed the mic to the girl who had joined her, disappearing into the crowd quickly- clearly she had enough of the spotlight. Taehyung booed at the remaining girl, laughing when someone in front of him turned around to frown disapprovingly.

"I'm gonna go talk to her." Jungkook said definitively.

"Oh, man no! It's guys night!" Tae whined, gasping, "What about our duet?"

"Fuck off," The younger boy mumbled, waving him of absentmindedly as he walked off in the direction he has seen her disappear into.

He had to find that girl:

(A/N: this is a little different than my normal stuff, OC isn't rly in this one, very JK centric.... almost like it's the start of a story... interesting...thank you to the person who requested this! everyone reading this treat this as one big ego boost ok U ARE OC! EMBODY OC! UR THAT BITCH!)

masterlist.

#bts drabble #bts timestamps #jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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jeon-kookie-dough · 3 years

Text

Caught in the Game - Chapter 01

After growing up in the midst of Toman and a rather wild time in college, you are now working for a popular fashion magazine. You were aware of your boss's gang past - Kokonoi Hajime's name having been well-known during your school time - but after you bumped into an old friend at work the other day, one coincidence follows the next and you find your past catching up to you...

pairings: Koko x reader, Chifuyu x reader genre: angst, gang!au rating: m for violence & slowburn smut word count: 2,536 next>

The subway was much stuffier than usual. Bodies pressed into each other at every curvature, the sweat mingling on the sticky handlebars. And it is only the morning, for fuck’s sake.

The way from my house, which is located kind of in the outskirts of Tokyo, to Chiyoda where my office was located, felt like a lifetime this hot morning. Between trying to avoid creeps in the subway and standing in the longest queue in front of my favorite coffee shop for what seemed like hours, I was trying to supersede immense tiredness.

As of November, of the year prior I was working for one of the bigger fashion magazines in the country and the deadline for my latest article was already scratching at the front door. More like clawing, actually.

Up until starting up this job, I was used to living a half-assed life. School came easy to me, despite having been caught up in some…situations. College was a blur of alcohol and parties and I just barely graduated. After college I held myself above water with various part-time jobs, having been kicked out from home at barely 18 and landed my current job by chance. This upcoming article was more than important to me, thus stressing myself, and crying my fucking eyes raw from frustration, since it was the first time having my work printed in an actual magazine instead of just publishing online.

The second I stepped foot into Marunouchi Park Building, I sighed of relief and thanked who ever invented ACs. I entered the elevator, pushed the button for the 23rd floor and leaned back against the cool metal wall of the cabin. Just as the doors were about to close, somebody sprinted into the otherwise empty cabin. The person was male and of average height, balancing a couple garment bags and shoe boxes in his arms. I wasn’t really surprised that he was going to exit on the same floor, as the other offices in this building were mostly financial firms.

Not minding the other person, I let him leave the elevator before me, clocked in and greeted my colleagues with a friendly nod. I took a while, but in the past eight months, people seemed to have accepted that I was far from a morning person, so they learned to appreciate my curt nods. Only because I bring coffee. At least that’s my hypothesis.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

My eyeballs immediately rolled to the back. Hearing my boss’ voice in the morning was like nails on a chalkboard. I rolled back with my chair, peaking around my cubical. The bright sunlight illuminated the office through the glass front, reflecting in the angled door to the chief editor’s single office. His figure leaned in the door, arms crossed and hand holding out expectantly.

“S’up, Koko?” I mumble. I knew exactly what he had his hand stuck out for, but I wouldn’t give him the gratification he wanted. That rich fuck, I thought. Bet he snorts his coke with 10k yen bills but can’t even get his own fucking coffee.

“Think my hand is missing an iced Americano this morning. Care to explain?” His slender frame circled around the cubicle wall, now towering above my sitting person. My office was usually occupied by five people in total. Inui always being late and the other three on vacation left me as the only victim. I rolled my eyes at him. “Dunno”, I retorted, opting for my most innocent look. “Think I might have dropped it. You can have a sip of my Cappuccino, but I’m afraid I spat in it.”

Kokonoi Hajime was a peculiar person. He stood at 5’9” and his black locks braided away from the left side of his face was his signature look. He cared a lot about his staff being dressed well, as he himself only own designer suits from Italy. Despite enjoying the power he had over his staff, he also was very liberal in the way we communicated with another at the office. I had never met him before taking the job, but I had certainly heard of Kokonoi way before.

Koko was only a year or two older than I was and back in middle and high school he had a reputation. He lived one school district away from me, but the stories about him were also told at my school. Stories of a financial prodigy that hid behind his wannabe gangster friends that, most of the time, resorted to violence.

“You have a foul mouth”, he snickered, grabbing my cup and taking a sip anyway. “Somebody ever told you that?” I hummed in response, counting my coffee lost, and turned on my laptop. “I have a meeting in five minutes, so please take my calls, will you? Inui is useless, as always.” I nod silently, still grieving the loss of my coffee. Koko’s gaze rested on Inui’s empty desk, then on me. “How’s that big article of yours coming along?”

I knew he meant no harm with that question, but my elevated stress levels along with the acid, that always seems to wing in his voice, made me snap. “Fuck off, alright? I’m working on it.”

The chief editor raised his hands in defense and backed away from my desk, a smile playing about his lips. “The meeting’s until noon. Tell Inui to take my phone when his drags his lazy ass here.”

Inui arrived at 10:30, offering a coffee and a doughnut as a peace offering. I told him to screw off and, finally, concentrated on my article. It was almost done, but I needed it to be perfect before handing it to Kokonoi for proof-reading. I couldn’t afford messing this up if I ever intended of becoming a regular in the print.

I was so emersed in my work that I never saw the visitor arrive or leave. At lunch, all that occupied my mind was my hunger. I didn’t really have a lot of money left, thanks to the fucking chief for having me dress in expensive clothes so he quote unquote didn’t have to claw his eyes out at the sight of me, so a snack from the vending machine it was.

With food just in sight, my feet may have become a little too eager and I stumbled a crashed face first into someone walking by, having them fall onto the marble floor with me. I cussed under my breath and tried to get onto my feet, when there was already a hand outstretched to help me.

“You okay?” I averted my eyes immediately, embarrassment written on my face. “Uh, yeah, I’m alright, I guess. Er, I think you dropped something.” I dove right back down, picking up the visitor laminate. It read ‘Visitor for KOKONOI Hajime. Name-‘

My gaze darted up immediately, meeting a pair of silver eyes staring right back at me. “Mitsuya fucking Takashi?” I whispered in sheer disbelief. My opposite grinned, squeezing his eyes shut doing so. “It’s been a long time, huh, (Y/N)?”

I found myself accompanying Mitsuya to a Korean restaurant down the street for lunch. His treat, he said. The sun was merciless, and he scolded me for not carrying an umbrella with me. “It’s bad for your skin, you know?” I grunted, looking up at him. “Like I care.”

My high school graduation ceremony had been the last time I had seen Mitsuya. Up until then, we had almost been inseparable, having lived in the same shitty apartment complex, visiting the same middle school and him only being one year older. Back then, a lot of things happened. We never really had a fall out, at one point things just changed.

At the restaurant, we slid into a booth and a young waitress came to our table to take our order. Her eyes revealed that she found my companion attractive, but as per usual, he was oblivious. A couple minutes passed, and we were handed our drinks.

“Alcohol at this hour?” His eyebrow shot up in worry, vanishing behind his silver hair. He changed it up a bit since then, leaving his shaved sides in his natural black hair color, his top hair raked with black strands in the otherwise light hair. “Thought you had given up on that.”

I stirred my vodka soda with the glass straw, the ice chinking against the glass. “Yeah, I had.”

Mitsuya didn’t dig any further and leaned back into the cushioned bench instead. “So, a fashion magazine, huh? I thought you always wanted to become a sugar baby, what happened?” At his question I emptied half my drink in one gulp, disregarding the straw completely. “Turns out I’m not really cut for sucking wrinkly dick.” To that, Mitsuya busted out laughing. “You achieved just what you always dreamed of. How does that feel?” I asked quietly.

He stayed silent for a while and I watched him gnawing at the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking about how to choose his next words. “A lot of time has passed, you know?” His voice was dull as he finally spoke. “And a lot happened in between. I guess it was either getting my life under control or…” His voice trailed off, but I knew exactly what he left hanging in the air. Prison. Or even worse, death. “For my sisters’ sake, I chose to get my life together.”

I nodded, fumbling with the glass straw, one burning question on the tip of my tongue. How are the others? Is everyone still alive? I was too afraid of the answer, so I pushed the thought way back.

“Tell me about you, though”, Mitsuya smiled and leaned forward, folding his hands and propping his chin on them. “Working for Koko now, huh? How’s that been?” I groaned quietly and let my head hang. “He’s a fucking pain in the ass. Making me buy all this expensive shit so I’ve got nothing left in the bank. If I knew beforehand who the chief editor was, I would have never taken that job.” Mitsuya chuckled and flicked my forehead. Just like he always used to.

“I know what you mean” he mused. “I never thought I’d see his face again after-“ My eyes shot up at the tone in his voice. I never knew they had met before. Back then, I would have feared for his life. Everyone was young and stupid back then; delinquents with nothing but fist fights on their minds. But the folks Koko had surrounded himself with were more on the actual criminal side.

“What? Mitsuya, you never told me!” Even I was surprised at the pure horror in my voice. “Why didn’t you say something?” Mitsuya shrugged. “Nothing bad ever happened. It was just a surprise to see him in a position like this, that’s all.”

After lunch, which was fucking delicious, dare I add, Mitsuya and I exchanged numbers before going our separate ways.

The rest of the day I couldn’t concentrate on anything anymore. Before I headed home, I met Kokonoi’s gaze through his glass door and it gave me the shivers. Like he was watching me. Like he knew something. Creep. This weird feeling followed me all the way home and I caught myself looking back at every turn, at every red light. For some reason the conversation I have had with my old friend had me nervous. Nervous for him, for me, for everyone. What if Koko’s the same old thug, but with a lot more money and influence?

At home I opened a bottle of white wine, dunked the cap in the bin and sat at my desk, ready to catch up on the time I wasted at the office being worried. With a little liquid confidence, of course. Cheers!

I had approximately gotten about three hours of sleep. My body felt like it had gotten run over by a truck, my brain felt like soup. The only silver lining was, that I had, hallelujah!, finished my article – and my favorite co-worker Natsuki returning from her vacation. She had been working at the magazine already when I had started and showed me around.

Only a few days after I had started working, Atsushi Sendo had been transferred from another internal office to ours. There had been a lot of rumors occurring around his transfer, sexual harassment among them, but in the end, he had only royally fucked up his latest pitch and, as a punishment, had been put under Koko’s supervision, since he’s known to be the meanest editor. He ended up liking to work with us so much that he just stayed. The three of us ended up becoming the bane of Koko’s existence.

I stepped one foot into the office, yawning and pulling an Inui, I can’t believe that I arrived even after him, before I heard Natsuki already picking a fight with the chief editor. I silently put her coffee next to her cup of tea, handed another one to Inui and sat down at my own desk.

“With all due respect, Kokonoi, but you can’t expect me to not freak out when I come back after three weeks and find myarticle published under your name!” I leaned back into my chair, eyes closed, and head thrown back, and listened to the bickering in the chief editor’s office. A few minutes later, Natsuki threw the door into the lock behind her, the heel of her shoes dangerously echoing in the otherwise silent room.

It only took a moment before my sleepy body jumped awake when it got hit by a paper ball. My eyes ripped open just to find her eyes lingering over the wall between our cubicles. “Thanks for the coffee”, she said, raising the cup in a silent toast. I did the same, somewhat straightening up my spine in the seat. “Glad you’re back”, I yawned. “Old scrooge was unbearable.”

“Was?”, Natsuki barked under her breath. “He’s the spawn of hell! Remind me to never take anything from him again. He’s the kind of person to always expect something in return and I don’t even want to think about what he would expect.” I grunted in my chair and sipped on my black coffee, leaving a red lip print on the paper.

“Money” Kokonoi, who unbeknownst to any of us had left his office, answered Natsuki whilst keeping his sly eyes on my. “I don’t take anything but cash. (Y/L/N), where’s your article. Deadline’s today.” Natsuki’s and my eyes met over the screen. Our boss rarely called us by our names, much less our family names - he prefers shit like darling or sweetheart. Why the fuck am I still working here?! – so we knew something was up. And maybe I have a hint.

“Check your mails. I submitted it at, like, 3.” “A.m.?” Natsuki mouthed in disbelief, but I kept my eyes fixed on Kokonoi. He beckoned me with a finger to follow me. “Come in my office for a minute, would you, sweetheart.” There he was again. The egotistical, chauvinistic asshole. The chair hit the screen behind me as I rolled back a little more forceful than intended, but I followed him, anyway.

#tokyo revengers #TR #chifuyu x y/n #koko x y/n #matsuno chifuyu #tokyo revengers x oc #tokyo revengers x you smut #hajime kokonoi #sanzu haruchiyo #mitsuya takashi #slowburn #smut #gang!au #kurokawa izana #izana #ran haitani #rindou haitani #hanma #kazutora hanemiya

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derfreisch · 3 years

Text

der freischutz x fem reader

smut warning!

authors note- i have no idea what i’m doing. i’ve never used tumblr before so please give me tips!

other warnings:

dubious consent(?)

I take requests for sfw and nsfw abno fics/oneshots!

——————

You were sat at the cafe area of the Training Team’s main complex. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, who could miss it?

Your subordinates were scattered across the room, some more beat up then others. Everyone was eating breakfast.

You stared at your off-brand cereal and inspected the plastic bowl you had. As you poured your milk, you felt a tap on your back, causing you to spill some milk. You turned to see your boss. “Need you to perform attachment work on F-01-69. Manager’s orders.” You looked up at her. “69? I thought you couldn’t do attachment work on those types of Abnormalities?” Your boss just shrugged.

“Manager said it’s mandatory.” You paused. “How could I succeed in this work?” You said as your eyes moved around as you were thinking. “Can’t help you there, but I can get your stuff.” You thanked your boss as she brought you your E.G.O suit and weapon.

Just in front of F-01-69’s containment, you took a moment to recollect yourself and check into the machine to tell it what you were doing. After a brief moment, you slid your keycard through and opened the door.

In the corner of the room, there sat the smoky man. You’ve only been in his containment unit once or twice, and that was only to request help. Usually, he would be alert, gun in hand, but now, he was sulking on the floor with parts of his face painted with blush. His gun was on the floor, thankfully sheathed, and you took out your clipboard to read instructions and write what you had saw down.

He looked up at you, and his coat was down. You could see his full face, tinted with red. What was happening to him? You look down to write but realize he was getting up and walking towards you. His gun still lay on the floor. In awe, you put the pen and clipboard down as you stared up at him. He was much taller than you, and most people, standing at about 7’9. He looked down at you before brushing your hair out of your face with his slightly clawed hands. For some reason, you blushed as it had felt rather sensual to you.

He reaches over to you, grabbing your arm and pushing you up against the wall. Your feet were dangling in the air as you felt his breath on your neck. Oddly enough, you didn’t react, and just let him do what he wanted.

His kiss tasted like old pine trees and a hint of alcohol. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, you were enjoying this.

His tongue was forked, you felt it as it slid into your mouth. While exploring your mouth, you felt the hand he wasn’t using moving around your body, feeling everything he could reach.

He suddenly broke the kiss, and you stare into his sinister eyes with a begging look, wanting to be touched. He understands, and with a smirk he begins to feel around in your upper body, teasing your nipples. Your previous moans grew louder as his smirk grew wider, getting pleasure from the sight and all of your noises.

What the fuck was happening?

You grind against his torso as he moves closer to you. Little whimpers fall from your mouth as he removes his hand from your breasts down to your crotch. His finger slid across you, making you feel pleasure while you were still clothed.

