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aaagustd · 2 months

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for the night | min yoongi

title: for the night

pairing: drug lord!min yoongi x waitress!(f)reader

genre/rating: angst, childhood best friends to strangers to friends??, unrequited love, valentine’s day au, smut, romance, 18+

summary: Yoongi lives a dangerous life. So why is he so afraid of you?

warnings: idk what to say about these two, just a bunch of feelings (spoken & unspoken), light pining, pov switches, mentions d*ath & grieving, mentions dr*gs and violence, swearing, bl**d & injuries, p*stol wh*pping/ mild description of t*rture, crooked justice systems (it’s the wild wild west out there), mentions a robbery & a**ault (nothing involving the main story), mentions illnesses & health related topics, alcohol/drinking but no intoxication unless you count staring at yoongi for too long, black hair with the undercut yoongi, chains, rings, TATTOOS…. oh my !!!, yoongi has a gl*ck (a piece, that iron… whatever you wanna call it), everybody’s shipping these two but they’re just…yeah, eye f*cking from both parties, explicit content, the friend version of kiss & makeup??, dry h*mping, Dom!yoongi, yoongi getting head is a warning, protected s*x, gagging/deep throating, throat/face f*cking, hair pulling, crying, i’m sure yoongi has Sir kink hiding in there somewhere, manhandling, face slapping, yoongi’s fingers down your throat, missionary with your leg over yoongi’s shoulder, big d*ck!yoongi, his jewelry stays on bc why would it not?, cl*t stimulation, teasing, spitting, org*sm control, c*m shots, body worship, p*ssy eating, throat grabbing, i think that's all...

wc: 11.6k

release date: february 16, 2024; 10:15pm est

note: sorry i took forever. this is my first oneshot in a while so i apologize for mistakes. i'm just finding my footing in this writing thing again. thanks to @itaeewon for my banner and @cafekitsune who makes these pretty dividers. please follow both of them for cool graphics. anyway, happy late valentine's day. i love you guys.

masterlist | playlist | ao3 version

“Enjoy the rest of your night… and be safe!”

As you wave goodbye to the last lovely couple dining at your restaurant tonight, you express how thrilled you are of their return.

You stand in front of your father’s little restaurant and watch the lovebirds bundle up as they make their way to their vehicle, embracing each other and protecting themselves from the same frigid temperatures that threatened to ruin their Valentine’s day plans.

It’s nights like these that make the sacrifice of putting your nursing career on hold well worth it. This neighborhood doesn’t have a lot to offer as far as entertainment goes, so keeping this place in business is your top priority. This is your home, and the people you love put their all into this establishment.

You’ll make sure it thrives and continues to be a source of comfort to the community.

You’re excited to tell your father about tonight’s turn out. You know he will be pleased. It’s been busy all day with dine-ins and take outs; everyone looking for the perfect date night meal.

“The food is made with love,” is what your dad always says.

He always looks forward to this time of year, and he’s always talked about seeing you sitting in one of his booths with a special someone of your own some day.

You only nod when he brings up your dating life; sometimes his love for you blinds him from reality. You’ve never brought anyone home, or ever mentioned being involved with someone to him. Even if you came out and said it, he’d never believe you’re the problem.

A chilly breeze in the mid-February air snaps you out of your thoughts—so as soon as the couple’s sedan departs from the parking lot��you slip back inside.

The warmth instantly envelopes your trembling figure, and draws a small exhale from your lips.

Looking at your watch, you notice that it’s almost midnight. You switch the sign from open to close, but don’t bother locking the door because there’s one more visitor that should be arriving shortly.

You keep that in mind as you begin to clean the front of the house.

One by one, your father’s employees complete their duties in a haste, then clock out so they can go home to whoever is waiting for them. Their eagerness only brings a smile to your face.

As you’re sanitizing a table, you catch a glimpse of one of the waitresses dashing towards the door.

“Well, see you tomorrow, Kaci!”

She halts, then turns around to say her goodbyes—and to gossip.

“Night, boss lady,” she chirps.

Why she calls you “boss lady” is a mystery to you; your dad only left you in charge, but you’re just a manager. You still get on the floor and serve tables like everyone else.

You’re curious about the bit of mischief hidden in her tone. It’s not long before she reveals her true intentions.

“Did he stop by yet?”

And of course…she’s talking about Yoongi.

Usually, someone stops by on his behalf to collect the rent. His family allows your father and a few others to occupy the buildings on this lot for business. Payment is always to be paid in cash, so you make sure you visit the bank the morning of collections.

Your family has had a close relationship with the Mins for years, so they’ve been working with you while your father recovers.

You met Yoongi right in this restaurant at the young age of four, and from there, your friendship blossomed. You were inseparable throughout grade school, but senior year is when everything shifted.

It had to be the first time you both realized that you were on different paths after graduation. While you prepped for college, he was being introduced to the hustle that built his family’s empire.

If that didn’t tear a rift in your relationship, the underlying tension and unspoken feelings surely did. People used to always say at least one of you would eventually want something different, and you used to always laugh at them…until it became a fact.

You’ve always wondered if he ever felt the same as you did—or if he ever thought about exploring something more.

Unfortunately, you’ll never know what he was feeling. After graduation, he shut you out and never looked back. That was so long ago, though. You’ve grown, and the pain of losing someone you cared about eventually went away.

…So you thought.

Being home again brings back so many memories and forgotten feelings. Things you wish you still had, and things you wish you could have had. After experiencing so much throughout college, and learning more about yourself, you’d kill to go back in time so you can handle things differently.

You can’t help but think your friendship was torn apart by nothing more than a curious mind and raging hormones.

Yoongi’s so different now, though. However, you still see glimpses of the boy who would sneak into your window just to watch reruns of 90s cartoons with you. You smile just thinking about all the fun times you’ve shared, and all the trouble you got into.

“Look at you getting wet just thinking about him! I knew it. You’re whipped!”

“Can you keep your damn voice down,” you hiss. “Last thing I need is gossip right now.”

You’re so fed up with her teasing. If you two hadn’t just clicked when you took over the restaurant, you’d probably just kick her ass out in the cold.

“And, no. He has not. So, you can leave now, ma’am.”

“Oh, for sure,” she sighs dramatically. “Hell only knows what you two do when you are alone.”

Your jaw drops.

Sometimes this bond you share is a blessing; but other times, it’s a curse.

Kaci’s a sweetheart, but her mouth… Well, let’s just say these comments are normal for her.

And just like your father, she loves to play Cupid. No wonder he hired her.

“Just get your ass out of here.”

You can barely keep your laugh from bursting through your lips as you send a rag flying towards her. She dodges it, then proceeds to give you a middle finger. She has another shady comment ready to roll off the tip of her tongue, but then she glances out of the glass door and smirks instead.

You scoff. “Bitch, what is it now?”

Kaci then shakes her head.

“Nothing, babe. I’m out,” she winks. Kaci then points towards the parking lot and whispers, “Daddy’s here.”

“Huh? What are you talking about—”

Crawling into one of the booths, you partially open the blinds with your fingers and peek out of the window.

About seven sets of headlights stare back at you, all belonging to vehicles that are as dark as the midnight hour. A BMW sits in the center, blacked out with tinted windows and black custom rims. However, you don’t need a look inside to know who it is. No one else would pull up like they own the lot.

All the businesses are closed, which means these aren’t customers. It’s the boss.

Your heart rate builds up when the door opens and his sneakers touch the concrete. He stands there for a moment fixing his jacket and discreetly observing his surroundings.

Your eyes follow his movements. You can only hear the bass from his music and the noises coming from your throat as you try to gulp down the saliva building up in your mouth.

All you needed to see was the top of his head to confirm what you already knew.

Yoongi’s here, and he’s the one coming to collect payment tonight.

You don’t know why your heart is about to pound out of your chest like you’re hexed by some teenage crush. Maybe you are still hung up on him a little bit. You can’t deny how attractive he still is. He definitely wears age well.

The dark hair suits him perfectly. You can remember the horror stories about the color experiments gone wrong when you were teenagers. It’s a surprise that it’s still luscious and healthy as it is.

However, that isn’t the only thing that has changed in his appearance.

They’re hard to spot under his jacket, but his torso, back, and arms are covered in tattoos. You only know about this because another waitress working here loves to share the story of how she was on her knees in a bathroom giving a shirtless Yoongi a blowjob.

You would never admit jealousy, but damn; that lucky bitch.

Yoongi starts to make his way across the parking lot, pushing back his hair with his ringed-fingers to grant better vision out of his peripherals. You know he’s always watching his back; he can never be too careful when he’s making moves.

His haircut allows you to get a glimpse of the ink crawling up his neck, disappearing behind his ear. His earring dangles in the wind as he strides in your direction.

Each step is confident and dominant; his aura dark and mysterious.

A man who is about his business, it’s no shock that heads turn when he steps into the room. He’s reserved, but not afraid to enforce his authority when he deems necessary. You heard stories, and crossing Yoongi is considered a death wish.

He’s like the hot badass described in movies or books, but he actually is that guy. Handsome, street-wise, tattoos and scars; paired with money, jewelry, and you’d be stupid to think he isn’t packing.

You can smell the power and Dior emitting from his body all the way from where you are.

Each step he takes towards the entrance of the restaurant gives you a better view without being noticed. It’s a sin how good he looks and he’s just wearing a simple outfit with some sneakers. You have no business feeling these kinds of things, but it’s impossible to not.

“Can he just bend us over already?”

You hear Kaci whisper the same words you were just thinking. But she can’t know that, so you swat her again for good measure.

“Fine…I’m leaving,” she whines, walking to the door.

You back out of the booth and move over to the host stand so you can roll silverware and act like you weren’t watching him.

Kaci opens the door just as he’s about to reach for the handle, and of course, she gives him a warm welcome.

“Hi, Yoongi,” she beams. You roll your eyes the second you hear that annoying high-pitched voice she uses when she’s being coy.

“Hey, can you hang back for a bit? It won’t be long.”

“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

The look he gives her sends your radar up, so you set down the utensils in your hand and join them in the lobby.

“Hey,” you greet him when he notices you. “What’s going on?”

Yoongi sighs before he answers, shaking his head as he gathers his words.

“You know the alterations shop over there?”

His head nods in the direction of the Leonard’s shop a few stores down. Both of you nod because they take lunch breaks here everyday.

“Somebody hit them up about an hour ago. Left their daughter in bad shape before they stripped the registers,” he informs.

“Are you serious? That’s awful.”

“Yeah, they’re good people. Who would do something that disgusting?” Kaci asks.

Yoongi only shrugs. “Don’t know, but as soon as I find out…”

He doesn’t even need to continue. It’ll be bad; probably worse than you can imagine. One thing the Min’s don’t tolerate is disrespect. You mess with one of their people, you get handled. In this case, you can’t even feel bad for the bastard. That family doesn’t bother anyone. It’s a shame they were targeted.

“Anyway, I don’t want either of you lingering around here at night anymore. Stick together during opening and closing until we catch this motherfucker understand?”

“Yeah, got it,” you reply, and Kaci also agrees.

“Sure, not a problem.”

With everyone on the same page, you make a note in your mind to update the security system in the restaurant and think of some safety tips for employees. No one can ever be too careful, especially after what just occurred so close to home.

“And Kaci?” he calls, just as she’s getting ready to depart.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t walk home. Your pepper spray is expired. Ask one of the guys to drive you.”

“Is Hoseok out there?”

You and Yoongi share a look. He’s probably wondering what it’s about, but then again, who doesn’t know they’re fucking?

“Yeah…he is—”

“Kay, bye!”

Before the door slams in your face, you call out to her.

“Text me when you’re home!... Or when you’re able to use your hands.”

Yoongi chuckles as the both of you watch her dash across the lot. You aren’t sure how she’s able to spot the right SUV, but she does within seconds.

“This has been going on for a while, huh?” Yoongi inquires.

“Mhm. Fight, fuck, repeat.”

After a moment goes by, you realize you forgot to bring the money you owe Yoongi. You snap your fingers when you remember why he’s there in the first place.

“Oh, yeah. Come on, it’s back here,” you tell him.

Yoongi follows you toward the back of the restaurant until you reach the small manager’s office tucked in a corner of the kitchen. While you dig in your apron for the key, Yoongi checks in with you to see how everything’s going.

“How’s your dad?”

You pause to look at him and answer with a proud smile. Your father’s been working really hard on his road to recovery; it’s nice to talk about his accomplishments without someone looking at you with pity, which Yoongi never does.

“He’s been doing better. Lots of physical therapy, but he walked on his own yesterday.”

With a nod, Yoongi’s expression softens. “That’s the shit I like to hear.”

“Me too.”

Once you find the keys, you unlock the door and the both of you step inside the dark room.

“Thanks,” you whisper when he flips the lightswitch for you.

You can feel him watching you as you walk around the desk, and when you squat down to open the safe underneath, you hear his footsteps approaching.

You start entering the combination while he whistles and looks around your office.

You’re curious about what he’s looking at, but right now you can't even take a peek without him noticing. Instead, you focus on gathering the cash you owe him for last month and this month while he’s busy snooping around.

After a while, you figure he’s found something interesting because the room becomes quiet. You grab the stack you set aside and close the safe, making sure it’s locked before you do anything else.

“So how was your day?”

Yoongi’s deep voice tears a giant rift in the silence, startling you and causing you to bump your head on the edge of the desk. Thankfully, his back is turned and he didn’t hear the small thud because you’d be beyond embarrassed.

“It was okay,” you reply as you regain your footing.

Yoongi turns in your direction when he hears your words become clearer, indicating you’re no longer digging around in the safe. He meets you halfway and you extend your hand with the stack of money resting between your fingers.

“This is all of it.”

Yoongi looks at the stack before he responds. Most of the time, it’s so hard to know what he’s thinking because his expression is always so stoic.

“Just okay?” he quizzes.

