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moondirti · 1 year

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animalic (6)

← chapter five // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 4k summary: misery makes good company warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angst, i mean it guys, miguel o'hara is really not nice in this one, fighting, death/extinction, morally questionable characters, weapons of mass destruction, implied drug withdrawal, reader is given a backstory notes: apologies for what's to come. it's okay if you hate me after

“Don’t move. You’ll make it worse.”

There’s a warm hand cupping the back of your head, callused fingers spread to steady the junction between it and your shoulder. It’s the first thing you notice when you wake; that, and the breath fanning across your face.

You think it odd. Signs of life pound beneath you like the febrile concoction of a dream, burning hot in emphasis that you’d survived. A heavy pulse behind your brow, the headache pinching at every sense until they all dim to conductive static. Your tongue, pasty on the roof of your mouth. The hind of your arm itches, the urge running bone-deep, humming from flesh gracelessly torn apart by a gutter. When you shift to examine it, a fire roars up your neck, the smouldering pain robbing you of any effort.

(The only other time you’d been this uncomfortable, you were bitten by a spider the third month of your internship with Alchemax. The puncture site didn’t burn so much as the delirium that followed.)

“What did I just say?”

And, there’s that voice. You find it difficult to discern its more unique attributes, words muffled from behind the wavering pane of your lucidity – yet, even still, it stands as the most tangible thing present. Deep, resonant. Smoked with a ruggedness you can feel in your teeth. It doesn’t occur to you why it seems so unfamiliar; perhaps it’s the fact that you catch it through its source, your ear pressed to a muscled chest. Or, that’s it’s whispering.

You’ve never heard him whisper. Not to you.

The need to retaliate swells once you realise who holds you. It’s nothing productive, not the string of questions you should be asking – what’s happening, where are we; but it’s the only natural instinct that overcomes you. When you attempt to make good on it, though, the clutter of jokes, gripes, and snubs tangle in your throat, emerging as little more than a groan.

And the act wears you more than it probably should, exhausted tremors wracking your frame. A tender ache ripples from a point on your ribcage – separate from the area you’d fractured at the quarry. The pressure here is more centralised, a focused bruise you locate the source of with a wriggle of your elbow, when a rock comes loose and clatters to settle underneath you. It joins a mound of similar rubble, a pseudo-cushion of chalky cement broken off the larger slabs surrounding you.

You assume they do, at least – based on what you can tell of the terrain behind your back. In reality, you have no means to confirm your circumstances. The space around you swims in ink-blot darkness, the type that is almost material, where sheer absence of light could be considered an element of its own. You squeeze your eyes shut, then widen them, and find that there’s no difference between the two.

So – dark, dusty and… cramped. You’re positioned across Miguel’s lap, his legs running under and perpendicular to yours. Neither of you can stretch them to their full extent, however, forced to cross and bend in unwieldy ways, tangling further in each other's limbs. Your clothes are worn out enough to allow you to detect when any surface of his body – tense abdomen and thick thighs – twitches, thrumming with a molasses-slow tension that starts to diffuse through you.

Not a scenario of his own choosing, then.

But the turn of events that might’ve converged to this are lost on you, white noise fluffing the space they’d evacuated. Last you recall, you were staring down a cop car, the lingering comfort of a child’s trust filling you with a remarkable sort of purpose, that which you cannot place. Had you acted against that convict? Or left it up to the man cradling you?

As if on cue, he speaks.

“You’re trapped under a collapsed building.”

He says you like he’s not a confounding variable in this equation. You know it’s meant to single your blame in this, stranding it somewhere where you can brood without cross-examining him or why he’s here too. It nests on a well of guilt you keep suppressed for good reason, irking you in a particularly special way.

“Figured that out for myself, thanks.” Despite the trouble you put into getting the retort out undisturbed, it ends up sounding more unconvincing than not. Miguel waits for the coughing fit you have afterwards to subside before pitching in his acknowledgment.

“Did you, now?”

Little shit isn’t even trying to hide his sarcasm.

You ignore him, continuing with your scepticism. “I’m just wondering why we’re still here.”

Because it’s a genuine conjecture. While you’re not a part of the educated camp in spider-hero abilities – being so clueless to the extent of your own – you’re far too familiar with that infamous super strength. You’d sensed the difference for yourself; your increasing aptness in carrying hefty weights, the fluidity with which you cruise through life, physically unperturbed. And you’ve been on the receiving end of the spectrum too, your skin littered with scars that point to the sheer power of your companion.

A few tonnes of demolished concrete should be a walk in the park for him.

He clicks his tongue like it’s obvious. “I pulled under a steel arc in time for the debris not to crush us. If I disturb this pocket, or try to rearrange a tunnel, then I run the risk again.”

The logic makes sense, as much as you hate to admit it. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from picking at the contrivances in his language. It was you when discussing what went wrong, and now it’s I when it comes to the out. You realise it’s probably unintentional. Somehow, that makes it worse. He must truly believe you’re nothing beyond a malevolent fuck-up; some villain willing to sacrifice herself for the greater demise.

(The latter might have its validity. It’s the former you hold issue with.)

Likewise, you also ascertain an easy fix to all this – on account of your spectral properties. And, if you were a better woman, it would’ve been feasible. Phase out, crawl through until you breach the open, get help.

It’s long since been established that you’re not that person, though – and you’ve come to accept your own incompetence. You don’t mean to die here; you’re not sure if you want him too either, for all your ire. But your immateriality is a fickle thing, recurring at the most inopportune times, in the smallest increments – a potential problem for the doubtlessly long crawl it’d take to escape. You don’t want to imagine what would happen should you solidify within the walls.

Resignation seems easier than tempting it.

Miguel must recognise the option as well. As it stands for him, he can’t afford to let you go, nor is he desperate enough to trust you yet despite it. You don’t bring it up then, maintaining the upper-hand by his misunderstanding of your capacity.

(Maybe you are evil.

Or, just tired.)

“That’s okay. I think it would be funny if we passed like this.” You pitch, nudging your cheek to urge the smile clearly lacking in your tone. There’s no humour behind your choice of phrase, and it’s a jarring step back from where he’d been, expounding himself. You suppose it might be a clumsy distraction from the exact gravity of your predicament, yet even that rolls over in your brain, not quite satisfactory to dissolve as truth. “It’ll make a nice story for the people who dig us up.”

His chest puffs, filling with an irritated inhale. In the same movement, his fingers constrict onto your cranial base; it has the adverse effect of bracing your neck for the sudden shift, minimising the soreness triggered by any activity. You decide to take it as the warning it’s meant to be instead.

“Eres patética.” He murmurs, sinking back down. You wince when his clutch weakens, pain flaring. “And whiplashed.”

You purse your lips, critical. “I’ve had worse.”

“Sure.”

“My arm–”

“Will be fine.” As if to punctuate, he reaches for the wound. A clink sounds when he taps it. “Used the nanotech off my suit as a bandage.”

You should have caught that it doesn’t sting like it would’ve if exposed. Similarly, his hands are gloveless. Bare – while the rest of him isn’t. You’d felt the dry surface of his palm, the fixed warmth it emanated, but for some oversight, you hadn’t considered that he was touching you. Skin-to-skin, the simple size of his fists dwarfing you in every measure.

A stone lodges in your throat.

“Did– How’d you know?” You pry, referencing the perpetual tenebrosity you’re suspended in.

What he replies with shouldn't shock you, not as much as it does. But the air’s shifted to a nuanced degree, a hesitation substituting loud anger. It's the awareness that he's just as tuned in to you as you are him, sympathetic to try and redirect you off the brink of death. Or, more likely, it’s the poignant impression of his fangs, wedged in your flesh, his tongue lapping up the very same path.

(And the wanton moan it’d triggered.)

“I could smell the blood.”

Oh.

Truthfully, you’ve no clue whether you respond aloud or keep your contemplation close to your psyche. He admits it almost… awkwardly, like it’s a condition he’s not so fond of himself. Yet it’s one that reverberates in the strained silence, plucking at taut strings that stretch with every passing second. You play it on repeat, stewing over the way in which he spoke; the diction, the stressors, the slight roll of his accent.

I could smell it. I could smell you. The blood.

Your life on the run hardly ever allows for moments like these. Over the past year, stress has anchored itself by the dock of your being, streamlining a flow of cortisol to every major organ. Continuity hinges on an alertness to the forces propelling you, and while the occasional wisecrack can alleviate some effects it has on your health, you don’t have the luxury of sinking into whatever fear bolsters it all.

It’s with him, though – hanging from a crane, or cornered in a pen of his own design. Only ever with him are you slapped with the resounding, festering distress of your own weakness. It consumes you, gnawing on your gut with its brutal teeth, tearing away the indifference you’d built around your systems. How dissimilar the two of you are; a girl unwilling to fight for even herself, and a man capable of wrapping a slash in the dark.

(He could smell it. And he can probably see, too.

By just how much does he outmatch you?)

“You’re welcome.” Miguel growls. You scold yourself for your elongated reticence, the pace of your heart overtaking the anxious torrent of thoughts that pump through you. It’s good practice to thank the man who’d saved your life four times over. Be that as it may, does it really count if he’s the reason it was necessary to begin with? He’d dropped you off that crane, he’d swung you a hundred feet high. Him, him, him.

You curl your tongue, desperate to quell the barrage of resentment that escalates at his prodding. Despite it pulling you from your rapid dissociation, your fight-or-flight peaks, forcing you to face a confrontation you don’t need. There’s nowhere to run – presently, you’re moored into place, his physicality and unique provocation blocking the possibility all together.

You scoff to placate the spiralling desire to argue.

It doesn’t work.

“For what?” You hiss.

All too quickly, his legs spread, creating a trough for you to slide down into. When your ass hits the unforgiving floor, you involuntarily cringe at the contrast it poses to his leg. A calculated effect, you’re sure – so too is the newfound freedom of his grip releasing your head, the crossing of his forearms pushing you away from the post his pecs provided.

It’s what you wanted, to distance yourself from his overbearing stature. And he manipulates it to his own favour; you’re made to bear your burden, the agony of your injured state tripling as if to exclaim: ‘see?’

Touché.

Nevertheless, it palliates your memory. The chill of the earth under you spikes your nerves, clearing the brume overcasting your day previous. You’d driven a car into that symbiote based on a groundless hypothesis; bold, any scientist would tell you. Yet, as far as your perception extends, it worked.

“Selfish.” He announces, far from discrete. It’s so unlike him that it smites the ego beginning to coagulate at your remembered success.

Your eyes snap to where you assume his face is, squinting like your glare makes any difference. “Excuse me?”

Undeterred by the threat inherent in your tone – that which is all talk – he persists. “Who do you think you are exactly, Wraith?”

The interrogation holds a dangerous quality; again, it feels out of place, a spirit tugging at the strings of his hollow self.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? What would you prefer? Anomaly, banshee? You drag death behind you like it’s a curse, only you’ve opted into it. I told you it wasn’t our place to interfere, and you had to push it–”

He can be jaded, or subtle. Oftentimes, he’s dismissive and passively rude.

But Miguel O’Hara is never heedlessly hostile. Not like this.

“That wasn’t my fault, asshole. I fucking glitched!”

“¡Órale, estás bien pendeja! Nothing ever is, of course! Has it never occurred to you to take a good look in the mirror?”

The irregularity scares you. Your voice breaks with it.

“O’Hara–”

“Because I’ll tell you what I see; a girl who can’t face what she’s done.”

“You don’t know me.” You shake your head, tamping the stiffness in your shoulder. It does nothing to exercise the sharp unease that flays you alive.

“A self-serving criminal who refuses to listen.”

“I d– I tried.” Hiccupping, the edge worsens.

“You’d have gone back home–”

“There’s nothing left for me there!”

“Like there is anywhere else? You’ve devastated them!”

“Stop it–”

“Wrecked entire worlds! I’ve been the only one holding it all together,” He yells, pushing his knees closer to one another. You’re slowly crushed in the process, thighs drawing up to press against your torso. “You’re no victim. You’re no hero.”

“Stop it!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

Feverish tears slice down your cheeks, spouting to escape the pressure that balloons within you. Your lungs tighten alongside it, heart aching. It’s progressed past the point of prevention – no longer do you retain control of how this turns out. All you can do is drift; a feather, seized in this tempest, stirred by a disembodied man.

When you don’t respond, preferring to preserve your energy for the sobs that rip from you, he inches closer. You sense it when he repeats himself, his hot breath lining the shell of your ear.

“Well,” His claws sharpen, grazing the small of your back. “Am I?”

His lisp is more pronounced like this, fangs extended to affect the natural position of his mouth. It warps the undertone, like a pool does light, and sends it back more viscous than ever. He’s uninhibited – an addict missing his fix.

It’s almost impossible to choke the admission out against the hatred churning your stomach. When you unhinge your jaw, it’s a credible wager that you retch all over yourself instead.

“No.” You manage to warble, a mixture of snot and wet misery streaking down your chin. Your wrists stay plastered, allowing the mess to mask your countenance, tucking between your legs in a childlike attempt at comfort. Cruelty crackles – self-propagated now – assaulting your faux-confidence until it plummets to a fraction of what it was.

Cursed. A wraith – haunting the multiverse with her unfinished business.

There’s nothing left to declare as his impressions are confirmed. You both mark it, this changed, spoken into existence by your divulgence. By some miracle, if you were to slip his capture, it’d be no more of a victory than the gore crusting your fingernails. Proof for his belittlement; that you truly are so inconsiderate as to further endanger the lives of millions.

(Would you be able to live with yourself?)

You relapse, agonising over the past week. Not a victim – you’d taken advantage of him with a kiss for an unsure opportunity. Not a hero – you’d punched a robber and gotten a civilian killed in the process. You’d run over a murderer and buried several under an early grave.

(Can you live with yourself?)

And home–

Trapped, you boil in a pond of your transgressions. It’d been a long time coming – your fault, in fact. You should’ve noticed the water was gradually heating.

There’d been a dam of careful construction at this bank, stacked tirelessly over the several nights you’d been given to think on what you’ve done. To prevent your clear culpability from catching up to you, to blind others to it too. He’s right, but not about all things. You’ve memorised your reflection at this point. Put it in a line up, and you’ll point your place in hell with facile certainty.

So, there’s no need to admit anything else. Regardless, his sabotage compels you to. Here, loitering purgatory with the one person who’d never understand; what harm could confession do? His opinion of you skims rock bottom, and you’ve no hope at seeing a priest before you rot.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

“I’m not innocent.” You start. “Never have been.”

Alpha Centauri, that was the goal.

Located only four light years away, it’s the closest star system to Earth; with suns Rigil Kentaurus, Toliman and Proxima Centauri forming a trinary network. All main sequence stars – like humanity’s very own Sol – orbited by suspected habitable exoplanets. With the average chemical rocket, it’d take upwards of six thousand years to get there.

There lay alternatives, of course. Nuclear fission, with an energy yield of almost zero from its original mass. Fusion, ten times as efficient – still, not nearly enough. Ion accelerators, sunlight capture. Interstellar arks were of no interest; no, you’d wanted to achieve extrasolar travel within your lifetime. Warp drives and hyperspace – all theoretical.

As an undergrad, you’d settled on matter-antimatter collision.

The latter, antimatter, exists as an inverted twin to ordinary subatomic particles, with flipped states on every front. Antiprotons – negative protons with oppositely directed magnetism, and positrons – positively charged electrons. When the two meet their counterparts, their entire mass is converted into energy. And, when such annihilation is modelled within engines, a ship can accelerate to ninety percent the speed of light.

Therein subsisted your only chance to touch the stars.

Of course, like all hypotheticals, it came with its own array of issues. No natural reservoir of the substance is known, and producing at least one tonne would take more power than mankind has used in all its history. Moreover, it’s near nonviable to store. Any container that has ever touched regular matter would only cause preemptive decimation.

You wrote papers and studied computer-generated prototypes. You argued with professors, and attended pro-conferences. Months worth of minimum wage were blown on trips to Argentina, where the neighbouring system can be spotted through a telescope, winking above the horizon. When it all started to appear fruitless, you caught wind of Alchemex’s exploits within the field.

It was a young company, hobbling on its feet after a rocky merger with Oscorp. But they were daring, and rich, endeavouring into categories that most deemed nonprofit. You’d applied for an internship, waited months to hear back. By some cosmic karma, it turned out to be good news when you eventually did.

They were already working on manufacturing the antimatter. It was your suggestion that encouraged them to use magnets to store it within a vacuum.

It looked auspicious. It had been.

Then, you were bit.

The spider was from another division – radiation, you suppose. By some breach on account of a more negligent temp, the critter had found its way into your improvised cubicle. And so the story goes; it’d champed down on the webbing between your thumb and forefinger, before promptly suffocating under the cup you’d snared it in. The area stung for a while, venom having directly found your veins. Yet, by the time you’d returned to your dorm, your immunity seemed to have diluted its effects.

Until, you’d gotten sick. The hysteria was slow to consolidate, starting as a sore throat. You’d used your one day off then, ignorant to just how bad it could get; because the fever only deepened, lesions on the lining of your oesophagus oozing ichor into bile. Your doctor waived the possibility of tuberculosis, mistrusting the notes your instructors sent with you, complaining of in-class fainting bouts.

You couldn’t miss work, though. Never. Not when you were so close.

So you stuffed sheets of pills in your pockets and braved each shift with trembling joints. You’d no friends to notice your suffering, and for such an ambitious company, overtime was expected. Sweating through multiple layers of clothing, you kept an eye on your poster of the galaxy and lagged on those long nights. At the rate you were going, you genuinely dreaded a life cut short before you could realise your objective.

If nothing else, it urged you to work harder.

Your first milestone came at the one kilogram mark. A party was hosted to celebrate, billionaires invited to gather around the vessel which held such a revolutionary feat. Despite your interloper status, you’d been summoned too, to play big girl scientist and present Alchemex’s future course of action. Your affliction was improving, and you were the inspiration behind the project’s advance. It felt like the biggest night of your career.

(‘Magnets! What a genius solution.’ From a nobel prize runner up.

‘That ambition will get you far, mark my words.’ The CEO’s cousin.)

In truth, it was the last.

Because the antimatter had taken centre stage, security slackening with its continued stability. So long as the magnetism wasn’t tampered with, so long as the vacuumed vessel remained airtight, things looked to be fine for your speech. You’d cycled through every known variable, staring down the container, a champagne flute tucked in your sweaty palms.

Your skin prickled.

The glass smashed to the floor. In your embarrassment, you’d brushed it off as clumsiness prompted by the perspiration – notwithstanding your recount, having seen the drink fall through your mass. Did it matter, though? You couldn’t put it past your illness to cause such hallucinations. It was impossible, a trick of sight.

The festivities progressed, yet the tingle of your nerves didn’t subside. Anxiety – you chalked it up to common apprehension. So, when your boss announced your name for all to hear, and the agitation flared, it wasn’t alarming. You could think of nothing else anyway, honed in to the address you’d practised all morning.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Your gut flipped. Your vision blackened.

The steps lost depth; you stumbled up them with all the grace of a hunted fawn.

Today–

Your skin prickled once more, and you collapsed. Through the antimatter’s vessel, through the floor.

There’s nothing to recall after that. Not for a long while.

“I don’t become intangible.” Your brow bone rests on the curve of your knee, body curled in a foetal position. “My particles merely… find the best way through something.”

Miguel has remained eerily quiet throughout your chronicle. You try not to let it dissuade you.

“So–”

“Some came in contact with the antimatter.”

“Yeah.” You murmur, moved by an unnamed emotion. “It detonated, naturally, with a force roughly equivalent to a nuclear bomb. Wiped out everyone in the city upon discharge, then everyone in the state with its impact. Or– maybe, I don’t know. I was discarnate for weeks – the explosion had no effect on my immaterial self, and the radiation couldn’t hurt me when that spider damn well sought and failed at it already.”

You hug yourself tighter.

“I only witnessed the winter that followed. The blast was large-scale enough to trigger firestorms and a global climate cooling – similar to the one they scare you with when talking about nuclear warfare. Crop failure, famine. Millions died and my home devolved into cataclysm. It was mass extinction,” You school yourself, waving the snivel crawling up your nose. “Because of me.”

An end by starvation or infection, confined to this tomb, seems a perfectly fitting penance.

“Explain this to me, O’Hara – what just providence made me spider-woman to a barren land?”

chapter seven →

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itsjusthockey · 3 months

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Bittersweet - Jack Hughes

Back from the dead

This is to prove I can still write??? Maybe??

let me know if you like it pls

w.c 1,207 (credit to gif maker) (don't steal my work)

Somewhere in between heaven and hell, he tastes like whiskey. He’s bitter and silky smooth, yet a hint of sweetness simmers underneath it all.

The country music concert surrounding you is bustling. Flashing lights, smoke, and a lively crowd make you feel a little suffocated. You’re thankful to be in the VIP section, away from most of the other bodies, but even still, the summer heat has your mind begging to leave.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you could.

He looks good tonight, in his element. He’s surrounded by those who know him best, and he has a little tipsy smile as he spins you around and around to whatever song is playing. You’re still not the biggest country music fan; you never were until you met him, but you still sing along.

He loves being here with you at these events. He tells you that over and over. A part of you believes he’s telling you the truth, but the ladder believes he’s just telling you what you want to hear. Either way, you need to push these thoughts from your head, but it’s hard when his other life is mocking you when the lights flash on him.

You ignore the pit in your stomach as he twirls you around again, pulling you in until your back meets his chest. You hear his light singing in your ear, and when you turn back as far as you can, you see his face light up brightly for a moment with the flashes from the giant screens, and then it’s back to normal.

He notices your stare, and he leans in for another quick kiss. He smiles into it, and his hands dig into your sides, holding you impossibly closer. His grip almost seems as if he’s scared, that he genuinely believes at any moment you might appariate into nothingness and leave him stranded alone in the crowd.

You stay and sway on the floor for a while, and eventually, you feel nature calling, and you attempt to remove his iron grip from you. You whisper to him to let you go, but he insists on following you instead.

You bump into a few people as you leave the floor and quickly mutter apologies as you pass. He leads you to the bathroom and stands off to the side as you go in to do your business, and when you return to the front, instead of leading you back to the crowd, he makes a beeline toward the bar. He sits casually on a stool and points to the one beside him, and you take a seat.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes searching over your face. “You okay?”

He looks a little tired, and the purple bags under his blue eyes are visible. The color almost matches the dark purple bruises that line his neck and follow down under his t-shirt. You tried to ignore them on the concert floor, but it’s harder in the light.

“I’m great.” You lie.

You can’t help but keep your stare glued to his neck, and suddenly, your own is starting to feel like it’s on fire. Jack notices what you're eyeing and tugs his shirt up a bit, attempting to hide them.

“Sorry,” he trails off awkwardly, but a fleeting shine of victory flickers behind his eyes. “I forgot about them.”

He forgets many things, but you shake your head. You want to punish him, ask him about who she is, and make him go into any details about the other woman, but the bartender saves him by coming over.

“Would you two like anything?”

You shake your head no. “No, thank you. We’re not really together.”

You sound bitter, and you partly are. You feel him shift beside you and know you’ve hit a nerve, but you don’t care about making him uncomfortable.

“We should get a drink,” he says lowly. “It’d help you feel better.”

Your face heats up in anger, and you scoff at him this time.

“Nothing will make me feel better about this.” You hiss.

You turn away from him as he waves the bartender over again and orders a round of drinks. He gets whiskey for himself and orders you your favorite cocktail. You wish he didn’t know it, but he knows you better than almost everyone else, making the situation a million times worse.

You sit in uncomfortable silence until the drinks arrive, and when they do, he gently pushes it toward you, and you stare at it like it’s poison. The vile cocktail would cure your aching heart, but you also know it’s part of the reason you’re in this mess in the first place.

Once you take a single sip, you knock it back quicker than you’d like to admit, and soon enough, Jack is asking if you’d like another.

“No,” you glare past him. “I think I just want to leave.”

As you get up from your seat, he starts to complain, but you stop him by laying a firm hand on his chest.

“I’m going home, and you don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t follow, and you can’t even act surprised. You make your way toward the exit you came in, find a taxi by yourself, and give the woman your address. She tries to make small talk initially, but once she notices the first tear, she turns up the radio, and the conversation dies.

————-

A few hours later, you feel the bed in your apartment dip beside you. You’re not sure exactly how long since you left him there, but deep down, you knew he’d find you later. It’s the terrible truth of the situation: while he might leave you for a while, he always comes back, and you are a weak woman who always lets him.

He squeezes tight into you, and you inhale the fresh scent of his body wash, and you say a silent prayer that he showered before he came into your safe space, the one place where you can somewhat forget about the mess you’re in.

“It wasn’t as fun when you left.” He whispers to you.

You don’t answer; you shift closer to him and pray he doesn’t speak tonight. You want him to be close to you, and you can let yourself believe you’re okay if he doesn’t shatter that belief with his lies.

He must understand this because he doesn’t speak anymore; instead, he lays with you under the sheets, and you both struggle to find sleep. Sleep requires peace, which you both have lacked for months.

“Jack?” You whisper, he hums, and you pour your true feelings out.

“One of these days, I’m gonna leave you.” You say firmly to the cold air. “And I’m going to hurt you just as much as you hurt me.”

A slow minute ticks by at your statement, and when he speaks, it comes out small and hurt, and you know he means every word.

“I believe you.”

You move yourself further from him in the bed, and even though you’re only mere inches apart, it feels like miles

#hockey #hockey boys #imagine #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl

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stalkerofthegods · 10 months

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Lord Apollo Deep dive

Lord Apollon is an amazing god, he is a healer, but he is also the destroyer of health, the same string that holds his bow and arrows of misery is the same in his lyre that he makes beautiful songs and lyrics with, he deserves respect as a god and as a Father. I adore Lord Apollon as a worshiper and as a researcher, no matter how harsh he may be. May you not judge lord Apollon from his myths and remember his actions of good. May all worshipers of devotees Tell of his amazingness.

God of - prophecy and oracles, Music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young, divine distance, fertility, knowledge, dancing, wolves, locust, doorways, mice, entrances, foreigners, happy travels, light, omens, averting evil and harm, boundaries, and borders, laurels, mildews, the god who punishes and destroys, he helps and wards off evil, he protects the flocks and cattle, the foundation of towns and the establishment of civil constitutions, protection of young boys, god of purification, he’s also a Psychopomp.

Symbols- The lyre, Silver bow & arrows, Dolphins, Swans, Crows, Ravens, Lions, Wolves, Wolves, Mice, Griffins, Hawks, Snakes, Laurel wreath, Fire/flame, The sun/sunlight, Tripod, Apples

Incense/scents - Bay, Frankincense, Cypress, Clove, Cinnamon, Mugwort, Myrrh, hythincath, Rays of light radiating from his head, Branch of laurel, Wreath, amber, myrrh, lily of the valley, frankinscences, orange, lemongrass, marjoram

Colors • orange and yellow, red, gold and pure white blue, pink (means healing) purple and green (associated with the Oracle)

Herbs• Palm Tree, Apple Tree, Poplar Tree, Mistletoe, cinnamon, myrrh, bay leafs, sunflowers and red roses, oak wood, cypress (his veey dear friend ((not a lover or crush))), mint, heliotrope, Goldenseal, Date Palm, orange, lemongrass, marjoram

elements • his element is light

Day, month and festivals• Yule, Midsummer, May, sunday, his festivals are Noumenia, Delphinia, Thargelia, Apatouria, Pyanepsia, Asklepia (maybe), Pandia (maybe)

Patron of - medicine, mental health, physical health, therapy, the alphabet/words, defender of herds and flocks, justice, prophecy, and mental and moral purity, herdsmen and shepherds, anything in the medical field.