Obviously, they needed to be discarded, and that’s exactly what he did. His finger stuck in to the rim of your pants, slowly pulling it off til’ it was piling on the floor. Once again, he slid his finger across you, feeling the wet spot on your underwear. You groaned, tired of the teasing. He let out a chuckle. That was the first time hearing him make a noise.

With ease, he pulled down your underwear and it fell to the floor, joining your pants.

He put you down for a second, letting you fall to the floor as he unbuckled his pants, and took them off. Through his underwear, you could clearly see he was hard.

As he rid of his own clothes, you thought to yourself about how fucking embarrassing this was.

Knocking you out of your head, Der Freischütz grabbed you once more and pressed you up to the wall. You stared down, in awe, at his sheer size. This isn’t going to fit.

He looked up at your red face, as if he was asking permission. In response, you frantically nodded. You felt his cock prod at your entrance and you let out a small moan.

He pushed into you, causing you to gasp and moan as he let out grunts at the pleasure you were providing him. He didn’t let you adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace.

He thrusted harshly into your pussy, and you moaned oh so loudly as you begged for more. His cock twitched inside of you, hitting all of the greatest spots. His groans only grew louder, and he pushed his face into your neck, biting it softly.

“Oh- please! Please go faster!” You slightly screamed, and he complied. Good lord, this man had so much stamina.

He let out a particularly loud moan when you started to move your lower body with his thrusts, increasing the pleasure for both of you.

Your pussy was soaking, with drops of slick falling onto the floor. Der Freischütz’s thrusts grew faster and faster as he came closer and closer to his peak.

He became sloppy with his thrusts, and without warning he pushed his throbbing cock deep inside, and ropes and ropes of cum splashed out of his dick. You could feel it clash against your walls as he clawed into your back.

He stayed inside of you for a minute before slowly pulling out of you. Globs of his cum rushed out of you, onto the floor.

In a deep voice with a heavy german accent, he whispered “Good girl”.

“So, was it fun?” Your boss asked, and you shot her a deadly glare at her smug face. She knew all along.

“Ah, what does it matter what you did, what does matter is that you got full P.E. boxes, not a single negative one.” You sighed as you sat, finally eating your most needed breakfast.

#fanfic #lobotomy corporation #der freischütz #der freischutz x reader #lobotomy corp x reader #smut fic #hot ass man warning #i need sleep

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minuyu · 3 years

Text

undying love [yandere! prince! x female! reader!]

Warning: This story may contain dark and unsettling themes. Proceed at your own risk.

01: The Three of Swords.

“The prince may be the finest man I have ever laid my eyes upon. He is so light-hearted and sparkles like the most expensive jewel in the spotlight. He truly is perfect. I mean, have you seen his countenance ¹? His face has been sculpted by the very gods themselves. Not to mention, he excels in everything that he does. If he so much as looked me in the eyes, I would reach enlightenment. I do not have a doubt in my very words. Oh, he has lips that were made for kissing a maiden’s rosy cheeks. He has eyes that hold me hostage with their beauty, by much greater than the night sky ever could. His accent and words roll off his tongue like silk rubbing against bare skin, so soothing. I tell you, he is the love that all women want but no woman can receive.” The young, golden-haired maiden spoke in a hushed whisper on the streets to a small group of friends who huddled around her. With every dreamy sigh she took between her description of him, white puffed from her lips due to the cold weather. Despite this, the miniature crowd of women were warm in their hearts and cheeks, just at the very thought of the young prince.

“Can you believe that he has never looked at a woman with desire? Despite of this, I can’t blame him. Somebody who deserves their body to be placed in the stars as a constellation is much too good for me. Nonetheless, I still dream every night of him. His love must be the greatest treasure a woman can get.” One of the women among the crowd continue on. The women continue to swoon, packed on the side of the cobblestone street.

The kingdom of they called ‘home sweet home’ was one of cold weather throughout most of the year. Resting on the top of the tallest mountain that was surrounded by a ring of smaller mountains, it granted extra protection from possible enemies. At the foot of the mountains, about a two day walk from the kingdom, laid a deep and dark forest around this ring of mountains that gave them a great advantage over invaders. Tales about the forest had spread around the kingdom like wildfire due to it being so mysterious, but longer than any of the kingdom’s inhabitants. Perhaps, one of the reasons that the people were hesitant to leave the kingdom by foot, was the dark forest. Despite this, Spring still managed to peak out and greet the people with warmth and gracious nature every year. The kingdom was freezing, but with technologies advancing everyday, such as better ways of insulation and heating of homes with radiators throughout the floors and much more, they only got better at surviving the extreme temperatures. One must grow accustomed to the cold before they even think of treading in the King’s territory.

One may be surprised, however their King was one of the very best in centuries. He was one of great kindness and care for the people, a true father of the nation. In that respect, his son made the future of the kingdom seem brighter. Excelling in just about every field, prince Bastiaan, the only son and child of the King and the late Queen, seemed to be a promising leader. One subject of the kingdom could not even batter an eyelash at the royal family. Instead, she preferred to focus on those who were near to her, like other lower-class people who lived among compact housing.

Across the street from where the women had been gossiping, there laid a place where one could get their fortune told to them at a low price. Despite not giving a care in the world for the dearest prince and his father, women often came to her for tarot card readings that would hopefully predict that they would become the prince’s future queen. The shop, rugged in appearance yet strikingly colourful was her home. A big, wooden door with prune paint chipping off due to being worn out by harsh breezes during the dead of winter. On the door was a wooden sign hanging by a thick thread on a nail messily put into the door, that read ‘ Fortune Teller’.

Inside of this shop, their was a small table and multiple beanbags and cushions spread around the floor. Shelves were fulled to the brim of tattered books about astronomy, myths, tarots, readings and so much more. A small chandelier hung from a cracked ceiling, painted with a beautiful mural of golden and purple-toned flowers seeming to rain from the night sky. The chandelier had a purplish hue that made the shop seem all the more magical. In the back, through an empty threshold with a curtain of silver star-shaped beads, was a table higher off of the ground with symbolic carvings of gods and holy symbols in the purple paint of the table. Freshly lit incense stands in a painted ceramic bowl filled with rice, imported from the warmer climates down South, at the center table surrounded by the cloths design.

At the moment, two chairs were occupied. One, was taken up by a frequent client. Her name was Abella, who had also been entranced by the prince but not as much as other women. She came every week to the fortune teller, as she was always paranoid about the future. The tarot card readings gave her a sense of control, or at least helped her to prepare for any events that would take place. Abella had wavy white strands of hair that looked like the snow that fell outdoors much too often. Despite her young age, the white strands of hair were natural. Her face was long and clean, with little makeup placed upon to hide things that she called ‘flaws’. She wore a large, red trench coat that complimented her ruby crimson eyes beautifully. Only her grey, wide-ankle pants were able to be seen under the large coat she wore. She leaned in over the wooden table with the purple carvings with anticipation.

On the other chair opposite from her, sat a young woman with [hair colour] strands of hair. She wore a large and over-sized coat as well, except hers was made out of a porcelain white faux fur. Her [eye colour] eyes seemed like a maze easy to get lost in, and her black eclipse-like pupils focused on the cards as she swiftly laid them out with her [skin tone] toned hand. The back of the cards were identical, all with the same simple symbol of a round, golden circle on a plain, pitch black back. The cards were placed neatly in unison with ease that one could easily tell that the fortune teller, who was called [Name], was a master with the cards before she could likely even speak. Her soft gaze averted to the Abella, inspecting Abella’s face that was scrunched up due to the difficulty of thinking which card to pick. They all looked the same, but let to very different outcomes.

”Pick a card, any card. Your fate will remain the same. Choose the ones that call for you, and it will be true.” You reassure her. Abella was always terrible at making decisions, but with reassurance from the very person who she trusted to help her every week, Abella squeezes her eyes shut and quickly chooses three random cards. [Name] picks up with cards that Abella had chosen, and inspects them.

“For your past, you have gotten Death in the upright position. Death means that you have moved onto a new era of your life quite recently. It may have required some sacrifice and difficulty.” You tell Abella, who looked at you with her eyes as wide as saucers.

”I guess the Death card isn’t too bad.. when it’s the tarot explaining my past. Please, carry on to my present.” Abella says, biting on her lip afterwards in anticipation for what the next card would be. You move your attention back to the cards in your hand and put down The Tower card. Abella had never gotten this card before, so she quirked up at the sight. “What does it mean?” She asks desperately, as if her life depended on it. You chuckle slightly, and gently remove your touch from the tower card, leaving it in front of her and beginning to tell her what it meant, after you could hear the card speaking to you.

”The Tower in upright position. It means that there are big changes coming your way. These changes mean that any part of your life can be affected. Relationships, your job, or even financial circumstances. The chaos that the tower unleashes in this position will usually only affect one part of your life, but quite thoroughly as well. If the structures of your tower of life cannot handle this disruption without collapsing, then I suggest that it is best for you to add some new structures into your life.” You tell her, keeping your gaze focused on her to see the reaction you would receive from such a card. It wasn’t the luckiest card to get in present, but it also wasn’t the worst. The Tower meant that a part of her life will be heavily impacted. And that may be a good thing, as it will also give Abella a chance to build herself up again and choose better decisions in that part of her life.

To your surprise, Abella doesn’t speak out and shout in a blaze of worry, she continues to bite her lip and nods her head, seemingly accepting the card in front of her. It seemed as though she knew what you were talking about and knew that in the end, it would have a positive impact on her life. “Carry on, [Name].” She says, in a more serious tone. She was properly thinking about the road of her life and obviously looked like she wanted to take caution and just live the best life that she possibly could.

Finally, with the last card in your left hand’s fingers, you place it down on the table and tell her what was coming in the future, “You have gotten Strength in the upright position. This is a very powerful card and is generally a good omen. It means that anything bothering you at the moment will seem like nothing in the near future. Time will deal with all of your problems, but this happens all the time. You are lucky, Abella. The Strength card is a very good card to receive.” You tell her, a smile on your face at the good news. You feared that all the readings would be bad omens, but it seems that the Strength card turned the whole table around.

Abella smiles delightfully, tapping her shoes on the ground with joy. “What wonderful news! I was scared that The Tower would lead to more bad. It turns out it will lead me to Strength. I must go through the hardships against me, mustn't I? Thank you once again, [Name]. Knowing what is coming my way truly helps to calm my nerves.” Abella thanks you, before pulling her sleeve up slightly to show a silver watch, which produced the subtle sound of time ticking away. “I’m going to be late for lunch with my friend if I don’t hurry. I’m afraid I may have taken my sweet time.” She says before taking two silver coins out of her coat pocket and placing them on the table. “Thank you kindly for the services once again, [Name]. I’ll be back for another one next week, as per usual.” Abella says, a pleased smile on her lips, completely different to the serious and frightened expression on her face as she was biting her lip earlier. Abella rises from the wooden chair and walks towards the exit of the shop, her white hair looking like a waterfall of snow as it drifted to her tailbone. Soon, you heard the door open and slam shut, meaning that she had left. Now, you sat alone in silence, with the muffles of life outside barely able to be heard. You get the cards and shuffle them up once again before placing them inside a box.

Standing up, you place the pack of tarot cards within a small wooden box on one of your shelves, where it was now accompanied by at least a dozen other decks in the box. Closing the box, you decide that perhaps it was time for yourself to grab of something to eat, after all you could hear your stomach crying out for something pleasant to the tongue. You walk to the other side of the back room and pull open a black curtain, revealing a dark wooden set of stairs to the second story of the building. In the kingdom, most people usually had a shop on their lower floor and their home on the upper one. You found it quite functional and began walking up the steps calmly, despite the planks of wood moaning out with the threats of snapping in two due to wear and tear for decades. You lived in quite an old building. While it was not the best, it still had cheap rent and was home to you.

Alas, your home could never compare to the gleaming white palace of pearl and golden detailing. The palace had towers that stretched up to the heavens and large windows that could barely give one a peek at their lavish lifestyle among the riches that their ancestors had collected through the eras. It may surprise a newcomer, however they were the only family that had ever been on the throne. True, pure blood royalty.

The main doors were large and plain white with golden detailing and a large star in the middle that was made out of stained glass. The stained glass changed, depending on who’s reign it was. During the current King’s reign, it was red with a white flower in the middle of it, standing for fortune, purity and hope. At the back of the palace however, things got even grander with a garden too large for one to walk around in one day and manage to admire every single beautiful thing that it had.

In despite of this, the prince’s keen, dark pearl eyes stared into the forest from his bedroom window, wishing for some adventure, or at least something new. Being forced to try your best at everything was tiring, and it was more tiring having to live up to everybody else’s expectations of you for your entire life. The prince was tall, standing at about six feet and three inches tall, about 190cm. He had a slender build, but his black outfit hid his well-toned muscle that had been build up over the years. Nevermind the fact of him being the best in combat, such as sword fighting especially, he didn’t have a single scratch on his skin that was as pale as the snow. Naturally, his cheeks were dusted with red due to the cold weather and slightly around his eyes as well, that were narrow and accompanied with orbs that were dark like the night sky. His lips had a slight red tint to it, but so subtle that one could tell if they examined him for a moment. His jet black hair was wavy and medium-cut for a man with it split in the middle of his forehead. His hair was undercut as well slightly, giving him an even cleaner look. His hairstyle was truly charming, and was one of the most trendy hairstyles every year. The prince nonchalantly ran his long, slender fingers through his hair and stood up from the window seat, the grey light peaking out from the clouds falling on his shoulders. The prince wore a long-sleeved black shirt was a button-up, however the shirt went past to be buttoned up at the left side of his chest. His buttons were also black. There was a golden dragon embroidered on the prince’s shirt, but nothing was embroidered on his pants. They were plain black as well, and his shoes were pointy-toed and gleamed with ever step, but could never out-shine the prince no matter how much one polished them.

“Your highness, the king awaits you in the amber private tearoom. He wishes to discuss your future.” The prince, named Bastiaan was being spoke to by a man who was neat in countenance despite the wrinkles beginning to form on his face. This man was his personal royal adviser. He had his grey hair slicked back, and the usual uniform of a white dress shirt and black pants but with red detailing, showing that his status was high thanks to the fact he was working closely for the royal family. The only person in the palace who ever dressed to show off their wealth was prince Bastiaan’s father, Alaric Beaumont Marchand Oscar D’Aramitz, who’s old age didn’t restrain him from wearing heavy red cloaks and jewels and badges all across the sash he wore. His pale grey hair still held some black streaks from his early, younger days.

”Very well then.” Prince Bastiaan responds monotonously, face void of emotion. His shoes clacked against the gleaming floor with elegance, and as he reached the expensive door, it was opened by two royal guards on either side. Walking past them, the prince makes his way to his father, the king himself. He could feel a nervous lump in his throat.

As Prince Bastiaan walks along the polished halls, the floor tiled with black and gold marble. The wallpaper was extravagant and light in colour. There were paintings of past rulers and paintings done by famous artists, some of the paintings centuries old. Soon, he regretfully arrived at the end of the hall at a door much larger and grander than the rest, so detailed by gold that you could barely see the canvas that the gold had been laid upon. Prince Bastiaan dusts his outfit off and fixes himself up before running his hand yet again through his dark, silky smooth locks. Then he clears his throat and stands still. At last, the guards open the grand door for him and he is wet with the conservatory. Despite it being winter, the glass was so thick that it was warm inside. The room felt cosy despite being fairly large due to the large fireplace that roared on viciously behind his father. There he was. The man of the era. The man that ruled the kingdom. The man that ruled his life. He sat deep in thought, not noticing his son’s glamorous arrival. Several of his knuckles rested upon his chin as he contemplated deeply about god knows what. The room was dim, most likely ordered to be by his father who disliked bright light, complaining about the strain it placed on his eyes. Instead, the orange light of the fire lit up the room, accompanied by several lavender scented candles scattered about the room.