“Yeah, pretty much. It was busy so I was stuck in autopilot most of the day.”

He still hasn’t made a move to accept the money. You feel kind of awkward being so close to him as is, and his lack of response makes you feel even more anxious.

Finally, he speaks. “Do you even have this to give me?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Please, take it.”

You gesture for him to take the money, and he reaches for it, making you believe he’s going to grab it.

“It’s all here. If you want me to count it, I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” he shrugs.

“Yoongi, no. We haven’t paid in a month. My dad would already be mad at me for being behind.”

“Does he have to know?” The look Yoongi gives you reminds you of all the times he’s talked you into doing something wild. He’d always take the blame if you got caught, but the thrill always made getting grounded irrelevant to you. “Keep it. We’re good until he gets back, okay?”

“Yoongi, I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I won’t,” you declare confidently.

“So you’re arguing with me?”

Your eyes widen, realizing that he wasn’t giving you an option.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”

“Don’t worry about it, alright? Just keep doing what you’re doing. I only hear good things about this place,” he concludes.

“Okay, ok. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As you’re returning the money to the safe, Yoongi brings something to your attention.

“I don’t see your car outside.”

“Ah, shit. It needed to be serviced. I was supposed to pick it up on my lunch, but I forgot.”

After visiting the bank this morning, you dropped your vehicle off at the dealership for maintenance, but the breakfast rush swarmed in as soon as you arrived at work. By the time you thought about picking it up, it was well after business hours.

“Um, do you mind—”

“Wanna ride?” Yoongi offers.

“Please.” Relieved, you exhale a needed sigh. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Not at all, love.”

You quickly grab your purse and switch off the light in your office, ignoring that feeling you got from the little pet name.

Yoongi leads the way this time. As you’re following him through the restaurant, you’re sure to double check everything before you leave. Even Yoongi turns to ask you if you’ve secured everything.

“Good?”

“Yeah, everything’s turned off and we’re locked up tight.”

“Cool.”

Walking into the dining area, you give everything a quick once-over before following Yoongi to the exit. Everything looks tidy and neat how you like it so you step out into the cold night with your chauffeur.

He waits with you while you lock the front doors, looking around for any curious eyes. After you’ve finished turning the lock and key, you give the handle a tug to make sure it doesn’t open.

Growing up in this neighborhood will teach you a thing or two about being cautious and aware of your surroundings.

“It’s freezing tonight,” you comment.

Sometimes you like to make small talk with Yoongi, see where the conversation goes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either have one sentence responses or he’ll engage in light conversation.

You don’t mention the past much. It seems like pretending it never happened is easier for both of you. However, sometimes you have an impulse to bring up the subject, or at least try to mend what’s broken.

If that’s possible.

“Cold? This is perfect weather.”

You roll your eyes. He’s definitely fucking with you.

“Oh, whatever. You know it’s freezing out here.”

You don’t care how ridiculous you look speeding towards his car. You’re shivering and Yoongi takes forever to unlock the door.

You shuffle from foot to foot, wiggling to build up some body heat. You can hear the fabric of your jeans rubbing together due to the friction.

“You know it’s already unlocked, right?”

Oh.

You climb inside and relief washes over you. The heat is blowing warm and strong, making the leather seats even more comfortable. The seat warmers keep your butt cozy, and the vents are aiming towards your upper body. It’s perfect; you could fall asleep right here.

When Yoongi gets in the driver seat, your head lolls in his direction.

“Thank you.”

“For?” he asks.

“Your car feels like heaven right now.”

Yoongi scoffs softly.

“It isn’t always this warm. Trust me,” he replies.

“Well regardless, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, love.”

Fuck.

Yoongi’s engine revs as he pulls out of the parking lot. A thought comes into your mind as the vibrations travel up your body.

“Does it ever make your balls tingle?”

He coughs, clearing his throat while checking to see if he heard right.

“Uh, what?”

“The car,” you elaborate. “When you’re driving it…You don’t feel anything?”

Honestly, you’re just chatting to keep yourself from falling asleep. You don’t even expect him to answer as you stare out of the window, watching the SUVs fade in the distance.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” he responds.

You nod, vibing to the music. He’s turned the volume down since you’ve joined him, so you can actually hear each other speak.

“Hm. Sure does make your pussy tingle.”

You don’t think he heard that part. It was barely a whisper. If he did, he chose to ignore it.

“You alright?”

“Yup,” you answer. “Just ready to unwind.”

“Any plans tonight?”

You sit up in your seat, and turn to him.

“You bet.”

Yoongi laughs. “Oh, yeah?”

“I have a date with my bed, and I’m gonna let my blanket top me.”

“Gotcha. So you’re locked down, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, it sure sounds like it. I never see you having any fun.”

You give him a look.

“Well, look who’s talking. Besides, you know I’m dealing with a lot right now.”

“Fair enough, but you’re still allowed to do something for yourself for a change. Some of us don’t have that privilege,” he replies.

“I think everyone has the privilege to do something for themselves. You just have to be selfish enough to go for it, I guess.”

“That is true.”

Yoongi then turns the music up a few notches. You already know what that means. He’s over conversation and wants to get lost in his thoughts.

As you cruise through the streets, people may look on the surface and think this is some young bachelor taking his car for a late night drive—maybe heading to one of the city’s hot spots.

But Yoongi is all work, and no play. If it’s not about moving product, it’s placed on the backburner.

You can relate, but tonight you’re switching it up. Self care is calling your name and you aren’t hanging up this time.

“What happened to the garden?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts by Yoongi’s voice.

As he pulls up to the curve in front of your childhood home, he can’t stop himself from teasing you about your dying plants. You really tried your best with them, but unfortunately, you weren’t gifted with nurturing hands.

“You’re not funny,” you mutter, acting ignorant.

You know you’ve destroyed your dad’s flower bed, but he doesn’t have to make fun of you.

“I’m just saying, shouldn't you cover them?”

“I forgot!”

“You always do,” he mumbles.

You giggle as you’re opening the door; finally having a carefree conversation with your old friend again feels nice. As soon as you step out into the elements again, the winter air nips at your cheeks and you know you’ll be trembling by the time you get to your doorstep.

“Well, thanks for the ride.”

Yoongi just nods and tells you that he’d do it anytime you needed him to.

As you stand outside of the car, you start to get that feeling in your gut. That urge you know you shouldn’t have, but the temptation is stronger than ever.

Yoongi tilts his head, wondering why you’re standing in the cold. You’re frozen, silently debating on what you should do.

Ultimately, you go for it, knowing the risk you’re taking without being prepared for the aftermath.

You’re even sure why you’re asking, or where you expect things to go. But tonight made you realize something. You miss having a best friend.

Your best friend.

“Hey, it's late. You wanna come inside?... If you don’t have any plans.”

Regret washes over you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You weren’t ready, neither was he. You curse yourself for rushing it. The silence goes on for ages, but you’re so numb, the cold doesn’t faze you.

Finally, he gives you an answer. “You know I can’t do that.”

Well, now you know you’re the only one still holding on. By can’t, he means he won’t.

Nodding, you lie and pretend that you understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I get it. Sorry about that.”

You were sure he’d be more open now that time has passed. However, you’re still stuck where you left off. He still won’t hear you out.

“There’s no need,” he assures.

Still, you feel guilty. Selfish.

Foolish.

“Well look, I'll see you around, yeah?” He checks his phone and tosses it on the passenger seat. "I have to go deal with something."

“Okay, thanks again for the ride. Stay safe.”

You try not to look disappointed, but it’s probably no good. You’re sure he hears it in your voice. Or maybe you sound more tired than anything. You are exhausted. Maybe it’s your restless mind that's causing you to get ahead of yourself and open old wounds. It’s best you go inside before you can dig yourself a bigger hole.

“You'll call me if you need me, right?”

If you need him…

You always need him. He’s your rock. Well, probably not anymore. How do you learn to forget someone who’s always been there for you?

You swallow the bitterness coating your tongue before you reply. You’ll get over it. You always do.

Just not right now.

“Yeah, I’ve tried that already. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

You shut his car door and retreat to the safety of your home. You’re unsure if he says it back or not. You walk away before he can respond.

Everything in your sight becomes blurry as your vision is blocked by a wave of pending tears. You urgently open your front door in case he’s following you.

A part of you wishes that he did.

But the longer you stand there, back pressed against your front door, secluded from the same world you’ve just finished servicing—you realize that the chances of that happening are too slim to hold onto.

Minutes go by, and you start calming down. You find your strength again, and you realize that your vulnerability made you panic. You got too comfortable, and that’s your fault.

Tonight will just be another solo night; nothing you aren’t used to.

You wipe your face and rid yourself of all the negative energy. Tomorrow you’ll be fine and the blow of rejection will start to fade away. Shaking your head, you clear your mind and start taking off your clothes.

You put it in your mind that you won’t hold this against Yoongi, and whenever he’s ready to talk—if ever—you’ll tell your side of the story if he wants to hear it.

Until then, you’ll just focus on you because he was right about one thing.

You should treat yourself; you deserve it.

“Get your sorry ass up.”

Yoongi stares at his hand as he walks away from the battered man lying on the ground. His knuckles are bruised and covered in the thief’s blood. The sight would bring shame to his father. He shouldn’t be out here behaving like a street thug when he’s got power moves to make.

But when he found out there was danger lurking so close to you, he had to deliver the message himself. He’s sure it was heard loud and clear.

Possibilities played through his mind with every blow that rained down on the guy. What if it was your father’s restaurant that had been hit up? What if you had been inside?

He’s furious, enraged; but mostly at himself for how he keeps letting you down. You wanted to forgive him tonight, put everything that happened behind you and maybe try again. But what did he do?

He ruined it.

He always figured that he would, but it’s what you needed to hear. He’s not a good guy or some bad boy you can turn good. Yoongi’s in this too deep to be pulled out. There’s no way he could ever look your father in the eye and tell him that he’s put your life in danger.

That’s why he refuses to address those feelings he has for you. He’d either end up breaking your heart, or getting you into a nasty situation.

If the wrong person were to know that he has a thing for you, you’d become a weapon for an opp to use against him. Yoongi’s respected by many, but there are some who want everything he has; you’d be added to the top of that list if they knew he’d died for you.

He can’t lose what his family’s worked hard for, but he can’t lose you either.

There’s only two options if that line’s ever crossed. Either you’re with him, and you’ll have to step into his world; or you’re not; and the streets deem you fair game.

The latter infuriates him. He’d kill anyone who would ever think of laying a finger on you. That’s why he has to make examples out of motherfuckers like the one behind him.

“You need to find you something safe to do, my friend.”

Yoongi turns around just as the man rises to his feet, staggering and weak from the beating he’s received. One of his arms cradles his torso while the other wipes blood from his lips. He’d receive pity from anyone without the context, but if they knew what he did to that seamstress—they’d be wondering why he’s still alive.

This is far less than what this scum deserves. His apologies fall on deaf ears. Yoongi’s men don’t give a shit about his apology, and neither does he.

“I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know this was your block too. I was just—”

Yoongi pulls out his glock and fires a shot near the guy’s foot, barely missing him. He doesn’t recall asking him to speak.

“You better assume every block is mine, motherfucker. I own this fucking city. Have you forgotten?”

“I—”

Another shot nearly blows his head off because once again, Yoongi never asked him to talk.

“Who told you to open your mouth?...” he seethes. “Speak again and I won’t miss.”

The man nods, lifting his shaky hands as a surrender.

Yoongi’s jaw clenches as he contemplates his next move. A few minutes ago, he was set on ending him right in this spot, but after thinking about you he’s calmed down a lot.

That’s the only reason this man’s life will be spared. His mind is somewhere else now; all he can think about is his own mistakes. This guy’s learned his lesson; no need to waste anymore of his time here.

“Look, don’t ever put me in this situation again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir. I won’t. I promise.”

Yoongi knocks the guy out cold with his gun. He looks over at the officer who was escorting the guy to jail and gives him a nod, giving him the clear to take him in.

“This was a citizen’s arrest,” he insists, handing the cop a wad of cash.

“You got that.”

He dismisses his men, and goes to have a cigarette while he thinks.

After the criminal is placed in the back of the squad car, the cop rejoins Yoongi as he sits on the hood of his vehicle, having a smoke before he goes on with his night.

“Never thought I’d see you get dirty, especially tonight.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, me either.”

Yoongi looks at his personal phone, looking to see if you’ve texted him, or called. He doesn’t know why he’s checking. He shouldn’t expect you to reach out after how he left you tonight. It’d be a miracle if you ever wanted to see him again.

“It’s not too late, you know.”

“The fuck are you talking about, Shark?”

Shark is one of his longtime friends. He comes from a long line of crooked cops.

He’s been present through the ups and downs of his friendship with you. Shark’s always been rooting on your side, always telling him to reach out when you left for college.

Yoongi has never taken his advice, though.

“I’m just saying. Maybe you should just call her,” he explains.

“Who?”

“You want me to say her name out here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

Both of them share a laugh at Yoongi’s reaction, but then silence falls over the night.

Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Yoongi’s hands are beginning to throb with pain. He tries focusing on something other than that awful feeling, but he can only think about you.

Why couldn’t he just hear you out? That would have been fair. He’s regretting more and more as time goes by, wondering if the opportunity has slipped away.

He notices the way you look at him, the way you perk up when you see him. He knows there are a lot of unspoken words because honestly, he’s always had deeper feelings for you. It was way before you realized you like him as well. He bottled that shit up throughout high school, and when he had the chance to tell you how he felt, he fumbled.

You even gave him a second chance to come clean, and he still couldn’t get it together.

“Seriously, what happened tonight? I see it all over your face.”

Yoongi sighs. “I took her home, and she invited me inside.”

“And you said no? Dude, no way.”

Yoongi looks over and finds his friend’s face stuck in a grimace. He feels shame creeping up his neck, so he quickly shifts his focus somewhere else.