What I resonate with him • resseces pieces (I forgot why), Raven, lyre, lemonade, yellow, sun, bob Ross, painting, singing, humming, melody, Oracle’s, prophecies, knowledge, Purification, suns/ stars

Crystals•Sunstone, Citrine, Carnelian, Clear Quartz, Pyrite, Selenite, Lapis Lazuli

His sacred items - Bow and arrows; lyre; the wreath of laurel leaves (he wears that which is to be understood as Daphne’s hair.)

Planet - The sun

Tarot card- the sun, the chariot

Number - 7

Animals - Wolf, griffin, dolphins, Swans, foxes, roe deer, swans, cicadas, hawks, ravens, crows, foxes, mice, and snakes

Signs he's reaching out• Significant Dream Encounters of him, Frequent Solar Imagery, Increased Interest in the Arts, Strong Connection to Healing, seeing his Symbols and Animals, having Prophetic Experiences, finding yourself seeking the truth all of the sudden, Attraction to Light and Warmth

What u could put on his alter • Sun water, Wine (diluted with pure water), Milk, Olive oil, Herbal teas, Honey, honey cakes, Orange and lemon pastries, Lamb meat, goat meat, Fruits, Cheeses, Wheat, Breads, Golden objects (ex- such as gold bowls, gold wine cups, flakes of gold), Bows and arrows (real or fake), art, Images of the sun, All musical instruments, (especially stringed instruments), Wolf imagery, dolphin imagery, Any images of birds (especially crows and swans), Yellow, gold, and white candles, Incense he likes. He likes his alters Neat, clean, not cluttered, orderly, surround him with who he loves (ex- past lovers, Leto, artemis) , add images of wolves, mice, and ravens, Wine, incense, gifts of solar imagery, oranges

Other titles of apollon• ABAEUS/ Abaios (derived from the town of Abae in Phocis),

ACERSE′COMES/Akersekomês (Apollo expressive of his beautiful hair which was never cut or shorn.) ACE′SIUS/ Akesios (surname of Apollo, under which he was worshipped in Elis, This surname, which has the same meaning as akestôr and alexikakos as the god of averter of evil), ACESTOR/Akestôr (A surname of Apollo which characterises him as the god of the healing art, or in general as the averter of evil, like akesios), ACTIACUS (a surname of Apollo, derived from Actium, AEGLE′TES/Aiglêtês (that is, the radiant god), AGE′TOR/Agêtôr (a surname given to several gods, example is Zeus at Lacedaemon) AGO′NIUS/Agônios (a surname or epithet of several gods, like Zeus), AGRAEUS/Agraios (the hunter a surname of Apollo After he had killed the lion of Cithaeron), AGYIEUS/Aguieus (a a title describing him as the protector of the streets and public places), ALEXI′CACUS/ Alexikakos (the averter of evil, is a surname given by the Greeks to several deities like Zeus.), AMAZO′NIUS/ Amazonios, AMYCLAEUS/Amuklaios, ARCHE′GETES/Archêgetês (A surname of Apollo, under which he was worshipped in several places, as at Naxos in Sicily), Megara (The name has reference either to Apollo as the leader and protector of colonies, or as the founder of towns in general, in which case the import of the name is the same as theos patroôs.), BOEDRO′MIUS/ Boêdromios (the helper in distress), CARNEIUS/ Karneiosx, CATAE′BATES/Kataibatês (invoked by this name to grant a happy return home, katabasis (to those who were travelling abroad), CHRYSAOR/Chrusaôr) (The god with the golden sword or arms), CLA′RIUS/ Klarios (derived from his celebrated temple at Claros in Asia Minor), CO′RYDUS/Korudos (from the temple eighty stadia from Corone, on the sea-coast), CY′NTHIUS and CY′NTHIA/Kunthia and Kunthios (surnames of Artemis and Apollo from island of Delos, which is their birthplace), DAPHNAEUS and DAPHNAEA/Daphnaia and Daphnaios (surnames of Artemis and Apollo), DECATE′PHORUS/ Dekatêphoros (that is, the god to whom the tenth part of the booty is dedicated), DE′LIUS and DE′LIA/ Dêlios and Dêlia or Dêlias (surnames of Apollo and Artemis respectively), DELPHINIUS and DELPHI′NIA/ Delphinia (a surname of Artemis at Athens & The masculine form Delphinius is used as a surname of Apollo), EPACTAEUS or EPA′CTIUS/ Epaktaios or Epaktios (the god worshipped on the coast, was also used as a surname of Poseidon in Samos) EPIBATE′RIUS/ Epibatêrios (the god who conducts men on board a ship), EPICU′RIUS/ Epikourios (the helper),

EUTRESITES/Eutrêsitês (derived from Eutresis, where he had a ancient Oracle), GALA′XIUS/Galaxios a (from Boeotia, derived from the stream Galaxius),

HEBDOMA′GETES/Hebdomagetês (was derived from the fact of sacrifices being offered to him on the seventh of every month, the seventh of some month which became the god's birthday), HECAERGUS/Hekaergos (same meaning as Hecaerge in the case of Artemis),HY′LATUS/Hulatos (derived from the town of Hyle in Crete, which was sacred to him), INTONSUS/unshorn, (surname of Apollo and Bacchus showing the eternal youth of these gods, beacuse the Greek youths allowed their hair to grow until they attained the age of manhood), ISME′NIUS/Ismenios (A surname of Apollo at Thebes), ISO′DETES/Isodetêg (the god who binds all equally, is also used as a surname of Pluto),I′XIUS/Ixios (derived from a district of the island of Rhodes which was called Ixiae or Ixia.), LAPHRAEUS/Laphraios (a surname of Apollo at Calydon), LEUCA′DIUS/ Leukasios (a son of Icarius and Polycaste, and a brother of Penelope and Alyzeus. Leucas was believed to have derived its name from him), LIBYSTI′NUS, LOE′MIUS/Loimios (the deliverer from plague),

LO′XIAS/Loxias (derived by some from his intricate and ambiguous oracles), LYCE′GENES/Lukêgenês (describing him either as the god born in Lycia, or as the god born of light), LYCEIUS/Lukeios (the meaning is not quite certain, some derive it from lukos, a wolf, so that it would mean "the wolf-slayer;" others from lukê, light, according to which it would mean "the giver of light;"), LY′CIUS/Lukios (the Lycian, a surname of Apollo, who was worshipped in several places of Lycia),

LYCO′REUS/Lukôreus (A surname of Apollo perhaps in the same sense as Lyceius), MALEATES/Maleatês (surname of Apollo, derived from cape Malea, in the south of Laconia),MARMARINUS/Marmarinos (the god of marble), MALLOEIS and MELUS/Mêlos (A son of Manto, from which the sanctuary of Apollo Malloeis in Lesbos was believed to have derived its name), MOIRA′GETES/Moiragetês (the guide or leader of fate, occurs as a surname of Zeus and Apollo at Delphi) MUSA′GETES/MUSAE (?), NO′MIUS/Noumios (surname of divinities protecting the pastures and shepherds sheared with Apollo, Pan. Hermes, and Aristaeus) ONCAEUS/Onkaios (a surname of Apollo derived from Oncesium on the river Ladon in Arcadia), PAEAN/Paian, Paiêôn or Paiôn (meaning "the healing," however, used also in the more general sense of deliverer from any evil or calamity, PAGASAEUS/ Pagasaios/the Pagasaean, from Pegasus, or Pegasae, (town in Thessaly, uses the surname of Apollo there.), PALATI′NUS, (surname of Apollo at Rome), PARNO′PIUS/Paruopios (the expeller of locusts) paruôps (a surname of Apollo, under which he had a statue on the acropolis at Athen), PARRHA′SIUS/Parrastos (A surname of Apollo, who had a sanctuary on Mount Lyceius, meaning “the helper”, PATAREUS/Patareus (derived from the Lycian town of Patara, where the god used to spend the six winter months in every year), PHILE′SIUS/Philêsios (surname of Apollo at Didyma, where Branchus was said to have founded a sanctuary of the god, and to have introduced his worship) PHOEBUS/ Phoibos (the shining, pure or bright, occurs both as an epithet and a name of Apollo), PHY′XIUS/Phuzios (the god who protects fugitives, also occurs as a surname of Zeus in Thessaly), PY′THIUS/Puthios the Pythian, from Pytho (the ancient name of Delphi, often occurs as a surname of Apollo), SALGANEUS/Salganeus (a surname of Apollo, derived from the town of Salganeus in Boeotia), SARPEDONIUS and SARPEDO′NIA/Sarpêdonia (a surname of Artemis, derived from cape Sarpedon in Cilicia, where she had a temple with an oracle, The masculine Sarpedonius occurs as a surname of Apollo in Cilicia.) SMINTHEUS/Smintheus (a surname of Apollo, which is derived by some from sminthos, a mouse, and from the town of Sminthe in Troas), SPO′DIUS/Spodios (a surname of Apollo at Thebes, derived from spodos, ashes, because his altar consisted of the ashes of the victims which had been sacrificed to him.), TEGYRE′IUS/Tegurêios (a surname of Apollo, derived from the town of Tegyra in Boeotia. where, according to some traditions, the god had been born), TELMI′SSIUS/Telmissios (a surname of Apollo derived from the Lycian town of Telnissus or Telmessus),TEMENITES/Temenitês (a surname of Apollo, derived from his sacred temenus in the neighbourhood of Syracuse), THEOXE′NIUS/Theoxenios (a surname of Apollo and Hermes), THYMBRAEUS/Thumbraios (A surname of Apollo, derived from a place in Troas called Thymbra, where he had a temple in which Achilles was wounded, or from a neighboring hill of the same name), ZOSTERIUS and ZOSTE′RIA/Zôstêria (a surname of Athena among the Epicnemidian Locrians, The masculine form Zosterius occurs as a surname of Apollo in Attica, on the slip of land stretching into the sea between Phaleron and Sunium)

Epithets•Abaeus, Apollo Acesius, Acestor, Acraephiaeus Apollo, Acraephius Apollo, Actiacus Apollo, Apollo Actiacus, Apollo Aegletes, Agetor, Agonius, Agraeus, Agyieus, Alexicacus,Amazonius, Anextiomarus, Aphetor Apollo, Aphetorius Apollo, Apollo Musagetes, Apollo Soranus, Apollo Apotropaeus, Apulu, Archegetes, Argyrotoxus Apollo, Apollo Articenens, Apollo Averruncus, Apollo Clarius, Apollo Coelispex, Apollo Culicarius, Apollo Cynthius, Apollo Cynthogenes, Delius Apollo, Apollo Delius, Apollo Delphinius, Apollo Didymaeus, Apollo Epicurius Apollo Galaxius, Apollo Genetor, Hecaërgus Apollo, Apollo Hecebolus, Hekatos, Helius Apollo, Apollo Helius, Apollo Iatromantis, Apollo Iatrus, Apollo Ismenius, Kourotrophos, Apollo Leschenorius, Leucadius, Apollo Loxias, Apollo Lycegenes, Lyceus, Apollo Lycoctonus, Manticus Apollo, Apollo Medicus, Apollo Nomius, Apollo Nymphegetes, Paean (god), Apollo Paean, Apollo Parnopius, Apollo Patroüs, Apollo Phanaeus, Ptoion, Ptous, Pythius Apollo, Apollo Pythius, Apollo Smintheus, Apollo Sosianus, Thyraeus, Virotutis. (I’m not gonna put who, why or what the epithets are, cut me some slack 😔)

Equivalents• Abru (Berber), Horus & Ra (Egyptian), Aplu (Etruscan), Helios (Greek), Apollo & Janus (Roman), Nergal (Aplu Enlil) (Semitic)

Offerings• Candles (he’s the god of light), Paint brushes/paints, Canvases, Colored pencils, markers, crayons, Collages, Journals, Art books, Art prints, Anything you mad, Sculptures, Zines, Stickers, Any art supplies, Music boxes, Records, CDs,Cassettes, Record players,radios, MP3, Headphones, Music posters, Band merch, Instruments (especially String instruments), Dance shoes, Concert tickets, CD book holders, Sun and Light imagery, Sunscreen, Aloe for sunburns, Golden objects, Matches, Candles, Sunflowers/sunflower seeds, First aid kits, Medicine, Pain relievers, Band - aids, Ice/heat packs, Rice socks, face Masks, Aloe, Ambulance toy cars,Adaptive aids, Darts, Bow and arrows, Arrow quiver, Dart board, Targets used in archery, Bullseye used in archery, Snake skins, Snake imagery (ex - Python), Laurels, Bay leaves (because of Daphne), Palm trees (based on his birth myth), Ravens/Crows related things, Crow feathers, Cattle/turtles (related to Hermes birth myth), Swans (the animals Pull His chariot), Hyacinths (Hyacinthus is his past lover), Locks of hair, Vanilla flavored/scented things , Honey, Sunny D drink, Lemons/lemon juice, Oranges/orange juice, Citrus, Water, chocolate milk (UPG), molten orange-scented wax cube used on an oil burner, The first bite of every meal (keep a tea plate close by at mealtimes), Pot Pourri, visit a clairvoyant, Welcome foreigners, teach others your own culture/language, make sure foreigners are able to find helpful resources and social life in your community, Make sure the street outside your house is clean and secure, Resin, Sun-shaped cookies or cakes, Wine, Golden cakes, Golden raisins.

Devonatal- Donate to medical charities, Support beginner indie artists and musicians, Sing to Him, Play musical instruments for Him, Hold dance parties in his honor, Make a playlist for Him and listen to it, Read poetry to Him, Take care of your mental health in his honor, take your medicine in his honor, Try/do archery in his honor, Try/do different types of divination (ex- Tarot/Oracle decks, Pendulums, Rune stones, Charm casting supplies, Crystal balls, Scrying bowls, Cookie fortunes, Tea leaves), Try and wake up early and watch the sun rise, Go for a walk and feel the warmth from the sun, Let more sunlight into your home/room, Learn a musical instrument, learn how to sing, Learn simple medical care (ex- CPR), research his family in his honor, research Apollon, Attend pride, advocate for LGBT+ rights, Wear yellow clothing in his honor, wear orange clothing in his honor, Honor Leto and Artemis in his honor, Pray to Him/ speak to Him often (ex- for guidance, healing/good health, and new inspiration, protection, improvement in your mental health, fertility, ecstasy, for everything going well in the health aspect), Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Support/donate to your local Hospital in his honor, Exercise in his honor, Get vaccinated in his honor, Get STI tested in his honor, practice Self care in his honor, Keep a first aid kit at home/in your car in his honor, Learn about alternative medicine in his honor, Advocate for accessible in his honor, Advocate for disability rights in his honor, Volunteer at a hospital in his honor, Give blood/plasma in his honor; Volunteer at a retirement home in his honor, Learn about anatomy/biology/nutrition in his honor, Learn about health conditions/rare disorders in his honor, Eat healthy for your body in his honor, Help fund surgeries if you can in his honor, Trip sit for someone in his honor, Listen to your body when it needs something in his honor , Sunbathe in his honor, Wear sunscreen in his honor, Start a garden in his honor, Make sun water in his honor, Music Go to a concert/show, Listen to music in his honor, Make a playlist for someone you love in his honor, dance in general in his honor, Sing in general in his honor, Support local bands in his honor, Explore new music in his honor, Daily tarot card/rune stones sessions in his honor, Make an oracle deck in his honor, Give divination readings in his honor, do Shadow work in his honor , do Colormancy in his honor, Make something in his honor, Draw in his honor, paint in his honor, craft in his honor, Color something for him, Make a zine in his honor, Go see a play in his honor, Get a tattoo in his honor, Throw darts in his honor, Use a slingshot in his honor, Go to a shooting range in his honor, follow and support artist/poet YouTubers and their social media, Check in with your neighbors, do Photography (painting with light), light a candle in his honor because he’s the of…light!

Crystal•Sunstone, Citrine, Carnelian, Clear Quartz, Pyrite, Selenite, Lapis Lazuli, amber, calcite (only the color honey/yellow), quartz (rutilated or clear), rose quartz.

Parentage• Zues and Leto

Siblings• his full sibling was his twin Artemis, His half siblings were Athena, Hermes, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Ares, Hephaestus and Persephone, Heracles, Ares, Perseus, Hebe, Aphrodite, Athena, Some Muses, Eileithyia.

Works well with• people who are respectful, and are honest, and not boastful.

Jewelry • friendship bracelets

Hates• saying that your better than him, (too boastful), being to stubborn to learn (he is the god of knowledge.), and anything contradicting his godlyness

Mortal or immortal • immortal.

Zodiac • Leo.

Curses• Sickness, and often seeing yourself lying, and in trouble.

Blessings• your healthy and protection and purification.

Vows/omans• he swears he will be Hermes best friend, and that he will never marry (the muses myth) because he swore he would never because he couldn't choose between all the Muses, not usually used in modern day, he could be married but it is a version of a myth, he could date. just never marry.

Morals• Morally grey.

Courting• he is unmarried.

Past lovers & crushes• Admetus (a crush), Daphne (rejected him and he fell so in love she had to run away and turn into a tree..), all the nine muses (couldn’t choose so decided to never unwed), Cyrene (a crush), Evadne (a lover who bore him a child.), Rhoeo (bore him a child and made him raise it..) Ourea (had a crush on Apollo and they hooked up on his exile and bore him a kid), Thero, Hyrie or Thyrie (said they were lovers but he made them suicidal so..idk..). Hecuba (bore the child who made Apollo kill Achilles.), Coronis (bore him Asclepius), Creusa (bore him a child and left him to die and then to be raised by a priestess of Apollo.), Hyacinthus (his most dear male lover.), Cyparissus (a dear friend but still a honorable mention.), Admetus (a crush), Branchus, Adonis (poly with apollon and Aphrodite), Helenus, Hippolytus of Sicyon,Hymenaios, god of marriage hymns, Iapis, Phorbas, minthe (who he turned into mint)

Personality• He’s very energetic, cheerful, wise, honest and kind, and very responding.

Fact• Apollo was temporarily stripped of his immortal power by Zeus – twice , he tried to over throw his father Zeus once (He failed, but they have a good bond.)

Roots• Greek mythology, born at Delos in Cyclades archipelago.

Appearance in astral or gen• depicted as a handsome, beardless youth with long hair and wears a wreath and branch of laurel, bow and quiver of arrows, usually accompanied with a raven, and holding a lyre.

Children• Acraepheus, Aeneus, Agamedes, Agreus, Amphiaraus, Amphissus, Amphithemis, Anius, Apis, Apollonis, Arabius, Aristaeus, Asclepius, Borysthenis, Cephisso, Chariclo, Cinyras, Coronus, Cycnus, Delphus, Dius, Dorus, Dryops of Oeta, Eleuther, Epidaurus, Eriopis, Erymanthus, Eumolpus, Eurydice, Eurynome, Hilaeira, Hymen (god), Ialemus, Iamus, Idmon (Argonaut), Ion, Ismenus, Korybantes, Laodocus, Lapithes (hero), Linus (Argive), Linus, Linus of Thrace, Lycomedes, Lycorus, Melaneus of Oechalia, Melite, Miletus, Mopsus, Naxos, Oaxes, Oncius, Orpheus, Phemonoe, Philammon, Philander, Phoebe, Phylacides, Polypoetes, Scylla, Syrus, Tenerus, Tenes, Troilus, Trophonius, Zeuxippus of Sicyon.

Pet• the swans pulling his chariot called the “singers of Apollo” or just “birds of Apollo”

Status• Greek mythology god, in the big theoi, not a Demi god.

Prayers•

Prayer to Lord Apollon for Help with Divination

Hear me, Foreseeing Apollon, Son of Indomitable Zeus and Gentle Leto, Brother to Far-Shooting Artemis. He who speaks of truth, If I have ever revelled in your sunlight, accept this prayer, Apollon Leader of Fate, I ask you to be with me during this divination and to guide my cards with your knowledge, I ask for your favour with a token of my praise, I offer to you (offering)- @praise-to-the-theoi

To Lord Apollon when taking medication

Hear me, healing Apollon, Father to Soothing Asklepios. He who controls both plague and healing, If I have ever honoured you, please accept this prayer, Shining Apollon, Please allow me to be safe when taking this medication, to aid it in its effectiveness, and to reduce the likelihood of negative side effects. I ask for your favour with a token of my praise, and I take this medication in your honour. -https://www.tumblr.com/praise-to-the-theoi

Prayer to Artemis and Apollon

Praise today, O Lord Apollo and Lady Artemis, rulers upon the Sun and Moon. The Celestial Twins, on this date, join each other in the sky, shining upon us their divine light and presence. Praise the children of Great Zeus and Leto; Hail Lady Artemis, the oldest daughter, who helped her mother at birth. Godess of the hunt, divine virgin, patroness of girls, their childhood and innocence. Hail Apollon, youngest son, born by his sister's hand. God of the plages and sickness. Patron of the arts, music and poetry. May they raise their bows and guide us towards their light. - serotoninbetweenpages

Prayer with his epithets in it-

Let us hymn Paean the great god, Apollo; Immortal, gloriously formed, unshorn, soft-haired, Stern-hearted, king, delighting in arrows, giver of life, Joyous, laughing, slayer of giants, sweet-hearted, Son of Zeus, slayer of dragons, lover of the laurel, Sweet of speech, of ample might, far-shooter, giver of hope, Creator of animals, divine, Jove-minded, giver of zeal, Mild, sweet-spoken, sweet-hearted, gentle-handed, Slayer of beasts, blooming, charmer of the spirit, soft-speaking, Shooter of arrows, desirable, healer, charioteer, Weaver of the world, Clarian, strong-hearted, father of fruits, Son of Leto, pleasant, delighting in the lyre, resplendent, Lord of the mysteries, prophet, magnanimous, thousand-shaped, Lover of the bow-string, wise, stiller of grief, sober,Lover of community, common to all, taking thought for all, benefactor of all, Blessed, making blessed, Olympian, dweller on the hills, Gentle, all-seeing, sorrowless, giver of wealth, Saviour from trouble, rose-coloured, man-breaker, path-opener, Glittering, wise, father of light, saviour, Delighting in the dance, Titan, initiator, revered, Chanter of hymns, highest, stately, of the height, Phoebus, purifier, lover of garlands, cheerer of the spirit, Utterer of oracles, golden, golden-complexioned, golden-arrowed, Lover of the lyre, harper, hater of lies, giver of the soul, Swift-footed, swift-voiced, swift of vision, giver of seasons. Let us hymn Paean the great god, Apollo.

- Epigram from Book 9 of the Greek Anthology, translated by W.R. Paton (1916-18)

Links/websites/sources •

@praise-to-the-theoi

ofbloodandfaith

Reddit · r/Hellenism5 comments · 1 year agosimple offerings for apollo? : r/Hellenism

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo#Children https://www.thoughtco.com/roman-equivalents-of-greek-gods-4067799https://www.reddit.com/r/Hellenism/comments/d20s5v/would_amber_be_an_appropriate_incense_for_apollo/https://www.reddit.com/r/GreekMythology/comments/du0z4k/did_the_olympian_gods_have_particular_color/https://www.tumblr.com/eldritchhorror06https://www.tumblr.com/themodernwitchsguidehttps://web.pdx.edu/~scarmody/art342/exercise2/index.html#:~:text=Animals%20sacred%20to%20Apollo%20include,foxes%2C%20mice%2C%20and%20snakes.

let the light in and let your truth of loving Apollo shine aswell

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

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the-kr8tor · 1 month

Text

To Live Simply

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 13.1 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing) (Hobie is mentioned taller than her), CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW abuse mention, CW drinking, CW violence mention. Wild west AU, Cowboy AU.

A/N: I wrote my late dog in this to remember her by, please be nice to the dog ❤️

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

The journey to Hobie's farm was excruciating, yet quiet and peaceful. If not for both yours and Hobie's still healing injuries it would've been a more pleasant ride. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't anyone who wanted to ambush you, and no one to point a gun at; no one to hurt you and Hobie.

The entire time you were afraid, afraid that something would happen the least you expected it. You were waiting for disaster to hit, you've never been at peace on the road, so you were high strung, hands gripping tightly around the reins while you kept your gun fully loaded and ready on your back. Luckily, nothing noteworthy happened during that one whole month of traveling west and away from the south.

Hobie clung to you like sap on wood, and you did too. You both never spoke of what happened that day, it was horrible, even now hallucinations still linger in the back of your head. Sometimes you see her staring at you on the side of the road, sometimes you smell burnt coffee out of nowhere. Hobie understood what they put you through while he lay asleep dreaming of you. He did everything he could to help you return to reality with every grasp of your hand, and with every kiss on your temple— effectively shaking you awake. You take care of him too, changing his bandages in camp, wincing with him whilst you clean his wounds.

It was just you and him, and you've got everything to lose if they ever find you.

You both were careful on the road, always traveling at night under the stars. Lighting small fires that are enough to keep you warm. You've even started to hide your face under a bandana. If it was absolutely needed to go into town, you and Hobie never stayed too long to make an impression. To everyone else, he was Larry Smith and you were his wife. To him, you were his wife in everything but on paper. To you, he was everything. You suppose it was all the same.

The horses are well kept despite the long rides, they slept well, ate even better than you and Hobie. You've noticed Cherry has become friendlier towards Bucky, and Bucky seemed to like the added attention.

Your back aches from the long ride, dawn has just begun to break. The breeze hums in your ears as you and Hobie finally make it to his farm. A piece of land in a valley and in between monstrous mountains that rise up into the clouds; and what seems to be thousands of miles of nothingness. There's nothing but land everywhere you look, the town you passed through hours ago is nothing but a dot in the far distance.

You're situated in the middle of nowhere.

“It's not much, but it's home.” Hobie stands before you, shoulders relaxed, eyes glancing towards you as if he's waiting for approval.

The farmhouse isn't as grand as your old home, it doesn't have the gilded awnings or marble pillars that seem to rise up towards the heavens. The house is made out of wood, two stories high with a simple porch that wraps around the entire structure. Its white paint is chipping, doors weathered by the elements and time. Empty flower pots sit nearby, just waiting to be used once again. Further away, a barn sits near a small pond. The structure’s red paint faded into a murky brown with dead vines covering its side. A windmill stands next to it, the blades squeak in the wind, wood creaking whenever a harsh breeze blows.

The picket fences around the property lay broken with its old chalky paint cracking and melting away. The land surrounding it doesn't look any better, it's barren and dry save for the tall brown grass growing everywhere. There are also stumps left behind by cut trees, a couple have survived long enough to grow as tall as the barn and they both sit behind the farmhouse a few paces away. It lacks any greenery you'd expect for a farm. With its dry soil underneath your feet, you're sure that there's nothing that could grow here. But you can try, plant and sow over and over again until a single leaf will sprout, until a plant bears fruit.

There's nothing else all around the place, nothing but stretches and miles upon miles of empty land. You like it that way. It's just you and him, him and you. You'd never have it any other way.

For the first time in a very long time, you feel like you can finally breathe. Fate has finally granted you reprieve.

“It's perfect.” You smile, stepping forward, reaching for his hand and then squeezing it once. “It's home.”

Hobie's lips slowly curl up into a smile, intertwining your fingers around his own. “What are we waitin' for?” With a sudden arm around the back of your knees, he gracefully carries you in his arms, earning a surprised yelp and laughter from you. You grasp at his vest, giggling against his chest. “Let's get inside.”

Even in his arms, you still feel the gnawing in the back of your mind. The danger that lurks behind the mountains, a danger that you both are ignoring for now in place of bliss. It's as if a heavy blanket is laid upon your chest, crushing you under its weight, breaking your rib cage in half, squishing your heart until a mush of blood and muscle is the only thing left in its wake.