Prince Bastiaan coughs, gaining his father’s attention. The king turns his head, looking at him with surprised eyes, having not noticed him enter. “You wished to speak with me, father?” He questioned, looking at his father’s grey orbs that matched his hair like the grey stone walls that had protected the kingdom for decades.

”Indeed. Please, take a seat, my boy.” His father responds. The king takes a porcelain teapot with fine blue designs on it from the table, and pours chamomile tea into two matching tea cups. There was a small three tiered tray of savoury treats, all attractively colourful and delicious. Their smell mixed with the lavender, making the room that tiny bit more enjoyable. Following his father’s wishes, the prince swiftly sits down on a matching, large wooden chair that was cushioned with soft, velvet, maroon fabric.

”It is time to speak about a certain topic, my boy. Your future. However, I would like to focus on a specific part. Which is, love. Every king and every queen has had a partner by their side. Love makes us stronger. My son, you are a gift from the heavens. Everyday, with each new achievement you make, I think to myself, ‘Is he really my boy? He’s so talented, and capable, someday maybe he will be as great as me.” The prince’s father begins. The prince stays silent, grabbing his tip of tea gently with his left hand as he pays attention. The only thing interrupting his father was the slight cackling of the fire.

“My son, I wish for you to find a beloved. Perhaps, even a wife. Or even, a meaningless fling with a noble lady to your liking. You must relax. Sometimes, I look at your listless face and ask myself, ‘What happened to the little boy who used to smile at every single thing, as if it meant the world to him?’. I do not wish to find you a wife myself, however I may feel inclined to if you do not find one within the next six months. Or at the very least, a love interest. Every woman in this kingdom rests at your feet, worshiping your status, beauty and intelligence. Surely, it will not be an issue.” The king states.

”Father, this is unfair. I hate to argue with you, I truly do, but I do not wish for any of these women. There is no challenge. They all fall to my feet and would willfully marry me if I so much as glance at them. They claim to love me so deeply, they claim that I am god’s lost child, however they do not know me at all. The noble ladies wish to marry and converse to me for the status and money. My looks and capability are just a bonus. If I marry women like them, what will become of me? I must set an example, and if I get married, my wife shall be an example to the rest of the kingdom as well. I refuse for you to control my love life. I am perfectly capable of ruling this kingdom on my very own. When the time is right, I will marry. If that time never comes, it is of no importance. It is only love.” The prince responds, hands tightening around the arm rests to restrain his temper. In his head he could hear multiple voices of those who have commented on his love life before.

‘Prince Bastiaan is perfect, so why doesn’t he marry already?’, ‘I wish he would look at me and realize that I’d be willing to marry him. He’s a gift from the divinity I tell you.’, ‘Have you seen the prince? He must be quite a loner if he hasn’t ever had a lover at his age.”

You could visibly tell that Prince Bastiaan’s calm response had set the king off with rage. “You will marry. You have six months at most. Do not dare defy me once more.” The king threatens, his voice dangerously low. Full to the brim with anger and disappointment towards his father, the prince raises up to his feet and begins taking swift and large strides along the halls towards his bedroom. Once he reaches his destination, he opens the door himself, leaving the guards slightly confused, only to realize what had happened when the prince slams the doors behind him

His back was now pressed against the door and he looked down at his feet. He knew that he couldn’t impress everybody. He knew that everybody admired him, or at least, everyone except his father. He couldn’t understand why it was so important to find a partner in life, and he truly didn’t wish for one. He had read multiple romance novels from the palace library and all seemed to be filled with heartache and tragedy. He was not about to sign himself up for something that he knew would inflict emotional pain on him. If he was hurt in any way, he couldn’t continue being the perfect man that he was, and it seemed that only god knew how difficult it was to live to people’s standards. With the marker set up so high, even if he was slightly off target, everybody would be disappointed. The prince clicked his pointy tips together before walking towards the window and inspecting the kingdom that lay before him. The kingdom that he was set to reign over.

Prince Bastiaan had heard from whispers on the street that there was a fortune teller. One that could tell fortune with great accuracy, and who’s abilities brought those who didn’t believe in her to their knees. He gazed out, looking for his answer in his mind. If he hired the fortune teller, perhaps it would help with his love life. Especially if she would tell him about his progress every week and what is to come. That way, he could be prepared for any emotional storm that would come. That way, he would learn how to win a woman’s heart with his personality alone. Despite of this, the prince felt his hope slip through his arms as he realized that he did not know what his personality really was. He was a puppet, or even a mere doll that everybody played with. The doll had to be whatever the people wanted, and they wanted a true idol. One that could compete against the greatest gods. Before he could think any further on that matter, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Your highness, lady Isla from the house of Brodeur has come for your meeting. She is waiting for you inside of the amber private tearoom where you once were. Your father has retreated to his private quarters, so you two will have the tearoom to yourselves.” The royal adviser's voice informed the prince through the door, slightly muffled.

”Yes, I’m on my way.” The prince says. “That’s today?” He whispers to himself surprised. He sighs, deciding that perhaps lady Isla was his only choice at the moment. After all, she was obsessed with him. She stuck to him like glue and whenever they were at the same ball or gala, she would follow him despite the weaves and turns he would make. She often bragged to her group of friends with how she was childhood friends with the prince, despite him not considering them friends at all for that matter. Her affections were completely one-sided yet she never stopped chasing after him. The prince looked back at the kingdom and sighed. Perhaps he should gather some suitable choices for himself before making his final decision. He needed somebody suitable to be the mother of the country. He wanted them to be great, or even greater than his late mother.

The prince spun on his heel and went through the same corridor and door to return back to the tearoom. He had managed to recollect his thoughts, and felt much more calmer now. However, he had no idea how he would appeal as amorous or even properly flirtatious to a woman. After all, he did not find Lady Isla even the slightest bit appealing, not as a lover or a queen.

When the prince entered the room, he saw Lady Isla standing tall and joyfully. At first glance, she seemed neat and mature. She was quite tall for a woman, standing at around 5’9. Shiny dark brown hair cut into a bob. Her diamond blue eyes scan over the prince, taking in all of his beauty with a pleased smile on her face.

“Your highness, thank you for meeting with me today. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.” She says thankfully, grabbing the back of the chair where the king himself had once sat, and curtsied, bowing her head much deeper than required to show how grateful she was. In all honesty, the prince had only agreed to this meeting in order to tell her straightforwardly that he was not interested in her. The love-sickness that was tied to him had grown annoying and was interfering with his work. Now it seemed that we had to do the complete opposite of what he desired to save face.

”You may sit.” Prince Bastiaan says motioning to the chair in front of him. Lady Isla blushes as she sits down on the maroon chair. The fact she was in his presence and could have his full attention for a small while made her feel like her heart was about to pound of its chest. The prince saw her as foolish, especially since she had sat down. Yes, he may have told her to, but she should know that it is required that any royal blood sits down first. It seemed that she had failed in the department of manners. How could a queen not even know the rules, manners, and laws of her own country? Prince Bastiaan sat down opposite Isla and felt pressured by her large eyes piercing at him intently, not leaving his figure for a split second. He felt uncomfortable but decided to use his confidence. He was a prince after all.

The prince looked Isla directly back into her eyes with a listless face. She could feel that her heart was skipping beats like crazy, she was surprised that she had not fallen over with a heart attack. Though she didn’t know that the prince was testing out one of the moves he had learnt from reading romance books. His heart was supposed to flutter at the very sight of her, he was supposed to feel his heart skip a beat. But there was no warm feeling, no happiness, no sped up heartbeat. Nothing. Perhaps it was time for him to accept that he had been granted the gift of being talented in return for his ability to love.

“How was your morning?” The prince asks, as a servant comes over and begins to pour them a pot of freshly brewed green tea. He breaks gaze with Isla and picks up his teacup, taking a small sip out of it to take the warm liquid in.

”It-It was alright. And yours, Bastiaan?” She asked, longing for his dark orbs to stare into hers again. Even if the interaction was over, her heart would not stop beating quickly. Prince Bastiaan put down his teacup as he tried not to flinch with repulsion and her poor manners. Was she a noble lady or a slave? He decided that she really was not the one that was worth the status of being Queen.

”It was lovely meeting you once again today. I have my studies to attend to. Thank you for coming, perhaps we could meet again in the near future. However, I am quite busy today.” The prince lied with his cold tongue. In whatever way though, the noble lady’s heart could not be cooled down.

“That is...is quite alright,” She stuttered out, in disbelief that he had actually said that he hoped that they could ‘meet again in the near future’. Had something changed? Perhaps the prince was finally paying attention to the sort of things that other men his age would. Regardless, the prince just wanted to get out of this situation and as far away as possible. He didn’t want to appear rude after what he had pulled today, it may damage his reputation.

“I’ll be off.” He vocalized, before standing and retreating back to his chambers. He rushed to the window and placed his hand on the clear glass, as if reaching out. Taking a deep breath in. He needed help, desperately. He was afraid to admit it, but this fortune teller seemed to be his only choice. If he was to find his perfect bride within six months, he needed to get help in avoiding women who didn’t live up to the standards. He needed hints. So with that, the prince walked over to the part of his room where a rope hung from the ceiling. Grabbing it with his hands and pulled, ringing the summoning bell. Several moments later, the royal adviser walks inside of his bedroom.

“Summon that fortune teller near the compact housing. The one that the common folk and nobles alike speak of.” He demanded, not seeing any reason to justify his actions. He was simply complying with his father’s wishes, but not so much in the way that the king expected. He spoke with utmost certainty, determined to find the perfect queen, even if there were no feelings of admiration.

The royal adviser simply compiled, slightly caught off guard by the request. “Right away, your highness. I will come back to you with them soon.” The adviser responds, before disappearing once again, the doors shutting closed silently behind him.

Prince Bastiaan sighs sorrowfully, and sits down on a large couch in his bedroom. His room had a black and white marble floor, with wallpaper that was black and golden. Black was his favourite colour. It was practical and fit every occasion. Parties, afternoon tea, funerals, ceremonies, etc. Not only that, but the young prince swore to wear black for the rest of his life after his mother had passed, at the age of eight.

Entering your shop, you move to take your coat off but are interrupted by insistent knocking on the front door. You open it a smidge and peek through to see a young man in full plate armor.

“Are you the fortune teller of this shop?” He asks eyeing you down.

“Yes…?” You answer, opening the door a bit more. You are about to ask what kind of fortune he wants to be read, when he speaks again.

“Prince Bastiaan of the royal family requests your audience.” You stand there with a confused look on your face. You had just gotten home from finishing a late lunch, and several minutes later, a palace knight had come knocking on your door. To tell you that the prince “requests your audience”.

”Why?” You ask, hoping to get some answers. The whole scenario makes you scratch your head, wondering why the prince would want a simple fortune teller.

”You are expected at the palace by ten in the evening, tonight. A carriage will come to pick you up at nine in the evening. Have a splendid day. Long live the king.” The knight states, completely dodging your question. It seemed that your question was either confidential information or the guard did not care to answer. You sigh, seeing that you had no choice. You slam the door shut with anger at the knight who hadn’t even bothered to give you a simple answer. Now, your thoughts will wander until ten in the evening, when you were supposed to meet the prince. Then, you froze. Akin to a statue when you realized that you were meeting the acclaimed perfect prince from fairy tales that young ladies dream about. You had to look your best. If you looked the slightest bit scrappy, god knows what would happen to you. The prince may think that you are disrespecting him with informality and as a result, his father would behead you. Alright, perhaps that was a bit of a stretch, but it was still plausible.

You hurried upstairs. It was already six in the evening and you only had three hours to make yourself look better than you ever have before. You admit, you didn’t care much about royalty or wooing the prince. However, you did care about paying respect to where respect was due. Though you hated to admit it, the prince had a heart of generosity. Not only did he give 90% of his homeless subjects homes and jobs, he helped fill their stomachs until they were stable and able to survive on their own without his aid. Prince Bastiaan had even risked his life in battle more times than you could count for the kingdom, returning without a scratch. He was the rightful owner of the title, Angel of Beauty and Blood. It sounded quite cliche to you, but you knew that it was true.

Your wooden planked floors creaked with every step you made, begging for repair and threatening to break. You paid no mind to the creaks and entered your small box of a bedroom. It was full of herbs, orbs, and dried out vegetables, specifically for making medicines. The white wallpaper was stained yellow and was chipping off of the wall. Some of the wall was covered by a large tapestry of a purple eye, which was pinned up with two small nails. In the corner of the uncomfortably small room was a dresser, with your clothes hung up with thin, metal hangers. There was a drawer at the bottom, where inside were your underwear, tights, shirts, and pants. You reached out for a hanger that held a purple and white dress. It was lilac and strapless, and the chest area looked as though it was a purple-toned water lily. The bottom was quite puffy and had translucent fabric stacked on top in order to add that extra volume. It had small, silver shimmers that seemed as though they could catch the moonlight, and overall, was quite cute and elegant. It had matching, long lilac gloves that went up a few inches past your elbows, and had silver ends with white flowers embroidered on neatly. This dress was once your mothers from what you could tell judging by the tag inside having the words ‘from mother’ sewed into it. You only wore it on the most special occasions, and this one was certainly a special occasion.

You slithered out of your day wear, abandoning your old clothes on the floor before picking them up and placing them in a small laundry bag that hung on door’s knob, handcrafted from an old sack of potatoes. Afterwards, you proceeded to put on your special outfit. You admit that perhaps you had grown quite a bit since your last special occasion, as it was slightly more difficult to zip yourself up into the dress. As you put on the rest of your outfit on, such as the gloves and your white tights due to the cold weather. Afterwards, you went into the bathroom and stared yourself in the mirror. You wanted to give yourself a speech to psych yourself but as your lips parted, nothing came out. You had the lowest rank a person could have, and the second highest rank, only to the king, that belonged to the prince wished to get in touch with you. Yes, you. The [hair colour] haired girl staring right back at you in the cracked mirror. Perhaps you had the right to believe that broken mirrors granted you bad luck. If word got out you met with the prince, wouldn’t business become better? What if they gave you free snacks there? What if you were making a big deal out of nothing? What if you showed up to palace looking like a purple doll while the prince was in his pajamas? Wouldn’t you look like an idiot? In fact, what if business went south? What if people got jealous that you talked to the prince? What if all the women in the kingdom couldn’t accept you?

You shake your head before the anxieties driving around your mind could come back to you any faster. You gripped the edges of the sink with your fingers turning white due to how hard you gripped it. You breathe in. “One, two, three. Breath out gently.” A young man with golden hair and snowy white orbs, looked you right in the eyes as you opened them gently. “Better, isn’t it? If you feel worried, then remember to breathe. I won’t always be here to remind you of that.” He says, a small smile on his rosy lips.

“I feel much more calm now. My nerves.. aren’t as tense. Too bad the sweat on my hands can’t be taken back into my skin, I feel like I’ll form a river. I just.. I’m so nervous for this. I truly believe in this, Florian. I truly do. If I can make even the smallest change-“ You were cut off by Florian’s small, melodic chuckle.

“Yes, I know, I know. [Name], you can change the world. You can do much better than your pathetic excuse of a friend. Keep your head held high. As a famous poet once said, ‘a happy soul is the best shield for a cruel world’. Stay smiling bright like you always are. Now, get out there and knock their socks off!” Florian reassures you, his hands gripping the sides of your arms and encouraging you. His smile shone brighter than a million suns and you felt blinded by his beauty and grace. Your soft fingers gripped into the sides of his arms in return, with stress and darkness. It was as if there was a rain on your parade and the sun had come to personally greet and save you. You regretfully let go of his arms, your own dropping to your sides. You bite your bottom lip and nod, feeling determined.

“You sway the heavens like the branches in the wind. Surely, you can sway this crowd of people with your talent.” Florian says, before squeezing your sides tightly then letting go.