“What was I supposed to say? You know I can’t let anyone see me walking in her place,” he argues.

“You could have invited her to yours, explained things a bit more. I’m sure she’s capable of making decisions for herself.”

Yoongi’s at a crossroads, but every way he turns leaves him with doubt. It’s like he’s damn regardless.

“What if it doesn’t change her mind? What should I tell her dad, huh?” Yoongi rants. “He asked me to keep her safe, man.”

“And what do you think he meant by that?”

Shark looks at his watch and turns to Yoongi as he prepares to leave.

“Look, my shift ends soon, so I gotta go. But I think you know as well as I do that you have the old man’s blessings. Just stop overthinking it. You’ll screw yourself.”

With that, Shark walks to his vehicle, and puts it in drive.Before he pulls from underneath the overpass, he rolls his window down and yells out.

“It’ll be alright, brother. Trust me!”

When Shark leaves, he switches cars with his right hand, not wanting to double back to your part of town in the same ride. As he starts driving away from the secluded area, he thinks back on how tonight has gone so far. That’s when something you said hits him…and it hits him hard.

“You said you needed me,” he whispers.

All day you’ve been surrounded by people, loving each other; only to go home to an empty house. You just wanted some company, a distraction. You wanted a friend.

It’s then he realizes that he’s hurt your feelings more than a little. You weren’t hung up on a crush you had over five years ago. He’s so stupid. How did his brain not perceive what you said as an invitation to hang out?

Just like you used to.

Yoongi does a U-turn and heads straight for your house. He has no idea what you’ll say to him, or if you’ll speak to him at all. But he needs you to know one thing; he gets it now. And he won’t ever let you down again.

No matter how many times you watch it, the horror classic Thirteen Ghosts never gets old. Your dad laughs whenever you call it your comfort flick, but he’s also not a horror fan so he just wouldn’t understand.

That bath worked more magic than you could ever imagine. It’s super late, and you should be in bed, but you’ve been thinking about the bottle of wine you bought the other day since earlier.

You aren’t really a drinker, but the bottle was cute. You figured tonight would be the perfect chance to eat some snacks, watch a movie, and give it a try. But as soon as the glass touches your lips, your doorbell rings.

You’re not expecting anyone this late. When you don’t answer, they pound on the door, startling you. Wine spills all over your hands. Quickly, you use your shirt to dry them off before making a bigger mess. You drink what’s left in the glass in one gulp before checking your Ring camera, letting out a gasp when you discover who’s standing at your doorstep.

“Yoongi?” you whisper.

Placing your phone and empty glass on the coffee table, you go to see what he wants. If you’re honest, you’re a bit worried. Did someone break into the restaurant?

Your dad would be devastated.

Without a second thought, you open the door, and interrogate Yoongi before he can even open his mouth.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to my dad’s—”

“Oh, fuck. No! No, that’s not why I’m here,” he interrupts.

You breathe a sigh of relief, clutching your chest as the panic slowly leaves your body. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. What’s up? Are you okay?”

Now that you’re not shaken with worry, you notice how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy; his expression seems anxious, his knuckles bruised.

“Were you fighting?” you quiz.

“Huh?” Yoongi looks confused but then suddenly seems to remember his injury. “Oh, this is nothing. I’m good. I just came to uhh… To see you.”

Your eyebrow raises curiously. “To see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirms.

“Okay, well… that’s nice of you, but I was planning on going to bed in a bit. I have to get up early.”

You aren’t sure why he’s acting weird. Is he in trouble? Surely, he’d tell you if he was. If so, why would he come here?

“Um, okay. Sorry,” he answers.

You tell him goodnight and attempt to shut the door, but Yoongi lodges his arm into the opening.

“What are you doing—”

“I’m listening.”

“What?”

You open the door once again, fully believing this man has lost his mind. It’s freezing out there, and he’s just standing there babbling.

“I said I’m listening,” he repeats. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Yoongi?”

You’ve never been more confused. First, he drops you off and hauls ass across town. Now he’s pacing at your doorstep, fumbling all over his words. Something’s going on.

“You wanted to talk, but I ghosted you, remember?”

Oh. So he remembers that.

“That’s water under the bridge. Just forget it,” you insist.

“So now I’m water under the bridge?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I said.”

“Well, explain,” he pleads. “Or just tell me it’s too late.”

“Yoongi…”

“I just wanna be friends again, but this haunts me. If you have feelings for me, I can’t—”

“I don’t,” you admit.

This is the first time Yoongi has stood completely still since he got here. He stares at you with wide eyes, not uttering a single word.

It took you a long time to understand your feelings for Yoongi. You had to experience a few unnecessary hook ups and break ups to realize you weren’t in love. You just wanted to fuck him like everyone else.

Who knows where things would have gone? But it would have been nice to let things happen naturally than to bottle up feelings.

You open the door again, and step to the side.

“Come in. It’s cold.”

This time he doesn’t reject your invitation.

Yoongi follows you into your living room, looking around and probably reminiscing over the past. Nothing’s really changed other than the furniture. However, the memories of the days you two used to run around while your mom scolded you for messing up the floors are still present.

You point to the couch and offer him a seat while you stand there gathering your words.

“You can sit here.”

“Thanks,” he replies.

Yoongi sits and does that thing he does with his hands when he’s nervous. His fingers intertwine and he just watches his thumbs chase each other in a loop. He used to do it all the time whenever he’d stay too late at your house and his dad would come looking for him.

Your parents always were able to calm Mr. Min down before he could reprimand Yoongi. It took him a while but he finally understood that you and his son were best friends, and your place was Yoongi’s second home.

There are so many evenings he’d miss basketball practice to hold you while you cried after your mom died. Yoongi never left your side. Even when you were unrightfully resentful and angry with him for still having his mom in his life; he understood every stage of your grief.

So no, he’s not just water under the bridge to you. He could never be. He may be wrong for shutting you out, but everyone has their breaking point.

“I wanted to tell you that I was in love with you. That I wanted you to go with me to college,” you confess.

Yoongi’s jaw nearly hits the floor. You can tell he’s shocked because he starts tripping over his words.

“I-I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. You—”

“...Was confused,” you add.

You can’t help but laugh at yourself and at the situation. All this time you’ve been scared to rip the bandaid off, and the wound’s already healed.

“I didn’t have anyone to talk with about dating and stuff; not from a young woman’s perspective, at least. I would watch rom-coms and thought I had butterflies whenever I saw you. Whole time…”

You fold your arms and lean against the wall, watching the television with a blank stare. Already, it feels like a weight is being lifted off your shoulders. So much tension has built up over time, so many unspoken words and unresolved feelings that it’s a relief to get it all out.

“...My pussy was throbbing.”

Yoongi picks his mouth up off the floor, and straightens in his seat. Once again, he’s caught off guard.

“Huh-What?”

You snort. “I was horny, curious… I just wanted you to bend me over and deflower me.”

“Deflower you? The fuck?”

Yoongi’s laughter erupts from his chest, lightening the vibes in the room. It’s nice to hear him laugh, like genuinely grin and reveal his cute smile. You didn’t realize how much you missed seeing the image until it’s presented to you at that moment.

“Well, it’s true!”

“I see you are still an over-sharer,” Yoongi chuckles.

“And you’re still stubborn.”

Both of you look at each, shaking your heads and sharing a fond smile. You can tell this has been weighing on him as much as it did you. He’s regretful of how he handled the situation, and you’re sorry for staying away so long.

You should have tried harder. Yoongi always did whenever it got tough.

Regardless, it’s in the past. It’s time to move on.

You walk across the room with your arms open, inviting your friend into an embrace.

“Seriously? No way,” he grimaces, trying to get up before you can close him in.

Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough.

“You know you want to. Come here.”

Wrapping your arms around Yoongi, you giggle when he acts like he’s all tense. He always pretends he doesn’t want to hug you at first, but then, he gives in.

“Fuck it,” he groans, pulling you closer.

You melt in his arm almost immediately. You don’t even care if you slide to the floor. All of your weight rests on him, but he still holds you up while complaining about you smothering him.

“I wish I could breathe,” he gripes.

“Fine…”

Yoongi expects you to back away; but instead, you climb on his lap.

“What are you doing?”

You shrug. “My bad. I thought we were cool.”

Maybe you did move a little too quickly, but it’s nothing you haven’t done hundreds of times. You’ve shared beds, seen each other naked… accidentally found each other’s Pornhub accounts. You were just acting on instinct.

You’re about to stand, but Yoongi stops you. “We are, but aren’t you mad at me?... From earlier?”

“A little, but…”

“But what?”

“Can’t friends kiss and make up?” you propose.

His hands rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently nudging at your big t-shirt. The room seems warmer now that there’s no distance between you. Or maybe it’s just the fires building in your belly that’s making you hot?

“Maybe…”

You trace his lips with your finger tips while looking in his eyes. You could spend the night like this if it were up to you. He’s beautiful; inside and out.

“Wanna try and find out?” he whispers.

You respond by softly connecting your lips, moaning instantly as your entire body begins to tingle.

Yoongi pulls you closer, holds you tighter, and encourages you to deepen the kiss you share by parting your lips with his tongue. You don’t deny him, and he invades your mouth—taking over and leaving you dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Suddenly, he pulls away, and you’re quick to whine.

“I smell wine,” he comments. “Are you—”

“I had a sip, and the rest spilled all over my hands.”

You show him the stains on your hands and shirt, and he just stares in disbelief. “Only you.”

“Whatever,” you dismiss, trying to steal another kiss from his wet lips. “I need you.”

You drag your crotch across his lap, seeking friction. You’re shocked when he grabs your waist, thinking you’re overstepped once again.

“Hold on.”

Yoongi reaches under his shirt and grabs his gun from his waistband. He shoves it in the folds of your couch, and throws you a wink.

“We’ve kissed. Now let's make up.”

With a smile, you get up and grab his hand.

“Follow me…”

“Get on the bed,” he moans against your lips, pulling away to take off his shirt.

You begin to move, but a thought pops up in your mind.

Instead of climbing on the bed, you watch him remove his t-shirt and reveal his ink covered body. You bite your lip in awe at the masterpiece standing in front of you. He has no idea how hot he looks while simply undressing. You’re ready to pounce on him right now, but you pace yourself.

You have all night.

When Yoongi notices you’re still standing in the same spot, he tilts his head with a puzzled expression.

“Change your mind?” he quizzes.

You shake your head, and close the small space between you. Before he can say anything else, you drop to your knees. With skilled hands, you pull on his belt until it's free from the buckle. You flash Yoongi a smirk when you discover he’s watching you with those dark eyes.

As you pop open the button on his pants, your other hand flattens over his denim covered dick, noting the way it begs to be freed.

“I can’t wait,” you murmur, stroking it over his jeans.

Once you’re finally able to access his underwear, you reach inside and retrieve his thick, warm cock. You don’t care if you moaned before your lips even touched it. Shame is long gone, and you aren’t afraid to show Yoongi how long you’ve been waiting for this.

“I can tell,” he scoffs.

You let his smart remarks slide for the sake of your impatience, and move in to run the tip of your tongue up and down his slit. His precum oozes out and coats your taste buds, giving you a tiny sample of what he’ll taste like when he dumps his load on your tongue.

Yoongi hisses, probably reacting to sensitivity. You keep going, giving him a moment to ground himself before you give him the real deal.

While you tease him, you admire his girth. He’s heavy in your hand, but his dick is the perfect size to wrap your hand around it. It’s smooth, but textured and veiny—just like his hands.

No longer able to wait any longer, you part your lips and let your saliva cover the tip. You use your fingers and palm to lubricate the rest of his shaft so that it slides into your mouth with ease. Only when he’s dripping wet with spit do you take him in, and his reaction is golden.

“Ahh, fuck.”

If you could smile, you would right now. Knowing you have him on his tiptoes almost feels as good as the blunt head of his dick touching the back of your throat.

You can feel his muscles tenses up once your head begins to bob up and down, purposefully slurping loudly to create sinful noises.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses.

His voice is rough as he pants through his words, attempting to keep his composure, but failing.

When Yoongi’s hand finds the back of your head, you look up to see what he’s doing. You keep going as you watch him whisper profanities into the air, running his ringed fingers through his dark strands.

He gathers your hair in his palm, making your scalp tingle and sting due to his strong grip. He starts controlling your movements, managing how much of him you take in at once. It’s not long before you’re choking and gagging on his cock.

Drops of your spit and tears fall to the floor. Your head starts to spin from the vigorous motions, but the feeling doesn’t prevent you from allowing Yoongi to fuck your throat until it’s raw.

Craving more, he thrusts into your mouth. The look on his face and the desperation of his movements lets you know he’s almost near his peak. However, once he realizes what’s happening, he swiftly pulls out, leaving you coughing due to the sudden intake of air.

“Look at me,” he commands after you catch your breath. “You’re fucking hot for that.”

“Thank you—”

Yoongi’s hand smacks the smirk off your face. You’re caught off guard, but that doesn’t stop your pussy from gushing at the change in his tone.

“But is that what I told you to do?”

You try to shake your head, but he’s still holding your hair.

“No, use your fucking mouth.”

When you try to speak, he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushing them deep enough to gag you.

“You like using your mouth, don’t you?” he asks, but you know he isn’t looking for an answer. “So speak.”

“I do,” you croak around his digits.

“Now get the fuck on the bed like I told you to the first time.”

Yoongi snatches you up, and you scramble to the bed. You sit and wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes, trying to remain patient as you see he’s not in the mood for disobedience. You weren’t bothered the slightest by his lack of respect.

In fact, you crave more; and if you have to beg for it, you will.

“Second thoughts?” he asks randomly.

You notice that his wallet’s in his hand and after a few seconds he pulls out a condom. You get butterflies the moment he places a knee on the bed. For you, it’s not even happening fast enough.

“No way.”

“Good,” he winks. “Because I’m not gentle.”

“And I’m not glass.”