Then, there's the nature of the man from the place you once called your home. You think he'd kill you the moment he sees you in the arms of Hobie, laughing against his chest, holding on to him as if he's your husband. Should I tell Hobie? You thought to yourself, it will ruin him. It will ruin you in his mind. Your heart thuds against your chest akin to a train engine just from thinking about it. You think it'll never go away, that it will continue to eat at you like you're a carcass left for the vultures in a dry humid desert. But for now, you stay laughing against his skin, kissing every inch of his face as he brings you inside. Until you're ready, you promise yourself that you'll tell him, even if it ruins you.

Hobie, unbeknownst to the inner turmoil you're having; kisses you back gently, dry lips against your sweaty forehead, he doesn't mind as he peppers your face. It's a battle, where you two are the winners.

You kick about in his arms, the stubble on his chin tickles you, and of course he notices it. He decides to hear you laugh, really laugh— so he nudges your head away, rubbing his stubble up and down your neck. Your giggles immediately fill the home, leaning away, hands patting his chest rapidly. If not for his hold on you, you would've fell seconds ago.

“Enough!” You shriek, but your own laughter betrays you. With every nudge, you forget about your thoughts, only focusing on the man before you.

Hobie wheezes, moving an inch away from your neck. “You sure? I don't think ‘m done yet.” He fixes his grasp on you, hand placed just above your ribs, fingers flexing, threatening to tickle you there.

You scoff, a sound similar to a giggle. “We've been on the road for a long time, Hobie, and we haven't had a proper bath in weeks!” He opens his mouth to speak. “A dip in the river doesn't count.”

With furrowed brows, he leans closer, lips curled mischievously. “You tellin’ me that I smell?”

You chuckle, hand patting his cheek lovingly. “No, I'm saying that I smell.”

“Really?” Hobie starts to lean closer but you stop him with your hand on his forehead. He smiles, trying to wiggle his head. “I was just about to check!”

There's the same glint in your eyes. You hum, cradling his jaw, pushing him gently upwards. The scar on his neck is in full display to you, Hobie tries to shake his head in protest, his sudden insecurity for the raised scar makes him think that you were second guessing your choices. But with your simple movement of pulling yourself up, enough to be eye level to the scar, and with your lips resting upon it makes him think otherwise.

He turns into honey under your touch, and you're the one licking his sweetness off of your finger tips.

You feel his staggered breath under your lips, Hobie almost drops you the second you kiss his scar. He feels your love through it all, fingers digging into your side but not enough to leave a mark. Closing his eyes, he lets you peck as your thumb runs along his Adam's apple that bops up and down with every nervous swallow. He even leans upwards to give you more space.

“I missed you.” Hobie says in a breathy whisper while you continue to attack his skin, hand pressed on your back, helping lift you up. “I should've told you that when I first—” You hold onto his nape to kiss higher, nipping gently, earning a shaky exhale from him. “—fuckin’ hell, you'll be the death of me. Five minutes in and you're already tryin’ to—”

“Knock knock?”

“Oh fuck—!” You suddenly drop down to the floor, butt aching as you stare at the visitor standing in the doorway.

“Shit—” Hobie fumbles, none of the coolness he exhibited during your journey. He tries to help you up, but then immediately decides to get his gun out that he also flounders over. His gun falls, bullets falling out, metal clanking on the dusty wooden floors. “Ah, fuck!” Kneeling down, he tries to pick up all the scattered bullets.

“Caught you in a bad time, huh?”

You glance between Hobie and the woman in the doorway. Hobie sighs, eyes staring daggers at the stranger. Her curly hair is styled in braids, leather chaps and jacket matching, hands casually placed inside her jean pockets. The sun behind her drapes her in gold, the same colour as the hat sitting atop her head. Her genuine smile is one of those contagious smiles that turns your frown into a friendly grin, you smile wider when you meet with her eyes that are laced with amusement. She gives you a wink, and then returns her attention towards Hobie who has given up on picking up his ammo.

“No, no, take your time, Hobie.”

He sighs, head falling down in shame. “What are you doin' ‘ere, Riri?”

“I was on my routine check. Imagine my surprise when I saw Bucky frolicking outside with a new horse.” Riri enters, hand reaching towards you. “The name's Riri, a friend of Hobie's.”

You smile up at her, taking her hand as she gracefully lifts you back up on your feet. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” She shakes your hand, leaning slightly to whisper in a louder tone. “You're even prettier than what this loser told me.”

Hobie sighs, “Riri, c’mon—”

“Why don't you get up, cowboy?” Riri lets your hand go, she then crosses her arms over her chest whilst you watch them interact.

Hobie stays kneeling, turned away from you and Riri, hand conveniently on his lap. “Don't you dare tell her shit, Riri.” He says, green eyes narrowed into slits.

You tamp down a laugh, glancing down at Hobie who just shakes his head with a ghost of a smile. You're tempted to tease him too, but Riri catching you two in the act was enough embarrassment for him.

“You told stories about me?” If your cheeks could run any warmer, you can boil water on it.

“He's a chatterbox when he's drunk.”

“He is?” You turn towards the said man, beaming at him.

“Don't you have anythin' better to do—?” Hobie gets ignored as Riri continues to chat with you. He resigns, huffing in place.

“Mm-hmm, he says the craziest shit. You think he's all that out there but the second he drinks his third glass, he's out in my saloon yammering about something. Sometimes that something has to do with you.” She pauses, nudging your shoulder. “Don't worry, he only tells me the good stuff. I practically already know you.” Your eyes widen. “Not in a weird way, in a…”

“Good job, Ri, you made it awkward.” Hobie eggs her on.

Riri rolls her eyes. “She knows what I'm talking about, right?” She turns to you, smiling softly like she's already trying to apologize.

“That so? Don't worry, I understand what you meant.” You flick your eyes towards Hobie, who's still unable to stand up. “Since you already know me—”

“Ah, yes!” She claps her hands in understanding. “You may go to my saloon and dig more details about what Hobie's been doing these past five years.” Riri meets Hobie's eyes. “You never know, you might even come across our old gang.”

You copy her, teasing Hobie even more. “The more the merrier then.”

“Great,” Hobie huffs, finally standing up. “You've created a monster, Riri.”

“Don't call her a monster!” Riri acts offended for you.

“Yeah! Don't call me a monster!”

Hobie could only sigh in defeat. He mumbles under his breath, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “If I wasn't so tired.”

“Oh that reminds me.” You say excitedly, you've finally found a friend after everything that has happened. “Do you want to stay for tea?”

“We don't have anythin', love.” Hobie gestures towards the near empty kitchen cabinets that were left open.

Riri smirks at the name he used for you. Hobie warns her with a look. “That would be great, but I gotta go back out there. I heard there's a huge deer roaming around and I want to be the one to get it before anyone else does.”

“That's too bad.” You're genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah, that's too bad.” Hobie copies sarcastically, less disappointed.

Riri chuckles, “don't worry, Y/N, my saloon's always open for you.” She clasps your shoulder. “Welcome to Scarlett Meadows, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Riri. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, love,” Riri mocks him. Hobie audibly groans, she smacks his chest. “Welcome back, loser.” With a flourish, Riri exits the house and then jumps back on her horse to ride away. Hobie closes and locks the front door behind her.

“I like her already.”

Hobie wraps his arm around your middle, pulling you close for an embrace. “‘m glad, she's a good friend.”

You nuzzle his shoulder, to which he takes your cheek, already leaning down to meet you halfway. “The mood's ruined, Hobs.”

“Goddamnit.” He says, yet he still chuckles against your lips. Letting you go, you stay locked with his eyes while walking backwards towards the stairs. “Where are you goin'?” There's a growing smile on yours and Hobie's lips.

“You coming, cowboy?” You ask, and you see him flustered once again. Biting his lip, tapping his foot, and hands on his hips. As you head upstairs, you hear his heavy footsteps follow you; until you feel his arms wrap around you impatiently, carrying you the rest of the way while your laughter rings around the house.

—

Hobie, under the gaze of the sun, with his sweaty work shirt sticking to his skin as he hammers the windowsill in place; fixing the once shoddy workmanship left by the previous owner. You ogle him unabashedly. The ring that was previously hidden under the fabric of his bandana now sits upon his ring finger, you cried when you first saw it there for the first time in five years. He held you then, just like how he cradled you back when he gave the identical one to you.

He clings on the tresses that are filled with dried vines and creaking from his added weight. He hangs precariously, as if he's an expert climber at heart; you can't help but stare at him as he works on your shared home. You suppose you could use the old shakey tresses as your excuse on why you're watching him instead of tilling the land like you're supposed to. Telling him that you're only keeping watch of him just in case he falls so you could catch him. Which is impossible by itself, you'd break all your bones if you tried. But you suppose it'll be alright if it's for him. As if he feels your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, a smile slowly curling on his lips as he spots your form still kneeling on the same spot he left you in twenty minutes ago.

The soil balled up into your hands sits there forgotten. A bag of cherry tomatoes sits next to you, wind almost taking them in its breeze as one passes by. You don't look away when he calls you out after you were caught. Instead, you stare harder, unabashedly winking at him. To which earns a hearty laugh from Hobie who almost falls from his bout of laughter.

You stagger, hands raised towards him as if you can catch him from where you are. “Careful!”

Hobie continues to laugh, calming your worries. “‘m alright, you should watch your tomatoes—” a strong wind picks up, with summer almost completely gone as the colder breeze carries your bag of seeds away from you. “And there it goes!” His guffaw fades from behind as you scramble for the seeds.

“Fuck!” You yell, hand placed on your sun hat so it doesn't get blown away. Despite you running at full speed towards what could be next season's meal, you smile widely, you're at peace here.

Hobie follows after you, running and catching up to you in a mad dash. “Hurry slowpoke!” He passes you, laughing as he goes.

“Slowpoke?! C’mere you little—!” Hobie suddenly stops and then turns around to catch you mid sprint. Your body slams into him, earning a grunt from Hobie, but his smile stays as he holds you in his arms.

“Gotcha!” He embraces you in place, face nudging your shoulder fondly.

“You're all sweaty!” You shriek out happily, hand placed upon his waist, fists clumped in his shirt. The seeds belong to the wind now, you suppose.

“You're no better! You're covered in dirt, lovie!” Hobie playfully wipes his cheeks on your airy shirt, leaving streaks of sweat on the soft linen. You laugh louder, trying to scramble away. And he feels like he has finally found his home in your arms.

You wipe your soil marred hands on his shoulders, leaving your hand prints on his once pristine shirt. You suddenly stop giggling, Hobie thinks he did something wrong until he follows your line of sight. There, a few ways away from the two of you, stands a black dog eating from your bag of seeds.

“Is that a coyote?” You ask, still holding on to him.

“Don't think so.” He whispers back.

“She shouldn't eat that, it might get her sick.” You untangle yourself from Hobie, and then you slowly make your way towards said dog. Hobie stops you halfway, hand gently on your shoulder.

“It might bite you.” He roams his eyes over to her black coat and long tail, her ears are floppy on the side of her head as she continues to munch on the crunchy seeds. There's no collar or any indication that she has an owner, she looks fine and somewhat healthy. Before he could take you away just in case the dog decides that you're a better meal, you're running back towards the house in a mad dash. “Where are you goin'?”

“I'm getting some jerky!”

“What? Why?!” He yells back as you get further and further away.

“Just stay there and watch her!” Your dusty boots are already stomping away inside as Hobie does what you told.

Hobie crouches down, elbows sitting atop his knees, watching the dog chow down. The black labrador pauses from eating from the presence watching her, head peeking out from the bag. Her dark eyes blink at Hobie, he waits for her, hand reaching out in a friendly manner and trying not to scare her away with any sudden movements. The dog sniffs, tail slowly wagging as she walks forward.

You watch from behind, eyes growing wider as you see Hobie let the dog sniff at his hand. When she finally lets him pet her head, Hobie looks back at you with a soft smile.

“Look at you, you're an animal whisperer.”

“Nah, I bet she was just hungry and knows how to swindle.”

Chuckling, you saunter towards them slowly, kneeling beside Hobie, you place the dried meat beside her. “There you go, it's better than some seeds.”

Hobie observes how you gently smile at the friendly dog as she tentatively sits in front of the meat. You let the dog approach you, waiting patiently as she eats until there's none left. She sniffs your knee, nudging you with her snout. He laughs as you surrender the rest of the beef jerky.

It's a peaceful silence of him and you just sitting there on the dry grassy ground while the strange dog eats his entire supply of jerky. He suppose he can always run to the general store for more.

The sun is high up, yet it's a comfortable heat on his skin. He preferred summers here, the searing heat always kept him awake and alert. But with you now here, he prefers how the cooling wind nips at his skin, how the leaves are now turning into sunsets that you always adore. And how much you wake up clinging to his side every morning. He prefers this, living with you, finally experiencing life again as if he picked up a book from where he left off years ago; it took some time and a lot of hurt to get here, but he would've done it all over again if it ended just like this. Maybe he'd do better, maybe he would make better decisions— for now, instead of lamenting about all the things that have happened, he'd rather stay in the present where you're currently in.

“I think we should keep her.” You say after a few moments. Hobie just now noticed how the dog now lays on your lap, probably sleeping off her meal. Your hand rubs softly on her back, eyes shining under the sun. “My aunt never let me have pets, she said that a proper lady shouldn't smell of wet dog.”

“Look at you now, covered in dirt, sweat and dog slobber.”

“She'd fucking die.” You laugh, it's the first time you've ever laughed after mentioning her. You finally feel like the shackles of her memory are starting to loosen up against your ankles.

Your happy laughter is slowly replaced with a sob, Hobie, with tears in his own eyes, holds you against him. Arms enveloping you, hands cradling your head as if the simple movement would take it all away. He wishes it did, but he knows that it will take time, and he'll wait, and be there for you no matter how long it takes. Even if it doesn't fully go away.

Under the sunshine of autumn, dry blades of grass underneath you, breeze whispering and carrying your sobs into the wind; Hobie holds you like nothing else matters, like it's just you and him, him and you against the bloody, forsaken world.

—

Clover the dog has taken upon you, you named her after the first piece of clover that sprouted along the property after you and Hobie toiled away for weeks just trying to keep it all alive. You've both fallen into a routine, you two wake up later than you both intended, snuggling under the thick covers. Always rushing through the routine to have more time to tend the house. You share chores, you cook in the morning while he cooks dinner. He fixes the house, while you try to revive the farmland. At night, you check all his previous injuries for any signs of it opening up; and he does it to you too, as gentle and careful like you were. All in all, you're proud of what you two have accomplished.

It's your very own borrowed heaven.

The house is now fully painted a soft blue; the same shade you both saw when you crossed the ocean to this new land. The door that was once a murky, muddy brown is now in a snowy white that matches the windows and picket fences. The fences aren't complete yet, the rest are still laying next to the barn where Cherry and Bucky hunker down every night after an energetic ride around their pen that used to be covered in piles of old wood and metal scraps. It took an entire week to clean it up even with the combined powers of you, Hobie, and Riri, who decided to pay you two a visit from time to time. She said that she was only making sure that the ‘loser’ hasn't hurt you in any way. To which Hobie promptly rolled his eyes and threw a plank of wood at her feet, to his words ‘make yourself useful instead of being a pain in my own home.’ You joked that he's starting to sound like one of those old men who would chase people out of their property if someone would step a foot onto his grass. And of course he had to call you grandma for the rest of the day in front of Riri because of it.

You sigh in content, smiling eyes roaming along the greener grass from the porch where you sit; and following along bucky and cherry who are running freely around their paddock. Clover huffs in your lap, and you chuckle, wondering what she's dreaming about. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees, and carrying it in its breeze. The swing under you shifts from the strong wind, hinges creaking along as you push with your socked feet. Hobie built you this swing right on the porch when he found you looking at the stars with your back aching from the lack of a seat. To add to it, he made it so that it'll fit you and him together with Clover sleeping on your lap.

You cover yourself more with Hobie's jacket, shivering slightly, nose and fingers cold. There's a sudden warmth on your cheek, you don't flinch or gasp from the surprise, knowing that it's Hobie with a warm cup of tea.

“Hi,” you smile up, Hobie returns the grin. He looks softer, edges rounded up. He's fresh from a bath, skin smelling of lavender and citrus. He prefers to wear softer and fleecy clothes now, leaving all the leather behind unless he's going for a ride towards town. Now he likes wearing knitted jackets that keeps him warm and comfortable without the stiffness of leather. He prefers jeans now too, and shirts with no collars that clings to his scar uncomfortably. A testament to how the first two buttons on his work shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his chest. “You look handsome.”

“When do I not?” He holds your cup in one hand and a glass of amber in the other. The golden ring in his ring finger shines in the afterglow.

You tilt your head playfully, taking his glass instead of the mug, eyes never leaving his own. He raises a brow when you take a sip from the glass, feeling the burn from the alcohol line your throat. “You're right, never. You always look good.” Your words are only for him and him only as you whisper it.

“Damn right.” He accepts defeat, letting you drink his whiskey while he drinks from your mug of tea. Clinking his glass against your own, you let out a snort, scooching to allow him space as he sits.

The warm liquid seeps into his calloused hands, eyes flicking over to you and between the land that he once thought was barren. Your plants still haven't borne fruit, but the greenery has sprouted like a miracle on dead soil. You almost gave up on the first month when nothing was working in your favour when the ground was still dry and grey. But you didn't, you kept at it everyday, tilling the soil, planting and replanting, watering everything until a single sprout appeared overnight. You jumped for joy when you saw, he still smiles remembering you running towards him with Clover in tow, and slamming yourself against him just to snog him until he was breathless.

He couldn't have made this into a house without you. This wouldn't be a home without you either.

You poke his cheek, feeling how much softer it is than before. “Whatever you're thinking about, stop it.”

“You want me to stop thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

You groan with a smile, head plopping down on his shoulder. “You never fail to rile me up.”

“Pot meet kettle, love.” He looks at you lovingly, like how a man would stare into the eyes of his wife.

Smiling, you place the mouth of your glass on his lips, letting him sip from the amber while he does the same with his tea placed on your own lips. You both drink, arms crossed over the other, lending each other's hand over the other.

You gulp down the warmth, letting it seep through your bones and muscles, letting it relax into you like a hug from a beloved.

Meanwhile, Hobie never let his eyes off you. Deep green eyes, the same colour as the sea of clovers in front of the home, has found its place on your lips, watching you drink from his cup while he drinks from your own.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you. Clover snores on your lap, happy and content after finding her home. Hobie's hand kneads at your nape, letting his cool hands settle over your warm skin. With your head placed on his shoulder, you bask in your personal paradise. The birds chirp just a few ways away from you, finding their nests settled on the windmill that you two haven't fixed just yet. The sunset paints the entire farm in shades of orange and pink, hues of autumn blanketing the peaceful place you and Hobie built.

This is home, not the marbled walls of the manor you used to reside. Not the fine silks you used to sleep on, *this is home; with it's rough edges, broken pipes that groan in the night, with its walls made from wood and brick that feels cold on your skin— it's home, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You feel him shift closer to you, lips pressing softly against your temple. His hand tracing above your scar. “Shoulder feelin’ alright?”

Humming, you close your eyes as he peppers kisses from your temple down to your wind whipped cheek. “It's feeling much better now, thanks to you.” He takes your glass and places it down on the floor right next to his own mug.

“I didn't do much.” Hobie chuckles, returning to your side not a moment longer, his knuckles brushes along your collarbone. “‘sides, you did all the healin’”

You sigh, eyes meeting up with his own. He can see love in your simple gaze. “Yeah, only because you've cleaned it every night before bed.” Hobie chuckles when you poke his stomach, in return, he nudges his nose against your own, earning a soft hum of approval from you. “How's your head? And everything else?” You narrow your eyes playfully, “can you still count to a hundred?”

His loud guffaw makes you laugh. Shaking his head, he pulls you closer. “It's good,” he says against your lips, breath fanning across your soft skin. “I've got a good nurse.”

“Your nurse didn't go to school for it.” You joke again. Hobie pecks your lips once, twice, until you're pulling him in by his shirt. You feel his smile throughout it all. He kisses you gently, yet he holds you like he's about to lose you.

The much needed kiss is interrupted by Clover sneezing on your lap, snot covering your flowy skirt. You pull away with a laugh, eyes still closed as his fingers still grips your chin, already feeling him pull you in once again.

“Hobie.” You call while he continues to snog you, kissing along the shape of your lips, etching how your lips feel, and how you sigh against him; how you kiss back wholeheartedly.

He hums, murmuring your name while the sound of his kisses echo around the porch and atop the songs of birds flying overhead.

You giggle as his searing hands find its way under your shirt and onto your stomach. He pauses, eyes blinking slowly at you. You clamp down, shining lips shut closed as he raises a brow.

“What? You ticklish now?” Hobie asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shake your head with a smile. “Nope.”

There's a grin slowly forming on his equally shiny lips. “I think I need to reacquaint myself, I don't remember you being ticklish—” he pokes your side. “—right ‘ere.”

You gasp in feigned offense, “I'm not!”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Wiggling his fingers, you laugh, reaching for his hands before he could attack.

“Okay! Only on that part.” You confess with a breathy laugh. He nods, tucking that information inside his head to be used one day.

Hobie returns to his drink, opting to sip at what was supposed to be your tea. The tea is now tepid, but he still drinks it anyway. You push the swing with your feet, softly, the swing sways back and forth while Clover lays asleep with your hand petting her head.

“We should take Riri up on her offer.” You say into the growing dark of the farm, watching the sun go further down and the light fade away. “It's been three months since she first invited us over.”

“She can wait,” Hobie has latched himself on you, arm snaked around your middle as he finishes his tea.

“Want to hog me all to yourself then?”

“That obvious?” He glances at your beaming face before his eyes stare at Bucky and Cherry trotting inside the barn on their own. Sometimes he thinks those two are actually humans trapped inside a horse's body. He has never seen smarter horses than them.

“Are you worried? About me getting back out there?” You play with the button of his work shirt, letting his scent waft over you when a breeze carries it towards you.

“What if…” Hobie sighs, eyes staring at you with worry. It's a grip taking hold around his body. “What if someone finds us again?” He remembers all the times you two were found by both the law and your aunt’s hired guns even when he took extra precautions. There's still that looming threat especially with how suspiciously peaceful your journey to the farm was. He has every right to be worried, you are too. “As much as good you are with a gun, I don't want to see you shootin’ it at someone again. ‘m… not tryin’ to control you, I just—”

You hold his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw tenderly, feeling all the tiny scars left on his skin. “No, I understand. You're not like them, Hobie. No one will ever control me ever again.” At your words, he leans towards your touch, hand lifting up to meet with yours. “I won't let them.” Nodding, he kisses your palm, you notice how his hand shakes above your own. You don't mention it. “It's been five months since the train, they might have given up.”

“Let's hope so.” He softly says, green eyes gazing at you. Eyes that haven't seen peace in years, until now.

“Yeah, hope.” It's a fickle thing, but it's enough to light a fire in you. If they come, you'll fight with everything you've got. You've got everything to lose now, and you're willing to wield a gun once more to protect it all. If not, then it'll be a gift that you won't throw away, you'd live here peacefully, live the life you've always longed for. You're afraid that it would be the former.

—

You saddle up the horses in the barn, Buckeye watches your every move as you strap the saddle over to Cherry. There’s worry in his inky eyes, a look that you're all too familiar with. Clover runs around the barn, sniffing everything she comes across.

“You alright there, Buck? What's got you all worried, huh?” You don't expect him to answer, but he neighs in response, a sharp one that has you raising a brow. You've never heard him make that irritated sound. “What's gotten into you?” As you slide your hands down on Cherry's stomach to finish the saddle, Bucky, neighs loudly, hooves thumping against the ground. He looks like he's about to rush into you and throw you over. “Bucky, calm down!” You put your hands up, staying away from both horses.

“Buckeye!” Hobie's booming voice ricochets around the barn as he enters, putting a stop to Bucky's tantrum. Even Clover stops running for a second before returning to her adventure. “What's gotten into you, boy?” He pets his snout, effectively calming him down.

“I was putting on Cherry's saddle and he suddenly got mad.”

“He looks alright.” Nodding, Hobie roams his eyes all over his horse, checking each of his horse shoes in case there's something embedded in his feet. “Nothin’s wrong with him. What about Cherry? He's been overprotective of her lately.”

“Ah shit, do you think I put it on too tight?” Hobie keeps his hold on Bucky's reins, just in case. You check all the belts and buckles on the saddle, finding the fit just right. Until you get to her stomach. “Wait—” hands roaming around, you feel a bump. “What is that?” Cherry looks at you, if horses could raise their brow, she would've done it already. “Are you—?!” You gasp, eyes meeting with Hobie. Glaring at the horse next to him, you embrace Cherry. “Bucky, what did you do to Cherry!”

He already knows what you found. “I think it was a combined effort, love.” Scratching the back of Bucky's ear, Hobie chuckles at your reaction. “You did not waste time, huh, boy?”

“She's smaller than him!” You look at Bucky as if he can explain himself, to which the horse just huffs at you. Hobie keeps patting Buckeye on his back, while Cherry isn't even listening in on the conversation anymore. She prefers the pile of hay next to her, eating without a care.

“And? You are too compared to me.” Hobie unabashedly answers for Bucky. You gasp then laugh, a laugh that changes to a playful offended chortle. You grab a bucket from the ground, ready to throw it at him.

“You should run, Hobie!” Before you could finish yelling, Hobie's already sprinting back inside the house. You run after him, bucket in hand, ready to throw carrots at him.

Hobie waits for carrots to be pelted at him, only to turn around to see you gawking at the planted vegetable patch before you. He stops by the steps on the porch, hands on his hips as you let go of the bucket with a thud.

“What's wrong?”

“They've grown.” You whisper in disbelief, Hobie almost didn't catch your words. Chuckling, you look at Hobie with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got tomatoes!” Pouncing on him, he catches you, arms holding you in place while you celebrate against his neck.

He roams his eyes downwards towards the tomatoes until he spots a handful of it just under a bunch of leaves. “Holy shit!” Hand behind your head, he jumps up and down, matching your excitement. “You did it, love!”

You lean away, and then immediately peppers his face with a dozen kisses, leaving him almost dizzy. Before he could kiss back, you're already back on the ground, plucking the ripest looking one. It's as big as your hand, red and plump; ripe for the taking. All the countless times you've read botany books have finally borne fruit.

Wiping the dirt off of the tomato on your shirt, you hand it to him. “Wanna do the honors?”

“This is all you, lovie.” He gently places it back in your palm, hand lingering on yours; identical rings shining brightly.

You nod as thanks, heart beating rapidly. With a tentative bite, you let the juice coat your mouth, overflowing until it's dripping from your chin. It's perfect, and Hobie thinks you look perfect even with juice sliding down your chin and arm.

“Do you want a room? Because I can go.” Hobie jokes, you laugh heartily.

“Here,” you say, mouth full. “Try it.”

Hobie takes it, biting down just as the same as you, with juices flowing down his arm and onto his shirt. “Fuck!”

You nod rapidly, pride filling your chest. “Right?!”

“Y/N,” he calls, mouth still taking bites of the produce. Gesturing towards the neighboring plants, he watches as your expression morphs into pure elation when you spot your potatoes growing out of the soil, like bald heads peeking out from underneath.

There's dozens of them all lined up and ready to be harvested. You almost guffaw, satisfied and successful at growing something on the once thought barren land.

“We're gonna need a basket.” Perhaps your trip to Riri's saloon will have to wait.