You pant, your eyes wide and shaky. Your legs tremble and you fall down onto your backside, colliding with the hard tiled floor of the bathroom. Who was Florian? Yes, it seemed like a memory, but you weren’t sure if flashbacks got that intense. Your hands felt numb and your fingernails hurt from how hard you had unknowingly gripped upon the sink.

Though you did not like to spread the information, you had amnesia. The earliest memory you ever had was waking up on the side of the street completely stripped of any memory or coin, as though you had been brutally kidnapped then abandoned. You’ve been dealing with it for seven years. Seven years of never knowing who you were, where you came from or what your family was like. It did not make you too sad because you couldn’t miss a part of your life that you couldn’t remember. You occasionally got, what you believed to be, glimpses of your past. They put you through intense emotions, and left you feeling as though you had experienced a panic attack about a hundred times within a minute. Your head ached desperately as your fist weakly hit the floor. God, you wished that you could remember something. Your fist raised from the cold floor and onto the top of your head. However, your hit against the top of you head was weak as well. Your fingers, covered by gentle cloth intertwined with your [hair colour] strands that rose messily out the top of your head.

Getting back up shakily, you stare at yourself in the mirror. There was a small, wooden clock that ticked sorrowfully in the lonely bathroom, signalling that it was already at seven in the evening. Had time really flown by so quickly? Well, time is a construct. It flies by when you long for it to linger for longer, and lingers for longer when you long for it to fly by.

You pick up the brush that rested on the sink and brushed out the tangles in your hair, and styled your hair in a way so that it was neat and tucked behind the ears. Doing so gave you a clean look, as if you were a completely different class. You practiced smiling in the mirror. As you practiced, you suddenly halted. Had you become crazy? Why were you practicing how to smile?

Slightly angry at yourself for wasting time by getting carried off on a tangent, you hurriedly finished up your hair, using all sorts of products to make it smell luscious and look better than it ever had in its lifetime. You finished several minutes after the clock had hit eight. Now, you lightly placed some natural appearing makeup and hugged your faux fur coat tight around your body. You looked at yourself and took out a pearl necklace. It was on sale, and perhaps fake due to the cheap price you managed to get it in, so you had bought it just in case something like this had come up. You slipped on some white flats, not willing to risk a mishap in heels.

It was now half past eight and you were pretty much ready. All that was left was to pack the things you’d need. The prince most likely called upon you as audience due to your fortune telling abilities. You made your way downstairs, switching the light off in the bathroom.

You picked up a white satchel with some embroidery done into it of purple flowers. You had gotten it for such a cheap price despite it being quite the steal, especially since there was purple. You felt connected to the colour, even if it maybe wasn’t your favourite. Your empty satchel felt like a feather as you wrapped it around your body, then proceeded to look around the shelves. The small, brown box called out to you from the shelves, driving you to pick it up. Inside, there was a small, glass orb. The glass orb could give the user a warning to one’s future at the price of a drop of blood. This let the orb know whose future to read, and helped it to accurately show a glance at one’s future.

You began your course of action for the drab, amber box that held around about a dozen different tarot cards. You selected the one that stood out of the pile. The cards had a back of black with the national flower painted upon. It was truly a beautiful selection of cards, so you put it into your bag as well, with all the cards held together inside a black card box. It wasn’t in top condition with numerous scratches on the cover, however you didn’t pay any mind to this, considering it was the tarot cards that mattered.

Deciding to not travel too heavily, you simply place your purse into the satchel, now ready to go. You wait several minutes while sitting at the round table in the back room, eyes straight at the rusty clock. It was ten minutes away from nine in the evening, which was when you were told to be picked up. However, you jumped slightly when you heard a loud, firm knock upon your wooden door, causing the door to threateningly shake, as if it were to fall any moment.

Quickly, you advance towards the oak door, unlocking it shakily. Your hands shuddering slightly as the brass key in the lock turned. You opened the door just by a peak, to see the royal knight’s eyes shift from staring straightforward at the door, towards you. His eyes widened slightly, yet he was quick to conceal his feelings. The royal knight seemed to be around his early thirties, still looking fairly young despite signs of ageing beginning to form. He wore a cerulean and argent uniform with a plain white sash around his slightly built form. There were several badges on it, indicating that he was of a fairly high status.

”Greetings. I came here early to warn you, but it appears that you’re ready.” The knight says, able to see part of your outfit and how nicely you had done your hair compared to beforehand. “Well, I’m glad that we’ll have no rush. We can leave early if you’d prefer. That way, we can be positive, with the utmost certainty that you won’t be late.” The knight suggests, his grey gaze staring at you, waiting for an answer.

“I guess that’s logical. Let’s be on our merry way then.” You respond, stepping out of your house and locking the door behind you. Afterwards, the guard leads you to a black car that was as spotless as a ballroom floor. Waxed so greatly and excessively that you would’ve mistaken it for some sort of gorgeous eclipse. The windows were lined with a pale gold and there were two small kingdom flags on either side of the back. The guard holds the golden handle and opens the door with ease, gesturing for you to go into the car. In all honesty, this felt a bit sketchy, as though you may be getting kidnapped.

Despite your thoughts, you complied and simply stepped into the vehicle, resting against the fine, red leather. The front of the car was separated from the back with a wall, which had a screen inside, allowing the person at the back to open or close it as they pleased. You stay still and gaze outside the window, reality starting to come to you. You really were about to meet the prince. You really were in a royal car. You really were summoned. As all this was processed, you gulped nervously.

“You did amazing, [Name]! I’m so proud of you.” Florian tells you, a bright smile on his lips.

“I know this is a competition but my god, you are good. I don’t think I can win this.” Florian adds before gazing towards the mountains. Your gaze follows his, resting on how the snow fell gently, like a million feathers upon the ground. You smile gently to yourself, seeing the sunset paint the sky purple and red, all as though it was from an expensive painting brought to life.

“I only did well thanks to your great advice. Remembering to breathe helped me much more than I would have thought. All of the methods you teach me are very helpful.” You reply gladly.

”Gosh, this is tiring. I guess we’re working together now instead of going solo. On the bright side, there’s only one more mountain to go.” Florian reminds you before pointing his pale finger towards a tall, dark mountain. Clouds hid the top of the mountain, with shadows from the sky cast a cloak of mystery and dread.

“Are you sure that’s the right mountain? I thought the instructors said that we wouldn’t have to go up a mountain that high.” You speculate, hand on your brow in confusion.

”Please, [Name]. My navigation skills are top tier. You’re lucky I’m helping you. Look at the map, I’ve read it perfectly.” Florian responds harshly, obviously stressed. He didn’t have the best map skills, but believed that he could manage. So, he handed the tattered map over to you.

“Oh, this is supposed to be a competition. Why are you so supportive? Do you have some ulterior motive?” You interrogate him, your gaze breaking away from the frosty mountains and towards your friend with golden strands. His diamond eyes squinted slightly before turning to you. He pouts as he turns to gaze at the mountain again.

“You’ll feel relieved to know that I don’t. I understand how this competition can benefit us both, however. Enjoying these moments with you along the way is much better. I’d be happy to let you win, [Name].” Florian responds, before his smile fades away and his eyebrows knit together, concerned. While you both chat, you continue to look at the map.

”Florian, the map is upside down!” You yell, before sighing heavily. “I can not believe this. This is outrageous. We’ve been walking for a week in the completely wrong direction, Florian!” You complain, a whine escaping your mouth as you kick your legs in a childlike manner.

“What?! Since when-?” Florian is cut off by a knock. Wait, a knock?

”Ma’am, please wake up. I’m terribly sorry to disturb your doze, however we have arrived.” The knight tells you from outside the window, his knuckles gently acting as an alarm for you to wake up to. The knocking had brought you to your senses as your [eye colour] eyes examined the real world around you. Two flashbacks in one night? This was too much for you. You noticed you had a blanket of goosebumps on your skin and that you had been lying there in a cold sweat. Slightly embarrassed, you nod your head.

”Yes, it is no problem. Do not apologize, I’m the one who should be sorry. I apologize for falling asleep in the car.” You reply, your fingers reaching for the handle, only for it to be pulled away by the guard opening the door for you. He had no need to bow, especially since your rank was lower than his. In fact, you were lucky that he was being kind to you at all. You heard many stories of knights who were disrespectful and rude to those in the lower class.

You step out of the polished black car and as soon as you do, a butler steps inside and drives the cab away. You watch it for a second before following behind the guard towards the palace. As you looked up at it, you felt your jaw drop to the ground. It was more beautiful than the paintings or stories could have ever told you.

The palace consisted of pearl and white marble on the outside, with gold intricately interrupting the sheet of white, adding more elegance. The palace was so large yet sparkling clean, as though there was a layer of fresh snow, glimmering with beauty and grace in the moonlight. Marble steps led up to the palace. Taking note of this, you were careful of each step you took towards the top of at least dozens of steps, especially as marble was slippery, and looked freshly washed. This made you thankful for the light blue carpet that extended from the landing at the top of the steps and through the closed doors of the palace that hovered over you.

“We’ve arrived ten minutes early, so please wait in the staff room. Once the prince has summoned you, I’ll ensure somebody comes to guide you to his private library.” The knight informs you. As you both walk towards the main door, two other knights equipped with gleaming gold did some sort of knock on the door, signalling for it to be opened. As the large doors open, you felt all the luxury hit you in the face. Standing in shock at the perfect fairy tale scene. You had no idea that the inside would be able to compete with the extravagance of the outside.

The walls of the palace were tall and were not shy to show off the expensive foreign wallpaper plastered upon them. The floor was made of black jade, with golden symbols detailed upon the jade. On the ceilings hung chandeliers as if they were made of the most expensive pure diamond, crying droplets of light that illuminated the hallway. There was a bright red carpet on the floor that led up to a set of silver and golden double doors at the end of the hallway.

“Please follow me, ma’am.” The knight who was accompanying you stated, leading you down the long hallway. You were still in the hall, your eyes gleaming like a child eyeing their Christmas present and your legs nervously wobbly from the thought of the person you were about to encounter. One’s home reflected the person, and if the prince’s home was this grand, then perhaps, you had underestimated just how meaningful, important and powerful the royal family really was. You knew they had the power to kill you without a single person questioning the act, but you had never known that perhaps the empire was larger than you had thought. How were you supposed to know? Books were not exactly of easy access to you, as you had to buy them or pay the entry fee to go inside the public library.

The knight takes a left, leading you down a different hallway. Stopping at the third door on the right. The door was extravagant, however looked less expensive than the others. The knight proceeded to open the door for you and stepped to the side, his arm pushing the door open.

“Go inside, ma’am. You will be summoned shortly.” The knight states as you walk through the door, only to jump slightly as the knight lets it slam shut behind you. You look around to see several maids sewing and gossiping on a purple velvet couch. Several butlers and cleaners seemed to be resting as well. It seemed as though you had been put in the staff’s resting quarters. Your feet tapped against the grey and white marble floor. You approached a small, round table colored brass. You sat down on the matching chair nervously, hoping not to catch too much attention. Despite your attempt, one of the maids seem to notice your presence at long last and whispers to the other maids before putting down the scarf she was knitting to approach you. She sits down on one of the four chairs surrounding the table, and smiles kindly at you.

The maid was wearing the usual black and white outfit, with her hair a shade of premature grey. Looking to be in her late twenties.

“Hello there, I am Guinevere. I’m the co-head of the south wing’s maids. Are you here for work?” She asks, tilting her head with curiosity.

“Actually, I’ve been summoned by the prince to tell his fortune. It is lovely meeting you by the way, I am [Name].”

¹ countenance ; a person’s face/expression

Status: Edited

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #reader #reader insert #self insert #prince #horror #fiction #romance

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

existence

Summary: It's a quiet day in the Sekai without a name. Miku wonders where everyone is...

Fandom: Project Sekai Colourful Stage! Characters: Hatsune Miku (Nightcord), Kagamine Rin (Nightcord), Megurine Luka (Nightcord), Meiko (Nightcord), Akiyama Mizuki, Shinonome Ena, Yoisaki Kanade, Asahina Mafuyu Relationships: Everyone & Hatsune Miku Rating: G Word Count: 1930 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 01/09/2021

Notes: Written for Hatsune Miku's 14th birthday! This was not inspired by the official birthday art that Project Sekai released, since I wrote this back in July. What a happy coincidence that the art ended up featuring Nightcord Miku though!