Yoongi growls when he hears that response, crawling over to you at lightning speed.

“Come here.”

He grabs your thigh and pulls you closer, pushing your legs apart so he can access your center. His fingers trace over your lace panties until he ultimately decides to rip them off of you.

You squeak in surprise when you hear the fabric tearing.

“Yoongi!”

“Shh,” he coos. “They’re ruined anyway.”

With a face burning with embarrassment, you turn away and stare at the wall while Yoongi puts the condom on. You can feel his eyes on you, observing the way he makes you fidget and squirm.

You get too comfortable lying there in your own thoughts. The sensation between your thighs catches you off guard.

“Ooh, shit Yoongi!”

Your body reacts the instant his dick rubs against your clit. You’re already worked up and ready to be filled, but Yoongi doesn’t want to skip the foreplay.

“Damn, it’s wet.”

He rubs the tip over your crevice, taunting you each time he passes your entrance. Just when you think he’ll slide in, he moves up to your throbbing clit and repeats.

“Please stop teasing,” you beg.

Yoongi laughs. “Why should I?”

“Because—”

You begin to whine and complain, but your words get stuck in your throat when Yoongi suddenly enters your pussy.

“Oh my god.”

Your wetness allows him to slide in easily, but your body wasn’t prepared to take him all at once.

You grip your sheets for support, but the initial shock of him moving so quickly takes almost a minute to subside.

Yoongi’s patient, giving your body time to adjust before he worries about pleasure. His thumb slowly massages your clit, getting you to relax under his touch. When your grip on the sheets finally loosen, he makes tiny strokes to test the waters.

“Good now?” he asks.

“Mhm.”

With your approval, he positions himself over you and fucks you a little deeper. Once he finds the perfect rhythm, he moves your right leg and places it on his shoulder.

You’re already moaning loudly, not caring who hears. You cry out everytime his dick digs into your cervix, exploring places you never knew could be reached.

You’ve begged guys to go deep, but they’ve always been scared to test their limits. Not Yoongi; he’s giving you everything he has, and even though you’re barely holding onto your sanity, you’d probably cry if he stopped.

“Take that damn shirt off,” he growls, gripping the giant t-shirt draped over your body.

You almost can’t figure out how to get it off, but by a miracle you manage. Now completely naked, you toss the clothing aside and start groping your tits while you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. You thought Yoongi would enjoy watching you, but he’s not impressed.

“Who told you to touch yourself?” he presses.

You don’t answer quickly enough for him. Honestly, you weren’t going to reply because your mind is so far away that his words just drift through your ears.

A hand around your throat snatches you back to real time. He’s pissed, biting his lip and trying not to spill his load before he’s ready.

“Answer me.”

This time you speak up immediately. “No one.”

“Hm. So you just do what you want?”

The sound of his deep voice mixed with the sound of your slapping skin and squelching juices turns you on beyond explanation. That familiar tension starts to build in the pit of your stomach, informing you of what’s soon to follow.

“I don’t like rules, Yoongi.”

“Oh, you will,” he promises.

Yoongi’s thrusts get stronger, making your body shift towards the top of the bed. He somehow keeps you in place using the hand he has wrapped around your neck, but you’re still being bounced around like a ragdoll.

“Since you don’t like it, I’ll finish up and leave.” His movements suddenly become faster, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s implying. “You can make yourself cum, right?”

“What?” you shriek. “No!”

His laughter resonates through your bedroom as he mocks your desperation. You try reaching between your legs, attempting to induce an orgasm yourself but he forbids.

“Uh-uh.”

He pushes your hand away and pins your wrist to the mattress, leaving you with no other resort.

“Yoongi, I wanna cum. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Better watch what comes out of your mouth then.”

You groan, realizing he’s too stubborn to give in. He’s not bluffing; he’d actually leave you stuck.

You can taste the pleasure on your tongue. You’re so close, but Yoongi’s thrusts are starting to become wild. If you don’t give him what he wants, you won’t get what you crave.

“Tell me now…” he grunts, lust oozing from his lips. He leans forward, pushing your leg to your chest as he tries to come closer. The coolness of his chains pressed against your feverish skin brings you a little relief, but it’s not nearly enough. “You sorry?”

Fuck.

“I am.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

Yoongi’s thumb then wipes the single tear rolling down your cheek. Your body’s restless and seeking some relief from all the tension building inside your core.

He finally slows down, pacing himself so he’s no longer ahead of you in the race to ecstasy. His finger gently tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking you to relax your jaw.

“You’re mine, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Good... Now open.”

Gauging your reaction, he smirks when you don’t oblige. You stick out your tongue, waiting for what you already expected.

Yoongi spits directly into your mouth, and you don’t even flinch. You look into his eyes as you close and swallow. He’s pleased when you reveal that nothing’s left when you open again.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he moans, repositoning himself.

Whatever he says after that is lost between his swearing and muffled cries as he presses his lips against your leg. He slowly picks up his speed this time, allowing the heat to fill up inside of you before he drills you like before.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You too, Yoongi.”

You’re desperate for more tension, but you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you chase it yourself.

“More, please.”

“More?”

“Please…”

“I got you,” he assures.

Without another word, his thumb finds your clit. His name rolls off your lips over and over, surely traveling far outside your bedroom. Your body tenses aside from your fist pounding the bed.

“Cumming!”

You can hardly breathe, air getting trapped in your lungs as his hips snap violently into yours. Your back arches as a wave of pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks. Your cries begin to fade away and all you can hear is your rapid heartbeat erupting through your ears.

Yoongi doesn’t let up, giving you his all until your body slowly falls back on you. He then pulls out and peels the condom off of his pulsing cock. As soon as it’s freed, he releases his hot seed onto your skin—painting your stomach and breasts white and sticky.

Both of you stay where you are, panting and struggling to catch your breaths.

You can see Yoongi through your heavy eyelids, slumped over and exhausted from everything he’s given in the past few minutes. His hair hangs over his eyes, but you know he’s just staring at your pussy, replaying everything that just happened in his mind.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?” He snaps out of it at the sound of your voice, gently lowering your leg before he crawls toward you.

You feel like you’re melting when he kisses your lips. It's almost like a dream being this close to him again. Even after so long you remember the way he smells, the way he breathes… You remember everything like it was yesterday.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. lips make one final journey over your body, kissing every inch of you and not caring about the taste of his cum staining your flesh. He gives you endless compliments and praises, making you bury your face in your pillows. “I can’t forget to taste you.”

“Wait!” you gasp when he spreads your pussy and devours you.

Your sensitive clit throbs in his mouth as he slurps up all your juices. Your body is limp by the time he’s done, eyes nearly shut and your mind shut down for the rest of the night.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the darkness.

Whatever he says next is a mystery because your tiredness ultimately puts you into a deep slumber.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

You groan as the sun pierces your eyes. Throughout the craziness of last night, you forgot to bring your phone to bed with you. Now, you’ll have to walk and—

Or you can ask Yoongi.

With that in mind, you roll over and unfortunately find an empty bed.

Of course, he left last night. He was probably out of the door as soon as you shut your eyes. You can only hope it’s because he has work to do and he’s not avoiding you after everything you talked about. You won’t even let your mind go there.

Instead, you get out of bed and stumble to the living room—finding your phone on the coffee table right where you left it. You’re still getting notifications as you pick it up; most from Kaci, one from another employee, but nothing from Yoongi.

Before you make your daily morning phone call to your dad, you text back that server regarding time off, and see what Kaci’s fussing about.

6:58am Kaci: BITCH YOU’RE STILL AT HOME!?

7:10am Kaci: you so got fucked last night. i want all the detail STAT heaux

You roll your eyes. She won’t be getting anything other than the usual shoulder shrug. Last thing you need is for her to make a scene every time Yoongi’s in the room.

7:23am You: omw. please cover for me.

7:23am Kaci: already am. get some ‘good morning’ dick sis

“I swear I wanna kill this girl sometimes,” you sigh.

Before you can leave the messaging app, your phone rings. The number isn’t saved so you answer it with caution.

“Hello?”

It’s Yoongi.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You hope he doesn’t hear the puff of air you let out as relief washes over you. You were sure you’d lost him again after the things you did and said to each other during the heat of the moment. Not like you didn’t mean everything you said, but you aren’t sure if he did.

“Nothing, just late for work. What’s up with you?”

“Not much right now. I might go home and catch some sleep,” he replies. “Your car’s outside, by the way.”

“Really?” You walk over to the window and open the blind, shocked when you see your car parked in front of your house. “How did you…”

“I told them I was taking it as collateral.”

“What?!”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding.”

If he was standing next to you, you’d punch him. You don’t know how you fall for it every single time.

“I have my ways. Just um… do me a favor?” he asks.

“Yeah, anything.”

“I think my phone’s somewhere in your house. Can you check later?”

You look around to see if maybe you can spot it but it’s nowhere in plain view.

“I know you’re already late so…”

“Oh, yeah. For sure,” you respond. “If you want, you can stop by and look. The spare key is in the same spot it’s always been.”

“It’s cool. I’ll wait until you’re off work.”

“That works.”

Both of you stay silent, waiting on the other to speak. You realize you should be getting ready for work so you decide to end the call.

“Well, I have to get ready so… I’ll text this number later?”

Yoongi clears his throat before he answers. “Yeah, it’s a burner but I’ll get the message.”

“Kay. Bye then.”

“Hey,” he calls out before you can hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Still mine?”

A smile grows on your face, and you don’t try to stop it. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you were definitely still thinking about last night, wondering what it would mean today.

But you can’t let him have what he wants so easily, can you?

“Maybe,” you tease.

There’s a pause, but when Yoongi does speak his tone grows dark.

“You still haven’t learned, have you?”

You smirk. “I suppose I haven’t.”

“Well, then. I guess I’m coming over later.”

Shit.

If you didn’t think the restaurant would burn to the ground without your presence, you’d tell him to get his ass over here now. The mere thought of a repeat of last night has you clenching your thighs together.

No working late tonight. You’re sure it’ll be slow anyway.

“I guess you are.”

“I’m not being nice this time either,” he warns.

You bite your lip, trying to conceal your excitement, but you’re really bursting at the seams. You’re sure you’ll be anticipating his visit all day, letting your mind flood with scenarios. You decide to go ahead and taunt him some more, adding fuel to the already roaring fire.

“Good. Neither am I.”

He begins to speak but you end the call before he can get it out.

As you stand in your living room giggling, a wave of nostalgia hits you. You remember he’d do the same to you after you’d complain about something silly. You’d be pissed, so the thought of him tasting his own medicine puts you in the lead on your imaginary scoreboard.

You’ve probably done a lot more that got on his nerves in the past, but who’s counting? It’s your job to push each other’s buttons and make up.

Isn’t that what friends are for?

hope everyone enjoyed !!! let me know what you think !

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #yoongi fics #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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kth1fics · 10 months

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Safe Haven (M) | PJM

Safe Haven

⟶ Pairing: Park Jimin x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: royalty, smut, 18+ ⟶ Tropes: forbidden love au, medieval royal au, royal king’s guard werewolf!jimin ⟶ WC: 16.2k+ ⟶ Warnings: mild birth scene mention (hardly any details!), mentions of d*ath, brief fighting/attacking descriptions, blood mentions, hair pulling (when attacked), weapons mentioned, poison/venom mention, random side character d*aths, soft pining, kisses, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: Sarah bean! @caelesjjk ⟶ Summary: When a wolf protects the royal family for many years, he’s faced with one special princess who he’ll do anything for. ⟶ Author’s Note: Apart of the “To Love a Monster” collab! I took a long while to get this fic out – and I am sorry for those who have been waiting for it. It may take me months to write and readers minutes to read, but I do hope that this fic holds a special place in someone’s heart in the end! Please enjoy & leave some feedback if you have the time! ⟶ Song Recommendation: Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

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Freshly welcomed into the King’s Guard, Jimin, a sprouting young wolf, rushes around the corridors of the castle to obey the barking orders of his higher-ups. Making haste, all servants and guards make their purpose of assisting the Queen.

“Hurry!” Hoseok, another royal guard and close friend to Jimin, shuffles through the utility room. “Gather more cloth!”

“Aren’t people usually more prepared with things like this?” Jimin frantically follows, his voice rushed with the fast pace movements.

“I’m afraid not,” Hoseok huffs a laugh.

The two younger royal guards speedily ransack each drawer and closet until their arms are full of materials. They stumble back down the hall towards the birthing chamber. A room enclosed for the parties who participate with the anticipated arrival of the next royal kin. A domestic, darkened room provided with the country's softest furnishings. Royal officials and servants are permitted to be within the room for the delivery to ensure that there are no scandals around the birthing practice.

A midwife places herself before the legs of the Queen. A moan of pain rips from her Highness’s throat. Jimin and Hoseok stand idly as the birthing of child number three crowns at the entrance of the world, preparing to gain its first breath of fresh air. The scene is natural for humans, even more common for a royal to carry out in front of an audience.

For Jimin, he prefers not to stare like the others. His polished amber eyes trail to the lines of the floorboards, using any peripheral view for his advantage.

“It’s a girl!” He hears the cries from a newborn baby, the declaration announced by the midwife who’s wiping off residue from the infant.

Placed on the chest of her mother, the newest child of the royals whines freely. The sound rings through the ears who listen. The King is joyous, regardless of being unable to create a proper heir to his throne. But with the first two daughters – and now third, the royal guards know his Highness will move quickly in trying for a son.

Servants flutter about, handling the delicacies of aftercare for childbirth. Jimin follows after his friend, handing off the pile of cloth to a maiden. Bodies move around another like an assembly line.

For a moment, and only a moment is needed, did Jimin finally take a swift glance at the newborn who screams her upset. He locks eyes with the infant over the shoulder of Hoseok, seeing a warmth of an everlasting hearth as she cries wet droplets down her face.

Then it happened.