—

The trip to town took longer since Cherry was out of commission, and you only had Bucky to take with you on the ride. By the time you and Hobie make it to Riri's saloon, lunch was in full swing. The place is smaller compared to the other establishments you've been in, and yet, it doesn't lack the energy. Customers line the bar, eating and drinking their fill. Jaunty music fills your ears just as when the saloon doors close behind you, Hobie's hand is placed on the small of your back, fingertips pressing softly, leading you towards the far end of the saloon where the bar is placed.

You roam your eyes around, the band plays on a stage in your right, cello, fiddles and trumpets play alongside the piano. Customers dance around with their partners, smiling faces whizz past you, giving you a polite greeting as you go. There are numerous tables littered around with the people sitting there and chatting energetically, their conversations rising above the music.

A hearty laugh above reaches your ears, when you look up, you see a spiral staircase that leads to the second floor with a balcony. A few patrons look down at you with their drinks in their hands, some are watching the poker game with amusement in their eyes. Drinking glasses clink around while you continue to make your way towards Riri who happens to be tending the bar.

The walls are in a creamy white with rows upon walls of paintings full of portraits and landscapes. There's a giant moose antler above the bar, looming over everyone. The place smells of booze and whiskey. Oddly enough, the scent of melted chocolate lingers above the fog of rum and moonshine. A crystal chandelier hangs high up on the ceiling, the centerpiece of the saloon. Sunlight from the windows filters through the brightly coloured glass, drenching the walls and floor with a kaleidoscope of light.

“Hey, Hobie!” Someone yells from above, Hobie gives them a curt nod. A handful of people recognize him, some greet him kindly like an old friend would. Some gaze at him with trepidation in their eyes.

A stranger with an eyepatch clasps his shoulder before staggering outside. Hobie chuckles and rolls his eyes at the older man.

“Someone's popular.” You whisper.

“A side effect of my reputation.” He smiles gently, fingers tapping on the small of your back. Leading you towards the corner of the bar, the far end where the back door sits behind it; he settles the two of you there, further away from strangers that could make you uncomfortable.

“Finally!” Riri exclaims, “the prodigal son returns!” Everyone at the bar hoots and whistles at Hobie. He ignores each of them, earning some booing and hissing from the crowd. You chuckle from seeing Hobie hide his smile under the brim of his hat. Riri slides in front of you, beer bottle in hand and then plops it in Hobie's waiting hand. “And with the prettiest girl this side of town has ever seen. What have you two been up to in your little slice of heaven, huh? Haven't seen you in months.”

“Busy with the farm.” Hobie says against the lip of his bottle, hand never leaving your back.

“Farm? Your dirt farm? You sure it's not you getting busy with our girl here, eh, Hobs?” Riri gives you a knowing look, you're flustered enough as it is. Hobie just shakes his head, eyes roaming everywhere but your eyes or Riri's.

You clear your throat. “We actually managed to grow something out there. We've got tomatoes, potatoes and even some carrots and strawberries blooming.” Your genuine smile turns Riri's playful one to a proud grin. “We'd bring you some of our harvest but we only rode on Bucky. We didn't want to stress him out further.”

“Why's that?” Riri cleans a glass with a cloth, “Is Cherry sick? We've got a veterinarian here for that.”

“No, she's pregnant.”

“Goddamn, Bucky did not waste any time.”

Hobie nods, “that's what I said.”

“Let's hope his rider doesn't do the same, eh?” She sends you both a wink.

“Fuckin' hell, Riri.” Hobie squeezes the bridge of his nose whilst you're left blubbering from her words. “Is there lunch left for us?” He says with a sigh.

“If you're nice about it, yeah.” Riri looks over at you. “Except for you, pretty, there's always a meal here for you.” You smile, head tilting towards Hobie's shoulder from bashfulness.

“Roast beef still on the menu?” Hobie asks, bottle half empty, stomach growling.

“Say please.” Riri says pointedly.

Hobie huffs, flicking his eyes towards you briefly before surrendering. “...please.”

Riri smirks, “it's always on the menu.” Hobie rolls his eyes at that.

He pokes your back, knuckles tracing around where he poked you. “How ‘bout you? Riri's chef can cook anythin’ you want.”

“Don't steal my words, Hobie.” Riri raises a brow. “Karl can make you anything you want.”

You laugh nervously at the eyes staring and waiting for you. “Uh, I'll have what he's having. And…” Hobie encourages you with a smile and a squeeze on your back. “Soup, any kind of soup you've got available.”

Riri pats the back of your hand with a soft smile. “We've got pumpkin, is that alright?”

“It's perfect.” You turn towards Hobie who's beaming at you, hiding his face with the brim of his hat from the rest of the customers.

—

You watch and listen with a smile in your seat, hand clasped around a glass of orange juice. The band ramps up their set, the music has gotten jauntier and happier right after you finished eating. More people have left the bar to either dance or play poker upstairs. Hobie still sits behind you, fingers curled around your belt loop lovingly. You feel him tapping rhythmically to the sound of the snare drum.

Looking over your shoulder, he nods at you with a soft smile. “They're good, aren't they?” You ask, chin atop your shoulder.

“Yeah, but I think you can beat them.”

You roll your eyes with a chuckle, fully twisting around on the bar stool to wipe a drop of sauce at the tip of his chin, fingers lingering there for a moment. “It's not a competition, Hobs.”

Before Hobie could give a reply, Riri slides over with a slice of chocolate cake. “You know how to play?”

You eye the dessert. “The piano, but I haven't practiced in a while.”

“She's bein’ humble. She's bloody brilliant on the keys.” Hobie takes the plate from Riri with a quick thank you, and then he places it in front of you casually.

You almost protested, thinking that Hobie yanked another customer's order. But Riri proves your thoughts wrong when she, herself, hands you a small fork for your dessert. You mumble a soft thank you, too shy, too grateful to say it louder lest you burst into tears. The cake has chocolate swirls with a large, plump strawberry on top of it. You don't waste time digging in.

“Isn't there an old broken piano at your place?” Riri continues the conversation, eyes flicking to your happy face with a soft smile.

“Yeah, been thinkin’ ‘bout fixin’ the damn thing but I have no idea how.” You almost actually cried on your cake when Hobie said those words.

“I think old man Roberto can fix it.” You savour the cake, listening in on the conversation.

“Your pianist?”

“Yeah, he's a doctor too, did you know that? Pretty great if you ask me—” Riri pauses, you follow her confused look. You see Hobie's stony expression, green eyes aflame like greek fire engulfing an entire fleet of ships. You and Riri have the same idea by following his gaze. She clears her throat at the sight, while you only see a broad shouldered man on the stairs, watching the band play.

“You okay?” You feel worried all of a sudden, what if this was another Culver situation? “Do you know him?”

“An old…acquaintance. Don't worry, he just owes me money.” Patting your back, he doesn't want to lie to you. What would that even bring?

“Oh, alright.” You slide the plate over to him. “I saved you some cake.”

Hobie chuckles, “nah, it's all yours, love.”

“Thank you,” you take the plate back. “I was just being nice.” Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, you miss how he's having a silent conversation with Riri while you chow down.

“What did you even put in this, Riri? It's so fucking good!” With your fork, you scrape the plate to gather the rest of the chocolate icing. You have no shame at this point, it's the best cake you've ever had.

Riri takes a while to reply, so you lift your head up to see what's going on. You're met with her genuine smile. “Don't thank me, thank my grandma, it's a family recipe.”

“Well, thank you, Riri's grandma.”

Hobie stares at something behind you, Riri interrupts you before you could look over your shoulder. “Do you want to meet the band?”

“Holy shit! Really?” You grin from ear to ear, turning to see Hobie give you a nod and a small smile. “Do I have something in my teeth?” You grin widely, Hobie shakes his head, amused by you.

“Yeah, they're really nice. Come on, let's get you acquainted.” Riri jumps over the bar effortlessly, taking you by the hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

“I'll be back, Hobie!” You excitedly say over your shoulder as Riri twirls you around in the middle of the crowd. Hobie chuckles in his seat, drinking a cup of tea. He hears Riri ask you to dance, to which you happily agree.

Hobie keeps an eye on you, and he trusts Riri to keep you safe until he's done dealing with him. Hobie watches as Miguel saunters off towards him, spurs clinking as he sits down on your seat.

“Looks like Riri took your girl.” He says while ordering a beer from the other bartender.

“Why didn't you tell me that it was her, Miguel?”

Miguel catches the drink in his open palm as the bottle slides from the other end to his hand. “Simple, I didn't know who she was.” He cracks it open by banging the cap against the edge of the bar. The metal clanks on the floor as it falls.

“Bullshit, O’Hara.” Hobie says through clenched teeth.

“She has a sweet tooth doesn't she?” He refers to your almost clean plate.

“Miguel.” Hobie utters more pointedly, taking the beer from his hand before he even takes a sip. “Why didn't you tell me it was her?”

Miguel sighs, “I didn't know it was her. But I had a hunch. People at camp talk y’know. And you're a blabber mouth when you're drunk. A deadly combination.” He eyes his beer bottle, Hobie waits for more answers. “The guy who gave me the job just gave me her description. The same description I gave you, Hobie. Not my fault you didn't recognize her.”

“Who gave it to you?”

Miguel flexes his hand, asking for his drink back. Hobie clenches his jaw before sliding the bottle back to him reluctantly. “You should thank me. I got you two together again.”

“Just tell me, Miguel, or I'll ask for that bounty you owe me.”

“You technically didn't complete the job, so…” Hobie stares at him with the same look that Miguel has only seen him sport when he has his target in his crosshairs. “It was a middleman. He said his boss was an oil baron of some kind.” He’s about to take a sip, but doesn't. Grimacing when he brings the bottle back down to only see Hobie having the same fiery look. It brings a shiver down his spine. “Can you stop?”

“Who?”

“Don't know, didn't ask.”

“She could've died, Miguel.” That thought has him trembling in place. Hobie balls his fists, hiding how the mere thought of it shakes him to his core.

“She would've died either way, Hobie. But she had you, if I gave the job to any other person, she would've. Trust me, I did not know it was her, or that you even knew her. It's not like I made her come here.”

Hobie inhales sharply. “It wasn't you who sent the letter?”

“What fucking letter?”

“I sense some tension in the air. You know, conducting business in my establishment isn't allowed. Except if you involve me.” Riri jumps to Miguel's side, taking the beer from his hand, chugging it as sweat drips from her brow. With a sigh, Miguel orders another beer.

“Where's Y/N?” Hobie answers his own question when he sees you playing the piano with the rest of the band. His lips curl up into a smile, fists unclenching at the music you're playing. You're having the time of your life.

“Relax, Romeo, she's fine.” Riri claps to the rhythm. Hobie hears your hearty laugh from where he's sitting. The saloon's band seems to be having fun too.

In Hobie's mind, everything clicks in place. “It was you who sent my letter.” Hobie jabs his finger on Riri's shoulder blade.

She snorts, “of course it was me. I couldn't handle your sulking any longer. Seriously, I was losing customers because of your weekly letter writing and crying session.”

Miguel laughs, he sees Hobie's glare and tamps down to a snicker. Riri leans in the bar to yank a bottle of whiskey from underneath the shelves.

“Why?”

“You weren't happy being a lone ranger.”

Hobie feels like lightning struck him. “Fuckin' hell, Riri, you could've said somethin'. Warned me ‘bout it.”

“And? You'd somehow find it in your heart to immediately forgive her and pick her up from the docks?” Riri pours the whiskey inside three glasses, handing it to each of the men. “You’re like a brother to me, Hobie. We came up in this fuckwad’s gang—” she points at Miguel who's caught in the middle. He just pinches the bridge of his nose. “—at the same time. Do you think I'd let you wallow and die alone in that dirt farm of yours?”

Hobie doesn't answer. He knows that the journey was needed. But if Riri actually warned him about it beforehand, would you be here right now? Or would you be dead somewhere along your journey to him because he couldn't find it in his heart to come to you?

“See? Not everything's my fault. Just a freak coincidence.” Miguel pipes up, now eating a slice of cake just as you have.

Riri ignores him. “I know you had a slight apprehension towards her because of what happened.”

“She could've died, Riri. When I found her, she was trying to steal food.”

Riri breathes shakily, eyes glossing over. “And I'm sorry for that, truly. I never thought that would happen, or that her people would put a bounty on her. I only knew her from you, Hobie. I'm sorry. And I'll apologize to her, I promise.”

“She's really good on that piano.” Miguel comments before returning to his cake. Hobie and Riri continue to ignore him.

Hobie sucks in his teeth. “‘Slight apprehension’ didn't cut it back then.” He whispers.

Riri looks at him with a frown, eyes downturned. She knows his story, and she knows his side of it. “You know when I was a kid I used to hate the edges on bread. I always asked my mom to cut it off for me which added more workload for her, but she still did it.” She smiles fondly. “And now as an adult I love the edges, it's the best part of the bread for me.”

“What are you sayin'?”

“I'm saying that people change. And I'm not just referring to her.” Hobie understands her double entendre.

Hobie scoffs, stealing a quick glance at you. “It's bread, Riri.”

“I can see that she may have thought you were a burden back then but I highly doubt she has the same thoughts now.” Riri takes a sip from her glass. “How would you even know that you were a burden to her when the exact words didn't come out of her own mouth?”

“She told me it wasn't her, I know that now. It was all Hicks, the same fucker that did this to me.” Miguel straightens in his seat, Riri flicks her eyes at his scar knowingly. “They're still lookin’ for her, I know it.”

“If they ever find you both, we have your back.” Riri clasps Hobie's shoulder. He holds her hand briefly before letting go with a thankful nod. “It's the least I can do.” Miguel agrees with a grunt and a pat on his gun.

“It's more than enough, Ri.”

You wave towards Hobie from the small stage, jumping down to walk past the crowd and to him. Hobie's heart feels a little bit lighter from the conversation, like a bullet taken out from his skin.

Miguel stands up, and then pats Hobie and Riri in the shoulder before putting his hat back on. His hazel eyes meet with yours for a second, you give him a polite smile as you navigate your way out of the jam-packed audience.

Miguel fixes his hat, eyes zeroing in on the ring around Hobie's finger. “Nice ring. You two tied the knot without inviting me and the rest of the gang?” You pause by the menu, acting like something caught your eye while you listen in. The saloon is noisy enough for his words to be muffled, but you understood it perfectly.

“Not really,” Hobie glances towards you for a second before flicking his eyes over at his ring that he keeps twisting and turning around his finger.

“Well you've got everything else covered. And I've seen the way you look at her. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.” Miguel clasps Hobie's shoulder in a parting goodbye, his face is unreadable from where you are. Miguel leans in closer this time, hazel eyes staring into Hobie's soul. His expression turns serious, lips pursed into a thin line, whispering words that you couldn't hear from where you stood. “You gonna tell her all the things you've done to survive this place?”

Hobie stands up to greet you halfway. “Worse, she has seen it.” Miguel leaves, and Hobie holds your hand with a proud smile, but you can tell something happened while you were gone. He sees it, so he leads you back to the bar where Riri waits to tell you everything.

“Did he pay you back?”

“Nah, he didn't have the money on him.”

“What an asshole.” He laughs, not bothering to hide his affection for you in front of the whole saloon any longer.

—

You lean back, smiling at the lavender sunset before you. Hobie's hands are occupied with the reins, but he still finds the time to nuzzle his chin on your shoulder. A small act that has you grinning as you cup his cheek for a moment.

Riri's confession was a surprise to you, but after the shock ended, you couldn't help but let out a loud guffaw in the saloon. You stood out like a sore thumb whilst Hobie rubs your back from how much you were laughing. You even thanked Riri for what she did on Hobie's behalf, to which she sighed in relief from your reaction. If she didn't send that letter, you'd still be in that wretched place, you'd still be half dead, surviving but not living. The journey to Hobie was tough and marred with pain and bloodshed, and yet, you'd take that journey all over again if you knew that he'd be holding you like this once again; that he still loves you despite everything that has happened to him and to you. With a parting hug, and a promise that you'll visit again, you and Hobie set off back on the road towards home.

The route home is filled with an abundance of scenery. Fields of flowers and tall grass line the sides of the bumpy dirt road. Daisies, poppies and baby's breath are in full bloom, its colours bringing even more brightness to the land. Cows and horses graze all over, they look up at the sound of Bucky's hooves thudding against the soil.

Hobie gathers up the reins in one hand, arm holding on to your waist before bending down from his saddle. Buckeye still gallops away as you immediately try to get a hold of Hobie before he falls.

“What are you doing?!” You ask, voice shaky, eyes up front while he has his palm open, gathering flowers on the side of the road.

“Just hold onto me!” Numerous flowers gather in his hand, its petals are filled with dew, sweet smelling and colourful against his leather gloves. Some of the stems are broken from the motion of the galloping horse. But you don't mind as he sends you a wink while he's on the side like he's doing the most mundane thing.

Laughing, you help pull him up. He hands you the bundle of flowers from behind, lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “That'll be five bucks.”

You giggle, thumb brushing along one of its red petals. “That's expensive for a roadside bouquet.” Hiding your face behind the flowers, you take a whiff of the sweetness whilst you gaze behind you through your fluttering lashes. “I think you're swindeling me, cowboy.”

“Fine,” he dramatically sighs, earning a soft laugh from you. His viridescent eyes remind you of the clovers back home. “I'll give you a discount.”

“A kiss then?”

“I was goin' to say ‘three bucks’ but that works too.” His eyes are on the road, but he briefly gazes into yours with tenderness.

“I'll pay my dues then.” You crane your neck back as far as you can. With a hand running up behind his head, you push him gently to meet with your own for a quick peck. “There, all paid.”

Hobie grins, trying hard not to indulge more lest he crashes Bucky into a tree. “Nah, that was half.”

“Half?” You feign a scoff. “Fine, I'll give it to you in installments.” Your neck is starting to ache from the position, but you can't help but keep still when he even looks this good in this awkward angle.

Bucky slows down, you hear the rush of a body of water before you see it. Hobie clicks his tongue, Buck completely stops from the command. “I'll take it.”

“You're not gonna ask when I'll ‘pay’ you?”

Hobie places his hand around your throat, not clenching, nor digging in; no, he does it to gently straighten your neck to save you from a crick in your nape. You follow willingly, never have you felt this soft kind of grasp around your neck— it's been the opposite before this, before him.

The pads of Hobie's fingers rub along your nape, soothing the growing ache. “Surprise me.”

Your smile grows when you quickly look forward, you see a small dock in a shining lake that's surrounded by oak trees and cattails growing on the side. The water shimmers under the afterglow like diamonds laid upon silk.

Hobie raises his brows with a smile, you're sure he's patting himself on the back. He smoothly gets off his horse with a flourish. With his feet back on the ground, he holds your waist, waiting for you to push yourself off so he could help you down. As if you ever need it, but you sometimes like to be spoiled this way, especially if It's Hobie spoiling you with his affections.

You hold the bouquet against your chest while he looks up at you lovingly, not telling you to hurry up or attempt to yank you off. “They told me that you're so mashed. What does that even mean?”

“Who's they?”

“The band, they said and I quote, ‘that Hobie is properly mashed for you! We've never seen him look at someone like that unless—’” You pause, hands on his wrist, pushing yourself off as he guides you down on the ground carefully. You floated for a moment, you then tuck the flowers in Bucky's saddle bag for safe keeping.

“Unless what?”

You bite your lip to tamp down a laugh. “‘Unless you're one of Riri’s homemade chocolate cakes.’” Poking his chest, you playfully jab him while he has his hands up in mock surrender. “I knew you wanted that cake!”

“It was yours! And I've had it a thousand times before, love.” He grabs your wrists, stopping your poking to pull your hand over his neck so you'd hold him closer. Toe to toe, you close the gap even more by scooching closer.

You poke him with your chin on his clavicle. “And here I thought you were being nice.”

“I was,” Hobie utters against your lips, “don't worry, I ordered one for myself while you were playing on stage.”

You gasp in feigned offense. “You dare?!”

Nodding, Hobie pulls you closer by your wrist. “I dare.” He mocks teasingly.

“Guess I have to jump in the lake to let the waters wash away this betrayal.” Moving away, you walk backwards towards the dock while keeping an eye at him.

Hobie watches you go. The second he steps forward, you sprint away, giggling. Milkweeds and poppies brush along your legs as you run while stripping off your boots and jacket, you then throw it all behind you. The fabric hits Hobie's face, he hears a splash as he yanks it off, laughing with you. Stripping off his coat, belt and boots, he jumps in right after with a louder and bigger splash.

The water is colder than you expected when it hit your skin. But you suppose it's worth staying for a little while even if it means getting a cold. You wipe your face from the splash that hit you, shivering slightly and incredibly happy without a care for the rest of the world.

“Hobie?” You twist around, swimming in a circle to look for him.

Hobie doesn't resurface after his jump, your grin slowly turns into panic when you see bubbles rise up from where he jumped.

“Hobie!” You feel bile rise in your throat, panic and worry settling in your stomach. “Hob—!” You're suddenly lifted up, thighs perched on his shoulder with his head in between. “You ass—!” You see him give you a smirk before tossing you behind with a splash.

He once again lifts you up, by your waist this time. He's met with a glare from you, and he has the audacity to laugh at your face. You splash, wiggling and thrashing in his hold. “‘m sorry! I saw the opportunity!”

“Not funny! I thought you drowned!” Continuing to splash at his face, Hobie embraces you against his chest until you've tired yourself out. You manage to give him one last splash to his face before you gave up, and then you slouch against him.

“Good thing I taught you how to swim, huh?” He softly says, floating around the lake.

“Yeah,” you hide behind the crook of his neck, nose nudging his skin while you try to forget how your aunt reacted when you came home drenched and dripping on her carpets.

“You okay?” Hobie rubs in between your shoulders. “‘m sorry, I thought it was funny.”

You sniff from the cold, leaning away to meet with his eyes. “It was, just don't take too long to resurface.” Smiling, you wipe water droplets off his pierced eyebrow. “Remember the day you convinced me to let you teach me how to swim?”

“Yeah, I told you that you wouldn't be able to swim if the ship you're on capsizes.”

“It scared the shit out of me.”

“‘m sorry that scared you.”

“Stop apologizing,” you cup his jaw, feeling his stubble, “besides, we ended up here years later. It's a good ending.”

“Yeah, a good ending.” He fixes your blouse, laying the collar flat so the edge doesn't poke your eye out. Noticing your far off stare behind him, he imagines the worst. But when he turns, he sees a huge deer with large antlers drinking from the side of the lake. “Holy shit.” Hobie moves, but you stop him so he doesn't startle the deer.

It continues to drink calmly. A bush from the side shakes, Hobie almost went for his gun but he's proven wrong when a white tailed doe appears.

“She's gorgeous,” you whisper, hugging him from behind while you watch the doe drink next to the deer. “Do you think they know each other?”

“Maybe.” He doesn't believe his eyes, “maybe they're mates.”

You kiss his cold cheek. “You think so?”

With your hands intertwined with his own underwater, he pulls you closer until there's no space left in between. He once dreamed to be this close to you, now that he's skin to flesh with you, he will never let go. He'd rather be buried alive again rather than be apart with you.

The deer nudges the doe's head before they gallop away from the lake. Hobie sniffs, finger brushing along your ring. “Yeah, they are.”

—

The sun has fully set now, dark blue engulfing you with the night howling its cold breeze against your wet skin. The large oak tree behind you shields you from the harsh wind. It reminds you of the one back home where he carved both of your initials on the trunk. Hobie embraces you from behind, sharing his warmth while you two wait for the clothes on your back to dry before riding home. Bucky sleeps next to you, huffing in his sleep. The bonfire roars, warming you in its orange glow, flames dancing in your vision.

Hobie hasn't taken his fingers off your ring that he rolls around your finger since you sat down. His eyes stare at the fire, shoulders relaxed, yet his jaw is clenched. You think his body is acting on instinct, and is still getting used to the calm.

“You're quiet, I'm worried.” You say, head leaning on his chest, back slouched to look at him.

Hobie raises a brow, eyes glancing down at you before returning back to the fire. “‘m thinkin’.”

“That's a first,” you joke, squeezing his hand. He chuckles, pecking the top of your head once before sighing in your hair. “Okay, now I'm worried. What's wrong?”

“I was thinkin' that we're practically married.” Something flashes behind your eyes that he missed. “We've got the rings, the house, the love and everythin' else.” He can't let Miguel get to him, but he can't get his words out of his mind either. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.

You give him a soft shaky smile, eyes glossy against the light of the bonfire. Cradling his face, he leans against your palm, placing a heavy kiss on your cool skin. A sob threatens to escape you, clawing at your chest to be let go. You don't let it.

“We kind of are, huh?” He asks, eyes closed while holding your hand against his lips.

“I–it's close.” You manage to choke out. “I suppose we are, Hobs.” Tears collect in your lashes, blurring him in your vision like water colours bleeding in together. “Are you afraid of it?” Of us? You fear waking up one day and finding his side of the bed empty except for a note addressed to you. It's irrational, you know it is.

“No,” he sniffs, “it's the opposite. My fear isn't anywhere near that.”

You blink to clear the tears, letting it fall without a sound. “What are you most afraid of, cowboy?”

Hobie opens his eyes and you're met with a sea of green, shining and glittering just like the lake near you. “You, you're what I'm most afraid of.” You turn to fully face him, body placed in between his legs that comfortably cage you in. You don't let him go even when he burrows his chin on the top of his chest. For a moment, he doesn't say a word, until he sniffs and returns to meet with your eyes. “Losin’ you, seein’ your blood stainin’ my hands.” He holds both of your hands in his own. “That's what I'm afraid of, not my own death, yours. Because I can't live another five years without you. Especially a life lived without you isn't a life well lived.”

You feel his love and all the ache he carried in those five years like never before. He doesn't want to lose the life he built with you here; he doesn't want to lose all the mornings with you, he doesn't want to sleep without you by his side. He doesn't want to lose you.

You never even thought for a moment that you deserve this kind of tenderness after all the hatred that was thrown at you like a hail of firestorm. And yet, here he is, he loves you, the kind of love that reverberates through your very bones and settles into your soul. You still don't think you deserve it, but who are you to deny such love, especially from him? You did not beg for this kind of love, nor prayed for it. It's not the kind of love that the fates or the universe have thrust upon you in a shower of meteors. It was gradual, it came in a trickle and then a wave. And when you two were finally on the same page— you love him with every single bone in your body— you love him intentionally and wholeheartedly.

Kneeling to level with him, hands holding his cheeks, you hope that your simple touch is enough to let him feel all the love and affection you have for the man before you.

With your forehead against his own, you softly utter the same three words you've been telling him every morning and and every night before bed. “I love you.” He nods, whispering the same words atop your lips like a mantra; a song that replays in his head over and over again. You kiss the corner of his lips before leaning away. “I–if that ever happens, I'll live for you. I'll bring back my blood inside me if I have to.” You wipe away his stray tear, “Just promise me you'll do the same.” You know that you won't be able to do anything if it does happen to you, nor he, if it happens to him. They're empty promises meant to fill the holes in your chests for comfort to hold onto— to help ease your minds throughout the night whilst he lays his head upon your chest at night.

The weight of the looming threat feels like a reality. As if someone laid a pillow to his sleeping face. Hobie takes you in his arms, embracing you; hand placed on the back of your head as if he's already trying to shield you from what he fears most.

The mere thought of you loving him so much that you'd defy death itself, and despite the blood underneath his nails has him tethering upon the precipice of paradise. Maybe that's all there is then, to be loved despite the blood staining his hands, and despite his gnashing teeth that could take your flesh if he so desires; that he'll never desire to do to you— It's enough for him to be with you, and for you to be with him until you're both old and frail, until you're both six feet under; behind the same house he made into a home for you.