I refer to 25 ji Nightcord de as Nightcord.

~~~

Miku hummed a tune with no name, the very same one that had left her throat when she’d come to realise her existence in this colourless world, and that had continued to fill this wide space in the months that had passed since then. A song with no lyrics, only a melody that had slowly evolved, from a hopeless, flat loop to one with crests and peaks, able to bring a smile to the girls of Nightcord and elicit a warmth within her heart, which did not beat.

Miku appeared to be completely alone, standing in the middle of the nameless Sekai. Rin was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she was hidden in one of the many corners or behind one of the countless walls, as she usually was. No matter the case, there was no sign of her.

But the silence that pressed on Miku’s shoulders was made all the more conspicuous by the lack of Meiko or Luka. The boisterous pair loved to argue, having done so nonstop ever since Luka’s arrival. This place hadn’t been quiet since then, their raised voices carrying all through the Sekai, giving her and Rin no respite from the noise. They’d had to resort to sitting behind a wall, which helped to muffle the sounds somewhat.

Rin had complained many times while in that position, but Miku thought that the other girl likely felt the same as herself - happy, that it was more lively here, the air no longer cold and dead. She just didn’t know how to say it out loud.

Without Meiko or Luka around, the silence that had once been the norm was now rather... overbearing. How had the two put a stop to their arguing for once? Had they simply grown tired of it? What were they doing, then? In fact, what was everyone doing? Rin, Meiko, Luka… Where could they be hiding?

And… why?

Were they hiding from her?

The familiar sound of someone entering the Sekai broke Miku out of her reverie. She stopped her humming, turning to face the visitors, wondering which of the four girls from the real world had come to visit today, and for what purpose. Sometimes they didn’t seem to have a purpose, stating that they were here “just for fun”, as Mizuki liked to say. She didn’t understand why anyone would want to do such a thing, to come here “just for fun”, when she and her companions weren’t what was considered good company.

But she never spoke up. She liked being in the presence of the girls. Surely, her fellow Vocaloids felt the same.

If the girls had come to seek help or assistance, then Miku would render it, to the best of her power. She would do anything that she could, even if she struggled to comprehend the complicated issues and emotions that these girls toiled with. Kanade’s guilt, Mizuki’s uncertainty, Ena’s lack of confidence…

For that was her purpose for existing. In her first second of consciousness, she had held the knowledge that she was meant to give Mafuyu as much comfort as she could. A wish that had come to extend to Mafuyu’s three companions.

She could not save Mafuyu on her own. She did not possess the necessary power, or even a physical body to protect the vulnerable girl. Her own emotions confounded her - it was that rare that she could put a name to the currents of her heart, let alone tell Mafuyu the best course of actions to soothe her pain. She could only give what she deemed was the best advice possible. To truly help Mafuyu, she needed the help of kind Kanade, determined Ena, and sensible Mizuki.

Miku didn’t know why, or how, any of this had come to be. Other than by the strength, or perhaps more accurately, the absence of Mafuyu’s feelings. It did not matter. She would gladly perform her purpose.

Miku expected to see one girl. Perhaps even two. Instead, the sight before her shattered all expectations.

All four members of Nightcord stood before her: Ena, Mizuki, Kanade, and even Mafuyu. Ena and Mizuki were sporting matching mischievous grins on their faces and holding back laughter; Mizuki holding a ribbon-adorned box by the corners while Ena gripped… unfamiliar cone-shaped hats with polka-dots on their surface. Kanade had a small smile on her face, and even with the blank expression on Mafuyu’s face that she always wore, she came off as strangely jovial. Kanade had a giant stack of paper decorations balanced precariously in her arms, while Mafuyu held what seemed to be a folded banner.

Confused, Miku cocked her head to the side. What was all this for? The last time all four girls had come was when Kanade had played her new song for everyone to hear, and Mafuyu had broken into a small, true smile for the first time in a long while.

At that very moment, the memory of Mizuki telling her about birthdays surfaced. She was fairly certain they had mentioned all the “equipment” here were involved in celebrations.

So all of this was presumably to celebrate a birthday… But whose? Nightcord had already celebrated Ena’s, and Mizuki’s, just a few days before… Hm, she supposed she could wait for them to explain, for she didn’t know the dates that everyone’s birthdays fell on.

But none of the four said a word, only continuing to stand there as if waiting for something.

All of a sudden, a ribbon revealed itself over a nearby wall, swaying slightly. It was quickly followed by a familiar head of golden hair, blue eyes blinking as Rin stepped out, black-and-white dress fluttering around her knees. Meiko and Luka were not far behind, the two already glaring at each other, raring to go.

So the three of them had been close-by all this while? Why the need for concealment, then?

What was going on? She couldn’t help but ask that question to herself again.

No answer presented itself, and she could only watch as her three fellow Vocaloids walked up to Nightcord. Materials passed between eager hands, fingers pointing in every direction as everyone split up to the four corners of the Sekai. The atmosphere was festive, conversations held in airy tones to coordinate where to position decorations.

In no time at all, the Sekai was bursting with colour. Banners hung from the remnants of overturned lighting trusses, now fulfilling their original purpose of holding objects, though rippling fabric was a far cry from spotlights. The cone-shaped hats sat securely on everyone’s head except her own, the mysterious box safely stashed by a wall.

She was still frozen in the centre of the hubbub, hands clasped over her heart. A faint thought whispered in her head, tickling the corner of her mind like a feather.

She was the only one not being involved in the preparations. And just days ago, Mizuki had been spared from expending any effort on the day of their birthday, left to lounge in a corner and watch with a smile.

“Here!” The exclamation attracted her attention to a waving Mizuki, who ran up and came to a stop in front of her - the first person to approach her. With the additional height they had on her, Mizuki was easily able to plop what Miku now realised was a pink party hat on her head, gently adjusting the strap so that it ran under her chin. Miku could do nothing but blink and stare at Mizuki, wondering if she was dreaming, if any of this was actually happening, or if the Sekai had somehow collapsed and sent her into an illusion.

“Perfect!” Mizuki commented, grinning and stepping back, their hands clapping together with a resounding sound that knocked Miku out of her speechless daze. “You look so cute, Miku!”

Upon spotting everyone else calmly walking over, she finally opened her mouth, fingers tightening over her chest.

“Is it…?”

Those were the only words she managed to get out before she clammed up. She couldn’t articulate the thoughts racing through her mind, nor the conclusion she had arrived at.

It couldn’t be fake. That was the only thing she was sure of. The colours, the sounds, the people and the expressions on their faces, their true emotions… It was all too vibrant, too real, too much.

Kanade nodded, seemingly understanding everything she wanted to say from her shaking words alone. Ena did the honours of cautiously opening the cover of the box with a steady hand, revealing a beautifully crafted cake, swirls of whipped cream artfully forming the border, strawberries topping the vanilla.

Written elegantly on its surface in red cream were the very words that left Kanade’s lips now.

“Happy birthday, Miku.”

“Yeah! Happy birthday!” Both Mizuki and Ena chirped, reaching into their pockets and throwing out handfuls of confetti that caught in her hair.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” Kanade continued.

“Yes.” Mafuyu nodded. “Happy birthday,” she said in her usual flat tone, face displaying no sign of emotion. Perhaps Mafuyu was only saying it to go along with what she’d been told to do, to avoid angering Ena. Perhaps she meant nothing by those words, was truly incapable of packing any scrap of emotion into them.

Yet Miku could sense… that same smile from the time before, hidden behind the pale, unmoving expanse.

“I…” Miku murmured. Something was choking up her throat. Her heart both felt like it was soaring, and like an invisible hand was squeezing it, something intangible filling it up to the brim. It was so full that it hurt. Not a sharp pain, but an ache, one that consumed her whole chest.

Something wet slipped down her cheek, salt hitting her tongue.

“You’re… crying,” Mafuyu said, eyes a little wide, just a little hint of awe in her voice, where there should have been none. It was, after all, nothing but an observation.

Miku reached up a trembling hand to press against her cheek, bringing it away stained with tears.

Ah. Mafuyu was right. The impossible had happened, emotions making their sudden, mystical appearance when they should have been kept away, blocked by an unbreakable lock.

“Miku…” Mizuki muttered, gaze sympathetic, a small smile on their face.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to force out, breaking into a smile larger than any that had come before, stretching from one corner of her face to the other, even as tears continued to leak from her eyes.

She knew now, why her heart hurt.

As she enjoyed a wonderful day in the Sekai with those that had become her friends, a day that she would never forget - eating the delectable, sweet slices of her birthday cake; being subject to Mizuki’s hairdressing as they tried their best to tame the unruly tangles of Miku’s massive locks with an assortment of ribbons; receiving birthday wishes and the strangest of presents from everyone... she finally came to understand.

The answer had arisen, making itself crystal clear.

Her heart hurt from happiness. True happiness, which could shatter just as easily as it could uplift, could stab just as much as soothe, when one was not used to it.

True happiness, from her friends remembering her birthday.

True happiness… from someone finding her existence worth celebrating.

And there were still some questions that couldn’t be solved, the answers to which were not in sight, and may never be.

But that was alright.

She would simply eke out her existence, moment by moment, taking what may come and enjoying the company of her friends.

#fanfiction #one shot #project sekai colourful stage #hatsune miku #megurine luka #kagamine rin #meiko #asahina mafuyu #yoisaki kanade #shinonome ena #akiyama mizuki #25 ji nightcord de #hatsune miku's 14th birthday #late post on tumblr sorry miku!#project sekai

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

It starts as it will end: in darkness.

Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

“You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

“I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

“Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

Is it?

“You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

“I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

“This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

“No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

“What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

“Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

“A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

“Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

“He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

“Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

“Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

“Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

“The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

“The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

“And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

“Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

“Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

“No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

“How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

“Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

“Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

“Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

“You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

“Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

“What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

“There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

“You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

“I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

“And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

“Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

“Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

“Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

“Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

“Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

“Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

“They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

“Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

“I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

“Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

“You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

“Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

“Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

“Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

“And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

“They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

“Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

“I’m what?”

“Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

“You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

“That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

“Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

“So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

“I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

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yumeyooa · 3 years

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01—the whimsical tune | sugawara koushi

—as per royal tradition, prince sugawara koushi, second in line to the throne of the kingdom of corvus, is to spend one whole spring in the kingdom of angora, strengthening relations between the two neighbouring kingdoms. but while exploring the forests of the otherwise mysterious land, he comes across a rather curious stranger, gracing the woodlands with her whimsical tunes and enigmatic melodies. The more they meet, the more enchanted he becomes and sugawara soon finds himself diving deep into her everything; not knowing of the dangerous wonders that would befall him the more he falls

➢ pairing: sugawara koushi x female! reader

➢ word count: 11.9k+

➢ warning: i may or may not have overused the word brother at the first half...

➢ love letter: okay so i may have gotten carried away, and my hand may have slipped but i hope you enjoy this chapter!! let me know what you think! i’d appreciate the feedback hehe

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It was pretty unusual to see the Imperial Training Grounds so lively this early in the morning.

Granted, it wasn't that early. The sun was just about to reach its peak, gracing the earth with its blistering heat, and the royal knights, the most established military organization in the kingdom, were about to have their long-awaited lunch break, but even so, they couldn't miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

It wasn't every day that two of the kingdom's princes had a sparring match, after all.

The second prince, Sugawara Koushi, grunts as he takes a defensive stance against his half-brother and heir to the throne, Sawamura Daichi. He's never been fond of sword fighting. It confused him how one (many actually) could enjoy the art of battling to the death. Sword fighting was gruesome, bloody, and downright nasty. It was something he did out of necessity. Even if he excelled over the regular knights in the palace, he would still never do so willingly. It was more to keep his pride as royalty if you will.

But Daichi? Daichi excelled in sword fighting. Abnormally so. It was a miracle to Sugawara that he could even hold his ground against him. The crown prince was a master swordsman, skillfully wielding his blade against his own like it were mere child's play; that stupid, obnoxious smirk plastered on his face, a sight that got Sugawara's blood boiling.

"Are you ready to give in, brother?" Daichi taunts, striking once more as Sugawara rushes to defend himself, causing an uproar of admiration from the crowd. With his subjects watching, it would be shameful for him to just give in, no matter how much Sugawara wanted to admit defeat and just sit down on a nearby bench and rest.

But alas, his pride was on the line.

"As if, brother," Sugawara taunts back, quickly unveiling a counter-attack that managed to catch Daich off guard. "Perhaps the one who should give in is you."

The satisfying feeling that came with seeing the look of shock on Daichi's face was perhaps one of the only things that Sugawara enjoyed about sword fighting. The rush of adrenaline and euphoria vibrated within his veins, and for a second, Sugawara felt alive. It felt good to have the upper hand, even if it was just for a moment. It somehow reminded him of the times when he and Daichi would sneak out while their tutor wasn't watching and play around the palace gardens. A time when they could just be brothers and not princes with the weight of the kingdom on their shoulders.

Nowadays, those moments were few and far between. But that didn't mean they were completely gone.

The look of shock on Daichi's face fades into one of playfulness that Sugawara's sure mirrors his own. The only reason Sugawara would ever agree to a sparring match in the first place was because it was one of the only ways he and Daichi could truly bond as brothers, a time where they could let down their guard for just a few moments, even if it meant being edged on by the royal knights.

Sugawara smiles, offering his brother a helping hand, to which Daichi takes with a laugh, hoisting himself up, before wrapping an arm around Sugawara and ruffling his hair playfully, causing laughter amongst the troops.

"Since when did you have the upper hand, little brother?" Daichi teases, a bright smile plastered on his face. "You've gotten quite strong since the last time we sparred!"

"Says the one who took it easy on me," Sugawara scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. "Never took you as one with a soft heart, brother."

"Me?" Daichi gasps exaggeratedly. "Why, whatever are you talking about?"

There's a small silence that befalls the two princes before they burst into laughter once more, separating from their 'embrace' and giving each other a handshake.

"I'll get you for real next time," Sugawara playfully promises as the brothers make their way towards a bench, waving the commander to dismiss the knights for their break in the process, to which he does, the crowd dispersing into smaller groups.

"You always say that, brother," Daichi remarks, rolling his eyes as his own knight offers him a glass of cold water and a towel, to which he accepts gratefully. "Yet it always ends up the same way."

"Ugh," Sugawara groans, taking his own towel and water from his knight. "You don't have to remind me."

The two brothers laugh once more, wiping off the sweat from their faces and gulping down the water they were provided. The silence is only momentarily, however, as Sugawara's attendant approaches the duo staunchly.

"This servant greets His Royal Highnesses." Sugawara smiles, noticing the nervous look on his attendant's face. However, it was a given, considering he wasn't that familiar with his older brother, as he was pretty new (well, if you consider three years new, that is).

"It's alright, Yamaguchi," Sugawara reassures, handing the empty cup to his knight, who takes it from his hand. "No need to feel so nervous around the crown prince. What is it?"

At his words, Yamaguchi calms down, and Sugawara smiles at the sight of his shoulders relaxing and his stance becoming a bit more confident. Sugawara treated Yamaguchi like a younger brother, mainly because he personally chose him as his attendant after the scandal that came with the previous one.