Jimin is struck with something that is indescribable. Something that couldn’t be defined. He’s heard through stories and lores within his lineage that this phenomenon could happen to anyone at any time in one's life. He hears about it through those he’s close to and those who experience it. It’s a once in a lifetime deal.

He can feel the shift of his weight when he locks eyes with the newborn baby. As if this new formed motion represents an outstanding astronomical level. Where his world, which once revolved around the Sun as it does for everyone, now revolves around this small, fragile child.

Jimin’s heartbeat thumps in his ears as the world freezes around him. Hoseok and the other royal wolf guards all sense a change in the wind. If it isn’t Hoseok ushering him out of the way of the other servants and departing out of the chamber, he’s sure the royal family would have done it themselves.

With his head on a silver platter.

Hoseok’s palm slaps the side of Jimin’s cheek to gain his consciousness from whatever daze he’s fumbled in. It takes him a few good taps before Jimin blinks. His blood runs rampant inside him with warmth and excitement.

The second Jimin looked at the third child of the royal household, everything changed within him. All of a sudden, nothing else matters. The yearning of knowing and willing to do anything, be anything, for her is the only constant demand singing at the back of his head.

“You didn’t,” Hoseok’s hushed tone stays low. “Not a royal!”

“How am I supposed to control that?” Jimin stresses. “I can’t choose who this happens to! I didn’t expect this to happen to me!” He runs a hand through his soft hair, exhaling sharply as his mind begins to race.

“You’re going to learn,” Hoseok claims. His eyes are sharp and narrow. “You will learn to control it. A wolf is not allowed to be mixed with a royal. They’ll kill you.”

His imprint will be kept secret from the royals and the precious baby girl. But for his wolf mates, each of them knows the severity of the situation. Not one member will speak of it, they only can respect it. As for Jimin, he’ll spend the rest of her life – your life – being what you need him to be. A friend, a brother, a protector. Whatever you require of him, he will act accordingly in secrecy while obeying his rightful duties to the royal throne.

White flurries fall slowly from the gray clouds above, decorating the large courtyard, you look down towards the sheet of fresh snow. Most of the garden that blooms the most gorgeous flowers is now a mess of dead plants and weeds. The bare trees stand firm. But those who stand strong in the winter months like hollies with red berries and camellias, continue to stand out next to the beauty of sheared evergreens and deciduous shrubs with colorful stems.

Your eyes are not trained on admiring the bright snow that cascades from the sky so beautifully. Normally you would. As you sit by your glass window with a blanket around your shoulders, you look down from your chambers on the third level of the castle to fancy something different.

Men – some of the royal guards – play around with one another in the cold weather. Some have shifted to their wolven form, others remain in their noble suits. The one you fixate your stare on is your personal guard, Jimin.

He stands leaning against the stone staircase beside a few of his equals. Chatting away about who knows what, watching the others roughhouse. Jimin is quite handsome, he always has been. For as long as you can remember he’s looked the same, minus the fluctuation of hair styles and added tattoos that linger his body and a few added battle scars.

As a guard he wears your family's sigil proudly – a lotus flower – on each of his articles of clothing. Customized into each of the guards’ crested plates of metal armor and sewn into each leather hide.

Jimin possesses the unfair mix of unlimited masculine and feminine traits, having a soft-looking composure and full lips plus a sharp jawline and toned muscles. His voice is nearly angelic when speaking in hushed tones but also stern as ever when he leads with his strong confidence. He may not be as large as his fellow wolves, but he’s proven himself countless times to your family to have the privilege to be your personal guard. There’s nobody quite like him; no one you’ve met in your life that is.

You commend him in silence, appreciating what you can watch from afar. Even from a distance behind a glass window, he somehow manages to make your heart race. An infatuation some may call it. A yearning. He and your family have been consistent in your life, he’s comfort – as are they. But you knew from a young age, from when you began favoring Jimin’s company over others, that you need to call it ‘nothing’. Because whatever feelings that spin deep inside you are never to be spoken aloud. It’s foolish for your Kingdom, family, and you to long for a wolf who doesn’t see you as anything but a duty.

What’s more disappointing is that you don’t need to admit these infuriating feelings to Jimin, he already knows. He would never allow it to get far by cutting you short and being curt with clipped words and disapproving looks.

He is a wolf and you are a royal. Two beings who have no business intertwining besides with loyalty to the family and the job of a guard. Your acquaintanceship between another is only going to be professional. Perhaps it’s to keep the bloodline pure, untainted. How every sibling of the family is betrothed to a neighboring kingdom, growing the alliance across countries. And not one of them has a blend of wolf’s blood in them. Even though werewolves are evident in the world around you.

“Aren’t you supposed to get ready for the party tonight?” A maid who's making your bed quips up as you're daydreaming down into the evergreen.

“I’ve been stuck on deciding which dress I should wear.”

“No, you’ve been stuck staring out into the courtyard,” she corrects.

You slump in your seat as you stubbornly hold your position by the window. When you look back down, you admire the off-brown and black tones of that particular wolf you fancy. She isn’t wrong, you know. His kind eyes and kind smiles make you feel warmth like no other, and you enjoy seeing them when you gain the chance.

“I can multitask,” you feebly argue. You drag the blanket tighter around your shoulders, keeping in the warmth of your body as much as possible. “Besides, the party isn’t for a few more hours.”

“Princess, you already have guests arriving. Half the guard is at the entrance welcoming the parties who show up early. Let’s not begin to mention how several potential suitors are arriving today. You’ve failed to marry even when betrothed. Such a shame what happened with the Jeon family.”

“I prefer not to be a royal. It doesn’t feel right the way we work,” you sigh as the joyful wolves down below have fun while you’re stuck in your tower with envy. “Can we braid my hair the way we did at my Aunt’s wedding? It cascaded down beautifully.” You speak while staring out of the window, purposely ignoring the heavier topic your maid mentions. “I’ll go with the silver dress. That one that comes with the gorgeous fur shawl.”

You notice the way that Jimin has suddenly turned to look up toward your window, half expecting to see you through the glass. Even in the midst of his comrades, he finds a way to give you an ounce of attention. He shakes his head momentarily, already scolding you without knowing what you’re supposed to be doing. Jimin knows looking for him isn’t on your agenda, you purposely put him there.

“For me to do that,” – you hear the voice of your maid – ��I need you to get out of your chair and into your washroom.”

A small frown carves into your face when Jimin circles his finger in the air and directs you to turn around, go back to your business. He knows he’s escorting you tonight at the party, you will see him later. To make his point come across sternly, he disassociates his eye contact – bringing his attention back to his other peers and away from you.

“Princess,” your maid bids you once again.

Reluctant to leave your post at the window, you stand up regardless. You have a long night ahead of you while the castle starts to fill up with guests for your younger brother’s birthday party.

You can’t be bothered with the chattering staff or the nuisance of guests who flutter around the halls of your family’s castle. Each moment you find open to run away, to a quieter place and away from their eyes, you take it. Swiftly moving left and right until you can find your favorite spots to hide since you were a child.

One of which happens to be past the hallway of family portraits. If you travel far enough you find yourself at a dead end. With cabinets, paintings, and curtains outlining every inch of the stone walls. Torches are lit to illuminate the surrounding areas, bringing light to the beautiful surroundings.

But little do most know, that behind painting number two – the one in the golden frame with green shrubbery and a little boy playing the flute – lies a secret behind it. You just need to get here without anyone seeing you sneak in. There’s no point in a secret hideout if you accidentally show it to other guests.

You wait for the time, seeing when that end of the hall becomes vacant and people rush toward the call of the buffet lines. The small talk you make with a few distant relatives is only an act, pretending to walk along with them but slipping away when you find your moment to.

Pressing lightly, the nook of a room behind the large painting greets you. It’s closet sized, filled with a few pieces of your past and littered in dust from lack of touch. Tarps are draped over unused furniture; you’re thankful that this hideout is never really used. The painting that acts as a door allows you a small peeping eyehole to look out and judge when you can come out.

The silver dress you picked for tonight's gathering is a smart choice for you; you’re able to sit down comfortably without restriction. You love the look of a free-flowing gown, falling nicely with the way you walk. Patting off a layer of dust from a chair, you’re able to seat yourself as you take an old notebook in your hand.

Small doodles linger on the pages, all drawn by your younger self. You remember each of them, no matter how terrible they may look. It’s how you pass time while hiding in here. The low lighting from the cracks of the portrait gives you most of your light source, and occasionally you will add flame to the candle that rests on the top of the desk beside you.

You scowl at the dried black ink next to the quill pen, the feather beaten up and torn. It’s been years since you’ve last touched it. Maybe browsing through all the pages of your books won’t be so bad as you loiter in your small den.

“Princess Y/n.”

A spark of panic zaps through you like lightning in the sky on a stormy day. Surprised by the voice of none other than Jimin, your personal royal guard. You watch as fingers curl around the edge of the portrait-door and a beautiful, yet stern, face peeks through. His amber eyes catch you as they squint at your mischievous behavior.

“I knew you would be hiding somewhere.” He comments as he pushes himself through the opening and into the room. Jimin wears the guards festive wear, a beautiful pink etched coat with cream leather hide armor. He’s sure to close the door behind him; he’s more stealthy than you can ever be. “Are you upset?”

“No,” you turn your head back to the book in your hands. The weight of his gaze on you is nearly suffocating. “I simply wanted solitude.”

“You know you are to be returned. They’re calling upon your brother shortly for his ceremony. It’s a big event for him,” his tone is low but he maintains a soft tenor to it. Jimin is far too kind toward you even though he’s meant to be a guard and nothing more. His exterior has toughened over the years, as it should to fill his part. Although, the sweeter half of him sticks out to you and perhaps that’s what you’ve held onto all these years.

“Sadly, I know.” You shut your eyes and sigh heavily, “I’m not quite in the celebratory mood. I would much prefer to be in my chambers.”

“That’s selfish of you.” Jimin’s hand comes to take away your book, placing it on the desk where it belongs. He bends down to level his face with yours. “You should be happy for your brother, he’s of age to carry out duties now. To be what he needs to be. Something you should understand.”

You hear the underlying hint Jimin gives you. He’s softly scolding you, as usual.

At first you say nothing in response. Downcasting your eyes to your empty hands as you think what can be said to counter him, but you draw nothing.

You’re the third child in the family of four. A role where you feel invisible and forgotten. Always having second bests and hand-me-downs. Once your brother, who is a few years younger than you, sprouted from the womb of your mother – all chances of your favor flew out the window. As a male in this royal world is keen, any daughter is denied the spotlight. But you never craved a place to rule, or to do what a princess must do. Your oldest sister, the most responsible one of all, desires that for herself. You see it in the way she presents herself. Aces every test and diplomacy role she is given.

The second oldest is the fairest, she didn't need to do much to gain the popularity or attention she is given. It comes so unfairly natural to her thanks to the outstanding looks she’s been blessed with. A privilege only few and far between are given. Life for her is as simple as breathing, all she needs to do is point and ask.

Your younger brother is everything that your father waited for. Of course, your father, the King, treats all his children with love and passion. Keeps you sheltered, fed, and protected. However, the moment he received a bouncing baby boy – that tears any favoritism away from you or your sisters. A male has an unfair advantage in the royal family, it’s just how the world is.

“Princess –”

“– I know,” you unwillingly stand up from your chair. Jimin straightens himself as well, taken aback by your swift movement. “I want to retire after his ceremony,” you say curtly.

You take a single step toward the door as your hand reaches out to push against it, Jimin’s hand grabs your wrist gently, like catching a delicate rose. Softly, he lowers your arm down as he steps before you with a concerned look on his face. His eyes search for signs of distress on your face.

“You’re upset,” he affirms.

“Nothing works in my favor,” you address with a choleric tone. Anger isn’t something you want resting on the surface, but it’s leaking out of the seams of your composure. “Sometimes, I truly despise being a royal daughter.”

You stare at the digits wrapped around your wrist, noticing how Jimin hasn’t let go of you yet. It feels cruel how you wish there was more meaning to the contact. Why can’t he hold you the way you long for him to?

Your eyes meet his with confusion and sadness. The pretty amber color still stands out in the low lighting, they’re beautiful to stare at. But you can’t read what’s going on in his mind.

Jimin feels your sadness. He is connected to you deeply, little do you know. You can never know. It’s safer this way. Slowly, he releases your wrist letting his fingertips be the last thing that brushes against your skin. He can only comfort you so much without overstepping his boundaries. If he capsizes every time you give him those hopeless eyes, he’ll lose his placement in the guard and lose you indefinitely.

“Please,” he breathes, “We must go.”

Jimin pushes the hatch open steadily, peering out through the eyehole to make sure the coast is clear to sneak back into the festivities. He leaves space between the two of you as you walk side-by-side.

Silent tension surrounds you as your heels click with every step you take. There’s a dullness in your eyes, a lack of enthusiasm the closer you approach the center of the party. The amount of people here drains you even as you wear a kind smile.

Your little brother’s coronation will go quickly, you hope. Jimin’s words resound in your head, causing you to reflect on what he said.

“That’s selfish of you.”

You make your way to your designated chair at the family table quietly. The talks and commotions between the castle’s guests, family from far and wide, don’t phase you as you blur out the noise. The red liquid poured graciously in a chalice beside you becomes your saving grace; your delicate fingers grasp the cup and run over the smooth jewels embedded on the sides.

Your eyes find Jimin’s across the crowded room as he stands on guard near one of the walls. His hand rests over the handle of his sword casually, a weapon they choose first before shifting as a last resort. He can read the longing in your eyes with a mix of desperation and gloom.

You wait to see his expected disapproving look. The one that tells you to pay attention to something else other than him – but you don’t. He stuns you confused as, instead of his typical stern look, he looks down at the ground. Deep in thought.

Are you truly selfish when nobody around you is selfless?

Your chamber is a sanctuary. Filled with all the necessities you need to live like royalty. An abundant amount of candles have been lit to brighten the room, giving it a soft aura.