He has everything to lose, and he'll raise hell itself if need be just to bring you back. *When they come for you, there won't be enough bullets in the world for him.

With determination in his eyes that fans the flames in his chest, he utters an impossible promise on your skin.

“I promise.”

You hug Hobie, hand splayed on his back while the other kneads at his nape. Opening your eyes, you see the same deer and doe on the other side of the lake, standing side by side peacefully with their reflections on the lake. The sounds of the night echo above the glimmering depths of the water. It all brings you hope despite the conversation, they won't find you, that's your hope. You get to stay here forever with him, that's your only wish in this world.

Amidst the swaying grass, and in his arms, you feel infinite. You finally feel like you exist with the gentle wind and the raging rivers. No more do you feel like you burn everyday, where there's ash in your mouth, embers hidden underneath your hands; living in a house built to be kindling in your all consuming flames of loneliness. Earthbound once more, alive again.

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knockoffheart · 2 months

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newest member of the seven (4/6)

summary: you kick ass and get your ass kicked. copying hughie’s temp v powers = oops we’re naked!

warnings: it’s a “The Boys” fanfic… blood, gore, swearing, nudity, etc. Intended for 18+ ONLY, this chapter contains mild smut. ALSO i write for myself and am low key new to writing so lower all expectations. <3

before you read: this story is written in second person, she/her pronouns are used, reader has female genitalia and identifies as female. the character is never referred to by name , but is a supe called “Replicate”, she has power-copying abilities.

You work you way down to the groups and stare up at them, almost in awe of your work. Excalibur is stabbing at the field, but making no progress. The group is kicking, shooting, and stabbing the field trying to get out.

“Calm down! I just wa-“ You feel a nude body grab you and slam you to the ground, bashing your head. You groan, looking up you see you’ve released both force fields, they all began to stand, ready to attack. “Shit…”, you put your arms over your head and form a small dome around yourself. There is a relentless assault on it from outside. You wipe blood from your head and take in a deep breath. Focus. You slowly begin to stand, increasing the force field’s size as you do. It pushes back the onslaught, allowing you to scan your surroundings. You see your previous attacker, the tall guy from before. He’s putting his shirt on over his head and hurriedly trying to button his pants. So he can teleport himself, but not his clothes..? You shake away the curiosity and prepare to force everyone off so you can capture them again. With a quick motion upwards you expand the force field rapidly, throwing everyone into the walls. You push your arms out, pinning everyone else to the wall as you make your way towards the teleporter.

Before you can reach them a strong burst of light slams into your chest, sending you flying back into a dumpster. You land on your side and look up. Starlight lands and hurries to the teleporter. Is she… comforting him? You blink, hard. THAT FUCKING BITCH. As you begin go rise, Maeve appears, looking around frantically.

“What happened here?” She asks Butcher.

“Oh fuck no, is this a fuckin’ sting operation? You’re not getting me fucking arrested!” Excalibur begins to form his arms into two giant blades.

Maeve, Starlight, and a short, black-haired girl all take a fighting stance. He unleashes a flurry of attacks, Maeve blocks every hit and you notice Starlight starting to glow. You also notice that you are fucking sore. Still, you make your way towards the group, preparing your force fields into small circular disks. Just as you’re about to throw your first disc — you’re slammed to the ground. The black-haired girl grabs a fist full of your hair and raises you up. You push a hand against her face and copy her power. With the element of surprise on your side, you manage to launch her towards her group.

“KIMIKO!” you hear the frenchman cry out. He begins firing his gun at you, the bullets hitting you barely sting. You start your way towards him before you’re pinned to a wall, you go to shove your attacker off you — it’s Maeve.

Your eyes widen, “Maeve…” you say in disbelief. Her metal bracer pressed firm against your neck, slowly cutting off air. “Maeve, it’s me!” You grab onto her arm, you know you could force her off, but your body feels like jelly. She stares through you, you reach for her hand and squeeze. Suddenly she release her grip and you collapse on the ground. You stare up at her, unintentionally recreating the moment you had the other night. You notice a blade start to come down above her, you shove her out of the way. The blade pierces through your midsection, pinning you to the wall. Maeve staggers, staring down at your limp body. Starlight blasts Excalibur back and you awake. You snap his bladed arm off from his body and throw it to the ground. He screams in agony, pulling back what’s left of his arm. You use the wall to help you up, still clutching your torso — which thankfully has started to heal itself. You try to move towards Excalibur but stumble to the ground, writhing on your hands and knees you attempt to stand again. Maeve moves toward you.

“Oi’ Maeve! Leave the bird to die, we’ve got bigger problems.” Butcher chides, his eyes glowing red. He laser beams Excalibur’s other arm off, leaving him with two bleeding stumps where the gigantic blades used to be. The teleporter, who you’ve now discerned is ‘Hughie’, runs past you towards Starlight and Excalibur. You grab his arm as he does, fully pulling yourself up and copying his powers all in one move. I am getting the fuck out of here.

You cough up a lot of blood, but the gaping wound in your center was closed. Thank you rapid healing. You steady yourself and focus on your room, trying to teleport back. You glare at Maeve, wary of her next action. She stands there, eyes wide as she stares back, you notice her hands are shaking.

“MAEVE! LOOK OUT!” Starlight yells. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Excalibur has formed blades out of his tongue, and all 10 toes. Gross. They are flying towards Maeve, you close your eyes and lunge towards her. Thinking you’re attacking, she lunges back. When you open your eyes, you’re lying in your bed. You want to let out a sigh of relief but can’t. Maeve is on top of you, knees on either side of your stomach, her hand is wrapped around your throat.

She releases you instantly, you gasp for air, still clinging onto her arm. It has taken you this long to realize you are both fully naked. Your face is on fire, you can feel how red you are. You let out a small whimper. Holy shit.

In the warm bedroom light, you finally see how bruised and beaten you both are. Your teleportation saved you both from the brunt of Excalibur’s attack, but you still suffered wounds. She has a slash on her cheek, which dripped onto your bare collarbone. You’re too focused on her to feel any pain from your numerous wounds. Your vision darts down, she’s straddling your torso, strong legs on either side, and her — your eyes dart up to her chest, then back to her face. She finally notices the lack of clothing, or atleast finally decides to acknowledge it.

“Fuck..” She breathes, staring down at your breasts, her vision lingers there for a while before darting back up to you.

Fuck it.

You lift yourself up and pull her into a desperate kiss. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a breathy whimper as she kisses you back. Her lips are soft, softer than you expected. She kisses you hungerly, grabbing your face, pulling you closer to her until you’re both on your knees in front of each other. Every moan you hear from her makes you melt, she works her hands down your body and reaches the newly made scar across your stomach. She pulls away from the kiss and presses her forehead against yours.

“You’re so stupid…” she keeps her hand on your scar and moves the other hand up to the back of your head, gently caressing it.

You roll your eyes, “Well, my stupid ass saved yours. Twice.” You press your lips back against hers.

Eventually, you both end up laying against each other, legs entangled. You stroke her cheek and she traces circles on your thigh.

“I thought you died.” Maeve pulls you closer to her, your face rests near her neck. She brings her hand back to the scar, dried blood covers your stomach down. “You looked dead.” You hear the shakiness in her voice.

You nuzzle into her, “Nah, I’ll never die.” You rest your hand on her cheek, “Sorry I wasn’t faster.” She lets out a small laugh, more-so blows air out of her nose.

“What’re you gonna do?” she asks warily, “Now that you know.” You reach down and grab her hand, pulling it to your lips.

“I’m going to trust you.” You kiss her hand, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I’ll make sure Homelander is none the wiser.” You sigh, “Call Starlight, I’ll grab you some clothes.” As you stand she grabs your wrist and stares up at you.

“Thank you.” she says and gives you a soft smile.

You dig through your closet for some oversized t-shirts. Maeve comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, her breasts are pressed against your back. Your face blasts red again, Maeve notices this in the closet mirror, she presses a few kisses against your neck, “Don’t you think you should shower first? No offense, but you’re filthy.” she suggests, picking a piece of gravel out of your hair.

You bite your bottom lip to fight your embarrassment, “I uh.. kind of broke that thing.” You turn and look up at her, she lets out a soft chuckle.

“God, you’re hopeless — good thing you’re pretty.” She jokes and tucks a strand of hair behind your ears, “We can use mine, cmon.”

You squeal internally, handing her a shirt as you pull your own over your head. You sneak out into the hall and head to her floor.

>back

>next

#nmots #starlight the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys #queen maeve #queen maeve x oc #queen maeve x reader #queen maeve smut #the boys smut #smut #wlw #wlw fic #wlw smut

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melminli · 3 months

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𝗢𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗘𝘆𝗲𝘀 - 𝟬𝟭

pairing: neuvilette x fem. reader

summery - fontaine was known for being the nation of the element hydro as well as the nation of justice. however, the people were known for their love of gossip. though, sometimes rumors turn out to be true, don't they?

word count: 1.5k

content: lawyer reader, lots of fluff, crack, romance, akward reader + neuvilette

series masterlist

Fontaine. The nation under the supervision of the Hydro Archon as well as the element Hydro itself. With its many waterfalls, wide seas, and many bodies of water, its aquatic space is widely embellished. Of course, this is not a big surprise, and yet the brilliant landscape never ceases to amaze new and old visitors and residents alike.

"Mademoiselle Rivière, please excuse me for disturbing you during your break, but the reports you requested have finally arrived," a soft female voice woke you up.

You slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Even when you just wanted to lean back on the couch in your office for a while, you couldn't seem to get any rest. You had to get to work when it was calling, and it always did. A healthy work-life balance was something unknown to you. "Don't worry, Marie, thank you for your work." You mumbled sleepily and reached for the file your assistant had brought you.

As you went through the pages, she looked at you a little worried. Even after all the years she had known you and worked under you, she couldn't stop frowning at your workaholic lifestyle. "Have you pulled an all-nighter again? How many days have you been here? You haven't forgotten to eat again, have you?"

Your eyes were fixed on the paper so that you could decipher the information inside as quickly as possible. "I'm fine, don't worry, really. I just don't have any time to waste since I have to be at the Opera Epiclese the day after tomorrow, and the defense isn't going to build itself."

Marie just sighed and made a mental note to order something to eat as soon as she left the room. "I'll get you something to drink. Who knows when you last got any time to do that." She said hopelessly and interrupted you before you could interject. "And I'll get water and nothing else!"

You didn't dare to say anything else to that. So, no coffee for me then. Maybe it's better this way. It would be a bit embarrassing to dehydrate in Fontaine. You leaned back in your chair and looked out of the window for a while, just watching the water surrounding the city for a bit. "Maybe I really should take a break. It's been a long time since I've been to the beach..." You continued to think, "...or even just the shore for a bit."

You sighed once and stretched a little to clear your head and get back to work. After all, you still had some preparation to do since Fontaine was not only the land of the element Hydro but also the land of justice. You were confronted with this not only as a citizen of this nation but, above all, as a lawyer. The best in town.

The case you were currently working on was about the unjust firing of your client from the Fonta development team. You had gathered the necessary evidence and testimonies, which was the lesser of two evils. The thing you still weren't really sure about yet...was how you wanted to present your case.

This was the Opera Epiclese we were talking about. Of course, everything was decided by the presentation. Getting the audience on your side was a must because only when you've kept them satisfied with a spectacle can you achieve great success. Simply bringing the truth to light was not enough in this country. Justice and reputation were very closely linked, and in order to keep your face, you not only had to be right, you also had to entertain. This made it possible for the result to have an effect. For making a change in the right direction, which people would remember.

You hated the system. Some days more and some days less since the need to entertain usually meant gossip, which in turn diminished the seriousness needed in court. As a lawyer, you were, of course, part of this, but you know the saying, hate the game and not the player. You did your best to bring justice, and your morals were not related to recognition or anything else. That's all that mattered for now.

Now that I've been thinking about Fonta so much, I feel like drinking it. Maybe Marie will let me have a bottle since there's no caffeine in it.

Quite a while later...

"I'm completely exhausted..." You sighed and could hardly wait to sleep in your own bed again. As much as you love Palais Mermonia, you really should spend less time there and your office. The world always felt so small when you spent so much time in the same four walls, and then as soon as you stepped out of them, the world suddenly seemed bigger than ever.

Though you missed your home, you didn't want to go from one room to the other. That's probably why your feet almost automatically carried you in the direction of Vasari Passage. You loved walking past the many stores and greeted the owners and various other people on your stroll. Your destination, however, was in the middle of the plaza because one of your favorite things to do in the city, was to sit near the fountain and simply watch the endlessly spinning mechanisms of the sphere.

Lost in thought, the scream of a certain nickname confused you greatly at first. "If it isn't the Ice Queen of Court herself! Today must be my lucky day!"

You turned to the voice only to see a certain reporter. She really won't stop calling me that, will she? I noticed that some other people started to do it, too. The cryo vision dangling off your outfit made it sound a bit cliché in your opinion. "Ah, it's you, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I didn't expect to find you here at this hour." You admitted.

She had a big smile on her face. "Well, I did! Rumor has it that you're usually here in the evening, so I sometimes come by when I have time, hoping for a little chat with the most famous lawyer in Fontain." She said without any shame and already had her pen and paper ready. "We never get to see you except in court, and getting appointments is super difficult. So, I thought I'd give this a try."

You couldn't help but smile slightly in disbelief at her efforts. "I see. So you switched to stalking after you ran out of your more professional resources."

"Guilty!" She exclaimed, and you raised an eyebrow at the circumstances. When Charlotte realized the context of the situation, she quickly corrected herself. "I mean, I'm just kidding! Please don't get me wrong, I would never resort to foul means for my work, really!" She suddenly clarified very nervously.

You reassured her. "I'm always up for a bit of humor, and I would also say that we're not complete strangers, so it's not a problem." You assured her. "But I would advise you to be a little more careful with the way you get people excited about your work. You might scare off some of the gentler people."

Stars formed in her eyes as you offered her your advice. I'm not a stranger in her eyes? That almost makes us friends then! "As you'd expect, the best lawyer always knows exactly what to say! Very impressive, I'll take note of that." She said in a good mood. "To get to the point, I was wondering if you could give me some news about your next court case!"

An apologetic expression came over your face. "I fear I can't, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I don't share any information regarding my ongoing cases. Keeping statements concerning my clients strictly to myself is very important to me." You replied and could see from her expression that she wasn't too disappointed. She had probably already anticipated this answer from you.

"What a shame, but of course, understandable." She expressed with a cheerful spirit. "Then perhaps you could comment on the new rumors about you?" She asked you intently as she leaned a little closer to you, finally revealing the true reason for her interest.

More rumors? You were aware of how talkative the people of Fontaine were, but you didn't realize that they were the same when it came to you. "What kind of rumor would you like me to address?" You asked a little curiously yourself.

"Well, the rumors about a secret romance with you and our Iudex, Monsieur Neuvilette, of course!"

You were rarely completely blown away by anything, but this? That was the first time you ever heard anything like that. It sounded even more absurd than the thought alone. People - people are talking about me and Monsieur Neuvilette...?

To Be Continued...

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reddesires · 2 months

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RUINS.

Prologue : Promising Prospect.

Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader

Rating: No Warning.

Summary: Could there be a world that would be accepting of kinship between an ape and a human? It's only by chance that you came across him, an ape who craves more of the outside world beyond his clans borders. Will there be common ground, or will your past prevent you from making the same mistakes?

A/N: Hi, hello. Welcome to Prologue of Ruins, a story consisting of healing trauma and finding love within a world that's working against you. I'm proud of what I've written so far, i hope you like it❤️

The desolate structures that surrounded you held no warmth, the thoughts of life that cohabited this lonely formation of stone clouded your mind, images of people like you and their families going about their lives with no idea of the demise of their towering future crumbling into rubble with you sitting right in the middle of what remains.

You had no idea what life was like when your species ruled the earth but you knew of the things they left behind, the history that was ingrained into the minds of humans and apes alike, you knew of the shared hatred that you took no part in between the groups.

You’ve struggled between the tides of the world surrounding you. You were born in a time that held no home for you, a world that will tear every strand of familiarity that resembles humankind.

You've seen the ragged savagery between humankind and apes alike, the fighting and the ash that chokes out every hope that could possibly breathe life into the hatred that lies between them. The deep slash on your palm a reminder that you bleed the same, he bled the same, his blood seeped into yours as you promised that you would never resort to the tragedies that befell him and his people, the light in eyes flickering and dying out like the fires that surrounded you.

He told you to run and to never look back, and you didn’t. How could you trail back to a home that was no longer in existence, the once welcoming arms of those who sunk in death's embrace, you only wish you went with them but you pushed on with no destination in mind or heart, only the will to survive.

You rode on horseback for hours until you reached this monolith graveyard, a headstone of a past long lost that would serve you, hiding within its crumbling walls lined with mother earth’s vine-like embrace.

You only wished for peace, a life without hardship and bloodshed, but there was hardly any space like that for a human. That place was burned to cinders.

No place for a human like you.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Life in the ruins is excruciatingly lonely. It's the same routine for you. You don't allow yourself to get too comfortable within this space. You are not only exposed to the elements but to whoever else who decides to explore the structure.

You aren't afraid of defending yourself, you just don't want it to come down to that again, you hide in the shadows of these old structures making sure to leave little to no evidence of you behind wherever you decide to hunker down for the night. You clean up the fireplaces, alternate between two sheets you use to sleep, washing them after use to rid of your natural smell.

You bathe in the nearby lake daily and use natural mint leaves to mask your scent, pulling the smell onto your everyday clothes. You make sure not to leave behind any food scrapes and no fires into the dead of night. You'd rather not be found by any wanderers that way.

You struggle with this new life, you used to have community and protection but now it's all gone, the ringing in your ears from the silence surrounding you damn near pulling you into a psychosis, you barely even recognize the sound of your voice at this point.

The only company you have is your dream and nightmares, they both kill you in very different ways, your dreams consist of the life you had before, the people you loved before, the memories of them flashing before you, the way you loved them and their undying devotion to you but your nightmares held the memories of the loss, how you lost them. Fire and Ash coating the realms of your mind, their blood on your hands, the screams encapsulating you, and it seems never ending, was this the life you were meant to have? Was there something more?

You were afraid to find out, the fear of the unknown too great for you now, you craved companionship, but the trepidation was far too great, the hovering possibility of losing them clouding your mind. As you sat with your back to the wall looking through the hallowed hole in the barrier across from you, observing all the constellations of the stars in a sky so far from you, a sky that was unattainable just like the life you had no choice of leaving behind.

The bodies that you have buried deep in the earth's soil, their souls extending out into the celestial body that you've admired your whole life, cradling those you held dear.

The cragged edge of the spear head in your hand grounding you and your nomadic thoughts, a calm wave of acceptance rounding the anger and helplessness that was held hostage in your mind, there was no fighting it, with time it'll pass but the grief will withhold no matter what.

There is no turning back, no going back to the times before, those who were there are no longer meddling on this earth, it will only be you with the burden of moving on.

The chill in the air sends a harsh shiver down your spine,you pull your jacket closer into your body as you lay on your makeshift bed your eyes still graced onto the sky far beyond you, you remember those before you and how he would've wanted you to survive, no matter what it took. Just survive.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rays of daybreak skim over your eyelids, the flutter of your eyelashes as you squint brushing the tops of your cheeks, a deep exhale exiting your lungs, the ache of the action traveling through your body as you slowly unwind yourself from the balled up position you fell asleep in.

Another morning, the same routine. Rinse and repeat. While standing you gather the sheet from your corner, rolling it around it around your forearms kicking the remnants of the fireplace over the ledge, watching the burnt coals twirl into the air below, the charred remains disappearing within the winds that blew through. Rinse and repeat.

By the time you've done your routine, the wet sheet sticking to your skin as did your clothes, a new layering of distinct mint covering your scent, you hang the sheet to be dried in your hidden designated spot, out of sight to anyone who may be passing through.

The berries you collected on the way weighed heavy in your knapsack, your stomach rumbling in lingering hunger. You'll head back to your shelter to eat before you did anything else for the day, there wasn't much to do around the area, you've already explored all around the ruins and you've come across all kinds of human trinkets but you didn't care enough to carry them with you.

you didn't have much of a attachment to anything anymore but the spear head that seemed to burn a hole in your pocket, the size of it having a feeling of bigger much than it actually is, it loomed over you like a shadow just waiting to stab in to the tender skin of your palm.. it held more meaning than you actually liked to admit. It was too hard to admit.

When placing your clean sheet in the corner of the room, a huff exudes from your bronchi, and the ache still settled deep within your bones. You can feel the droop of your shoulders as you dig your hand into your new batch of freshly harvested berries, you didn't exactly have a plethora of food options, mainly sticking to the local berries and if you were lucky a fish from the lake.

You have thought of hunting but put it from your mind. It was too risky. The native animals worth hunting for were much too far from the ruins for your liking.

A heaving sigh escapes you as plop a berry into your mouth. This is intensely boring..

The silence encircling you was abruptly broken, voices echoing throughout the cavernous openings of the structures, hurriedly grabbing your belongings you scurry into an ajoin room squeezing into the crawl way with no notice of the missing stone falling from your pocket, the panic grasping onto your senses with merciless vigor.

The resonate voices bounce off your eardrums as you push yourself into the wall behind you, making yourself as small as possible. Here's to hoping you won't be found out. There's no knowing what could come from it.

#Ruins.#noa x human reader #noa x reader #planet of apes x reader #planet of the apes #pota #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #owen teague

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bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon · 1 year

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Energy Explained in Other Systems

There is a lack of measurable evidence because any person that has worked with energies have had different experiences but were able to understand and manipulate energies according to their own will.

Energy has been used in many ways within culture and religion and have set beliefs depending on the system being practiced.

Next, are some given definitions defining energies within diverse philosophies.

Hindu = Prana

Chinese = Qi /Chi

Japanese =Ki

Greek = Pneuma

Hawaiian = Mana

Tibetan Buddhism = Lung

Hindu Philosophy

A Sanskrit word for "life force" or "vital principle" is often referred to as Prana. It is described as first coming down from the Sun and connecting all elements of the Universe. It has been invoked within the Hindu scriptures of the Vedas and Upanishads.

Prana is the belief of vitality surrounding all living beings. This energy is responsible for all bodily functions. There are five types of pranas, collectively known as the five vāyus.

1. Prāṇa: Beating of the heart and breathing. Prana enters the body through the breath and is sent to every cell through the circulatory system.

2. Apāna: Elimination of waste products from the body through the lungs and excretory systems.

3.Uḍāna: Sound production through the vocal apparatus. It represents the conscious energy required to produce the vocal sounds corresponding to the intent.

4. Samāna: Food digestions, repair or manufacture of new cells and growth, and heat regulations throughout the body.

5. Vyāna: The energy that is needed for the body to have proper circulation, and the functions for the voluntary muscular system in which there is expansion and contraction processes throughout the body.

Chinese Philosophy

The earliest texts in which Qi or Chi is described was in 'Analects of Confucius' where it could mean "breath" and was combined with the Chinese word for blood.

Xue-qi, "blood and breath."

Living beings are born because of an accumulation of qi, and as the beings live out their lives the qi declines eventually resulting in death. This indicates that xue-qi referred to all living things, but it is believed that qi or chi exists within all things tangible.

For example, the wind is the qi or chi to the Earth, and the cosmic concepts of yin and yang are "the greatest of qi"

Yin and Yang which means "bright-dark," and "positive-negative" are the opposing forces needed in order to complement the concept of balance. There are thoughts that this duality symbolizes contradicting energy forces which manifest as light and dark, fire and water, expansion, and contraction. With this said, Chinese medicine states that the balance of negative and positive forms in the body are believed to be essential for overall satisfactory health.

Japanese Mythology

During the sixth and seventh centuries the Chinese word qi (or chi) was written using the same kanji script for their interpretation for energy being "Ki"

However, the meanings are a tad different.

While the Chinese use chi or qi to describe that energy exists in all things, animate and inanimate objects, the Japanese believe it is the creative flow and expressions used within our daily lives, martial arts, and symbolizes aspects of nature, and thusly the spirits. It is the transfer from living, animate beings in to inanimate which can change and manifest into various forms. It is the necessary intentions one wields.

Greek Mythology

Pneuma, "The breath of life" or "vital spirit" is composed of kinetic energies within the vessel, while Ignis is composed of thermal energies. All human beings need both kinetic and thermal energies in order to properly function.

In Greek medicine, pneuma is the form of circulation throughout the body's vital organs. Due to this the role, pneuma plays within the body to sustain consciousness. Some physiological theories suggest that the pneuma mediates between the heart, and the heart is regarded as the seat of the mind, and the brain.

In similar, Stoic philosophy, pneuma is the active and generative principles that are organized between the individual and the cosmos. The highest forms are the Gods, and the human soul. The human soul is believed to be fragments of the gods given life force in order to be born and given a vessel upon the physical plane. This exists within all animate and inanimate objects as energy transfers and changes.

Hawaiian Mythology

Mana, the spiritual energy of power and strength. This energy exists within places and people; however, it is said that mana is both external and internal concepts.

The Hawaiian people believe that individuals can gain mana or lose it depending on one's actions in everything that they do.

In mythology there were two ways to gain mana, and this was either done sexually or through violence.

To sexually gain mana one must invoke the god, Lono, deity of peace and fertility.

To gain mana through violence one must invoke the god Ku, deity of war and politics.

Tibetan Buddhism

Lung means the wind or breath. Exists as a key concept in Vajrayana traditions. Generally, it's concept relates to the understanding of the subtle body, and Three Vajras. Those three are the body, speech, and mind. Lung relates to the subtle flow of energy and the five elements. (Fire, Water, Earth, Space, and Air) Lung is mostly closely connected to the Air Element.

Lung has also been used to describe the winds or prana being used in conjunction with the subtle body during a time of exercise, but also more importantly everyday functions of the body and its own senses. There are five psychic winds which manifest into mahabhuta. These five relate to the lifeforce that animate the body-mind (namarupa) of all sentient beings.

The Five Root or Major Winds

The root winds support an element and is responsible for a function of the human body.

The 'life-supporting wind' (Tib. སྲོག་འཛིན་རླུང་, sok dzin lung; Wyl. srog 'dzin rlung). Located in the brain, this lung regulates functions such as swallowing, inhalation, and concentration.

The 'upward-moving wind' (Tib. གྱེན་རྒྱུ་རླུང་, gyengyu lung; Wyl. gyen rgyu rlung). Located in the chest and thorax, this lung regulates, among other things, speech, the body's energy and vitality, memory, mental endeavour and diligence.

The 'all-pervading wind' (Tib. ཁྱབ་བྱེད་རླུང་, khyap ché lung; Wyl. khyab byed rlung). Residing in the heart, this lung controls all the motor activities of the body.

The 'fire-accompanying wind' (Tib. མེ་མཉམ་གནས་རླུང་, me nyam né lung; Wyl. me mnyam gnas rlung). Found in the stomach and abdomen area, the fire-accompanying wind regulates digestion and metabolism.

The 'downward-clearing wind' (Tib. ཐུར་སེལ་རླུང་, thursel lung; Wyl. thur sel rlung). Located in the rectum, bowels and perineal region, this lung's function is to expel faeces, urine, semen, and menstrual blood. It also regulates uterine contractions during labour.

The Five Branch Winds

The five branch winds enable the senses to operate.

The naga wind (Tib.ཀླུའི་རླུང་, lu'i lung; Wyl. klu'i rlung). This lung connects with the eyes and sight.