"Your highness," Yamaguchi says, turning his attention towards Sugawara. "His majesty, the king, requests for your presence."

"Me?" Sugawara exclaims before he can think about that. "Are you sure?" Yamaguchi nods, eyes darting from Daichi to Sugawara warily. "Yes, your highness."

"Well, that's odd," Sugawara mumbles to himself before turning to his brother, who was busy looking over the knights who were all over the training grounds, a small smile on his face. "Do you have any idea what business father has with me, brother?"

"No," Daichi says after a few moments, turning to him. "I'm afraid not."

A frown adorns Sugawara's face as he takes his brother's words in. It was rare for their father to call him alone. After all, Sugawara was the second prince. He was never given as much attention as his brother Daichi, especially because Sugawara's mother was a concubine.

It was known throughout the kingdom that the king greatly loved the queen and had only taken in concubines out of pressure from his advisors and administrators. The love the king and queen had for each other was pure and true, a love that was praised and admired by all citizens of the Kingdom of Corvus, no matter what class they were.

And Daichi was the perfect fruit of their love. Tall, handsome, charismatic. Sawamura Daichi was the epitome of what the crown prince should be, a great leader and an outstanding heir to the throne who excelled in all aspects, from etiquette to swordsmanship and ironically enough, even a social life— despite what others might think.

But Sugawara? Sugawara was a product of convenience. A child born to strengthen the kingdom's power. His mother, the first concubine, was a hostage from an abandoned kingdom, forced to spend the rest of her life in solitude, with scornful eyes watching her every move.

She was a mere trophy in the eyes of the kingdom, but to Sugawara, she was so much more than that.

Despite all the turmoil his father had brought to her, Sugawara's mother had cared for him with all the love she had left within the confines of her shattered heart. To his mother, Sugawara was her pride and joy.

Which was why he lived with the hope of making her life just a tad bit better, yet it was hard to do so with his brother—whom he loved and adored as well, mind you—blocking his path.

So now that the opportunity presented itself in front of Sugawara, he was nervous. His father had great expectations for his children, as seen in how he praised Daichi for every triumph he brought to the kingdom. Although the love his father had for him was not as great as his brother's, Sugawara can only hope that he'd do well enough to be acknowledged and not mess up to the point where he'd be thrown away.

This nervousness that bubbles from within him makes the palace walls seem more intimidating than they already are. He stands in front of the throne room's doors, which loomed over him with its own majesty. The guards that stood in front of those very doors bowed in respect to him, moving to the side to open the way for him to get through, announcing his arrival.

The king sat on the throne in all of his glory, adorned in the most expensive fabrics and jewels, his crown sitting elegantly on top of his head. Eyes stern with power and regality, just as a king should have as his guards and advisers surrounded him. The throne beside him, belonging to the queen, was empty, which Sugawara expected.

It was a known secret to the royal family that the queen wasn't particularly fond of the throne room, as she preferred to show her prestige as queen in more mundane ways, a trait Sugawara admired.

"I greet the kingdom's brightest sun," Sugawara says, bowing down in front of his father as a courtesy. Sometimes, he hated the royal greetings. Whose idea was it to greet royalty in such an outlandish manner when they could simply say 'Your majesty?' Honestly, as much as Sugawara was well-versed in noble etiquette, he still couldn't quite understand its absurdity.

"My son, have you been well?" For a moment, Sugawara doesn't know what to do. His father rarely outwardly showed his care and affection to him, much more so in front of an audience. Usually, when Sugawara was called in by his father, things were settled straight to the point, with no chatter in between.

But those matters were usually simple (well, as simple as they could be) matters such as dealing with incompetent aristocrats or handling minuscule scandals. This small chatter between father and son meant that his father had called him for something more important than anything he's ever called him for before, and Sugawara can only hope that he would be able to fulfill the expectations that came with it.

"Yes, father," Sugawara responds, snapping out of his trance. "The Ancient Ones have blessed me with their grace and have granted me good health."

The Ancient Ones were the guardian deities of the Kingdom of Corvus. Ancient beings with divine energy that made a pact with their human ancestors thousands of years ago. The kingdom thrived on a peaceful relationship with the deities, creating a harmonious balance that sustained the nation in every aspect. They were revered beings, even more potent than the strongest men. And anyone who dared disrespect them, regardless of their status, was to be dealt with immediately.

"Good," the king nods, not even a drop of emotion showing on his face. It unnerved yet relieved Sugawara at the same time as he waited for his father to continue, curiosity and nervousness flowing throughout him.

"My son, are you familiar with the Kingdom of Angora?" There's a subtle hint hidden within the King's words, a warning if you will. It was almost as if his words were a test, a challenge to see if the king had made the right choice in choosing Sugawara to carry out the task he was about to give.

"To an extent, father," Sugawara replies, gathering his thoughts slowly. The Kingdom of Angora was a kingdom south of Corvus, known for its incredible power and advanced civilization. It was a kingdom that was significantly more powerful than their own in terms of status and influence. "Angora is a kingdom that has a long-established relationship with our kingdom, most especially in terms of trade and commerce."

The king remains silent, urging his son to continue. "For years, our kingdom has provided bountiful crops in exchange for their one-of-a-kind inventions. Allying with the kingdom of Angora has helped accelerate the rate of development within the kingdom to a tremendous degree."

"That is right," the king says, nodding in approval. "And to strengthen our relationship with Angora, every twenty years, our kingdom sends over a delegation to theirs and vice versa. Are you aware of this?"

If Sugawara were honest, not so much. After all, he had just turned twenty a year ago, so this event was not brought up as much as it should have been during his childhood years. Moreover, whenever the subject was brought up, his tutor often brushed it off, reassuring Sugawara that he would not be part of the delegation if ever the event were to occur.

Yet, it seemed as if his tutor was mistaken.

"Yes, father," Sugawara says, knowing that saying anything other than that would disappoint the king. It is only at this answer does the king show even the slightest of emotion, a cunning yet satisfied smile on his face.

"Excellent," he gleefully remarks, leaning back on his throne. "Sugawara, my child. After careful consideration and consultation with my advisers, it is with great pleasure that I have decided that you will be our representative to be sent to the Kingdom of Angora. Isn't that just marvelous?"

The King's laughter almost feels as if it were mocking him, Sugawara thinks to himself. As far as he knows, the delegation lasts for one whole spring. And as much as Sugawara appreciates the change of pace, the announcement still seems like a low blow.

Because as much as the delegation was an honor and an opportunity on the surface, any noble who was familiar with the king knew how much he despised the kingdom of Angora, despite their excellent relationship. Perhaps it was an inferiority complex, but Sugawara's father just couldn't stand the sight of an empire with more power than he has. It was only thanks to the queen that he hadn't acted on this selfish desire in the first place.

So despite what others might think, the people chosen for the delegation were those that the king was not particularly fond with. This means that Sugawara would be stuck with nobles who have ongoing conflicts with the king throughout the journey or with the royal family in general. Which was not going to be pretty in the slightest.

But, what the king says, goes. And despite how much Sugawara wanted to avoid being stuck with judgemental nobles, waiting for their chance to bring the royal family down, he couldn't. So with a sigh, he brings himself back together and looks up at his father, who was looking back at him with an expectant gaze.

"Indeed, father. It is an honor to serve the kingdom in this manner. I shall do my best to meet your expectations and bring glory to the nation." While Sugawara bows, his father lets out heft laughs, his advisors clapping and nodding along with him.

"Wonderful! As expected of my second child." There's malice in his father's words, one that never fails to send shivers down his spine. "I'll be expecting admirable results from you, my son." The king says, a warning glance hidden in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed by Sugawara. "You are dismissed."

With a curt bow, Sugawara stands and makes his way out of the throne room, a stoic expression on his face that remains until he passes the giant doors and comes across his attendant, Yamaguchi, who was waiting for him on the other side with nervous yet restrained eyes.

"How was it, your highness?" Yamaguchi asks, trailing after him. "Did it go well?" The two stopped just as they round the corner, far from the prying eyes of the king's guards. It was never a good idea to show even the slightest bit of his true colors in front of the king's personal servants. It was too risky, something that the king could eventually use against him if ever the situation were to call for it.

"As well as it'll ever be," Sugawara says, sighing. "Have you any idea where my brother is? I have something to say to him."

"His highness, the crown prince is currently in the third prince's palace," Yamaguchi says, a tense tone in his voice. Speaking about any other member of the royal family aside from his master Sugawara was still hard for him to do, no matter how much his master told him that his brothers were anything but intimidating.

"Brother Asahi's palace?" Sugawara asks curiously, turning to his attendant. "Whatever for?"

"It seems as though Prince Asahi has invited the crown prince for some afternoon tea, your highness." Much to Yamaguchi's surprise, Sugawara turns to him in faux offense, a playful look on his face.

"And he dares not invite me? Outrageous!" He exclaimed, huffing as he turned to walk down the hall. "Make no haste, Yamaguchi. Let us head toward Brother Asahi's palace this instant!"

Azumane Asahi, the third prince of the Kingdom of Corvus, was much more gentle than his two older half-brothers. As the child of the second concubine, who was wed to bridge the gap between the nobles and the commoners, he was often looked down on by the aristocracy for his 'mixed' blood. Yet, that never bothered him as he had no interest in politics or noble affairs.

All he wanted was to use his status and privilege to help the commoners of the kingdom in whatever way he can. So it wasn't rare to see Prince Asahi engaging in donations and collaborating with the church. But aside from being a literal saint, the third prince was surprisingly infamous for his ability to bake.

Typically, nobles would be ridiculed for doing something a 'servant' would do, as they'd put it. But Prince Asahi was able to turn that noble weakness into an advantage, owning the most extensive bakery business in the country that rivaled no one. Of course, some thought he was doing it as a form of exerting his presence in the political world, but a closer look and they'd see that everything the third prince did was out of the goodness of his heart.

Which was why Sugawara found it so comforting to visit him.

Hanging out with his second brother was a different experience than hanging out with his first brother. There was no doubt that hanging out with Prince Daichi was fun. Sugawara immensely enjoyed sparring sessions and the occasional chatter with his elder half-brother. But hanging out with Asahi was a different breath of fresh air. It was much calmer, much more relaxing, much more soothing, and good for his well-being.

After all, who wouldn't enjoy spending time drinking tea and eating sweets?

Sugawara enters his brother's grounds, greeted by the servants who stare at him frantically, surprised at his sudden appearance. Nevertheless, Sugawara simply smiles at them, greeting the servants with a refined grace befitting of a prince.

With Yamaguchi trailing behind him, he heads towards his brothers' gardens, knowing perfectly well that his two brothers were having tea in the pavilion that graced the garden's center.

"Brother Asahi!" He calls as he approaches said pavilion, catching sight of his two brothers chatting amongst themselves with their knights and attendants on their side. His two brothers look up at him, both with differing expressions—Asahi with a surprised one and Daichi with a more amused one.

"Oh, Brother!" Asahi exclaims, smiling brightly. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Sugawara huffs, sending his brother a playful glare as he takes a seat in the last available chair in the pavilion. "To snack, of course! I can't believe you have the audacity to not invite me for some tea, dear brother. I am very offended."

A sheepish smile forms on Asahi's face as he takes in Sugawara's playful antics. "I apologize, brother. I was supposed to invite you as well, but Brother Daichi informed me that you had prior engagements…."

At his brother's words, Sugawara turns to his elder brother, giving him a playful glare to which he simply smiles, sipping his tea as if he's done nothing wrong. Sugawara knew what that look on his face meant. His brother was playing with him,

"I never took you as a trickster, dear brother," Sugawara says, sighing. "What would the public do if they were to find out?"

"Why I'm not sure what you mean, brother," Daichi says, as composed as ever. "Since when have I been a trickster? I was merely informing brother Asahi here about your schedule, was I not?" He lets out a chuckle, setting down his cup of tea. "Was that a joke? If so, then I'm afraid you may need a few extra lessons in the art of comedy, dear brother, your skills are very much lacking…."

There's a small silence that settles between the three brothers, with Sugawara and Daich sending each other playful glares at their little exchange. Asahi sighs as if he were used to the situation at the sight of their exchange, setting his own cup of tea down before addressing his elder brothers.

"Brothers, as much as I enjoy your playful banter, I would very much like to indulge in today's afternoon tea in peace if you don't mind." There's a sharpness in Asahi's voice, one that doesn't go unnoticed by Sugawara and Daichi, who immediately drop the act, giving each other a sheepish smile. As much as Prince Asahi was a gentle prince, he also had times where he was stern and downright terrifying. He was a member of the royal family, after all.

"My apologies, brother Asahi," Sugawara says, sighing as a servant pours him his own cup of tea. "I'm afraid I was too caught up in the moment. You do know how much I enjoy your afternoon tea."

"Of course, brother," Asahi says, the sternness fading and his gentle smile slowly coming back. "I heard father summoned you. Whatever was it about?"

Sugawara sighs, suddenly brought back to the memory of what had occurred mere moments ago. It was a wonder how playfully arguing with his brothers had lifted the worries and burdens off of his shoulders. But now that he was reminded of the grave reality he was to face, he couldn't help but feel all of those responsibilities crash down on him once more, his eyebrows furrowing in response.

"Father wishes to appoint me as the representative for the delegation that is to head towards the Kingdom of Angora," Sugawara says, groaning. "I'm sure you both are aware of what that implies."

"Heavens!" Asahi exclaims, eyes wide. "I heard the first son of Count Terushima will be a part of the delegation."

"You mean that vile Marquess Yuji?" Daichi scoffs, gaze hardening. "That atrocious man who tried to seduce Sister Kiyoko?"

"I'm afraid so," Asahi says, a troubled expression on his face. "Will you be alright, brother? I'm certain that father will choose other nobles who are against the royal family…."

"If you wish, I can speak to father on your behalf," Daichi continues, looking at his younger brother with concern. "It's absurd that a member of the royal family has to lead a bunch of despicable aristocrats who dare defy royalty for the sake of protecting their power, on foreign grounds at that."

"I shall be fine, brother," Sugawara says, waving Daichi off. "Instead of sabotage, I'd rather look at this as an opportunity to prove myself to father. Although, I'm not sure if my sanity will last throughout the entirety of spring."

"The entirety of spring?" Asahi asks, surprised. "You'll be gone for that long?"

"It's part of the agreement, brother," Daichi answers in Sugawara's stead, looking at his younger brother with pitiful eyes. "Each delegation will spend an entire spring in the other kingdom, strengthening ties and finding new ways to advance their respective countries."

"I'm aware of that, brother," Asahi says, looking distraught. "But still, one whole spring is too much…."

"Why?" Sugawara asks, perking up. "Will you miss me when I leave, brother?" Sugawara's question flusters Asahi, who immediately tries to brush it off, much to his and Daichi's amusement. Prince Asahi was always the more emotionally vulnerable out of the three brothers. Compared to the two, he didn't have as many expectations set upon him, so he was free to show as much emotions as he wanted to. A blessing and a curse at the same time.

"Don't be sad, brother Asahi," Daichi says, trying to comfort him in the best way he can. "Look on the bright side; maybe our dear brother will finally find himself a wife during his stay in the Kingdom of Angora."

"Indeed, brother, maybe I wi— wait… I most certainly won't!"

It's quite a sight to behold, honestly. If this were in front of anyone else, Sugawara would not have shown the slightest reaction. However, in front of his brothers, Sugawara could be free to let his guard down. Just like he was at that moment, eyes wide in surprise, looking at his elder brother in shock, while Asahi lit up, glad at the sudden revelation.

"Oh yes!" Asahi exclaims, grabbing Sugawara's hands into his and looking into his eyes intently. "Do use this chance to find yourself a lover, dear brother. You're getting older with each passing year, and yet you're still a bachelor!"

Speechless, Sugawara could do nothing but gape at his brother, who was looking at him expectantly, as if he had placed stars within his eyes. "Brother Asahi is right," Daichi says, smiling mischievously. "You are the only one of us without a lover, brother. Even Sister Kiyoko is to be married to Sir Ryuunosuke this summer, so what's stopping you from finding love?"

"Royal Responsibility?" Sugawara says as if that were the most obvious thing in the entire world. "I am a prince, brother. I can't simply frolic around seducing ladies for my own benefit!"

"Really, brother?" Daichi says, giving him a deadpan stare. "Royal responsibility? Are you not aware that you aren't the only prince in the vicinity?"

"Of course I am!" Sugawara exclaims, slightly flustered. "But still, it is different! You learned to love your spouse after your marriage was arranged, brother. And Brother Asahi, you have all the freedom in the world to choose whom to love! I, on the other hand…."

Asahi and Daichi look at each other, exchanging concerned glances at their brother, who seemed quite perplexed by the situation. Daichi sighs, gathering his thoughts before looking at Sugawara head-on.

"Brother, you are a prince, are you not?"

"Yeah, but—"

"—Then take advantage of it. No matter what others may say, you are still a prince of this kingdom. Therefore, you of all people should have the authority to love whom you choose."

A sudden silence falls between the brothers, this one much heavier than the last, yet at the same time, it's liberating. Daichi's advice provides a clear path for Sugawara, even if it was just for a mere moment.

"I hope you take this advice to heart, brother," Daichi continues after much silence. "It will truly do you good to find love in your life."

Sugawara sighs, still unsure about the situation, yet he looks at his brothers with a slight smile on his face as an act of reassurance.