You wear your hair down, untied from the tight braids you wore for the majority of the night. Your nightgown, cream in color and silk to the touch, is loose in all the right places. The ceremony took its time as you waited to retire for the night with the little patience you have left. You’re positive plenty of men are still celebrating at their feast.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

A loud thud shakes the doors to your room, a verbal grunt can be heard. You look over at your maid who does the same as she slowly walks toward the noise. There's a scurry of traffic beyond your door as the two of you try to make out the words that are being shouted. You take a step with her, but with that single step you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. Through the window you see a flash of red light. Smoke rises as pieces of the garden have been lit to flame. Upon closer inspection, you peer down your window into the once beautiful scenery to find brawls of fights. Men fighting enemies with swords, crossbows and guns.

Another thump hits the outside of your chamber’s doors and you twist your head to see your maid inches away from the handle, ready to pull.

“Don’t!” You turn frantic to shout at her.

But it is too late. Your maid already has her hand twisting the handle to pull the door open. But a force pressed the door faster than she anticipated – a body of a man standing guard slumped against the doorframe and now falling to the floor. A wound across his neck as blood smears across your family’s sigil on his leather chest plate.

Both you and your maid screech at the sight as you back away from the door. You can hear the commotion louder now as bodies rush past the halls as they run away from the intruders.

“Hide!” Your maid shoos you quickly and frantically while her first attempt of shutting your chamber’s door fails.

You’re not given a moment to think before you watch as two ruffians walk up to the door, one holding a flamed torch and a hand dagger as the other holds a handgun. They’re dirty from appearance, wearing torn up clothes but come armed with weapons that look like they belong to someone wealthy. They smile evilly, curling their lips at the sight of you as they advance on your maid.

“There’s a royal,” one comments in a ghoulish tone. They step over the body below them like it’s a fallen tree trunk. They laugh among each other, giggling at whatever is playing on in their minds. You definitely do not wish to know.

Your maid twists away, hoisting her skirt up high enough to let her legs lounge as she begins to run toward you. It provokes one of the men, making him chase her immediately as he finds it funny to stalk her. Threaten her with the slices he mimics with his dagger in the air.

Slowly, your feet have backed up along the path of your room. You make sure you keep as much furniture between you and the intruders. Your eyes remain open wide, trying so hard not to blink and miss any sudden movements.

You feel small compared to the man’s stature as he creeps closer and closer to you. Hectically, your hands reach around the tops of dressers and tables to find anything to use as a weapon. A letter opener? A pen? Anything to defend yourself from whoever these men are who impose your safe space.

More screams and shouts can be heard throughout the castle halls and outside. The place is being run down with bandits, unknown persons who you cannot identify from first glance. They wear close to all black attire, worn down from several years. Protected by pads and suitable armor, as if they collected stolen pieces and placed them together.

You hold your arms closer to your body with the heat of the males heavy gaze on you. His eyes look bloodshot as he studies your options of escape.

“Come here little royal,” he sneers while his beaten up boots scuff across the floor.

Your maid is chased across the wall, quickly making her way toward you as the other man follows her like a hunter. Herding his prey together before they set to kill.

They rush the two of you, forcing you to nearly trip over your own feet as your gown betrays you while you step on the very end of it. A small rip of fabric resounds but you’re in too much of a haste to notice from where.

Your maid screams in horror as you yell out for help. Your bodies fumble across the expanse of your chamber’s, trying to find the opportunity to rush out of the door if you can. To escape the men who run after you.

Where are the rest of your guards? What is happening and why are your werewolf guards not attacking? Who are these men and what do they have to attack the castle with? In all your years on this planet, you’ve never been caught in a situation like this. No intruder has ever made it past the front gates until now.

A knife is thrown in your direction, missing you but landing straight into the wall beside your head.

“Oops, guess I need to try that again,” you hear the male speak with malicious intent.

The other has gained enough momentum to grab your maid, pull her in as she struggles to fight him off. He’s rough, holding her arms as he pushes her against the wall. You're already rushing to her side, using your fists to hit the man on his arm and back.

“Get off of her!” you bawl, throwing your fist at him as fast as possible.

A hand grips your hair, yanking you back away from the two and onto the closest table. Your back hits the surface hard as the man presses you down. He threatens you with a dagger pointed at your face as his other hand holds you down by your shoulder.

The brute force immediately makes your eyes water as you stare up at the man in fear. You wrap your hands around his wrists to push him off, holding him off for as long as you can. Your kicks and screams do nothing to phase him, only fuels him.

You feel his hand slide to your throat; latch his ugly, dirty fingers around your neck. It’s brief, like a flash of lightning. But just as soon as he repositions himself, an arrow shoots straight into his head. Visibly shaken, you struggle to process the vicious man above you losing the life he has.

Your efforts of pushing begin to work as his lack of strength weakens by the second. A final push, not made by you – but from your personal guard, Jimin, knocks the man entirely off of you. He’s quick, already primed and prepped to shoot the other ruffian the second he turns away from your maid and to see his comrade passed out on the floor. Jimin launches another arrow with a flick of his finger, a perfect shot.

Both ruthless and merciless men seem to be dead, fallen to the floor of your chamber’s as pools of blood leak from their bodies.

You and your maid tremble in fear and anxiety. Frightened at the series of events and how the two of you were nearly brutally attacked.

Jimin wears streaks of blood across his face as his hair falls out of place. His beautifully tailored festive armor is now beaten and destroyed with stains. You look at him with confusion and anguish as reality sets in.

“Jimin,” you cry out in a broken sob. Your throat tightens and feels as if it’s being pricked by a dozen thorns while your hand runs up to touch the area where the man laid his fingers on.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. Solemn and saddened. But he’s relieved to be here for you, even if he is cutting it short and close to being a second too late.

It isn’t his fault the castle has been blindsided and an evil group has snuck their way inside its walls and started a reign of terror. But he takes blame for not being at your side every second that he should have been. Instead, he rushed to the frontlines once called upon. Tried to stop the invasion from penetrating deeper into the castle.

In most cases this strategy works, but unfortunately tonight – it doesn’t.

But as the fighting continues and larger groups of people begin rushing in from all areas of the castle – equipped with tainted metals containing mountain ash and wolfsbane – the royal guards are not as prepared. A minor setback, yet it almost costs your life.

“I came as soon as I could,” he steps closer to you with sympathetic eyes. He’s hurt, more worried about how you are as he feels your dread and fear. “I’m so sorry.”

There’s still many battles being fought throughout the castle. People being slayed as guards protect as much as they can. Jimin helps you stand straight, holding you close to him as he’s escorting both your maid and you out of your chamber’s.

“Jimin,” you repeat as you hold onto him, wrapping your hands desperately around him. “Who are they?”

He brings the two of you deeper into your chamber, rushing you to a secret doorway that leads to a hidden passage. Your castle is littered with these; most guards know several entrances but not a lot of exits. It’s a maze down there; dark, cold, and gloomy as well. As a child, you would wander through some just to see how far you could reach without cowering out.

“They must be from the South. They’re fighting with wolfsbane. Their weapons are laced with it.”

It’s common knowledge that wolfsbane is rare near these grounds. It’s ordinary for them to grow down South, but they can be imported. Your family is known for being guarded by werewolves; so an attack like this must be heavily planned.

“Remember the passageways?” Jimin grunts as he pushes both you and your maid toward a panel against the wall. It’s colored like an archway, but the third one can be open with a twist of a lever. Specifically the sconce hanging to the left of it. “I need you to escape through them.”

You hear the falter in Jimin’s voice momentarily, how he sounds like he staggered his breath.

“Are you hurt?” You ask alarmingly. Your eyes frantically scan over his exterior, looking for any noticeable signs of a wound.

“Princess, I need you to go through the passageways,” he turns the lighting fixture swiftly. The secret door clicks open, a cool gust of air puffs through and hits against your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I need to protect you and the rest of your family.”

Your maid understands, already stepping through as she’s pulling you with her. Jimn is a guard, he needs to go and maintain his duty. Your maid is a servant – she is here to assist you until she can no longer. She begs you to step quickly, down the stone stairs into the pit of the passages.

“Jimin, no!” You grip tighter on his forearm as he tries to shrug you off of him. Blood tarnishes your cream colored nightgown as you’re pulled away from Jimin. It must be from those Jimin has fought already. “Come with me!”

Jimin takes your chin in his hand and inspects the distress on your face. Even when rushed, worried about your safety and life, he looks at you like he’s lost in your eyes. The gentle touch of his fingertips feels serene, featherlight even though they’re calloused through the years of combat.

He’s moving you back into the passageway, gripping the door with his other hand to shut it on you when the moment comes. There’s displeasure spilling out of him only because he is infuriated by the way you stubbornly won’t see the concern for yourself.

“I need to protect the family. This is me protecting you,” he speaks sternly. “Please listen to me, princess,” he exhales slowly. His eyes flicker across your features with tenderness, “I am not losing you. Use the passageways,” he reminds you. “Exit at the stables. I will meet you there. You know which way to go?”

You stare at him dumbfounded at first. Like time is slowing down, but you cannot shake the feeling that you won’t see him again. You don’t feel convinced.

“B-But –”

“Go!” Jimin practically growls out his demand to you. In an instant, his amber eyes shine with a blue ring around his irises. It’s the first time Jimin has ever used that timbre with you, making you jolt away with shock.

He warns you to watch your step and stay on the correct path toward the stables. Keep close to your maid and stay quiet. He rips off his cavalier shoulder cape, draping it around your shoulders to keep you warm as you descend into the chilly pathways. Jimin closes the door promptly, forcing you to turn with your maid and to escape to safety. Your heart ricochettes inside your chest, pounding erratically as you rush.

Throughout the narrow hallways, dripping with leaking water spouts and cobwebs, you hear the signs of savage wolf growls and barks as your royal guard begin shifting as their last resort. Cries of pain and fighting scare you further as you follow the lead of your maid, wondering how you’ll survive what comes ahead. The thin slippers still on your feet dampen with every hurried step you take as you hold Jimin’s cape tighter against your frame to stay as warm as possible.

“I am not losing you,” replays inside your head and inside your heart.

Moonlight shines from above as your maid cracks open a hardened rock exitway. You came across many forks in the maze of the castle's passageways, but you remember from your past the correct ways to take. The two of you are at the stables, you can smell the mixture of horse and hay in the air. The area is unhit from the onslaught of violence for now.

“Shall we take a horse?” Your maid suggests as she creeps behind a bundle of stacked hay.

“Jimin said he’ll meet us here,” you remind her.

The chill of the outside runs straight through your body. You curse to yourself at your poor choice of attire.

Together, the two of you watch the distance of all the violence. You see bloodshed with many reinforcements coming from every side of the castle. The thought of Jimin being caught in this mess sends a shiver down your spine. Wolves – your family's guards – have shifted to their creature form. They’re larger than any wild wolf; standing on all four limbs taller than most humans.

They’re very swift at responding to the attackers, taking them out one by one. But you know the attackers are fighting against them with poisonous tactics – an advantage to go against such beasts. With these weapons, the werewolves near invulnerability, speed, and strengths are weakened once hit with the toxins. You can already witness it with a few of your guards.

“We’re still inside the castle walls, Princess. We need to get out of here fast,” she insists. Her eyes scan around for an opening, an escape route for the two of you. You’ll have to be fast.

“He knows we are here!” You yell at her in a hushed tone. “I’m not leaving unless it’s with –”

Just as you attempt to finish your sentence, the loud sound of wood snapping through the entrance door interrupts you. Men rush in, manically screaming in an uproar as the flames of their torches begin touching the fodder in the stables. Setting the straw ablaze in a matter of seconds.

You and your maid slouch back into a corner, away from view for as long as you can. Horses neigh with anger, jumping and kicking as the brightness and heat of fire creeps toward them. You cannot fathom the thought of losing these beautiful warhorses as they’re each tied to their own box.

“Release them,” you whisper to your maid before you frantically get up from your position and reach for the first horse.

Your soft hands flick up the lever to the wooden door, opening it up for the horse to run through and stumble toward the exit of the stables.

The maid begs you to stay hidden, but you refuse with stubbornness. In the same breath, you hear a shriek from her as you are in the midst of lifting another lever. The attackers have noticed her and shortly spot you as well.

She looks at you with panic, “Run!”

In seconds, she is being grabbed once again by these aggressors. Forced down with a hard shove as she hits the ground. You shout, scream, and cry at the men who flock over toward her. A pitchfork near you is the first thing you see to use as a weapon. Surely you can scare someone off with the points of the tines.

A bellowful growl grows from a stampede of three wolves bursting onto the scene. They’re far too fast for your eyes to keep up, seeing flashes of their fur dashing around you to strike your attackers. Their teeth bare as they snarl and bite into the flesh of the men, claws digging through the fabrics and skin.

One wolf is nearly all black, slicked fur making it shine in the night. Another has a warm russet color, speckled with hues of beige but warm under the ember of the fires around you. The last wolf is your wolf – you know him far too well. Brighter shades of light brown are in his face as the rest of his pelt darkens into a deep dark, chocolate color. His amber eyes, now sparked with blue, casts over to you briefly as he takes out an enemy, his paw stepping hard against his chest and pressing down.

It’s like whiplash with how fast the royal guards cleared out the stables as the fire consumes the fixtures around you. Smoke fills the air, rising heavily as thick clouds form. Pieces of the loft areas begin to break and fall as the other roped up horses huff and puff.

The stark black wolf is the one lifting your maid off the ground as it nudges her. She’s wounded, you can tell as red covers the fabric of her left arm. You take a step toward her, wanting to console and help – but in return you are barked at by Jimin. He rushes toward you, his speed frightening you as you backpedal away from the area. He stares hard at you, growling in a low tone as ashes fall behind him.

He’s moving you away, wanting you out of the area. The other two wolves bark in his direction, some form of communication you cannot understand as Jimin glances back and responds with his own call.