The tortoise wind (Tib. རུ་སྦལ་གྱི་་རླུང་, rubal gyi lung; Wyl. ru sbal gyi rlung). This wind connects with the heart and the sense of hearing.

The lizard wind (Tib.རྩངས་པའི་རླུང་, tsangpé lung; Wyl. rtsangs pa'i rlung) associated with the nose and the sense of smell.

The devadatta wind (Tib.ལྷས་བྱིན་གྱི་རླུང་, lhéjin gyi lung; Wyl. lhas byin gyi rlung) related to the sense of taste.

The 'king of wealth deities' wind (Tib. ནོར་ལྷ་རྒྱལ་གྱི་རླུང་, nor lha gyal gyi lung; Wyl. nor lha rgyal gyi rlung). This wind connects with the body and the sense of touch.

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xinamie · 7 months

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💋 — dark red.

pairing: raiden x gn! reader

summary: after training with the shirai ryu, raiden seeks out the one person he could depend on for comfort. ♡

tags: fighting (training), fluff, raiden is feeling romantical but still sfw tbh

Ever since meeting his godly alternate self, Raiden took to training with Grandmaster Kuai Liang. He needed that extra push to fuel the flame within him and who better to ask than the pyromancer himself? He was aware of Lord Liu Kang's stories about how the god fell into rage; the reason for being made mortal this time was to prevent him from going through such anger and destruction.

There were so many factors to consider, but he was devoted to this path— to learn more about himself and his capabilities. If he figures out how to activate these feats and learn how to work with them, he could be of better use to Earthrealm's defense. Battles could rise on a whim and he wanted to get a grip on that potential rage rather than be afraid or to shun it.

In between his work with the Shaolin, Raiden made frequent trips over to Japan. The Shirai Ryu’s Grandmaster would hold sessions with him whenever he was available; other times he sparred with Smoke, helped young Hanzo or went over strategies with Harumi.

There were days he would catch you around the clan’s base of operations, indulging in small talk and peaceful walks around their garden. Little memories like those were cherished for someone who carried the weight of his title.

Lord Liu Kang told him that it was possible to train too much, and he was right.

Yet, here he was, circling around Kuai Liang as the two of them observed each other. They were waiting for the right opportunity to strike, focused on every breath falling from their chest.

You were watching on the side, entranced by their intricate dance. Raiden was the first to charge while the other man remained on defense. It was always a show with these two, a display of thunder and fire clashing together. Paired with Scorpion’s trusted kusarigama, it was as if nature’s elemental symphony reverberated through the metal and into the surrounding atmosphere.

At one point, the chain latched onto Raiden’s ankles and he moved to secure it down, not wanting to be pulled towards the warrior. When he lifted his head to look towards Kuai Liang, he noticed an intense, stern look in his opponent’s sharp gaze. In a split second, flames began to travel down the metal, spreading closer and closer to his very form.

He was going to be harmed if he wasn’t careful.

Raiden gripped the chain harder, digging his soles into the ground and allowed sparks to gather in his palms. Metal was a great conductor of electricity, thus the lightning he conjured bounced, shooting out towards Kuai Liang. This forced the Grandmaster to halt his embers in order to escape the wrath. Raiden took this chance to kick the kama away, only to forget how fast the trained warrior recovers.

He was pinned within seconds of letting his sight falter, groaning as his shoulders were pressed into the courtyard.

Upset at having let his guard down, his fingers clenched into the ground and began to generate heat. He should have known better, to always keep his eyes on his opponent…

Raiden’s attention was on his hand, watching as the light flickered around his skin. A new hue joined the display, faint and taunting, but it was unmistakably there. It was blurred and any average person would have trouble detecting it. Though, as someone who had studied his newfound powers the moment he was given the amulet, he knew what it was— it just had to be.

“Yield.” The order came from the masked opponent.

Taking a steady breath, willing his strength to compose himself, he placed his palm down. He relaxed his muscles, resting against the floor as he pondered. The brief disappointment in himself was replaced by curiosity and intrigue.

“I yield.”

After the session, Raiden decided to clean up since he had dust and dirt all over him. Training had always garnered sweat and he took pride in his ability to remain hygienic, especially in a home he was a guest of.

Fresh and clean, he goes about his usual routine and enters the garden. He knew he would find you here, but he was really hoping to see you even more after his latest discovery. He couldn't help the way his body buzzed, images of that light scarlet color replaying every other minute.

“Raiden?” Your voice called out to him, breaking him out of his trance as he offered a kind bow and then joined your side.

There was something different about him; it was as obvious as day and night. Whenever he would spar with the others and found himself losing, he would either ask to go again or thank them for their time. Now, he seemed… miles away.

“What's troubling you?” You had asked as he averted his gaze to the blooming plant in front of you.

“There's… well, I…”

It wasn’t unnatural for him to be at a loss for words, and he was truly grateful for your patience as he gathered himself. A few minutes passed and his gentle voice had a hint of shakiness to it, an effect of using the amulet as much as he had.

“May I hold you?”

His request sits in the air between you both, the inhale not going unnoticed by him as he tilted his head in a manner that was far too precious. He merely chuckled and began to explain himself further.

“I am quite energized still. I can feel it coursing within me.” He stated, hinting at his wish to find a way to ground himself back into reality. To think he would ask you rather than his usual meditation added a certain warmth to your cheeks.

The second you agree, his smile is nearly blinding. He was careful with his first touch, fingertips caressing the back of your hand and over your knuckles. They smoothed up towards your wrist and along your forearm when he was met with no resistance.

Raiden had visibly melted when he tugged you closer to his body, arms circled around your waist and head tucked on your shoulder. A content breath tickled your neck as he held you there, basking in the shared warmth and comfort.

“I've made progress today.” He hummed out, leaning into you further when you began brushing his hair back in a soothing motion. His chest was pressed against yours, every breath and exhale easily detected from such proximity.

He briefly removed himself to gaze at you, only inches apart from being able to rest his forehead on yours. His voice lingered on a lower tone, set on you and you alone. “Were you watching?”

You could only nod, mesmerized by the searing look behind those usually soft, brown eyes of his. A pleased thrum vibrated through him and into you, eyelashes fluttering as he locked his hands on the curve of your back.

It was just the two of you in the gardens, lost in each other’s presence with an unspoken heat rising. He watched you for what felt like forever, analyzing your features and committing them to his mind for safe keeping.

“Allow me…” He spoke up, your focus snapping back to him as he brought himself close enough to brush his nose along yours. “Please.”

His plea left you near breathless, eyes trying to search for answers. You could feel his breath tease your lips, making them quiver in anticipation. Gathering your courage, you finally respond with a command he has wanted to hear since entering the garden.

“Kiss me.”

He didn't need to be told twice, keeping one arm secure around your hips as the other slid up to cup your cheek. Raiden kept you there as his eager lips captured yours in a kiss he had only ever dreamed of.

It was exhilarating; both yours and his eyes closing shut to embrace the intimacy of it all. He tasted sweet like a divine treat that was immensely invigorating and rousing to your senses. Trying to part from him only lasted for two seconds as he chased after you, planting his lips upon yours and stealing your breath yet again.

Earthrealm’s Champion wanted— or more so needed you, in his arms and covered in his affection. He would ensure that you were treated to the highest degree that only someone like him could ever deliver to you.

Only you could keep him stable while he made you feel as if you were floating within all the realms.

#mk1 x reader #raiden x reader #mk1 raiden x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 raiden x reader #mortal kombat x reader #xinamie writes

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xxdemonicheartxx · 1 year

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The flights and their major exports

Ice: furs, fish, culinary or food grade ice, unique and seasonal herbs, spices and flora that only grow there in the spring, super rich culinary culture has formed here and it attracts tourism and foodies, cooking oils and fats, seeds and nuts for consumption

Nature: lumber, meats, spices, fertile soil, insect cuisine, perfumes, freshwater fish, houseplants, seeds and shoots for farming, decorative plant or wood working, plant based oils for cooking or fuel

Light: wheat, plant based fibers and fabrics, paper and or papyrus, chalk and marble, huge bread and baked goods industry, baskets, porcelain, exotic percivore cuisine, pigments, seasonal fruits

Earth: cactus fruits, minerals and stones, gemstones, terracotta creations or construction pieces, ceramic work, glass tile work, roots and tubers, fossils, pigments,

Wind: rice, grains, construction grade bamboo, paper, rice paper, fabrics, plants and small birds for consumption, instruments (specifically wood-wind), silks, ribbon, sonorous sculptures

Shadow: fungal harvests, wire craft, tactical suits and mantles to conceal the body, iron weaponry with decorative detailing, insect and plant exports, huge root farming industry, lantern exports, candles, woodturned tools/utensils/decor/etc

Water: shells and abalone, fish, seaweed and kelp cuisine, boats and boat blueprints, crustacean cuisine, huge huge huge provider for the pescatarians, opal

Lightning: machinery parts, batteries, cactus harvests, insulation for both heat and electricity, exotic insect cuisine, dried and aged foods, electricity is produced in excess enough to provide immediately to the surrounding territories

Arcane: stained glass, lumber from the starwood strand (has unique properties and could be used for construction or artistic works), magical batteries made from the crystals, tomes and books, lenses, exotic herbivore cuisine, luminous pigments, tapestry work

Plague: immunizers/immunizations, craft and construction grade bones, leather, ale/mead/wine/whiskey/etc because they have the most intricate and detailed brewing and fermenting processes due to the understanding they have surrounding bacteria, pickled foods and pickling kits, surgical grade tools, cheeses, dry aged meats, medical practices unlike any other

Fire: weapons and armor, exotic carnivore cuisine, glasswork and glass blowing, obsidian and basalt export, geothermic energy(they can provide power enough to the surrounding territories) intricate mosaic and tile work, mineral exports, ceramic exports, blackened foods, metal shells and armor for vessels and vehicles and mounts

These are just what I can think of by examining the map and element at face value, there are millions of things these places can produce and export but I think these are the big ones or what they are known for, maybe even just the best quality versions of the export! If you want to use these ideas or add your own feel free!

#fr #dragon #flight rising #flightrising #fr headcanon #worldbuilding

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keehomania · 1 month

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savior (구세주) — park jimin (박 치민)

✧.* 18+

in the depths of forgotten realms, where the line between myth and reality blurred into a tapestry of whispered legends, you wandered through the veil of the supernatural. the air around you shimmered with an ethereal light, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to beat in sync with your own heart. you felt it—an invisible thread connecting you to forces beyond mortal comprehension.

ancient trees, their gnarled branches twisted into elaborate patterns, whispered secrets of the ages. the leaves, imbued with an otherworldly glow, rustled softly, their sound a melodious symphony of enchantment. as you moved through this enchanted forest, you could almost see the faint outlines of fae folk flitting among the shadows, their delicate wings catching the moonlight like threads of silver.

water nymphs glided over the surface of tranquil lakes, their laughter like the tinkling of crystal chimes. fire spirits flickered within the hearths of ancient stone cottages, their flames casting a golden hue that warded off the encroaching darkness. in this realm, every creature possessed a touch of the extraordinary. the wolves that prowled through the underbrush had eyes that gleamed with intelligence far beyond the mundane, their coats shimmering with a spectral light. the owls that hooted from the treetops were the keepers of ancient wisdom, their gaze penetrating the veil of time itself.

you sensed the pull of ancient magic in the wind, a reminder of the great forces that shaped the world. enigmatic sorcerers and enigmatic beings, cloaked in robes woven from stardust, drifted through the shadows, their presence as profound as it was enigmatic. their eyes held the secrets of the universe, and their gestures wove spells of incredible power, shaping reality with a mere flick of their fingers. in this space between worlds, you felt an intoxicating sense of belonging and awe. the supernatural was not a distant concept but a tangible reality, intricately intertwined with the fabric of your existence. you had become a part of this timeless dance, where every element held the promise of wonder and every shadow whispered of ancient powers waiting to be discovered.

in the midst of the extraordinary realm, where every breath seemed to carry a whisper of magic, you stood as an anomaly—a solitary figure in a world brimming with the supernatural. the ties that bound you to this place were both intricate and fragile, like threads of silver spun in a tapestry that only partially embraced you.

you were acutely aware of your lineage, a lineage steeped in power and mystery. your parents, figures of reverence and awe, possessed abilities that transcended the ordinary. your mother could call upon the wind to shape it into messages of hope or warning, her voice an incantation that stirred the very air. your father wielded fire with a mastery that painted the night sky with flickers of crimson and gold, a spectacle of elemental artistry that held the gaze of all who witnessed it.

your brother, too, was a being of remarkable gifts. his capacity to shapeshift was the stuff of legends—one moment a swift and agile wolf, the next a majestic eagle soaring high above the treetops. he moved effortlessly between the forms, each transformation seamless and imbued with an elegance that spoke of deep-rooted connection to the magical forces that surrounded you.

yet, in stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of powers that wove through your family, you stood untouched by the same magic that defined their existence. you were a paradox in this world of wonder—an individual deeply connected yet profoundly separate from the mystical realm. the very elements that danced and mingled around you, so effortlessly embraced by those you loved and admired, remained just out of your grasp.

your attempts to commune with the elements were met with a disheartening silence. you reached out to the wind, hoping to coax it into carrying your wishes or messages, but it responded with a benign indifference. the fire that roared in the hearths, so eager to share its warmth and secrets with others, seemed to dance with a will of its own when you approached, leaving you merely a spectator in its fiery embrace.

the animals, with their eyes aglow with ancient wisdom, regarded you with a curiosity that quickly faded into disinterest. they would not heed your calls or acknowledge your presence in the way they did with those who shared their magical affinity. it was as if an invisible barrier kept you on the fringes of their world, a reminder of the chasm that separated you from their effortless communion with nature.

in social circles where enchantment was the norm, you felt like a shadow among vibrant colors. conversations often revolved around feats of magic—stories of teleportation, shapeshifting, and elemental manipulation. you listened with a mixture of longing and resignation, acutely aware of your exclusion from these extraordinary experiences. it was as though you were a spectator in a grand performance, unable to participate in the very essence of the spectacle.

you had learned to navigate the space with a grace borne of necessity. you played your role with quiet dignity, offering support and companionship to those whose powers you admired from a distance. your place in this realm was a testament to the intricate balance between presence and absence, between connection and separation. in a world where magic defined existence, you were a poignant reminder that even among the most enchanted, there could be those who, despite their ties, remained untouched by the very forces that shaped their reality.

in the quiet of your room, illuminated by the soft, flickering light of a single candle, you faced your brother with a heart heavy with questions. his figure, a tapestry of shifting forms and shimmering energies, stood before you, embodying the very essence of what you yearned for. the silence between you was filled with the weight of your unspoken doubts.

“why don’t i have any powers?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. the words felt like an intrusion into the serene harmony of your brother’s existence. you watched as daehyun sighed, his gaze softening with a compassion that only deepened your sense of inadequacy.

“it’s not something you can control,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “powers manifest in their own time. maybe yours just haven’t surfaced yet.” you nodded, but the words did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of unease that had settled in your chest. the promise of future potential did little to comfort you in the present. as the conversation waned, you sought solace from your mother, her presence a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold uncertainty.

she embraced you with a tenderness that spoke of unconditional love. “i want you to know,” she murmured softly, her voice imbued with a quiet strength, “that not having powers doesn’t change how much i love you. you are just as precious to me as anyone with magic in their veins.” her words, though well-intentioned, only deepened the chasm of your sorrow. you tried to draw comfort from her assurances, but they felt hollow, like a beautiful painting covering a void. you couldn’t shake the feeling that her love, though unwavering, was a pale consolation in a world where power defined worth.

when your father came to you, his usual fiery demeanor was softened by an uncharacteristic melancholy. “i wish,” he said, his voice laden with a rare vulnerability, “that i could understand what it’s like for you. i sometimes wish i could be like you—free from the burdens of power.” his sentiment was meant to be reassuring, a gesture of empathy from one who knew the weight of extraordinary abilities. yet, his words only seemed to underscore the isolation you felt. his struggle to relate to your condition, while empathetic, highlighted your distance from the very world he inhabited.

as the day turned to night, you found yourself alone once more, your frustration boiling over into a silent plea. you gazed at the star-studded sky, your eyes searching for any sign of a higher power that might offer you some measure of solace or change. you groaned inwardly, your heart heavy with a silent prayer, begging for anything—an inkling of magic, a spark of potential, anything that might bridge the gap between you and the world you so desperately wished to be a part of.

unbeknownst to you, your mother, too, was engaged in her own private prayer, her heart aching for you in a way that transcended words. her plea was not driven by disappointment but by a deep-seated concern for your well-being. she feared the dangers and betrayals that could come from those who wielded power—the same dangers that had once threatened her own family. she prayed fervently, hoping that some semblance of power or protection might come to you, not out of a sense of inadequacy, but from a desire to shield you from the harsh realities of a world where power could be both a gift and a curse.

the hallways of the school were a continuous cascade of shimmering lights and crackling energy, each corner alive with the potent hum of supernatural power. it was a place where every student and teacher was marked by their own unique abilities, a realm where magic was as common as air. the walls, lined with ornate murals depicting epic battles and mythical creatures, seemed to pulsate with the essence of enchantment. amidst this tapestry of abilities, you were an anomaly—a solitary figure navigating a world of extraordinary talents with no powers of your own. the disparity was stark, highlighted by the whispers and sidelong glances that followed you through the corridors. everyone knew your status as the exception, a reality that was as inescapable as it was uncomfortable.

despite this, the teachers maintained their professionalism, treating you with the same respect they afforded every student. you were here because of your family’s legacy, a fact that some found difficult to overlook. you often felt like a mere shadow among the bright lights of your peers, your presence a reminder of the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

haesoo was your singular solace in this enchanted world. she, too, had powers, though her ability to see into the future provided little in the way of physical prowess. this limitation made her just as vulnerable to the harsh judgments and insults as you were. yet, despite the ridicule, she remained steadfast in her friendship, a source of empathy amidst the sea of scorn.

you leaned against your locker, the cool metal offering a small measure of relief. haesoo approached, her eyes filled with a gentle concern. ahe took your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. as she closed her eyes, you could sense the familiar yet elusive sensation of her power at work. you watched her face for any sign of revelation, your skepticism palpable. then, with a sudden gasp, haesoo’s eyes snapped open, her grip tightening on your hand. “what’s wrong?” you asked, a note of apprehension in your voice. “what do you see?”

“there’s a savior in the near future,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty. “expect the unexpected.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in mild exasperation. “the unexpected? like you ripping my hand off?”

haesoo’s eyes widened in realization as she noticed the firmness of her grip. she quickly loosened her hold, offering you a nervous laugh. “sorry about that. i didn’t mean to—” you chuckled, though your smile was tinged with weariness. “it’s fine. i just wonder if i’ll ever get any power at all.”

from behind you, a voice cut through the conversation with a sneering edge. “you could only dream of it.”

you turned to see taehyung, a smirk playing on his lips. his disdain was well-known; ever since he had learned of your lack of abilities, he had made it his mission to taunt and belittle you. you offered him a thin smile, trying to mask the sting of his words. “thanks for the encouragement.”

taehyung’s smirk widened. “wanna see something cool?” you shook your head, not in the mood for more of his antics. “not really.”

ignoring your response, taehyung used his telekinetic powers to lift you off the ground. you yelped in surprise as he began to sway you through the air, your feet dangling a few inches above the floor. haesoo’s face flushed with concern, and she called out, “taehyung, put her down!”

his eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, “or what? you’ll read my future with a fortune cookie?”

the bell rang, and he reluctantly set you down, patting your head with a dismissive chuckle. “it never gets old,” he said, walking past you. you watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over you. the insults and jabs had become a constant, an unwelcome backdrop to your days at the school. despite your hopes for a reprieve, it seemed the mockery would persist as long as you remained a strong contrast to the powers that defined your peers.

the classroom buzzed with an energy that felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity shaped by the collective powers of its occupants. each student seemed to manipulate the environment in their own unique way, creating a whirlwind of distractions that made focusing on anything else nearly impossible.

to your left, a girl with flowing dark hair effortlessly levitated her pen, guiding it through the air as if it were an extension of her will. she reached out with her mind, making the pen dance gracefully across her notebook. nearby, another student with a calm demeanor simply tapped her temple, and answers to the professor’s questions appeared on her paper as if by magic. her telepathic ability allowed her to glean the answers directly from the professor’s thoughts, a skill that left you feeling distinctly out of place.

you sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of your own inadequacies. you knew that while others could summon and control elements with ease, or glean knowledge without effort, you had to work diligently to achieve even the most basic understanding. the constant comparison to your peers’ effortless mastery of their abilities was a persistent reminder of your own limitations.

the professor, a stern man whose presence demanded respect, looked around the room with a discerning gaze. his eyes settled on you, an unspoken challenge evident in his expression. “what do you believe causes dreams?” he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of telekinetic murmurs and mental projections.

you furrowed your brow, trying to concentrate amidst the chaos. the hands of those with telepathic abilities shot up eagerly, but the professor's focus remained solely on you. taking a deep breath, you began, “i believe dreams are a result of the subconscious mind processing thoughts and experiences. they are influenced by brain activity, which creates a narrative from our emotions and memories.”

the professor’s eyes softened, and he nodded in approval. “a thoughtful answer,” he said. “correct.”

you felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sneer you noticed from the girl who had been so eager to demonstrate her telepathic prowess. her expression was one of disdain, a silent judgment that seemed to cut deeper than any spoken insult.

as the day drew to a close, you found yourself in the bathroom, seeking a moment of solitude away from the relentless buzz of the school. you stepped out of the stall, your thoughts still lingering on the subtle sneer you had seen earlier. the bathroom, typically a place of mundane quiet, felt charged with an unsettling tension.

as you turned to leave, a girl blocked your path. her face was one you recognized from class—one of the telekinetics who had been demonstrating her powers with such ease. you looked up at her, a sense of dread mingling with resignation. “what do you want?” you asked, your voice betraying your unease.

ahe smirked, her eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. “i had an itching to use the toilet,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. without waiting for a response, she pushed past you and into the stall.

you stepped aside, gesturing for her to proceed. but before you could react, everything happened in a blur. she spun around with surprising speed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards her. your heart raced as you tried to break free, but her grip was unyielding. you flailed helplessly as she maneuvered you towards the toilet. the cold, harsh reality of the situation hit you as she dunked your head into the bowl. the frigid water engulfed you, sending a shock through your system. panic surged through you as you tried to gasp for air, but the water swirled around you, making it difficult to breathe. the world spun in a chaotic whirlpool of muffled sounds and blinding wetness.

she pulled you up only to slam your head back into the toilet, holding it down longer this time. the sensation of being submerged was disorienting, and your head spun in a disorienting dance of pressure and damp. the mixture of the cold water and the overwhelming sense of helplessness left you disoriented and gasping for breath when she finally yanked you up again. “maybe if you had any powers,” she said with a sneer, “you could get out of this one.” her voice was mocking, her tone a harsh reminder of the gap between your abilities and those of your peers. she left you there, dirty, wet, and sobbing, the pain and humiliation of the encounter settling heavily on your shoulders.

as the door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the reality of your situation washed over you in waves. you were left with the lingering sting of her taunts, the sting of being powerless in a world where such power was the norm. the echo of your sobs and the coolness of the bathroom tiles were the only witnesses to your silent plea for solace in a place that felt both foreign and unforgiving.

the journey home was a blur of muted colors and heavy steps, each stride a reminder of the day’s harrowing events. as you walked, the chill of the wet clothes clung to your skin, and the weight of your soaked attire seemed to anchor you to the pain and humiliation you had just endured. the evening air, cool and unyielding, did little to soothe the ache in your heart or the cold dampness against your body.

you finally reached the front door, the familiar warmth of home contrasting starkly with the cold dread that clung to you. as you stepped inside, the sound of your wet shoes squelching on the hardwood floor was the only indication of your disheveled state. your mother was in the kitchen, her back turned as she prepared dinner. the comforting aroma of her cooking wafted through the air, but it did little to lift the gloom hanging over you.

she turned as you entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in your appearance. “what happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. her gaze traveled over your dripping clothes and disheveled hair, her maternal instincts flaring into action. you met her eyes for a moment, the weight of your ordeal pressing heavily on your shoulders. the words you wanted to say seemed to catch in your throat, and instead of responding, you simply retreated to your room, your silence a painful testament to the day’s emotional toll.

the door to your room closed behind you with a soft click, and you sank onto your bed, your sodden clothes leaving damp impressions on the sheets. you stared blankly at the ceiling, the oppressive silence of your room amplifying the turmoil within. as you sat there, you could hear the muffled sounds of your mother’s distress from the other side of the house.

in the kitchen, your mother’s cries were heartfelt and raw. she confided in your father, her voice trembling with anguish as she spoke of her wish for you to be able to defend yourself. “why can’t they leave her alone?” she wept. “i just wish she could stand up for herself. it breaks my heart to see her suffer like this.” your father’s response was calm and comforting, his steady voice a balm to your mother’s fears. “it’s not her fault,” he reassured her. “she’s doing her best in a world that doesn’t make it easy. we’ll find a way to help her, i promise.”

you could hear his words faintly through the walls, a bittersweet reminder of the support that was available to you. but in your isolation, it felt distant, almost unreachable. when you finally gathered the strength to rise, you made your way to the bathroom. the cool, tiled surface felt refreshing against your heated skin as you undressed and stepped into the shower. you turned the faucet, allowing the warm water to cascade over you, mingling with the remnants of the day’s grime and tears.

as the water poured over you, you let out a shuddering breath, the steam and warmth offering a fleeting sense of solace. You sank to the floor of the shower, the water continuing to flow over you, masking the tears that streaked down your face. each droplet that hit your skin seemed to carry away a small fragment of the pain, but it did little to quell the deep sorrow that enveloped you. you wept silently, the sound of the water mingling with your sobs. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you, and you found yourself praying for a way out of the cycle of torment and helplessness. your whispered pleas for change, for the chance to be more than a spectator in a world of power, were drowned by the relentless rush of the shower.

that night, as you lay in bed, the exhaustion of the day’s emotional and physical toll was awful. the darkness of your room enveloped you like a shroud, offering no comfort against the cold fear that gripped you. you pulled the damp sheets around you, seeking solace in their weight. your thoughts continued to swirl as you drifted into a restless sleep, your mind haunted by images of the day’s events and the painful realization of your own vulnerability. the hope for change was a faint, flickering light in the depths of your dreams, a fragile ember that you clung to as you cried yourself to sleep, wishing for a future where you could finally find a place where you belonged.

the morning sun filtered through the school’s grand windows, casting elongated shadows across the hallways as you trudged through the familiar corridors, still feeling the weight of yesterday’s events. the usual hum of conversations and bursts of laughter filled the air, but today, the vibrant atmosphere did little to uplift your somber mood.

you glanced around, searching for any sign of hana, the girl who had humiliated you the day before. her absence was conspicuous, her usual spot in the classroom glaringly empty. you took a seat beside haesoo, the comforting familiarity of her presence offering a small measure of solace amidst the school environment.

haesoo looked up from her notebook as you settled in. her eyes, bright with curiosity, took in your demeanor. “have you noticed? hana isn’t here today,” you said, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

haesoo’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. she shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “maybe the cops got to the bitch,” she said, her tone light but edged with discomfort. after a brief pause, she shuddered slightly and added, “i’ve got a bad feeling about this. something doesn’t sit right with me.” you stared at hana’s vacant seat, your thoughts racing. the possibility that something sinister had happened crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. she could simply be ill, or perhaps she was skipping school. the pragmatic side of you struggled to push aside the gnawing sense of unease.