"Thank you, brother," He says. "I will try to look for love, but I hold no promises that it will be found in the Kingdom of Angora."

The three burst into laughter, the heaviness of the previous situation lifting from their minds. "Who knows, brother?" Asahi says, taking another sip of his tea. "After all, only the Ancient Ones know where our love can be found."

"Indeed," Sugawara agrees, looking up at the sky, eyes squinting from the brightness of the sun. "Who knows what will unfold?"

“Your highness, we have arrived at the Kingdom of Angora.”

Sugawara looks up from where he sat in his abnormally luxurious carriage, documents in hand as he takes a peek outside. It had been a few weeks since his afternoon tea session with his brothers, and since then, he had been relatively busy, juggling preparations for the delegation as well as taking care of his own duties as the second prince in the process.

Not to mention having to deal with all the power-hungry nobles who visited him with regards to the delegation, trying to bribe their way into his favor. It was laughable, really. How could they be so obvious with their intentions? Had they no shame or pride as a noble? Whenever such greedy nobles called for his attention, Sugawara wanted nothing more than to throw them off a cliff and watch them drown. But alas, he couldn’t, lest he risk the reputation of the royal family. So he takes their silly requests with a fake smile, giving them a sense of false hope before cruelly dismissing them afterward.

It was at times like these where he could understand why he was a prince in the first place.

Preparing for the delegation was a painful process indeed, but surprisingly enough, the long journey to the kingdom had been relatively peaceful. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Sugawara rode on a separate carriage compared to the other nobles who were joining him on the delegation. Who knows what he would have done should he had been in the same carriage as Marquess Yuji? That obnoxious little playboy would rat his ear off about how he was a better-suited match for his little sister, and Sugawara swears he would go crazy if he spent more than an hour listening to his pathetic whines.

Sugawara sighs, setting down the documents he held into the portable table in front of him as he takes in the view. Compared to his kingdom, the Kingdom of Angora was filled to the brim with one-of-a-kind industrial buildings. According to Yamaguchi, the outskirts of the capital were home to factories— large warehouses used to develop technological goods. A true sight to behold indeed.

The delegation had just surpassed the border to the Kingdom of Angora mere moments ago and was now making their way towards the capital. The second prince had only been to the kingdom once before when he was a child, and back then, he was amazed at how stunning the country was with its high-class buildings that far surpassed his own kingdom’s

And this time was no different.

The Kingdom of Angora was spectacular, more than words could say. It was different from what Sugawara remembered it to be. Although, he could chalk that up to the fact that he hadn’t stepped one foot in the kingdom since he was a child. But even then, Sugawara could tell that the Kingdom’s beauty was far beyond those in his memories.

And perhaps that had to do with the fact that the Kingdom of Angora was a Kingdom that thrived in magic.

It was one of the many reasons why they prospered more than any other kingdom on the continent. The Kingdom of Angora was surrounded by bountiful resources rich in mana, which was why their ability to infuse magic into every aspect of their life was unmatched. Even commoners were able to use magic, it seemed. Sugawara could sense mana flowing freely in the air, and as he breathed it in, he could feel the magic thrive throughout every crevice in his body, almost as if it were a dream.

Back in the Kingdom of Corvus, magic was a luxury. Something that commoners could only ever dream of. Heck, even within the royal family, the practice of magic was few and far between. It took great talent and effort to be able to perform well in the area of magic, much more to master it. Sugawara himself knew how to wield a bit of wind magic, but it was nothing compared to what the mages of Angora could do. He was stuck with simple spells such as cooling the delegation when the rays of the sun threatened to burn them into ash or in simple tricks when his nieces and nephews would ask him for a show.

But it never compared to the grandeur of using magic to fly and transport objects from one place to another. It never compared to making crops grow faster or healing severe injuries. The magic that the Kingdom of Angora possessed was indescribable, truly, a wonder to behold.

This is why it astonished him when he saw the spectacles of magic within the capital city. While he expected a great welcome for their delegation, as this was a rare occurrence, and their own kingdom had been preparing meticulously for the arrival of Angora’s delegation (courtesy of his sister Kiyoko), he wasn’t expecting it to be this grand of a scale.

A crowd of commoners surrounded the streets, greeting them with cheers as they passed by. Enchanted flowers graced the pavements providing the atmosphere with a calm, radiant, and glorious presence. The welcoming crowd was indeed a sight to behold, more so when Sugawara took in the sight of the way magic weaved through their surroundings, lifting the carriage up in the air.

He had been briefed of this experience nights before, and honestly, at first, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how they were to do this. Levitation magic was considered pretty difficult back in their kingdom, something only the best of the best could do. In fact, only one person in the kingdom could do it, and that was Sir Tenma, who, even by the Kingdom of Angora’s standards, was considered a genius among geniuses.

But to think that the Kingdom of Angora could do it so easily to the point that they could levitate an entire delegation was oddly terrifying yet amusing to him. Sugawara wasn’t going to lie; however, flying in the air, even by carriage, was exhilarating. Sugawara almost feels like a child with how fascinated he was at the sight. Perhaps this delegation wasn’t going as terrible as he thought.

But alas, it was just that, a thought.

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Angora!” A voice calls, booming as Sugawara makes his way out of the carriage, the rest of the nobles and servants following suit. A pathway was made for their entrance, with selected servants lined up on each side in preparation to welcome them, much like how the commoners were in the capital, but this time much more uptight and sophisticated.

A man walks down the path, dressed in a regal red suit. His spiky black hair and obnoxious smile oddly reminded Sugawara of his elder brother back home. It was funny how he was already homesick when it hasn’t even been a full day since he stepped foot in the Kingdom of Angora.

“I’m so glad you all arrived safely,” the man continues. “How was your trip? I hope nothing inconvenienced you on the journey here?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Sugawara replies almost immediately, putting on what he dubs his ‘princely smile’ and shaking the strangers’ hand. “My name is Sugawara Koushi, the second prince of the Kingdom of Corvus. It is a pleasure to meet you….”

“...Kuroo Tetsuro, first prince of the Kingdom of Angora.” At this introduction, Sugawara’s eyes widened, not expecting to be greeted by such a prominent figure. “It is an honor to have an esteemed member of the Corvus Royal Family in our land.”

“As it is an honor for the future king to welcome us,” Sugawara says, smiling. He turns to the two nobles behind him, sighing as he looks into their expectant eyes. “Here with me are Marquess Yuji and Duke Tooru, and as stated in the agreement between our kingdoms, we shall be staying for an entire spring to strengthen our relationship.”

“Indeed,” Prince Tetsuro says, greeting the nobles in the process. “Please do enter. You must be tired from the journey. The head butler will escort you to your rooms. We have prepared a welcoming banquet for you, but that will be much later.”

Agreeing, Sugawara, along with the rest of the delegation, follows Kuroo into the castle walls. And just like how he felt mere moments ago gaping in awe at the spectacularity of the capital, he found himself mesmerized at the regal charm the castle exuded. Each crevice shined as if they were made of actual gold, artifacts, and furniture of intricate designs that he had never seen in his life littered the hallways, showcasing the majesty and splendor of the castle. Truly, it was worth the title it contained.

As the delegation separated with the head butler leading Sugawara to the third floor where his suite would be located, Sugawara found himself gaping in awe once more. However, he didn’t outwardly show it. That would be rather unbecoming of a prince, especially on his first day at a foreign kingdom.

Although nothing could beat the simplicity of his own room back in his own palace, the room the Kingdom of Angora had prepared for him was good enough for a king to reside in. It was spacious, with enough room to house a family of five, maybe even eight if Sugawara thought about it long enough. With exquisite furniture that felt soft to the touch and an atmosphere that made Sugawara feel content and relaxed. He could tell that the servants had put their all into preparing the room for him.

“I do hope the room is to your liking, Your Highness,” the head butler explains as he takes in the way Sugawara observes his surroundings with a keen eye. “Although it does not compare to the luxury you have back in the Kingdom of Corvus, we prepared it bearing your comfort in mind, so please do tell us if anything is not to your liking. We will fix it right away.”

“No need to worry,” Sugawara assures, giving the head butler a small smile. “The room is perfect. Excellent Work.” For a moment, the head butler is flabbergasted, eyes wide in a look of shock that has Sugawara raising his eyebrow in confusion.

“Is something the matter?” He asks as the head butler tries to compose himself.

“N-nothing of the sort, sire. It is an honor to receive praise from someone as esteemed and graceful as yourself.” The way the head butler’s eyes begin to dart around as if he was unsure of himself doesn’t go unnoticed by Sugawara, who can’t help but watch on, confused and amused at the same time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for the welcoming banquet tonight. In the meantime, you are free to explore the castle grounds. But please refrain from going beyond this floor.”

“May I ask, why?” The head butler freezes as if he were hoping that Sugawara would let the subject go and not ask any more questions. But Sugawara had always been a curious fellow. Never one to stray away from something that had caught his eye.

“It is the order of his majesty, the king,” is all the butler says as he turns away. “I hope you understand sire,” There was something about the way the head butler carried himself that seemed off to Sugawara, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. So, with a defeated sigh, he dismisses the head butler leaving him alone with his attendant, Yamaguchi, who had stayed silent and observed the exchange from behind the second prince.

“Will you go beyond this floor, your highness?” Yamaguchi asks once the two were safe, free from the ears of the head butler. Sugawara grins, turning to his attendant with a mischievous grin on his face. “Now, what makes you think that, Yamaguchi?”

“Sire,” Yamaguchi sighs, his confidence growing now that he was alone with his master. “I may have only worked with you as your attendant for a short while, but nevertheless, I’m still your attendant. I’m positive you’re itching to explore the forbidden areas in the palace.”

“How intriguing,” Sugawara muses, smiling to himself as he heads to the balcony of his room, gesturing to Yamaguchi to make him some tea. “You’re absolutely right!”

One of the many reasons why Sugawara had no drive to take over the throne of his own kingdom was that he was an inquisitive child by nature. Sugawara had always been ‘out of the box’ as his tutors once called him, never failing to give them a headache with the amount of ‘nonsensical’ questions he had.

But more than that, his own curiosity had made him somewhat of an existential crisis to the servants of the royal palace. Sugawara was known as the prince who disappeared within the blink of an eye, always off on an unknown adventure.

The first few times it happened, the palace was in a frenzy, afraid that he had been kidnapped, when in reality, Sugawara had been exploring an abandoned ballroom he had unexpectedly found buried deep within the castle. It was his mother who had found him that day, clutching him desperately and scolding him to never do that again.

But Sugawara was not one to be held back, even by his own mother. Honestly, the only person he knew who could hold him back was his father. But he was out of reach for the whole spring, which meant Sugawara had complete and total freedom.

All he had to do was play pretend.

“Your highness,” Yamaguchi says, interrupting his train of thought as he strolls into the balcony with his favorite tea and some local snacks in hand. “I believe it isn’t a good idea to explore just yet, or whatever you plan on doing. You’ve just arrived in the Kingdom of Angora. His majesty will throw a fit if he hears that you’ve caused trouble when representing our kingdom.”

Sugawara chuckles, gratefully accepting the cup of tea Yamaguchi prepared and taking a sip. “Oh, Yamaguchi, what do you take me for? A fool?” His words cause Yamaguchi to stiffen as he stares at his master with uncertain eyes, not knowing what to say. At the sight of his uncertainty, Sugawara lets out another chuckle, smiling slightly. “Of course, I’m aware that I need to keep an image of— what did father call it again? Ah yes, perfection— around the Kingdom, and I do plan on maintaining it for the time being, but… there’s no harm in having a little bit of fun while I’m here, is there not?”

Yamaguchi sighs, retreating back to his original position as he looks at Sugawara with a deadpanned expression as if he were used to it. “I understand, your highness. My apologies for questioning your greatness.” Honestly, Yamaguchi still can’t understand Sugawara sometimes. He was indeed an odd character, acting differently depending on who he was talking to. But in a way, it was part of the prince’s charm, he figured. After all, it was that spontaneity that encouraged the second prince to take him in as an attendant in the first place, and he would forever be grateful for it.

“If I may, your highness,” Yamaguchi speaks up, suddenly remembering an incident that had occurred a few weeks ago. Sugawara nods, encouraging Yamaguchi to continue. “Pardon me for asking, but do you not have plans to heed your brothers’ words?”

At his question, Sugawara perks up, looking at Yamaguchi with a confused gaze. “My brother’s words?” He asks, setting his cup of tea down. “Whatever do you mean?”

Yamaguchi fidgets in his place, unsure whether or not he should continue, but Sugawara encourages him with a gentle smile. “If my memory serves me correct, your highness, the first and third prince have advised you to find a lover, have they not?”

It isn’t apparent, but Sugawara automatically stiffens at his adviser’s reminder, finding himself inwardly groaning. He had already forgotten about his brothers’ constant nagging for him to find a spouse and would have done well without it. But he knows that his brothers would be asking him about the matter the moment he got back from Angora. If there was one thing the three princes shared in common, it was the fact that they were persistent in things that mattered to them. A feat that currently annoyed Sugawara.

“I’ll be honest with you, Yamaguchi. I have absolutely no plans of finding a lover throughout the whole duration of this trip.” From the corner of his eye, Sugawara sees the way Yamaguchi’s shoulders drop in disappointment, finding the sight quite amusing to see. “But if it would help appease my brothers’ insatiable need to insist on my marriage, then I suppose I—”

All of a sudden, much to Sugawara’s surprise, a gentle melody fills the air. It’s a simple melody, nothing too grand and noble; it was a melody that was soft and supple, pleasing to the ears and charming his every being. It was as if Sugawara were laying in a field of roses and dandelions and everything in between, taking in the warm rays of the sun and basking in the presence of the calm wind.

It was like spring.

“—Do you hear that?” Sugawara asks, eyes wide as he looks to his sides, trying to find the source of the extraordinary music he had just heard. It was like anything he had ever come across before in his life. Even the best musicians’ work couldn’t compare to the emotions that overcame him the moment the mysterious melody graced his ears.

“Hear what, your highness?” Yamaguchi asks, confused at his master’s behavior. “That sound,” Sugawara says hastily as he stands from his seat and approaches the edge of the balcony, looking out into the palace gardens. “That music. Was it a piano? A violin? No. It was most certainly a piano, yet why did it sound so different?”

“Your highness?” Yamaguchi calls out, approaching him cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Are you sure you didn’t hear it, Yamaguchi?” Sugawara asks, turning to his attendant with astonished eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t hear that majestic melody that was just playing mere moments ago?”

“I’m afraid not, your highness,” Yamaguchi answers, uncertain. He was sure that nothing had been playing the whole time. All he had been doing was waiting for his master to finish his sentence. It was strange that he had suddenly grown silent, almost as if he were bewitched by something. But oddly enough, Yamaguchi found nothing odd in the vicinity.

“That’s odd,” Sugawara mutters to himself as he turns around, facing the palace gardens once more, wishing to hear that beloved tune one more time, “I’m pretty sure I heard something. What a shame, it was such a beautiful sound….”

Sugawara sighs before composing himself and turning to his attendant, who was still looking at him with uncertain eyes. “I apologize for that, Yamaguchi. That was unsightly of me. What was I saying?”

Yamaguchi gulps, not sure what to make of his master’s sudden behavior. “We were discussing about a possible spouse, your highness?”

“Ah yes,” Sugawara says, internally groaning. “Do arrange for me one meeting with any noble lady of your choosing. I trust your judgment.”

“Are you sure, your highness?” Yamaguchi asks, perplexed. “Wouldn’t it be better to handpick a date of your own choosing?”

“Perhaps,” Sugawara says, settling into his seat. “But I don’t plan on engaging in romantic endeavors beyond this one date. For entrepreneurial endeavors, maybe. However, this is mainly to get my brothers off my back. You will assist me, won’t you?”

“As you wish, your highness,” Yamaguchi says as if he had given up on trying to convince his master otherwise. “I shall begin the preparations right away.”

When Yamaguchi leaves, Sugawara finally feels as if he can take a breather. It wasn’t as if being around his attendant was suffocating. In fact, it was pretty enjoyable for Sugawara to be around Yamaguchi. He was fun to tease and play with, especially around the presence of his family.

Rather what made Sugawara feel as if he were finally breaking free from the imaginary chains that bind him was the fact that he could finally process precisely what happened just mere moments ago.

That tune. That delightful melody. That sweet sound.

Just what was it? It lit a flame inside of Sugawara, a flame that he was entirely unfamiliar with. It was as if the sound was calling him, beckoning him to reach out and find it. It was magical and for all the right reasons. If Sugawara could, he would immediately set out to find the maker of this incredible tune, but alas, he had no leads.

He had to test the waters, find the perfect spot for him to dive in, and search for invaluable treasure. He was in unknown territory, after all. Yet, even with the dangers it posed, Sugawara couldn’t help but get all giddy with excitement.

This was the adventure he had been searching for. Forget the fact that he was dreading the delegation due to being stuck with some irrational nobles vetting for the throne. Forget his brothers’ nagging about finding a spouse before he returned home. This was what Sugawara would do throughout his stay in the Kingdom of Angora.

He would search every inch and crevice just to find that heavenly tune.

The search for the mysterious tune was no easy feat, mind you. Sugawara had to endure long strides of putting on a fake facade of being the perfect prince to the Kingdom of Angora. Considering how he always had to have his guard up as compared to back at home, this trip was much more taxing, especially when it came to dealing with the Angorian Royal Family.