The russet colored wolf jumps toward Jimin as you watch your maid latch onto the black fur of the other. She gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing the words ‘get out of here’ to you.

A large beam from above falls and crashes in the middle of the stables, breaking other fixtures in its path. Ember’s rise from the burning building with a massive gust of wind as you turn your face away from the crash.

“Jimin!” You cough as your arms shield you. Your eyes tickle in pain from the smoke, the fire’s brightness doesn’t help either.

You can feel the brush of fur against you as a heavy body presses into your front. You smell the wilderness immediately as you fall forward, burying your face and arms into Jimin’s coat. He nudges you with his shoulder and a grunt. Somehow able to understand what he’s saying.

Quickly, you pull yourself up along his back like one would do for a horse. Your face remains embedded into his fur as you wrap your arms around his neck, hooking your fists onto his coat to anchor yourself.

You move with the russet colored wolf as he clears out the path ahead of you and Jimin. Taking down any attacker standing in the path to escape. It’s difficult to hold onto a wolf, feeling your limbs tighten around Jimin as hard as you possibly can just to stay on top as he dashes through the terrain.

His goal is to get you out of here safely, remove you from the premises. He brings you farther and farther away from the castle and closer to the woods. The last glimpse you dare to make shows you the image of the russet wolf turning back toward the scorched castle grounds.

You pray for the good safety of everyone. Hope the castle is still together after the royal guard protects and saves the night.

It’s freezing as Jimin runs through the thicket of the wilderness, deeper than you ever dare to go alone. You keep your head down, pressed into his back as bitter cold breezes over the surfaces of your body that aren't protected by Jimin’s warmth. The nightgown you wear is thin, not topped with layers among layers of fabrics and wiring like a corseted dress would have. Not to mention the tingling burn to your bare feet as the winter air touches them. But he is warm. A heated beast beneath you, emitting a comforting temperature the more your fingers curl into the roots of his bristle fur.

His breath is labored, chest heaving as his limbs carry you fast. Jimin zips through the rough terrain of the earthy woods, jumping and dodging the obstacles in his way. You fear the tightness of your muscles as you cling on to him, feeling the exhaust of your body as they sore.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been a passenger on Jimin’s back. Everything has happened so quickly. It isn’t until you hear the noises of strangers. The padding of snow under Jimin’s paws begins sounding different. Now stepping on hardened ground.

Your eyes blink open as you take in the surroundings passing by. Glowing lights in tapered windows of wooden cabins flash in seconds. Secured doors and moss growth along the sides of several cabin-like housings.

Jimin leads with a howl, rushing toward the only place he knows will keep you the most protected. He slows his pace as he draws near, beckoning with a warning call for the door to swing open and allow him in. You find yourself entering with him, a soft warmth from a low burning fireplace greets you as the two of you enter.

You feel the way Jimin stumbles, his body catching up with how taxed he must be. The way his shoulders shrug tells you to dismount him as his mouth pants labored breaths. Carefully, you slide until your toes touch the floor below you.

“Jimin?” Your first concern comes out worriedly. Your hands still roam his fur as you notice the warmth of red liquid staining your palms – even pieces of your clothes. It’s enough to make you feel uneasy about the open wounds you fail to find through his pelt.

He’s quick to move from you, tripping over himself as he walks deeper toward the back of the cabin. A low growl rumbles from his chest as a warning, unwanted contact from you.

You take a step to follow him, seeing how hurt he is – it only wrenches your heart tighter. Your eyes grow wider the further he steps away from you, scurrying himself as he barks in the air for help.

A soft pair of hands hold onto your elbow, keeping you from the beast in pain. You snap your head toward the contact, searching for the reason why you’ve been halted.

“Don’t.” A woman with dark, long wavy hair speaks in a low tone. Her skin is aged but glows beautifully. Bundled up in layered clothes, she wears a worried look just like you. But it’s because she is stressed about your concern over the wolf in agony. “He will be alright.”

The door behind her has already been shut tight as the woman urges you to sit on the closest couch. Your eyes flick back to Jimin who continues to pad down the end of the hallway, twisting into a new shape as his body slowly transforms back into a human state. It’s an image you never expected to see, completely magical and out of this world as you catch glimpses of a wolf morphing into man.

His deep groans turn more audible as his real voice is able to break free.

“Wolfsbane –” he curses out into the open as he’s hunched over. He breathes heavily, open mouth catching air for his lungs as his fingers now claw at the bloody abrasion on the left side of his chest.

From your spot on the sofa, you witness Jimin suffering in a fetal position with no clothes. He’s turned to the side, hiding what he can in his vulnerable state. His long hair, usually kept neatly pulled back, falls dramatically across his face. His nose scrunches as his lips pull back to show his seething teeth.

“Jimin!” You begin to stand up, but the woman holds her hands out before you.

“Stay, Princess! Please!” Her voice is soft.

She tries her best to be respectful, honoring your title even in the severity of a situation. “I’m his mother.” She claims before gripping a knitted wool blanket off the back of a chair and rushing over to her son.

You blink, stunned as you process all the movements and information playing out in front of you.

Jimin coughs as his head presses into the floor. You watch in horror the way Jimin’s body rejects the burn of the wolfsbane that entered his system. Jerking and moving in his place as some mystical natured element helps overcome his pain. Jimin’s mother places the blanket over Jimin, shielding him from your innocent eyes. She squats beside him, hand placing over his forehead as his face twists with strain.

“Fight it,” she encourages as she pushes back his bangs to inspect his eyes. They’re reddened on the edges. The infection attacks deeply within him. His blue shiny irises that come out when he taps into his wolf form is stationary, shining brightly as he internally battles the poisonous herb. “Push it out, you can do it.”

You catch him staring at you as he overcomes this annoyance. It’s not enough to be deadly for him, but it is a good amount to weaken his overall state for the time being. His body fights to heal properly, but he’ll be ready soon.

The first initial wave of pain eases on Jimin. You don’t notice it due to the blanket covering his body, but a small pool of tainted blood leaks out of his wound. Spoiled by the wretched poison. It’s what his body needs to do, reject it and remove it entirely from him.

“Can I help in any way?” You stand and step toward him as his panting calms.

“No, no!” Jimin’s mother’s hands shoot out, shooing you. “You don’t need to do anything! His body is healing,” she reassures. “It may not make any sense, but he is going to be good. Just give him some time. Wolves have an accelerated healing power.”

“But –” you begin to counter. You feel helpless, powerless. Your heart hurts from seeing Jimin in such a distraught state. You can’t shake the image out of your head.

“Stop,” you hear Jimin breathing out. His tenor voice aching as his body shivers. “Stay over there,” he begs. “Just give me a second, Princess.”

All you can do is wait. Watch the way the man you care for struggles with himself as his supernatural body convulses and kicks out the vicious wolfsbane as he rapidly recovers. His grunts and groans do nothing to help, making you worry even more.

When Jimin finally settles, he lays limp on the floor. Relief washes over him as the surging pain seizes and his body begins to feel like normal once again. Sweat has slickened the roots of his hair, surely the rest of his skin expelled other toxins.

He starts to lift himself off the floor, using his arms to push him up to a sitting position first – then enough to stand. He clutches the blanket around him. Holding it tight around his waist and covering his lower region.

“Take your time,” his mother whispers. She, too, stands with him. Using her hands to help guide him if he wavers on his feet. He’s taller than her, but you can tell she’s strong from the way she helps hold her son up.

“I have to go back,” he says to her, but stares at you.

Jimin takes a few tentative steps until he catches the motion easilier. He walks over to you in concern, abandoning the dripped blood on the floorboard from where he once laid. You're shivering in place, not realizing it yourself.

“Mom, would you mind finding something the princess can change into? Clean her up a little as well?”

You waste no time rushing yourself to him regardless of Jimin pleading for you not to. That doesn’t stop the way your arms wrap around his torso, feeling the warmth of his smooth skin as you hold him. Your head curls into his shoulder as his free arm surrounds your back, pulling you against him.

“Please, be good. Back up,” he slowly walks you in his embrace.

You feel the rumble of his voice through his chest as you press desperately against him, not wanting to let him go just yet. He’s homely like your favorite hiding place back in the castle or the comfort of your bed after a long day of duties. It feels right to be with him as your mind speaks these words of nonsense.

“Don’t leave again,” you beg as your heartstrings twinge with sadness. You think latching onto Jimin even more would be the answer of his choice, but alas it is not. His arm is placing you down on the sofa for you to sit as he kneels on the floor. Even when you try grabbing at him, he politely pushes your hands away.

“Mom,” Jimin calls out as his hands grip the bottoms of your bare feet. He runs his palms across them, feeling how frigid they’ve become. Jimin ignores the way your cold hands try to turn his head to look up at you, stubbornly keeping it down and focused on your toes. When he fails to hear a response, he shouts again, “Mom!”

“Jimin!” You call to get his attention, fingers running through his thick locks to expose his face. Cupping his cheeks doesn’t suffice either, even your attempt to tilt his jaw fails. He isn’t budging from his position.

His mother comes out of another room with an abundant amount of clothes. Each of them look heavy, thick. Enough to hopefully keep you bundled up in the chill of a winter’s night.

Jimin squeezes your feet with his hands, trying to circulate more blood flow as he tries to warm you. He suffers knowing you’re freezing, not in an ideal state. But he can also feel the way your heart pangs with confusion and hurt. He can smell the fear radiating off of your body as you process so much.

“Would you mind changing into these?” His mother comes into your view. She begins placing pieces out in order to dress. Layers ready at your will. “I can wash your nightgown. Rid you of those stains. I can try patching up the tears in your skirt.”

The doleful look in your eyes tells her enough at one glance. She sighs as a tear trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Your voice cracks mid sentence as you stare helplessly at Jimin.

It’s languid the way his eyes flick up to you, shrouded with sadness behind his lashes.

“You’re freezing,” he states.

“I’m more hurt that you won’t let me do anything for you,” you respond with irritation. “I’m fine. You’re not.” You gesture to his exposed chest, muddied with swipes of blood on his left side.

“There’s nothing there anymore. The wound is sealed already. It’s just drying blood.”

He looks down back at your feet, finally noticing his stained hands – how he’s holding you with his own filth. The thought upsets him entirely.

Abruptly, Jimin stands. Turning away from you and rushing over to the fireplace to place more wood in the burning embers. He tightens the blanket around his waist, pacing across the floor of the cabin for anything he thinks you need before he departs.

“Run a bath,” he tells his mother. “It’ll warm her up faster. Then she can change into the clean clothes.”

“I don’t want that,” you speak. “I’ll take the clothes as they are. But Jimin –”

“– I need to go back,” he whips around in his spot. Jimin is fast on his feet, gathering some more blankets and gripping your hand. “My old room is just over here. Make yourself at home. I know this isn’t ideal but it will keep you safe and warm. My mother,” Jimin glances over at her, “She’ll be a great help. Please, take care of the Princess before I return.”

You rip your hand away from Jimin while stubbornly holding your place on the couch. It’s an act you never suspected yourself to do so harshly. The appalled look on your face puzzles Jimin. Makes him look down at you in silence, awaiting for you to speak.

“No,” you stare back. “Why can’t you just stay?”

“I have a duty,” he responds just as fast. “One to serve the royal family.”

“I am the royal family!”

“I am a part of the entire pack fighting for the kingdom right now. I must be with them.”

The frustration causes your blood to boil under your skin. Heat rises to your cheeks as anger takes over. He’s staring you down. Jimin is right after all. But yet again, without him even speaking, you can hear his voice repeat the words ‘that’s selfish of you’. It rattles inside your head as your lips quiver with emotion.

You turn your head, eyes filled with sorrow dropping to your lap. The scolding fire from his bright eyes hurts you deeply. Yet he doesn’t have intentions to upset you, Jimin only wants to protect you.

“Go.”

The single word comes out so cold, so unlike your usual tone. It catches Jimin off guard.

The entire time Jimin’s mother stands in silence, trying to read the room herself as the two of you cast a tense environment. She has no place to utter a single word, not here. For a moment, she shares a cautious glance with her son. Something in her eyes that tells him that he needs to do something – say something.

“Prin –”

“– I do not want to see you.” Your voice sounds meek, on edge of falling over in the pool of emotion laying inside of you. If only he can understand how important you’ve made him in your life. How special he is and the comfort that comes with him when he’s around. Imagining him returning beaten up again bothers you. Thinking he might not come back at all is even worse.

“Just, go.” You command.

“Y/n,” Jimin speaks in a gentle voice. He steps closer to you with a heavy heart, “I’m sorry.” Slowly, he leans down to level his head with yours. It’s alright with him that you refuse to look back. Jimin knows he has your attention regardless. You feel the soft graze of his knuckle run along the edge of your jaw, surprised from the tender touch. “I really am sorry,” he smiles faintly as he leans in just enough to place his plump lips delicately on your temple.

Jimin leaves your side, turns on his heel and swiftly moves out the front door. It’s a rush from the way his body forms back into wolf and his paws press into the ground, carrying him further away from you. He wants to be here for you, but his loyalty lies deep to the guards and your family. Jimin knows you are safe, under the protection of his mother and the community surrounding the cabin. He would never just leave you.

A gust of wind blows in from outside, the chill reminding you how low the temperatures are. Jimin’s mother kindly shuts and locks the door. Silence stills softly in the ambiance of the crackling fireplace.

It breaks you knowing Jimin isn’t staying by your side. The rational side of your brain screams at you, telling you he is doing the right thing. But the emotional soft boundaries you have, that are more tender than a baby bird, weakens the further Jimin is. Like a piece of your heart constantly stripping from you. Cracking and bleeding from unreciprocated love.

The gentle face of Jimin’s mother approaches you, her soft hand places it upon your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Princess,” she begins with a kind tone. “Please know, we’ll do anything to protect you. You’re in a safe place now. My name is Mira. Let’s have you change into something warmer. I can make some tea as well.”