as the lesson began, you tried to focus on the professor’s lecture, but the absence of hana and the eerie implications of haesoo’s comment lingered at the edge of your thoughts. across the room, hana’s friend, mina, sat with a palpable air of hostility. her glare, sharp and unrelenting, made it clear she bore a grudge. you averted your gaze, feeling a familiar pang of discomfort. when the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, you stood up, gathering your things with a mixture of relief and trepidation. as you walked down the hallway, the bustling student body seemed to press in on you, the noise and movement creating a dizzying effect.

suddenly, you stumbled, your foot catching on something unseen. you brushed it off as a momentary lapse in coordination, but the next step was less forgiving. your legs gave way entirely, sending you crashing onto your back with a jarring impact. you winced as pain shot through your body, the hard floor feeling like a relentless punishment.

turning your head, you saw mina standing nearby, her lips curled into a smirk of malicious satisfaction. “why did you stop walking? do you wanna die?” she taunted, her voice dripping with derision. ignoring her taunts, you struggled to your feet, the effort exacerbating the ache that had begun to settle into your bones. you started to walk again, determined to reach your next class despite the throbbing pain in your head and the sting of her cruel words.

but as you continued down the corridor, an unexpected force slammed into you from behind, propelling you against the wall with a jarring thud. the impact was so forceful that you felt the wall tremble, a low crack resonating through the hallway. pain exploded in your back, sending waves of disorientation through you.

amidst the haze of agony, you heard mina’s laughter, a cruel, incoherent sound that mingled with the throbbing in your head. she sauntered over to you, her presence looming as she leaned close, her voice a chilling whisper. “that must hurt,” she said with a mocking tone, her eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. she didn’t wait for your response before turning on her heel and walking away.

the corridor seemed to spin around you as you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with a relentless intensity. each step you took was a struggle, the pain radiating through your body with every movement. you made your way home, the journey feeling endless as the throbbing in your temples grew more insistent.

once you reached the safety of your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. as darkness settled over the room, you tried to force yourself into a restless sleep, hoping that the respite of slumber would dull the ache and offer some escape from the torment of the day.

the pain persisted, but with each passing moment, sleep began to claim you, a dim, fleeting hope that tomorrow might bring a reprieve from the relentless cycle of suffering. as the world around you faded into the comforting embrace of sleep, you clung to the fragile hope that the dawn might bring change and relief from the unrelenting shadows of your daily struggles.

the next morning, you approached the school with a knot of unease settling in your stomach. the events of the previous day had left you feeling on edge, and the emptiness of the hallways seemed to mirror the unsettling silence that enveloped you. as you walked to your classroom, you found yourself scanning the crowd for any sign of mina or hana, but there was nothing—only the usual bustle of students chatting and shuffling to their next class.

you entered the classroom and took your seat beside haesoo, whose presence offered a small measure of comfort. the usual buzz of activity was noticeably absent, and as the minutes ticked by, the growing absence of hana and mina began to weigh heavily on you. you leaned in close to haesoo, trying to keep your voice low. “this can’t be a coincidence,” you said, your tone tinged with anxiety.

she squinted at you, her brow furrowed in thought. “it isn’t,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of uncertainty. she hesitated, her eyes darting around as if seeking something just beyond her grasp. “but i can’t get a clear message,” she added slowly. “it’s almost like it’s out of reach.”

before you could ask her to elaborate on what she meant, the classroom door swung open with an authoritative creak. two officers stepped into the room, their presence instantly commanding silence. the room fell into an uneasy hush, the only sounds the shuffling of papers and the occasional murmur of curiosity.

the lead officer, a tall man with a stern expression, cleared his throat before speaking. “good morning, students. we are conducting a search regarding two of your classmates, oh mina and jung hana.” his words carried a gravity that made your heart skip a beat. the room buzzed with whispers as the announcement settled over the students.

the officer continued, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “both girls have been reported missing by their families. they have not come home, nor have they been seen anywhere in the vicinity. we urge anyone who may have information about their whereabouts to come forward immediately.”

the murmurs grew louder, a mix of shock and curiosity spreading through the classroom. your eyes widened in disbelief as the reality of the situation sank in. the officers concluded their announcement and exited the room, leaving a tense atmosphere in their wake. you turned to haesoo, who was looking at you with a mixture of concern and suspicion. “do you have anything to do with this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you rolled your eyes, a mixture of frustration and indignation bubbling within you. “are you serious?” you replied. “you know i wouldn’t—”

she shook her head, cutting you off. “no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “it’s just, i got a chill when they mentioned it. i’ve never felt anything like it before. it’s unsettling.” her words only deepened the sense of unease that had settled over you. as you left the classroom and made your way home, the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you. the mystery of mina and hana’s disappearance loomed large, and you couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something was profoundly wrong.

when you finally arrived home, the house was quiet, the usual warmth of your family’s presence replaced by an anxious tension. your brother, who was usually the epitome of calm, met you at the door with a grave expression. “did you hear the news?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you nodded, feeling the day’s events catch in your throat. “yes, the police came to school. they were looking for mina and hana.”

your parents, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged startled glances. your mother’s face turned pale, her eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and a cold, hard resolve. “think of it as a blessing,” she said, her voice lacking warmth. “those girls were nothing but trouble.”

the coldness in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. the idea of them being missing was unsettling, but your mother’s reaction felt almost dispassionate, as though their disappearance was a matter of indifference rather than concern. you could sense the undercurrent of relief in her words, a stark contrast to the unease that plagued you.

you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. the disappearance of the two girls who seemed determined to make your life a living hell, combined with the cold detachment of your family, created a turbulent whirlpool of confusion and unease. the hope for answers seemed as distant as ever, and as sleep finally claimed you, it came with a heavy heart, filled with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread. the night enveloped you in its quiet, oppressive embrace. you stirred from a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as the day’s events replayed in your mind. with a groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and padded softly to the kitchen. the cool, dimly lit room offered a brief respite from the swirling thoughts that plagued you.

you poured yourself a glass of water, the clear liquid offering a momentary sense of calm. as you took a sip, the coldness of the water seemed to contrast sharply with the heaviness in your chest. you returned to your room, hoping that the soothing effect of the water might coax you back to sleep. instead, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room filled with your racing thoughts. “will i ever get powers?” you mused aloud, the question echoing in the quiet of the night. “why can’t i just be like everyone else?”

a voice, soft but clear, sliced through your self-reflection, startling you. “are you still thinking about that?”

you whipped your head around to see a man standing in the corner of your room. his presence was unsettling, a contrast to the soft illumination of the moonlight that filtered through your window. his face was partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling amusement. you gasped and scrambled backward, your heart racing as you screamed. the sound was strangled, caught in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the intruder’s presence. he remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he watched you with a hint of a smile.

moments later, your brother burst into the room, his face etched with concern. “what’s wrong?” daehyun asked, his eyes scanning the room. his gaze passed over the man without a hint of recognition, as if the figure were nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

you quickly composed yourself, forcing a shaky smile. “i thought i saw a bug,” you stammered, trying to sound casual despite the pounding of your heart. “it must have been nothing.” daehyun gave you a skeptical look but shrugged it off. “alright, if you’re sure. call me if you need anything.”

as he left the room, you turned back to the man, who remained where he was, his presence an eerie constant. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

he regarded you with an amused glint in his eye. “i’m your savior,” he replied smoothly.

you blinked, confusion clouding your features. “what do you mean? are you going to hurt me?”

he scoffed lightly, a sound that seemed to carry its own form of amusement. “hurt you? no, i’m not here to hurt you. do you recall the people who were bullying you?” you nodded, the memory of their taunts and cruelty still fresh in your mind.

the man’s smile widened slightly. “i got rid of them,” he said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.

panic surged through you, and you stumbled over your words. “you didn’t kill them, did you?”

“no, nothing so crude,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “i sent them to the underworld.” the terms normal people were exposed to were biblical, accurate, generic. heaven and hell. in your world, the underworls existed openly. it was an alternate dimension, one that wasn't as bad as hell, yet seemingly just as bad. those who were sent were sent alive, bodies and souls intact, where they'd be repeatedly punished—over and over and over—for their wrongdoings.

your heart pounded as you tried to process his words. “why? why would you do that?”

he shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to make his words even more chilling. “because they were bothering you.”

you gaped at him, unable to comprehend the connection. “and what does that have to do with you?”

he raised an eyebrow, as if considering how to explain something very simple. “you should be familiar with having supernatural powers, shouldn’t you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life without any powers,” you retorted, frustration mingling with fear. “what does that have to do with you helping me now?”

“this is your power,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “i’m from the underworld, and i can attach myself to whatever i choose, giving them any power they need.”

your eyes widened with disbelief. “why me? why did you choose me of all people?”

he paused for a moment, a contemplative look crossing his features. “i did it because i wanted to. and,” he added, his voice taking on a mysterious quality, “nobody else can see me unless i want them to.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your shoulders. the reality of the situation seemed almost too surreal to grasp. he chuckled softly, the sound a darkly pleasant note in the stillness of the night.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a grin. “my name is park jimin. and (y/n) (l/n), i’ll be seeing you around.”

before you could react, he vanished from sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of his presence. you knew he was still there, an intangible shadow in the room, but his form was now invisible to you. the chill of his departure settled over you, and the eerie silence of the room seemed to close in.

your mind raced as you lay back in bed, trying to make sense of the strange encounter. the idea of possessing a power, of having someone from the underworld attach themselves to you, was both terrifying and fascinating. you felt a strange sense of anticipation, mixed with fear, as you stared into the darkness, the night pressing in with an oppressive weight. sleep came fitfully, but the presence of jimin lingered in your thoughts, an unsettling reminder of what you could only assume was to come.

the morning light peered through your curtains, casting a pale glow over your room. as you slowly awoke, the memories of the previous night were still fresh in your mind, but jimin’s unsettling presence was gone. you scanned the room, half-expecting to find him lurking in the shadows, but there was no sign of him. a wave of slight relief washed over you, though it was accompanied by an uneasy thought—he could be anywhere, hidden from view, and you wouldn't even know it.

you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to you. your mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence of the early morning. “how did you sleep?” she asked with a note of concern in her tone. forcing a smile, you replied, “just fine.”

daehyun scoffed as he entered the kitchen. “you screamed like you were being gutted last night,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and curiosity. your father looked up from his newspaper, his brows knitting together. “what happened?” he asked, his tone indicating genuine concern.

you hesitated, then shrugged as casually as you could. “i saw a bug. it was nothing.” your father’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he seemed to accept your explanation. “alright then,” he said, turning back to his newspaper. the conversation moved on, but the undercurrent of unease persisted, as if the previous night’s events had left a lasting imprint.

you walked to school with a heavy heart, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. as you approached the school gates, you noticed the usual crowd of students, their faces a blur of familiarity and anonymity. the absence of hana and mina remained a topic of conversation among the students, but the discussions were tinged with a mixture of gossip and indifference.

inside the school, the hallways seemed more tense than usual. you found yourself at your locker, trying to go through the motions of your day, when haesoo joined you. she leaned against her locker, her face drawn into a thoughtful frown. “it would be a shame if they weren’t such sluts,” she muttered, her voice low. she closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to push away a troubling thought. curiosity piqued, you asked, “what’s the matter?”

ahe shivered slightly and shook her head. “i just got a chill,” she said, her voice uncertain. she seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around as if searching for something elusive. you watched her, puzzled by her sudden shift in demeanor. “what are you talking about?” you asked, but she was silent, her gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see.

suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stared in shock. you followed her gaze, your heart skipping a beat as you saw what had caught her attention. there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was park jimin. he was dressed in the school uniform, his appearance disturbingly casual. his smile was both enigmatic and unsettling, a contrast to the surrounding confusion and chatter.

your breath caught in your throat. the sight of him, so out of place in the school environment, was jarring. his presence seemed to draw the eye of everyone in the hallway, though he appeared to be a spectral figure to most, his gaze focused solely on you and haesoo. his eyes locked onto yours, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their depths. he stood with an air of effortless confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. the contrast between his calm demeanor and the chaos of the school around him only served to heighten the surreal quality of the moment.

haesoo’s expression was a mix of disbelief and fear, her earlier chill now palpable in her wide-eyed stare. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as jimin’s smile grew, as though he enjoyed the effect he was having on you both. in the midst of the busy school hallway, where students milled about oblivious to the strange encounter, jimin’s presence seemed to create a pocket of stillness. you felt the weight of his gaze on you, a reminder of the enigmatic power he had claimed to possess.

the bell rang, breaking the spell and drawing the attention of the students back to their daily routines. his figure slowly faded from view, his presence slipping away as the normalcy of the school day reasserted itself. haesoo turned to you, her face pale and her voice trembling slightly. “did you see that?” she asked, her words barely audible. you nodded, trying to steady your racing heart. “yes,” you said, your voice tight with unease. “i saw him.”

the classroom rang with the usual chatter as students shuffled in, preparing for the day’s lessons. you took your seat, your mind still preoccupied with the unsettling encounter with jimin from the previous day. the door creaked open, and the noise in the room gradually subsided as the professor stepped in, his usual demeanor composed but with a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes.

“good morning, everyone,” the professor began, his voice commanding attention. “we have a new student joining us today.”

you looked up, curiosity piqued. as the professor gestured toward the door, your heart skipped a beat when him stepped into the room. he wore the school uniform with an easy grace, his presence immediately drawing the eye. his smile was as enigmatic as ever, a contrast to the standard school attire that seemed almost to constrict the rest of the students.

jimin walked to the front of the class, his every step measured and confident. “hello, everyone,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a pleasant yet unnerving calm. “i’m park jimin. it’s a pleasure to be here.”

a murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but it was taehyung’s scoff that caught your attention. from his seat at the back of the room, taehyung’s disdain was palpable. “so, what’s your power?” he called out, his tone dripping with skepticism. jimin’s eyes met his with a chilling intensity. “anything you want it to be,” he replied, his voice a low, deliberate drawl.

the room fell silent, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine as the weight of jimin’s words settled over you. taehyung’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity, but before he could respond, something extraordinary happened. with a fluid motion, the empty desks around the room began to levitate, their wooden forms moving in a synchronized dance. the desks flew through the air, converging on taehyung and trapping him against the wall. the desks pressed around him with a force that was firm but not painful, effectively pinning him in place without causing harm.

taehyung’s eyes widened in alarm as he protested, his voice muffled by the barrier of desks. “what? let me go!” the professor, typically the picture of professional composure, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, clearly amused by the display. jimin’s gaze remained fixed on taehyung, his expression one of calm detachment.

“if you say so,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. with a flick of his wrist, he used his telekinetic abilities to lift taehyung into the air. the desks followed suit, returning to their original places as taehyung was gently deposited on the other side of the room, away from the wall.

jimin’s smile widened as he turned to the class. “never gets old,” he remarked, the lightness in his tone belying the impressive display of power he had just demonstrated.

laughter erupted from the students, a mixture of relief and amusement at the unexpected demonstration. you found yourself caught up in the laughter, unable to suppress a grin as you locked eyes with jimin. his gaze held yours for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you. he took an empty seat beside you, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. the room gradually settled down, the buzz of conversation resuming as the class prepared for the lesson. you leaned in, trying to keep your voice low amidst the chatter.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, your tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension. jimin’s smile remained as he leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “i told you i was your savior,” he whispered back, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

his words hung in the air, carrying with them a promise of further intrigue. as the professor began the day’s lesson, you found it difficult to concentrate, the encounter with him dominating your thoughts. the reality of his presence in your school, the display of his powers, and his cryptic assurances all melded into a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation.

the cafeteria was a hive of activity, alive with the usual din of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of trays and cutlery. the scent of various foods filled the air, mingling with the chatter of students as they moved through the line and found their seats. the vibrant atmosphere of the cafeteria was heightened today, the energy buzzing with heightened excitement and curiosity following jimin's display of power earlier in the day.

as you and haesoo made your way to a table, you noticed the crowd around jimin had only grown. groups of female students swarmed him, their faces alight with admiration as they offered him water, food, and even the best seats in the house. jimin declined each offer with a charming smile and a graceful wave of his hand, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

your gaze met his across the bustling cafeteria, and for a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours. your heart skipped a beat as haesoo let out a surprised yelp. “is he really coming over here?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. indeed, jimin was making his way toward you, his smile unwavering as he approached your table. he stopped in front of you, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around him. “may i join you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

you nodded, still trying to process the surreal turn of events. he took a seat across from you, his posture relaxed yet assertive. the commotion around him seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention on you, his smile never faltering. the surprise of his arrival was short-lived, however, as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. two hands settled heavily on your shoulders, and you turned to see taehyung’s smirking face looming above you.

“what do you want?” you asked, trying to maintain a tone of annoyance despite the flutter of unease in your chest. taehyung’s smirk widened as he replied, “i haven’t bugged you in a minute. besides, i have unfinished business here.”

before you could react, taehyung shoved you to the side, claiming the seat next to you with a casual disregard. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his grip firm and inescapable. you tensed, trying to wriggle free, but his hold was unyielding. “did you have fun humiliating me earlier?” he asked jimin, his tone taunting. his eyes were fixed on him, his smirk never faltering.

jimin’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “not enough,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of menace. he leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto taehyung. “let go of her.” taehyung’s grip tightened instead, pulling you closer into his side. “we’re good friends, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

you turned to jimin, desperation in your eyes. he stood up abruptly, slamming his fork onto the table with a clatter that drew the attention of everyone nearby. he approached taehyung with a purposeful stride, his expression serious. “get up,” he ordered. taehyung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he remained seated, continuing to pick at his food as if unfazed. jimin, however, was undeterred. he reached out and grabbed the collar of taehyung’s uniform, lifting him effortlessly into the air. the cafeteria fell into stunned silence, the usual noise abruptly ceasing as students gasped and murmured in shock.

taehyung dangled in the air, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. “how can you do everything at once like that?” he demanded, his voice quivering. jimin’s expression remained composed, his gaze fixed on taehyung with a mixture of mockery and disdain. “would you like to be put down?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

taehyung hesitated, his pride warring with his fear, before he finally nodded. jimin, with a casual flick of his wrist, threw taehyung back down onto the floor. the impact was jarring, the sound of him hitting the ground echoing through the cafeteria. you watched in awe as jimin returned to his seat with a casual grace. the room was abuzz with whispers and murmurs, all eyes focused on the spectacle that had just unfolded. your own gaze was fixed on him, unable to hide your amazement.

“how did you do that?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. jimin’s smile broadened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “already so impressed?” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “you should be.”

as you trudged home, the crisp evening air provided a slight reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day. the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set, casting long shadows along the deserted sidewalks. the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed against the quiet streets, a comforting metronome in the solitude of your walk.

suddenly, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. you spun around sharply, your heart skipping a beat, but found only the empty street stretching behind you. you frowned, brushing off the sensation as a trick of the mind, and turned back around to continue your journey. however, the sight that greeted you made you catch your breath. jimin stood there, his presence like an unexpected burst of color in the dimming light. his sudden appearance was startling. you exhaled sharply and muttered, “stop doing that.”

a mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you’re pretty like that,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, only to find that he was no longer there. the sudden emptiness where he had been left you feeling slightly disoriented.

you turned around quickly, and there he was again, standing behind you. his grin was unwavering, his eyes filled with playful mischief. “like that,” he repeated, his voice echoing in your ears.

you frowned in exasperation, your patience wearing thin. “stop scaring me,” you demanded, though the hint of amusement in your voice betrayed your frustration. jimin chuckled softly, his laughter a gentle ripple in the quiet evening. “it’s amusing,” he said, his voice lingering in the air as if he were still beside you.

just as you were about to respond, you felt yourself stumble, your foot catching on an uneven patch of sidewalk. before you could fully lose your balance and fall, jimin was there, catching you with effortless grace. he held you steady, his smile warm and reassuring. “but saving you is much better,” he whispered close to your ear.

you looked up at him, a mixture of annoyance and relief in your eyes. “you’re insane,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of gratitude. “i was fine on my own.”

jimin scoffed lightly, his gaze playful. “how did you like the taste of toilet water?” he asked, his tone laced with a teasing edge. your eyes widened in shock. “you saw that?” you gasped, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

he rolled his eyes as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “i see everything,” he said dismissively. you quickly covered yourself, feeling a surge of indignation. “pervert!” you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of mortification and anger.

jimin’s eyes widened in surprise, his expression turning thoughtful. “a pervert?” he repeated, as if he were considering the accusation seriously. after a moment, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “would you like to be sent to the underworld?”

you shook your head vigorously, the thought of such a fate making you shiver. “no!” you said, your voice filled with urgency.

jimin smirked, his expression one of satisfied amusement. “that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone light and mocking.

by the time you reached your front door, jimin was nowhere to be seen. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “i know you’re there.” the familiar thwack against the back of your head, like an invisible slap, confirmed his lingering presence. you opened the door and stepped inside, where your brother daehyun was waiting. he looked at you with a skeptical expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. “who were you talking to?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “just talking to myself,” you said with a casual wave of your hand. saehyun stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “maybe you really have lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head in awe.

you playfully smacked him on the head, his reaction a mix of surprise and annoyance. “shut up,” you said with a grin, before heading toward your room. as you passed by the kitchen, your mother called out, “you seem to be in a better mood today.”

you paused for a moment, contemplating her observation. it was true that something had shifted within you, a glimmer of unexpected excitement mingling with the confusion. you turned to her and gave a small, genuine smile. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “maybe i am.”

as you closed the door behind you, the click of the lock seemed to echo in the quiet room. you leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as you tried to shake off the day’s events. the room was dimly lit by the slant of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long, ghostly shadows that danced across the walls.

when you turned around, you gasped. there, leaning casually against the edge of your bed, was jimin. his presence was both startling and oddly comforting. “i told you to stop doing that,” you said, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

jimin rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish, his expression one of amused exasperation. “you’re easy to scare,” he replied with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. he tilted his head slightly and added, “you must not be used to having men in your room.”

the comment struck a nerve, and you scoffed, feigning offense. “i’ve had plenty of experience,” you retorted, though the blush rising to your cheeks betrayed the unease you felt.

jimin’s eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter, his lips twitching into a smirk. “yeah, right,” he teased, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. he paused and then added, “i’ve seen it all, you haven’t gotten laid in eighteen years.”

the jibe made your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “i’ll kick your eyes,” you threatened, your voice edged with frustration. jimin raised his hands in mock surrender, a look of exaggerated fear crossing his face. “really?” he asked, his tone a perfect blend of feigned terror and mischief.

you nodded decisively and reached out to slap him, but his reflexes were impossibly quick. he caught your wrist effortlessly, his grip surprisingly firm. you tried to free your hand, but he held it fast. he smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “like that?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur. stunned, you raised your other hand, only to find that he was already there, catching it with equal ease. his strength was undeniable, and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t pull free. “don’t hit me that hard,” he said with a teasing lilt, his smile widening.

you were about to retort when he suddenly moved with a fluid, almost predatory grace. before you could react, he had you pinned against your closet door. your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart race as his face came dangerously close to yours. the proximity was overwhelming; his scent was intoxicating, and the heat of his body pressed against yours made it hard to think.

his smile was both captivating and unsettling. he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “why’s your heart beating so fast?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear.

you gulped, your gaze unable to tear itself away from his striking features. his eyes were mesmerizing, and his closeness made you acutely aware of how pretty he truly was. “because you’re scary,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

jimin scoffed lightly, releasing you with a dramatic flair as if your words had wounded him. “scary? you’re scarier,” he said, feigning offense as he took a step back, allowing you to breathe again.

you rolled your eyes, grateful for the distance, and waved your hand dismissively. “leave me alone. i have homework,” you said, trying to sound authoritative despite the lingering blush on your cheeks. his smile softened as he observed you, his gaze lingering on the flush that had crept up your neck. “homework, huh?” he mused, his tone carrying a hint of mock sympathy. he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heartbeat, and it only seemed to please him more.

you settled into your desk, the weight of the day's events still lingering in your mind. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting a warm, amber hue across the pages of your textbook. you had spread out your notes and textbooks with meticulous care, determined to tackle your calculus homework despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. the air was heavy with the quiet hum of concentration, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of your pencil against the paper.

as you jotted down what you hoped were coherent notes on differential equations, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see jimin’s mischievous grin. but the room remained empty, save for the clutter of your textbooks and papers. just as you resumed your scribbling, a voice broke the silence. “what are you working on?” jimin’s voice was smooth and casual, yet it carried a hint of amusement.

you jumped, nearly knocking over your pencil. “calculus,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you continued to pretend to write notes. the subject matter, filled with complex equations and symbols, seemed even more daunting with his, once again, unexpected presence.

he strolled over with a lazy grace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform jacket. his eyes roamed over your paper with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “do you actually have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern. you glanced up at him, attempting to maintain a facade of confidence. “yes,” you said firmly, though a hint of uncertainty crept into your voice.

jimin’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “are you lying?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as if he were scrutinizing every word you said. you hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. “yes,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, unable to maintain the pretense any longer.

he sighed theatrically, shaking his head with an exaggerated air of disappointment. “lying in the underworld is punishable, you know,” he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “people get their tongues cut out for that.” your eyes widened in alarm, and you gasped, “are you serious?” the very idea of such a gruesome punishment sent shivers down your spine, and you could hardly believe he was being genuine.

jimin stifled a giggle behind his hand, clearly finding your reaction amusing. “oh, absolutely,” he affirmed with a mischievous glint in his eye. you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you muttered, “i can’t wait to go to heaven.”

he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “you’d never see heaven’s gates,” he said dismissively, a hint of derision in his voice. your eyes flashed with indignation as you retorted, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

jimin’s smirk widened. “you’re right,” he admitted, but his tone was far from apologetic. he glanced at your paper, his expression shifting to one of mild interest. “by the way, the answer to that equation is supposed to be squared,” he said, pointing at a particular spot on your paper with a casual air.

you let out a nervous laugh, feeling a wave of relief mixed with embarrassment. you quickly reached for your eraser, smudging out the scarily wrong answer you had previously written. with a trembling hand, you scrawled the correct answer in its place, hoping it would salvage your assignment. jimin watched you with an amused glint in his eye, seemingly delighted by the small victory of having helped you. his presence, though unsettling at times, had a peculiar way of making the mundane aspects of your life feel more bearable.

the clock on your desk ticked slowly as you fought against the drowsiness that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. your calculus homework lay spread out before you, the equations blurring together as you struggled to keep your eyes open. jimin’s presence was a faint, unsettling comfort in the periphery of your awareness. his earlier antics had faded into the background noise of your weary mind.

as you dragged your pencil across the paper, your eyelids grew heavier, and your head bobbed forward in a half-sleepy state. you mumbled aloud, your voice barely more than a tired whisper. “what are you doing here, jimin?”

a soft chuckle came from him, a sound that seemed to curl around you like a warm blanket. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur that brushed against your ear. “do you really wanna know?” he asked, his tone laced with both curiosity and amusement. you nodded groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open. “yes,” you managed to mumble, your voice trailing off as another yawn overtook you.

hia gaze softened, and he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of your desk. “well,” he began, his voice gentle and contemplative, “i’ve always wanted to live my life as a human, in the human world. i get to do that as long as i’m watching over someone.” you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes, the details of his face still fuzzy but recognizable. “why me?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly with exhaustion.

there was a moment of silence as jimin’s expression grew thoughtful. he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. “guess you were the chosen one, they sent me to you,” he said softly, as if the weight of the words carried a hint of destiny. his lips curled into a faint smile, though there was a touch of irritation in his eyes. “i wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t so pretty,” he said with a hint of teasing in his voice. “all you do is cause trouble.”

you let out another yawn, your head nodding forward. “sorry,” you murmured, the apology barely audible as you fought to stay awake. you groaned softly, burying your face in your arms on the desk, too tired to respond. the relentless pull of sleep was too strong, and within moments, you succumbed to it, your breathing evening out as you drifted into a deep, much-needed slumber.

jimin watched you with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. as your breathing became steady and rhythmic, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze lingering on you with an almost wistful expression. he knew it was invasive, to watch you sleep like this, but he couldn’t help himself. there was something undeniably captivating about the way you looked when you were so peaceful and unguarded.

gently, he extended his powers, lifting you with a delicate touch of his mind. the process was effortless for him, and he guided you gently off the desk, ensuring you remained undisturbed. with a subtle concentration, he levitated you through the air, carrying you with the same care one might use to handle a fragile, precious object. he maneuvered you softly through the room, avoiding any obstacles as he floated you to your bed. as you were lowered onto the mattress, he took a moment to adjust the covers around you, tucking them in with a tender touch that belied his usual mischief.

he stood by the side of your bed, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze. you were curled up beneath the covers, your features relaxed and serene. the sight of you, so vulnerable and tranquil, stirred something within him—a curious blend of protectiveness and admiration. despite his role as a being from the underworld, tasked with watching over you and perhaps even unsettling you at times, he found himself captivated by your presence. the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath, it all seemed to weave a kind of magic that he hadn’t expected to encounter.

as you trudged to school the following morning, the familiar hustle and bustle of the crowd provided a modest comfort. the sky above was a muted shade of gray, clouds hanging low as if mirroring the heaviness in your chest. the air was brisk, and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, feeling the chill seep through despite your layers.

upon arriving at school, you approached your locker with a sigh, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering unease from the previous night. however, as you reached your locker, you were startled to see jimin leaning casually against the row of metal lockers, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smirk. he seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his presence as striking and unanticipated as ever.