Don’t get him wrong. Sugawara thinks that the royal family of Angora was charming in their own way. The king and queen were very generous in their welcoming, laughing wholeheartedly during the welcoming banquet. The many princes and princesses of the kingdom were the same, although some more reserved than others, and some with barely any reaction at all. Well, it was expected, of course. Not everyone had the same personality.

Take the first and second princess, for example. The first princess was the queen’s daughter, with a very much aloof yet dignified personality that was pleasing to engage with. Princess Alisa was in every way a stunning princess (although not as attractive as his little sister Kiyoko, but perhaps Sugawara was biased) and held herself gracefully with an alluring charm floating around her.

On the other hand, the second princess, Princess Akane, daughter of the third queen, was anything but delicate. She was loud, rowdy, and was in no way the textbook definition of a princess. But she held herself with a certain confidence that made her stand firm. Perhaps it was due to her profound relationship with Prince Taketora, the third prince, that resulted to it. They were quite an exciting pair of siblings.

Yet, despite how amusing Sugawara found the Angorian royal family’s dynamic to be, there was something off. There was something about them that made Sugawara keep his guard up. Maybe it was the uninteresting jokes they made or the way they unintentionally left them out of the conversation. Or perhaps it was the way they boasted about themselves as if they were the best kingdom in the whole continent.

Really? In front of your allies? How despicable, Sugawara thought to himself.

When he tried to bring up his curiosity over the music he had heard earlier that afternoon by inquiring about their musicians, they had answered, but not in the way Sugawara liked. The moment he brought it up, the king had gone on what felt like an endless rant about how their musicians were blessings from their god and how they had provided them the talent to be the most exquisite musicians in the whole continent.

And maybe, Sugawara could admit that part of their boast could be true if the one behind that heavenly sound was one of the kingdom’s esteemed musicians. Then they would indeed have a basis for their claims. But at that moment, Sugawara could only despise their boasting.

He wanted to know more than the fact that they were blessed because, of course, that was already a given. The fact that one could play an instrument was already a feat in and out of himself. What Sugawara longed to know was who was the one behind that marvelous tune and how exactly did they come up with it? What was the story behind their music? Because never in Sugawara’s life had music shaken up the way that melody had. It was truly remarkable.

But sadly, Sugawara wasn’t able to get his answer that night.

Or for the next few days, for that matter.

Sugawara had expected this prior to the journey to Angora, but all these tedious tasks were hellishly dull. Ever since he was a child, Sugawara hated anything that had to do with nobility and aristocracy. It was all so pointless to him. Why did they have to be so secretive and fake all the time? Why couldn’t they be straightforward with their actions?

Nobles were nothing but sly, proud, and despicable, even with a few exceptions. And that truth remained no matter where Sugawara went. The past few days, he had been guided throughout the capital city, visiting all the noble shops and establishments and taking a closer look at how they did their businesses.

And it was evident to Sugawara that most nobles were just in it for the money. Sure, they made good businessmen. They understood trends and what was needed within the market, but Sugawara couldn’t feel any passion in their work. Those who were passionate about what they were doing were always the most pleasing ones to converse with. It was always a joy to be around them as it made the stress of his work go away seeing the determined expressions they wore.

But there was none of that he could see in the nobility.

The only thing good about their greedy nature was that it provided Sugawara an opportunity to observe and integrate concepts that he found beneficial to his own country. He expected there to be tons of magic involved, but oddly enough, there was none. It was quite strange for a kingdom that prided itself on magic to not have as much of it in the business front.

Although it made sense when he asked about it. Prince Morisuke, the second prince and the one in charge of the delegation, had informed him that magic was sacred and a bond between the citizens to their faith in the Kingdom of Angora. If they were to use it for unsightly purposes, then that magic would dwindle, and the kingdom would find themselves ruined.

At the explanation, Sugawara decided not to push it further. Magic was something he was entirely unfamiliar with, even if he did know how to wield it. So it made sense to him that a kingdom with much more expertise in the subject would treat it as invaluable. Shame it wasn’t used as much as he thought it was. It would have done wonders.

Aside from his curiosities about magic, Sugawara found the first two weeks of the entire delegation absolutely boring. Every day was a blur of waking up, having breakfast, visiting some sort of place with noble connection, coming back to the palace, writing reports, then sleeping. The only thing that differed was the occasional banter with Marques Yuji and Duke Tooru, who were hell-bent on having fun during the minimal free time they had. The audacity the two had, really. While he was here writing mundane reports for his father (more like his advisers) to mull over.

That is until today.

Today was probably the most exciting day of the delegation so far. Prince Morisuke had announced the night prior that they would be paying a visit to the royal orchestra to learn about the wonders of noble Angorian music. And to be honest, Sugawara was ecstatic.

Because finally, he was taking the first step in achieving his goal.

No matter how much he tried to, Sugawara couldn’t shake the thought of that melody out of his mind. It stuck to him like a parasite, reminding him day and night of how tantalizing it was. Almost as if the song itself were a seductress, lulling Sugawara into its’ arms. And he was willing to follow it.

How desperately did Sugawara want to just drop his duties, leave, and search for the source of the sound? The more time passed, the more the thought of abandoning his father’s wishes seemed appealing, a feat that should usually have frightened the second prince by now. But that was beside the point.

If he played his cards right, Sugawara could finally have the answer he was looking for.

True to its reputation and prestige, the Angorian Royal Orchestra was a sight to behold. According to Prince Morisuke, they practiced in the central performing hall; A majestic concert hall that would make anyone’s jaw drop from its’ beauty and splendor. Decked in red and gold, with a dome that resembled the night sky, Sugawara could almost feel his eyes watering from the majesty of the hall’s design.

If he ever had a chance to meet the architect, he would most definitely shower him in a million jewels and more if he so wished.

But beyond that, the orchestra itself, composed of various musicians with talent that Sugawara could say, was out of this world. Even tuning their instruments sounded heavenly to the ears. But after hearing that delightful tune back on his first day, Sugawara couldn’t help but feel as if the music they were letting out could not compare, even though deep down he knew that they were the best of the best.

And that thought continued all throughout their remarkable performance. Don’t get him wrong, Sugawara enjoyed their performance. Their rendition of well-renowned pieces was incredible and showcased their technical skill and incomparable talent. Yet, something felt off. As if there was a missing piece in the puzzle, even though judging by the looks of the rest of his companions, their performance felt complete.

Sugawara was sure that if he could just hear that melody one more time, he would know exactly what was missing with the performance.

“How did you find the performance, gentlemen?” Prince Morisuke, with his light brown hair and courteous smile, asked. Before Sugawara could answer, choruses of praise from the other two nobles resonated around him, remarking how splendid the performance was.

“And how about you, Prince Sugawara?” Prince Morisuke asks, turning to him. “How did you find the performance?”

“Splendid,” Sugawara says, a fake smile plastered on his face. “So splendid, in fact, that I would love to hear more.” Sometimes, Sugawara had to praise himself for how much of a quick thinker he was. It was obvious that his question caught Prince Morisuke off guard as he darted his eyes to meet the head conductor, who looked back with equally nervous ones.

“I apologize, Prince Sugawara,” Prince Morisuke says, sighing in disappointment. “I’m afraid this is all our orchestra has prepared for you today….”

“Oh,” Sugawara mutters, keeping up his facade. “That’s a shame. I was hoping such a great orchestra like yours could provide us with one more performance. Don’t you agree, Marquess Yuji, Duke Tooru?” The two nobles that accompanied him nodded enthusiastically, sharing their desire to hear the wonderful music the orchestra could offer.

But Sugawara had other plans.

“Even if it’s just the piano playing, we would be absolutely delighted, Prince Morisuke,” Sugawara says, a seemingly innocent expression flashing up to the exasperated prince. “However, if that too is impossible, then I suppose there’s no helping it….”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Prince Sugawara,” Prince Morisuke replies in a frenzy. “Of course, it is not a problem. I’m sure our pianists are capable of conjuring something satisfactory, am I right?”

From the corner of his eye, Sugawara watches as the pianists panic, not knowing what to do. But a harsh glare from both the conductor and Prince Morisuke leads them to hesitantly agree, the head pianist offering to play a piece he had mastered since his childhood.

At his proposition, Sugawara could feel the excitement build up inside him, although he did well to keep it concealed. Could this pianist be the one responsible for the melody that had haunted his thoughts with each waking moment? He just had to know. Unknowingly he leaned just a bit closer, ears perked and ready to take in the music.

But when it came, he was disappointed.

No doubt, the music was beautiful. Sugawara could tell that the pianist put great care into each and every note they touched upon, a perfect tune flowing from his fingerprints. But it didn’t compare.

It didn’t compare to that mysterious sound he had heard. That sound that made his souls waver and his heart clench; that sound that made him yearn to hear more, to dwell in its’ masterpiece.

If not even the best pianist in the kingdom could create that sound, then Perhaps, like Yamaguchi said, it was a figment of his imagination. But could his imagination really produce such beauty? Sugawara didn’t know.

What he did know was that the moment he arrived back at his room, he slumped into the many lush seats, defeated. With the limited freedom, he had to explore, Sugawara was afraid that he would never find what he was looking for. Yamaguchi looks at him with a soft yet knowing smile, already pouring the tea he had prepared prior to his master’s arrival.

“Your highness?” Yamaguchi asked, breaking Sugawara away from his train of misery. The said prince says nothing but waves his hand, signaling his attendant to continue. “Perhaps a change of pace might relieve you of your worries? You do have the afternoon to yourself, so maybe you could use this time to explore the palace gardens?”

At his words, Sugawara sits up, looking at Yamaguchi with a shocked face. “Just now…” he says as if a miracle were gracing his ears. “What did you just say?”

“I asked if you wanted to take a walk in the gardens, your highness,” Yamaguchi replies, confused at the sudden switch in the prince’s behavior. “You have the rest of the day off, after all….”

“Truly?!” Sugawara asks, standing up from his seat and clasping Yamaguchi by the shoulders, shaking him as if he couldn’t contain his excitement. If it weren’t for the fact that he had already set the kettle down on the table, Yamaguchi was sure that he would have let it go from his grasp, and who knows what horrors he might face once the head butler found out of his incompetence, especially as the attendant of a foreign prince.

“I have the day off today?” Sugawara continues, not caring about the near dilemma he had put his attendant through. “Do not dare lie to me, Yamaguchi, or I swear by The Ancient Ones I will—“

“—Heavens no, your highness!” Yamaguchi exclaims, begging Sugawara to stop. The prince, realizing his actions momentarily halts, staying silent to allow some space for his attendant to continue.

“According to His Highness, Prince Morisuke, the next event for the delegation will be a visit to the magic academy, which will take some time to prepare. Thus, they have allowed some liberty to the schedule….”

It’s silent for a moment; Sugawara and Yamaguchi caught in a stare-off with Sugawara showcasing a blank look while Yamaguchi showcases an unsure one, unable to read the e thoughts swirling in his master’s mind.

“Well then,” Sugawara says, releasing his hold on the poor attendant’s shoulders. “Bless the Ancient Ones because Heaven knows how long I’ve been waiting for this day!” He exclaims, smiling brightly. “Make haste, Yamaguchi! We are to explore the palace this instant!”

Sugawara’s outburst should, by theory, surprise Yamaguchi. But throughout their stay in the Kingdom of Angora, the poor attendant has realized that this truly is how his master is. Very boisterous and spontaneous on his own terms. The second prince was indeed a curious man to get to know, and Yamaguchi can only be grateful that he got to serve him.

The palace gardens were absolutely astounding.

Sure, Sugawara had seen the gardens from the balcony of his suite, but to see it in person, where each plant and flower was clearly displayed for his eyes to admire, was an entirely different experience.

The flora of the garden was gorgeous with its intricate details, delicate scents, and show-stopping beauty. Sugawara could only imagine how much time, effort, and care it took to maintain a garden as spectacular as this. Truly, the palace gardeners were competent and excelled at their job.

Sugawara admired the way the local flowers, trees, and herbs made him feel calm. Even though he wasn’t supposed to, Sugawara figured that in the presence of such luscious nature, he shouldn’t hold himself back from relaxing just a tad bit. His shoulders slacken, and he takes in a breath of fresh air, sighing happily at the feeling.

“I assume the garden is to your liking, your highness?” Yamaguchi asks from behind him, observing the way his master frolicked around like a little kid, even though from an outsider’s perspective, he looked as dignified and sophisticated as a prince should be.

“Yes,” Sugawara says, smiling happily. “Indeed it is. With perfect weather like this, it truly is a blessing that the royal family has given us the liberty to roam around and explore. May the Ancient Ones bless them.”

If possible, Sugawara wanted to shower the Angorian Royal Family in many favors as a symbol of thanks for granting him the luxury of time. If he had to spend one more day galloping around nobles like a fool and writing boring reports to his father, then he was a hundred percent sure that he would have gone crazy.

But luckily, the fresh scent of nature and the relaxing atmosphere took those burdens away from his mind, albeit temporarily. Sugawara feels like he’s at the comfort of his home, or better yet, the royal library back at his own kingdom, where he would relax by unwinding to his favorite book, while his attendant Yamaguchi searched desperately for him around the palace halls.

Ah yes, perhaps Sugawara was homesick.

Maybe that was why he had heard such a wonderful melody that day because he was missing home. Home is where the heart is, as they say. And the longing for home was especially strong on the first day.

If that were so, then Sugawara wishes he could hear that melody again. Even if it was through a dream. That sweet, sweet melody that made Sugawara feel as if he were on top of the softest clouds, drifting through the air while the warm sun shines down on him; the scent of roses and daisies graving his senses.

The sensation was so surreal that it was giving Sugawara chills just thinking about it. That gentle melody, precise yet hinged, confident yet soft, as if it were ringing in his ears and gracing his presence. That melody changed his perception of music after only one listen.

Oh, if only Sugawara had the chance to hear it once mo—

Wait.

Sugawara opens his eyes in shock as he finally takes in his surroundings and true to his instincts. He didn’t imagine the sound at all. Of course not, he chided himself; it sounded too realistic to be a memory born from imagination. No, instead, those clear notes that soothed his heart and would were caressing his ears at the very moment, lulling him in like it had done days before.

And this time, Sugawara was determined to find the source of it.

“Your highness?!” Yamaguchi asked, surprised to see the second prince suddenly sprint, running away from him. “Where are you going?”

Sugawara doesn’t answer, too focused on figuring out where the sound was coming from, he turns right, heading deeper into the gardens while his attendant calls after him, trying to chase him down and ask him what the problem was, but it was no use. Sugawara was much faster than Yamaguchi. He was a prince, after all.

Soon enough, after what felt like an eternity of running, Sugawara finds himself face to face with a cobblestone wall, a heavy door staring right back at him. That’s strange, he thinks to himself. I didn’t see this door from up on my balcony. Has it always been there?

Probably, Sugawara figures, shrugging as he takes the first step and opens the door, pleasantly surprised to see a forest on the other side. But honestly, he shouldn’t have been. This wasn’t his castle, after all, and he had so much more to explore.

For the first time in a long time, Sugawara felt like a child again. He remembers the days when he would run around the hidden rooms of the castle and look for secret exits or lost doors. He was somewhat of a troublemaker, no matter how refined royalty made him. It was one of the only ways to truly make the most of his childhood, after all.

Following the sound that only seemed to grow stronger the moment he took the first step out into the forest, Sugawara travels through the unknown, going through bushes and trees, desperate to hear more of that alluring tune, until he finally reached a clearing and is floored by what he sees.

There, in the middle of the forest, next to a great big tree, was a girl, a commoner by the looks of it, with ragged clothes and messy yet somehow styled hair, playing away on a beaten-up piano.

Even from afar, Sugawara could see that the piano should have been out of commission. Plants were already growing out of it as if it were eating the piano whole, and if he looked hard enough, he could see a few missing keys. But that was the least of Sugawara’s worries.

Because right now, he was entranced by how enchanting the entire scene was. The melody he had been thinking about for what felt like time eternal was brought to life before his eyes. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the Angorian royal orchestra’s performance. No, everything about the performance in front of him was rustic, simple, and carefree but somehow all the more powerful, and he couldn’t turn away.

It was as if the girl had lost herself in the music, letting her hands flow freely as they played that wonderful melody that haunted his mind and soothed his heart. This was probably a sight the most outstanding artists would kill to see. A view so beautiful, paired with a sound so mesmerizing that Sugawara can almost feel the tears slipping from his eyes.

He wants to hear more; he wants to experience more. He wants to get to know the girl and how she was able to come up with such incredible music.

But before he knows it, the music comes to a halt. The silence of the forest rushes in like a thundering wave, overcoming Sugawara with the realization that the girl he had been admiring was staring at him, terrified.

“W-who?” She stutters, eyes wide in shock. “Who are you?”

➢ taglist: @mirakeul

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara x you #sugawara koushi x you

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