“slow for someone so thin,” he remarked with a teasing lilt in his voice. his eyes gleamed with mischief, a contrast to the gray morning. “do you ever eat, or is breakfast a myth for you?” you rolled your eyes at his casual tone and retorted, “i had breakfast this morning.” the words came out with more force than you intended, a small, defiant edge in your voice.

jimin’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “liar,” he said, his voice dripping with playful derision. “I can tell you’re lying.”

the truth of his statement was a bitter pill to swallow. you hadn’t felt the pangs of hunger as acutely in recent days, and your appetite had waned significantly since the bullying had started. the constant stress had left you feeling hollow, both physically and emotionally. the comment stung more than you’d care to admit, but you forced yourself to look indifferent.

his gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone now carrying an edge of mock seriousness. “there goes your tongue,” he said suddenly.

your heart skipped a beat at his words. Instinctively, you raised a hand to your mouth, your fingers pressing against your tongue as you felt a wave of panic. you bit down hard, testing to make sure your tongue was still there. the sharp, familiar pain confirmed it was, and you sighed in relief, though the discomfort of his words lingered. jimin’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and mystery. “is it still there?” he inquired, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded vigorously, though the movement was almost imperceptible due to your anxiety. his sigh was almost theatrical, filled with a mock sorrow that didn’t match the amusement in his eyes. “it won’t be for long,” he said cryptically, and without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the school building.

you called out after him, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “what do you mean by that?”

jimin merely waved a hand over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture, his smirk remaining as he walked away. the gesture was both casual and enigmatic, leaving you with more questions than answers. his cryptic remark about your tongue gnawed at your thoughts as you stood by your locker, the sudden absence of his presence leaving an unsettling void despite the childish teasing.

as the class droned on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus, the remnants of last night’s exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. your pen had been moving on autopilot, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep, your head resting heavily on your desk. the soft murmur of your classmates and the occasional rustling of papers seemed far away, a distant backdrop to your restless slumber.

suddenly, a loud voice jolted you awake. “homework, everyone.” the professor announced, his tone authoritative. you gasped, the realization hitting you like a cold splash of water. the panic set in as you scrambled to recall where you had left off. the professor began walking down the aisles, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

when he reached your desk, you fumbled with your notebook, your movements clumsy and disjointed. you retrieved it with a mix of shame and dread, handing it over to him with trembling hands. the professor’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he flipped through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment.

“did you really do all of this?” he asked, incredulous. his eyes were wide as he scanned the pages filled with neatly written answers, each question meticulously addressed and correctly solved.

you blinked, equally puzzled. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to piece together what was happening.

the professor pointed to your notebook. “you’ve completed every single problem correctly,” he said, his voice a mix of amazement and disbelief. “this is impressive.”

you glanced down at the notebook and saw, to your shock, that every question was indeed answered accurately. a wave of confusion washed over you. you hadn’t remembered doing all this work, and the sense of accomplishment felt both foreign and surreal. as you tried to process the unexpected turn of events, you caught sight of jimin across the room. his gaze was fixed on you, and he offered a sly smile. he mouthed the words, “you’re welcome,” with a mischievous glint in his eyes. relief mixed with curiosity bubbled inside you.

the professor congratulated you, his expression softening with approval, and handed your notebook back. you muttered a thank you, still trying to shake off the disorienting sense of having accomplished something you didn’t remember doing.

at lunch, you headed to the cafeteria, hoping to sit with jimin. as you approached the table where you usually met him, your heart sank when you saw taehyung sitting there instead. he looked up as you arrived, and you could see a smirk forming on his lips. “what do you want now?” you asked, your tone weary but guarded.

he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “i promise i won’t do anything,” he said, a hint of playful mischief in his voice. “actually, i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.” you were stunned into silence. the unexpected proposition caught you off guard, leaving you at a loss for words. before you could find a response, haesoo opened her mouth, but her words were cut off by a commanding voice.

“move,” jimin said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise of the cafeteria like a knife.

all three of you turned to see him standing there, his demeanor suddenly shifting from relaxed to intense. his gaze was fixed on taehyung, and he took a step forward with a steely resolve. taehyung’s smirk faltered slightly. “go around,” he said dismissively, “i’m in the middle of something.”

to your shock, his expression darkened. he slammed his tray down on the table, the clatter of metal against plastic loud and jarring. he grabbed taehyung by the collar and pulled him close, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “unless you wanna be in the middle of nowhere, walk away.”

the tension in the air was palpable. taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise, and without another word, he backed away, his earlier bravado gone. he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the space around you suddenly quieter.

you were left in stunned silence, your heart racing. jimin’s transformation from the charming, playful figure to someone so intimidating and cold was jarring. his capacity for sudden, intense aggression scared you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. you tried to ignore him, focusing on your food and conversation with haesoo, not wanting to attract his attention or fall victim to whatever mood he might switch to next.

the walk home was eerily quiet, the usual chatter and clamor of the bustling streets muted by a heavy silence. the afternoon light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly along the pavement. you could hear the rhythmic patter of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, but jimin’s presence beside you added an unusual tension to the otherwise tranquil surroundings.

he had been walking silently next to you for a while, his stride effortlessly matching yours. his presence, though subdued, was impossible to ignore. he seemed to be waiting for you to say something, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. finally, he broke the silence. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying edge that suggested he was genuinely interested.

you gave a dismissive wave of your hand and forced a small smile. “nothing,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than you felt. jimin’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. “you must think i’m stupid if you’re gonna brush it off like that,” he said, his voice laced with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. “i was just thinking. thanks for doing my homework, by the way.” jimin’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’re welcome. i’m nice like that.”

you paused, considering his words. “but there was no reason to be so cruel to taehyung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “really? were you actually gonna go on a date with that asshole?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

you contemplated his question, trying to remember how you’d felt about taehyung’s offer. “maybe,” you said jokingly. his eyes widened with incredulity. “your tongue’s on the verge,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

you gasped in mock horror and instinctively placed your hand over your mouth, as if to shield it from his prying. “stay away from my tongue,” you pleaded with a blend of annoyance and playfulness. jimin merely chuckled. “no promises,” he said, his tone light and teasing. this caused you to walk with your hand still covering your mouth, a futile gesture that did little to ease the odd sensation his presence brought.

when you reached your front door, you felt a sudden tug on the hand on your mouth. you spun around to confront jimin, ready to give him a piece of your mind. but as you turned, he was gone. the sudden absence of his presence was startling, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion.

“asshole,” you muttered under your breath, the word barely escaping your lips as you glanced around to make sure he wasn’t lingering nearby. the street was empty, save for a few stray leaves skittering along the sidewalk, and there was no sign of jimin. with a resigned sigh, you pushed open the front door and slipped inside, the familiar warmth of your home a welcome contrast to the unsettling events of the day. you walked straight to your room, the encounter with jimin still fresh in your mind. the door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep breath.

the room was cloaked in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. the steady hum of your ceiling fan created a comforting backdrop as you sat on the edge of your bed, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disquiet. jimin’s unpredictable behavior had been gnawing at you. one moment, he was charming and helpful, and the next, he was cold and menacing. the abrupt change in his demeanor was unsettling, and the weight of it made you uneasy. you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off the troubling thoughts.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on the tv. the screen flickered to life, and you absentmindedly began channel surfing, your mind not fully engaged with the images flashing before you. but then, a news anchor’s stern face filled the screen, and you were abruptly pulled into the broadcast. “—tragedy that has shaken the community. the bodies of oh mina and jung hana, two missing students, have yet to be found, and authorities now presume them dead. the search continues, but their families are left in agonizing uncertainty.”

you froze, your heart sinking as the anchor continued with a detailed recap of the events. the broadcast went on to describe the search efforts, the emotional pleas from their families, and the growing sense of despair that had settled over the community. the words felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, and a surge of guilt began to eat away at you. mina and hana had been cruel, yes, but no one deserved this. the thought of their families—worrying, grieving, and facing a future without their loved ones—made you feel sick. you found yourself grappling with the dissonance between their past actions and the very real, very human suffering unfolding now.

as you absorbed the gravity of the news, a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, chilling and disturbingly calm. “they got what they deserved,” jimin’s voice said, as though he had materialized out of thin air. he stepped into view, leaning casually against the door frame, his gaze fixated on the tv screen. “it’s a shame they aren’t actually dead.”

you turned to him, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “how can you say something so cruel?” you demanded, the hurt and anger evident in your voice. “how can you be so heartless?”

his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s always been an eye for an eye,” he retorted coldly. “they were awful to you. why should they get any sympathy?”

a surge of frustration erupted within you. “and what about their families?” you asked, the words coming out in a rush. “do you have any idea how they must feel?”

jimin snapped, his tone edged with bitterness. “they should’ve raised them better,” he shot back. “maybe then they wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”

you were taken aback by his callousness. “you’re awful,” you said, unable to keep the scorn from your voice. “i can’t believe how heartless you really are.”

jimin’s demeanor shifted abruptly. he walked over and sat down beside you on your bed, his movements deliberate and measured. he looked at you with an intensity that was almost palpable, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “i did it for you,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its earlier bite. “because i cared for you.”

you looked at him, struggling to reconcile this softer side of him with the cruelty you’d just witnessed. “i don’t need a savior,” you said quietly, shaking your head. the weight of the day’s events and jimin’s complex personality were starting to feel overwhelming. his face softened, and for a moment, his expression was filled with a kind of sadness that seemed almost genuine. he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and almost tender. in his eyes, you saw something akin to heartbreak.

“okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “if that’s what you say.”

without another word, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dim light of your room. the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of the harsh words and the complexities of his character. you sat there, feeling the weight of his absence and the lingering discomfort of his presence. the room seemed emptier now, and you were left with a tumult of emotions and unanswered questions.

the night stretched long and restless as you tossed and turned beneath your tangled sheets, your mind an endless swirl of confusion and disquiet. your bed seemed to have become a cage, its confines growing tighter with each passing minute. the darkness of the room was punctuated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting fleeting shadows that danced unsettlingly on the walls.

you reached out in the darkness, searching for the comforting presence you had come to rely on. but tonight, there was nothing. no whisper of jimin’s voice, no flicker of his enigmatic smile—just an overwhelming silence that pressed against you like a heavy blanket. you called out his name, your voice barely more than a strained whisper in the stillness of the night. “jimin?” you croaked, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet.

the silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to stretch on forever, growing thicker and more suffocating with each passing moment. you strained to listen for any sign of him, but there was nothing—no rustle, no breath, no hint of his presence. desperation clawed at you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep, hoping that he would return with the dawn.

morning came, but with it, there was no sign of jimin. you woke with a start, the emptiness of your room a reminder of his absence. the space beside you on the bed was untouched, the air still and untroubled. you groaned, the reality of his disappearance settling heavily upon you. the morning routine was carried out on autopilot, the small tasks seeming to blur together as you prepared for school.

arriving at school, you felt the weight of his absence more acutely. the hallways, usually bustling with energy and life, felt hollow and empty. you walked through them with a growing sense of dread, your eyes scanning the familiar faces for any sign of jimin. but he was nowhere to be found. not in the crowded corridors, not in your classroom, not even in the places he had been known to linger.

you approached haesoo at lunch, a flicker of hope driving your steps. you needed to know if anyone else had seen him, if there was any chance he would reappear. “hey, haesoo,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety you felt. “have you seen jimin today?”

she looked up from her lunch with a puzzled expression. “jimin? no, i haven’t seen him. why? you two seemed pretty close. he was kind of like your protector, wasn’t he?” you shook your head, trying to quell the gnawing worry in your stomach. “he isn’t,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. “he’s my savior.”

the rest of the school day passed in a blur of gray and disinterest. the absence of jimin cast a shadow over everything, and you found it difficult to focus on the lessons or the conversations around you. It was almost as if the world had lost some of its color without him. when the final bell rang, you walked home with a heavy heart. each step felt like a step further away from the fleeting hope you had clung to. you tried to convince yourself that his absence was due to the lack of need, that perhaps he was simply giving you space. but deep down, you knew it was more than that. you had made him go away, whether intentionally or not, and the realization left you feeling hollow and uncertain.

as you neared your house, you saw haesoo walking beside you, her expression bright and expectant. “so, what do you think?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “wanna hit the club tonight? it could be a lot of fun.” you considered it for a moment, your spirits lifted slightly by the prospect of distraction. “sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, trying to push aside the nagging emptiness you felt.

when you reached home, haesoo followed you inside. you found your mother in the kitchen, busy with the evening’s preparations. “mom, is it okay if i go to the club with haesoo tonight?” you asked, attempting to sound casual.

your mother glanced up from her task, her face thoughtful. “if she’s going,” she said with a dismissive wave, “you can go to the underworld for all i care.”

the words struck you like a chill, freezing the air around you. the mention of the underworld made your blood run cold, a sharp reminder of the dark and mysterious presence you had grown to both fear and depend on. you exchanged a look with haesoo, who seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but chose to remain silent. you forced a smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “thanks, mom.”

the evening was a muted whirl of apprehension and fleeting hope as you prepared for the night out. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm hues over the meticulously arranged wardrobe. you stood before the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection as you adjusted the sleek black dress that clung to your frame. it was a classic choice, understated yet elegant, but tonight, it felt lacking—an empty vessel yearning for validation you could not quite grasp.

you turned this way and that, trying to find satisfaction in your appearance. the dress, with its delicate fabric and subtle sheen, was perfect in its own right. but it felt as if something crucial was missing. your mind wandered to the image of him, the elusive presence that had once been a source of comfort and assurance. the empty space beside you in the mirror seemed to echo with his absence, and the longing for his approval gnawed at you with an intensity that left you feeling hollow.

with a deep sigh, you slipped your heels on, their click against the hardwood floor a sharp contrast to the muted sense of resignation you felt inside. daehyun’s voice broke through your reverie. “call if anything happens,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of concern. you nodded absentmindedly, giving him a half-hearted smile before heading out the door.

the night air was crisp and cool as you caught a cab to the club. the city lights blurred by the window seemed to race past you, each passing moment amplifying the sense of anticipation and uncertainty that clung to you. when you arrived, haesoo was waiting outside, her excitement palpable as she greeted you with a bright smile.

the club was alive with an electric energy, the pulsating lights and thumping bass creating an intoxicating atmosphere. haesoo led you inside, her hand firmly clasped around yours as you navigated through the crowd. “loosen up,” she urged, her voice barely audible over the music. “have a drink. it’ll help you relax.”

you allowed yourself one drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat and momentarily easing the tension in your shoulders. you clutched the glass tightly, savoring the brief reprieve it offered as you observed the throng of bodies swaying rhythmically on the dance floor. the music was a relentless beat, each pulse a reminder of the vitality you felt slipping away. as you sipped your drink, a tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. you turned around, half-expecting to see jimin’s familiar, mischievous smile. instead, you were met with the gaze of an unfamiliar man. he had a confident demeanor, his eyes appraising you with an intensity that set your nerves on edge.

“you’re a gem,” he said, his voice smooth and insistent. “would you like to dance?” you offered a polite smile, shaking your head as you replied, “no, thank you. i’d prefer to stay here.”

undeterred, the man pressed on. “come on, don’t be shy. it’ll be fun.” you declined again, but his persistence quickly turned into forcefulness. before you could fully react, he grabbed your hand with a firm grip, pulling you towards the dance floor. you resisted, trying to free yourself from his grasp, but his other hand reached out to grab your jaw. his touch was rough and invasive as he forced you to look at him. “you’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

panic surged through you, but before you could cry out for help or struggle further, the man was abruptly thrown backward. he collided with the wall across the room with a violent thud, the impact reverberating through the space. the music abruptly stopped, plunging the club into a stunned silence as gasps spread through the crowd.

your heart raced, but as you watched the man slump against the wall, his head hanging limply, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you knew—had always known—that he was still there. the subtle, yet unmistakable, presence that had become so familiar to you was now unmistakable in the man’s sudden, forceful removal.

the crowd was a sea of shocked expressions, their murmurs rising in a crescendo of disbelief. you stood amidst them, your gaze locked on the spot where the man had fallen, feeling a profound sense of relief and, oddly enough, satisfaction. you could not see him, but his protective presence was unmistakable, the unspoken assurance that he was watching over you even now.

the night clung to you like a heavy blanket as you made your way home, the darkness of the streets mirroring the turmoil inside your heart. the taxi dropped you off at the curb, the hum of the engine fading into the background as you stood before your front door, fumbling with your keys. your hands trembled slightly, the chill of the midnight air seeping into your bones, and you struggled to fit the key into the lock. after what felt like an eternity, the lock finally clicked open, and you pushed the door open with a soft creak.

the house was enveloped in silence, your family long since retired to bed. the only sounds were the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the darkness and the quiet thud of your heels against the wooden floor as you hurried up the stairs. excitement surged through you as you reached your room. with a flick of the switch, the room was bathed in warm light, but your excitement quickly turned to crushing disappointment. the room was empty.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the breath leaving your lungs in a quiet, defeated sigh. you had hoped, prayed even, that he would be there, waiting for you as he always had been. but the room was devoid of that familiar presence, and the weight of his absence settled heavily on your chest.

you let the door swing shut behind you as you sank onto your bed, the soft mattress barely registering beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. the tears came unbidden, spilling down your cheeks in hot, silent streams as you whispered into the empty room, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for making you go away.”

the words broke the silence, and you felt the sobs rising within you, shaking your small frame as you struggled to keep them quiet. you pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. the pain was too much, too raw, and it poured out of you in ragged breaths as you continued, “i’m sorry for saying i didn’t need you. i do, i really do, jimin.”

the room remained still, the silence that followed your confession only deepening the ache in your chest. you felt like you were falling into an endless abyss, the darkness and loneliness closing in around you until it was almost suffocating. you cried harder, the tears blurring your vision as you clutched your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you tried to find some semblance of comfort.

and then, just as the despair threatened to consume you entirely, a voice—familiar and tinged with amusement—cut through the silence. “you’re ruining your makeup.”

your head snapped up so fast you almost felt dizzy, your heart leaping into your throat as you searched the room with wide, tear-filled eyes. and there he was, standing by the window, the corners of his lips curled into that playful smile that made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t help yourself. you were off the bed and across the room in an instant, throwing yourself into his arms with such force that you nearly knocked him over. he let out a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

“you must’ve really missed me,” he teased, his voice a gentle murmur against the top of your head. you nodded against him, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming relief that washed over you. “i’m so sorry,” you managed to choke out, the words coming out in a rush, desperate to make him understand. “i didn’t mean it, jimin. i didn’t mean any of it.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache, but his next words were laced with playful teasing, “i don’t know if i can forgive you,” he said, feigning hurt. your frown deepened as more tears pooled in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you whispered, “i’m sorry, i’ll do anything, jimin. anything.”

he peered at you from the corner of his eye, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to think it over. “anything?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes watching you intently. you nodded without hesitation, willing to do whatever it took to make things right between you.

a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he pointed to his cheek. “give me a kiss.”

you didn’t hesitate. you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way that nothing else could. but before you could pull back, he turned his head, and your lips met his in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. he smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile too, the weight of your earlier sadness lifting as you melted into him. the kiss was soft and sweet, a silent promise that you had been forgiven. but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race, a sense of longing that neither of you could ignore.

when you finally broke the kiss, you looked up at him, your eyes searching his as you whispered, “don’t go anywhere ever again.” his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he replied, “i won’t, i promise.”

the words were barely out of his mouth before his lips were on yours again, this time more urgent, more demanding. you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the kiss deepening until you were both breathless. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him as the intensity of the moment grew. the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own creation, where nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours, and the unspoken connection that bound you together.

breathy gasps filled the air as the kiss became more intense, more desperate. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer as the world around you continued to disappear. on that moment, nothing else mattered—no doubts, no fears, no regrets. there was only him, only you, and the undeniable pull between you that refused to be denied.

his fingertips trailed down your sides, reaching the hem of your shirt, and with one smooth motion, he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside to expose your braless tits. your nipples pebbled at the sudden coolness of the air, and jimin’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. “so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

you reached for the button of his pants, fumbling with the zipper as you felt his hands move to the back of your neck, tracing the skin with his nails, his eyes feasting on your naked tits. his gaze was hungry, and it made you feel powerful, desired. without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing as you took his hardening cock into your hand.

his breath hitched as you leaned in, your hot breath ghosting over the tip before you took him into your mouth. jimin’s hands found your hair, his grip tightening as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around him, exploring every inch of his length. you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him and making his knees tremble. his moans grew more intense, his words a mix of praise and demand as he guided your head, pushing deeper into your mouth.

his eyes never left yours as he watched you, the way your cheeks hollowed out, the way your tongue danced around him. “so good to me,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “but i know what you really want, don’t i?” you pulled back, panting, and nodded. you knew exactly what he wanted. without another word, you stood up, and together you moved to the bed, his hand never leaving the small of your back, guiding you, claiming you. your heart raced as you felt the mattress dip beneath you, his weight pressing you into the softness.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body as if it was the first time, because it was. every touch felt new, every kiss a revelation. he pulled your panties down, his eyes never leaving yours as he exposed your vulnerable pussy to him. your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves. he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever have you like this.”

his mouth found your clit, and you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to lick and suck. the sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his face, desperate for more. he chuckled against you, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “you’re so eager,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “it’s almost obvious you're a virgin.”

you moaned in response, unable to form a coherent argument as he worked his magic. your body tensed, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable, and then with one slick thumb sliding into your ass, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the waves of pleasure, feeling him licking up every drop of your arousal as your pussy spasmed around his thumb.

when you finally opened your eyes, jimin was hovering over you, his own pants and boxers a discarded mess on the floor. the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, and he smirked down at you, his eyes full of mischief. “came for me just like that, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded, unable to form words, and he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. you were tight around him, your body untouched by anyone else, and he took his time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely.

his hips began to move, slow and deliberate, and you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss as he whispered, “i’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, you know that?” you didn’t care about the pain. you only cared about the way he felt inside of you, about the way his kiss made you feel alive. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing more of him as he broke through your barrier with a gentle but firm thrust. a gasp tore from your throat, but it was quickly followed by a moan as pleasure began to overtake the initial discomfort.

jimin’s eyes never left yours as he began to move in earnest, his hips sliding in and out of you with an ease that belied the tightness of your grip on him. you could feel your body adjusting to him, stretching and clinging to him like a second skin. the filth that left his mouth grew more intense, his words a filthy litany that had you squirming and whimpering beneath him. “fuck, i love you. only mine, no one else's.” he growled, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

your orgasm built again, more intense than the first. your pussy was slick with arousal, and with every thrust, he hit that perfect spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch. he was relentless, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, nipping and sucking as he claimed you in every way possible. and then, just as the tension was about to snap, he slammed into you, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you were coming apart, your body shaking with the force of it.

you felt him swell inside of you, his cock pulsing as he reached his own climax, filling you with his warmth. he groaned your name against your neck, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into you. the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a mix of pleasure and possession that had you clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

when it was over, you lay there, panting and trembling, your body still fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm. jimin kissed you softly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever touch you like this, remember that.” you nodded, your voice a mere whisper as you promised, “only you, jimin. only ever you.” he pulled out, and you felt the sticky warmth of his cum trickling down your thighs.

he lay beside you, pulling you into his arms, your bodies entwined as the last of the adrenaline slowly drained away. your heart was still racing, but it was a good kind of scared, the kind that came from knowing you had just given yourself to someone who would protect you with every fiber of his being. you knew he was from the underworld, that he had come to protect you, and in that moment, you had never felt safer.

after a few moments of quiet, he smirked and broke the silence with a question that took you by surprise. “was that really your first time?” his voice was low, slightly teasing, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity there that made you raise an eyebrow. you scoffed lightly, still feeling the lingering warmth from the kiss. “yeah,” you replied with a hint of sarcasm, “my first time just happened to be with a demon from the underworld.” the words were meant to be a joke, but the moment they left your lips, you realized how bizarrely true they were.

jimin propped himself up on his elbows, feigning offense as he stared at you with mock indignation. “how could you be so cruel as to call me that?” he asked, his tone playful but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made you want to tease him further just to see where it would lead.

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension from earlier easing into something lighter, more playful. “you’re right,” you conceded, your voice softening as you leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the brief contact sent a familiar warmth through you, and when you pulled back, you locked eyes with him and continued, “you’re not a demon. you’re my savior.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. for a moment, you both stayed like that, the intensity of your earlier exchange lingering in the quiet space. his gaze softened, the teasing glint fading into something more serious as he studied your face, as if committing every detail to memory. he sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing a gentle path down your cheek before coming to rest under your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “your savior, huh?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something almost sad in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that you rarely saw from him.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you held his gaze. “yeah,” you whispered back, your voice filled with a sincerity that left no room for doubt. “you’ve always been there for me, even when i didn’t want you to be. you saved me, jimin.” the admission hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you both. you saw the way his expression shifted, the playful mask he usually wore slipping away to reveal something raw and unguarded beneath it. his eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your breath catch in your throat.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you had left unsaid. then, finally, jimin leaned in, closing the small distance between you as he captured your lips in a kiss that was softer, gentler than before. there was no urgency this time, no desperation—just the quiet, undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “i don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone again. you understand that, right?” you nodded, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name as you whispered back, “i understand.”

he smiled at that, a small, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “because i’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of his presence envelop you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand grounding you in the moment. and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace—like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. eventually, he shifted, pulling you closer as he lay back down, his arms encircling you protectively. you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. as you lay there, your thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened—the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss when you thought he was gone for good. but now, in his arms, all of that seemed to fade away, replaced by a certainty that you couldn’t quite explain but knew to be true.

jimin was your savior. and as long as he was by your side, you knew that you would be okay.

✧.*

a/n: this was so cute can't wait to go back to jackson wang cameos and angst

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