Her words do not stop the slow streams of tears dripping from your face. You wipe away each of them the moment they pass the curve of your cheeks, frustration and heartbreak laying deep within you.

When will he come back, you begin to wonder. Will he come back? Flashes of the ruffians and ruthlessness they project remind you how dangerous they are. What damages have they done with your family's castle? To your precious belongings?

And then it reminds you… You haven’t thought about your family. Your father and siblings, are they safe and sound? Are they escorted off the property by the guards as they clean up the mess of the intruders? How selfish of you, truly, to only think of yourself and Jimin.

Your realization serves you like the small piece of bread and tea served to you on a platter from Mira. It makes you cry more about how childish and foolish your mind is.

“He does love you,” Mira speaks again. Her eyes crinkle with wrinkles as she smiles. “He does the things he does because he loves you.”

Jimin yearns to return to your side the moment his feet step out of his childhood home. He rushes back to the castle grounds, reconnecting with the king's royal guard and abolishing any trespasser standing in his way. He fought for hours with righteousness and duty, tearing apart men limb from limb as he dodges the poisonous silver weapons laced with a venomous herb. When the time comes that the invasion of hoodlums either retreat or have been eliminated by the brute force of the royal guard – Jimin doesn’t hesitate to rush back to you.

He’s been given the blessing from his higher-ups. Notified that the castle will be on high alert while the rest of your family has been scattered to their own locations of safety. They too have their own personal guards who stand their grounds and hover their sides. What matters now is that the kingdom is still intact even after such a brutal attack. They are not overthrown and they will continue on as supreme rulers.

As for any hostages held from the invaders, they will be judged appropriately and prodded for questions and answers before the royal court. Jimin has seen this many times, but never to this extent. This is the first time in his line of duty that the castle was attacked – but he is thankful for the outcome.

He wouldn’t know what would have happened if it turned out different.

His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he slows his pace the moment his eyes lay on the door to his mother’s house. Inside he knows you are waiting, impatiently he assumes. But seeing your face again will give him a sense of relief. A calming vortex that sinks deep inside his body and warms his nerves.

Jimin’s blood pumps in his ears as he calls out to his mother in the form of telepathy – a unique trait wolves have with one another. An inner circle of connections that allows wolves to speak to other wolves. Mira is ready by the door, twisting the handle and allowing Jimin a swift entrance into the house.

He tries to step quietly as his heavy wolf form causes the wood flooring to creak under his steps. His pads resound a soft thud as he walks. At first, he expects to walk straight to his room as he remembered he offered you his place to rest. But as his nose picks up your immediate scent, he realizes that you’re still resting on the couch right in front of the fire.

“She hasn’t moved,” Mira murmurs under her breath. Jimin’s mother stayed up all hours he was gone, watching and keeping you company. “I’ve given her plenty of tea and washed her face with a heated cloth. I’ve kept adding more wood to the fire to help. Even in her sleep, she still shivers. She may have hypothermia,” she warns.

He wouldn’t put it past him if this is the case. You were never made for enduring February winters in just a nightgown after all. Barefooted may he add.

Jimin walks over you, his nose sniffing at your skin to seek any discomfort your body may radiate. You lay there bundled up as much as you can under heavy fabrics of wool and fur. Jimin smiles to himself fondly as he sees the way you tuck your chin into the blanket and cover your nose.

A tentative look is shared between Jimin and his mother before he nudges his head against your arms.

You rouse from your slumber momentarily and your immediate reaction is to tighten your body and move to a more comfortable position. However, Jimin doesn’t allow you. He nudges you again and this time he digs his nose between the crack of your arms, prying them open so he can slot his head through and force your arm around his neck.

Mumbling in your sleep, you groan at the annoyance of being woken up. But when you feel the soft bristles of fur against your face and the undeniable warmth coming from them, you cling onto whatever is pressing against you.

It wakes you further. Enough to make you register enough to know Jimin is in your arms right now. Your fingers cling onto him tightly, screwing them into knots as you inhale deeply into the side of his neck. He smells like the frozen forest mixed with burning embers; the smell of smoke clogging between his roots.

His warmth is what reminds you of home. It forces happiness to leak out of your eyes as a warm tear drips onto his fur the more you bury your face into him. His movement forces you to wake up, urging you with a tug to get off the couch and follow him.

Leisurely, you hang from him while he ushers you to the other room – his room. Your feet stumble as the two of you pass Mira. You don’t care how clumsy you look, you’re just happy to have Jimin back.

“Jimin,” his mother tries speaking in a hushed tone. “Remember who you are to her.”

He doesn’t stop his stride as he enters his old bedroom with you nearly hanging off of him. It’s upkept well thanks to his mom. Nothing moved or changed over the years. With a few more nudges and suggestive pushes, he has you falling into place upon the mattress. It’s low to the ground, easy for him to step on it even in wolf form and lay comfortably as you attach yourself to his back.

This form is undoubtedly the warmest. And with his wolf form he serves as a natural furnace for you. He doesn’t mind the way your fingers dig into his fur or the way your cold body presses desperately against his. He allows anything that will warm you up.

His eyes meet his mother’s as she leans in to shut the bedroom door. Words and feelings cannot describe his unfair bond to you – but with werewolves, they have a mutual understanding of how things work.

Jimin groans with a huff before putting his head down on the bed. He stays awake, alert, and listens to the sounds and conversations running through his head. Even when the threat is over, he still stays guard. Ready to pounce on anything that comes toward you.

For now, you may sleep comfortably. Jimin will be able to tell you later about the results of the castle and your family.

You’re greeted by coldness as you toss and turn. The fresh chill pricks your cheeks, jolting your nerves to wake when you want nothing more than sleep. Chirps of wild birds sing outside of the window that casts a dull ray of sun into the room. It still looks dark out. There’s also an ache in your joints and muscles, particularly in your neck.

Perhaps you slept awful, used to having your luxury linens and perfectly fluffed pillows. Instead you spent the night balled up, tight, against the only thing that holds heat.

The fire isn’t what saves you from the brisk cold of winter. It is the tender bristles of a wolf’s fur that hordes blissful heat, warmer than a copper pan filled with rocks warmed at the edge of a fire.

But you are not welcomed with that same softness of Jimin’s fur anymore. When you turn again, you realize you press against the smooth surface of his broadened back. Black ink decorates down his spine in the phases of the moon as your eyes focus from the haze of sleep. Does it make any sense to see the man you adore, shirtless with his back to you in the same bed?

Absolutely not.

Your clogged head tries to clear the fog of confusion as you edge away from Jimin. He’s tucked under the covers, just as you. His chest rises and falls slowly, in a deep sleep. He’s more exhausted than you, his body fought all night. It makes sense he finally collapsed into a resting state; relaxed and dare you say, delicate. The branded ink shines subtly as his skin, miraculously still smooth, feels even warmer under your tender fingertips. Slowly, you trace invisible patterns onto his skin, mesmerized by the way he doesn’t pull away from you.

You feel guilty for snuggling up closer to him, knowing very well he isn’t in a conscious state for him to put you back in your place like all the other times. But you feel drawn in and addicted to his warmth and security in such a tender position.

Jimin inhales and exhales deeply, shifting his head when he feels your fingers tickle the nape of his neck. He shifts in his sleep, moving his body enough to force you to freeze. His hand reaches back, swatting away your hand as if it is a dainty bug crawling on him. But he realizes it’s nothing but a hand – your hand – and instead, he grips it. Pulling it around him and stretching your arm across his torso so that he can hold it against his chest. Jimin curls himself in a fetal position, dragging you flush against his back.

“Stop tickling me,” he murmurs in a groggy voice. He huffs out a small burst of air, humor laced with it.

Your forehead presses into his spine, a small smile creeping up on your lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Silence falls once again except for the subtle sounds of Jimin’s breathing. You could stay like this forever if you were able to. Ignore all responsibilities of life and stay with Jimin. Deep down, you secretly wish this. Having his protection and solace, bringing you solitude and clarity. You know that he is all you will ever need. He’s been exactly everything you need him to be in your life, even when times get tough and he guides you to do something you’re stubbornly against. It’s all for your well-being. Your overall happiness. Jimin has never steered you down the wrong path; even if it’s the path you wouldn’t pick yourself.

He is strong in many ways you aren’t. Rational and accountable. You know he will do everything in his power to let you have the perfect life and he will never leave you.

This feeling of unfulfillment with your heart always reminds you how a large piece of him belongs there. No matter how much room you make for your family and potential suitors that come your way. Nothing will fill the undeniable love you have toward your personal royal guard.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. This time with a different reason.

You’re apologizing for yourself. For the position you put yourself in even though you never win the fight with your emotions. How you cannot control this bond between the two of you and how you cannot change the way you feel toward him. You know you could never be with a wolf, let alone your own personal guard. The years between you doesn’t matter either. Jimin still looks as you first remember him, minus the added tattoos, scars and array of hair styles he’s sported. He has always been your guard, a figure to look up to, a brother, and a best friend without being them at the same time.

The connection you feel with Jimin is unexplainable. A natural magnetic draw you feel. A compelling force screaming at you that this – he – is exactly what your mind, body, and soul needs.

“Get some more rest,” Jimin urges as he squeezes your hand a little bit tighter.

“I am being honest with you,” you declare.

“So am I,” Jimin’s sleepy voice seeps through.

Your small tiff stirs Jimin awake. He turns slowly, still maintaining his hold on your hand as he faces you. The small puff of his cheeks shows you how tired he must be as his eyes remain closed. Jimin leans in, pushing your head into his chest as he rests his face into the top of your head.

“Rosemary,” he speaks out loud. He inhales slowly, admiring the sweet scent of the herb used to wash your hair every night. “It suits you so much.”

You feel a flush of warmth coursing through your body in such an intimate position. You have never been this close or tangled with Jimin like this before. There’s faint scars across his chest from what you can see, memories of past battle wounds that cut too deep perhaps.

“Are you hurt?” You question. Wondering how his body never correctly healed these specific marks.

“Not anymore,” he hums as he pulls you in tighter.

You can hear the faint beating of his heart as you twist your head to lay against his chest. It thumps calmly, like a lullaby whispering in your ear.

“Why are you here?” You dare to question.

A heavy thought that’s been weighing on your mind for far too long. You want to thank him for welcoming you into his solitude and keeping you warm throughout the night. Even then, you hardly remember moving from the couch to this bed. Jimin sharing a bed with you doesn’t make any sense to you. Especially how he rests with no clothes on; assumingly you believe as the blankets cover more than your eyes can see.

“Warmth,” he responds. “I had to keep you warm. But I fell asleep.”

“Why are you still here then…?”

Jimin exhales deeply. He still rests as much as he can even with your quizzing questions.

“I’m pretending I’m still dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” You blink.

“Yes.” Jimin’s hand gingerly raises to stroke the side of your head, brushing off any stray locks. His palm is so warm against you, the contact heating you instantly. “A dream. Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” you blurt out faster than you expected. “I just don’t understand,” you try leaning back to look at his face.

“Princess,” he tsks. “How can I explain this?” He questions himself more than you. Jimin places his lips on your forehead and rests them there as he contemplates his words. “A wolf cannot be mixed with a royal. But you desire a wolf. And a wolf desires you.” He hesitates with the next sentence that leaves his mouth. “However, it will never be allowed. And thus… a dream.”

“You dream of this?” You ask, stunned.

“Don’t you?” He huffed a laugh. “I know you do. There are times that I can read it all over your pretty face. I can feel it too.”

“I-I,” you feel flustered. Your feathers fluffed every which way as Jimin speaks so carelessly of such a sensitive subject.

“I know how you feel for me,” he states. “I’m sorry you do. Even when I try to keep you on the right path, show you your responsibilities and guide you to your title's destiny… you found a sanctuary in me.”

Jimin continues to stroke your face with his thumb, his nose breathes out hot air against your forehead. He caresses you tenderly, holds you dear to him as if he is afraid to let you go.

“I’ve… I have always loved you,” you confess. Swallowing thickly as your throat closes up with emotion. Jimin allows you to slide your arms around him again.

“I know. I can feel everything you feel,” he sighs. “Your happiness. Your sadness. That painstaking broken heart every time you’re forced to live your reality.”

He smiles softly against your skin, peppering small kisses where his lips rest.

“I also feel the way you can’t control your emotions. How you constantly battle with what’s right and wrong. How not a single person draws your attention more than I do. I can’t really explain how I can feel these things,” he tilts your head to look down into your eyes. “It won’t make any sense.”

In the soft morning light, his features are more admirable. His skin glows beautifully, like a natural highlight illuminating off of the edges of his face. Jimin cracks open his eyes, only slightly, to peer down at your innocent expression. A face he’s seen for many years after being scolded or pressed for answers. The beauty in his eyes, that crisp amber hue, shifts a shade darker as they land on your parting lips.

“Jimin, I don’t want this to be a dream.”

You’re honest about it. The aura of intimacy is fueling the room so purely, it’s nearly smothering. Jimin allows his walls to break down for you to enter; let’s you in his space even when it goes against everything the two of you know.

His thumb flicks your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh under his digit. He can feel the natural draw, how his body is aching with a tantalizing need to kiss you. To have you, just for now, before he must go back to reality.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he declares as he looks down at you sadly. “I devoted myself the very first moment I saw you.” His breath shakes as he lets out a breath he was holding.

“Princess,” he begins, the small curve of his lips upturning. He knows this is dangerous, it’s not allowed. Years of pining and rejecting you, fearing the system of the world and the way of life, he’s taking his one and only opportunity to be selfish. A thing you know so very well. Jimin leans down, lips nearly brushing yours, “Please forgive me.”

Your lips press together in a gentle embrace. He pours his unannounced love for you with this kiss; all those years of pent-up, hopeless desires and unfathomable attachment finally burst through with the only way he can show you.

There’s no way of telling how long your kiss lasts; and eternity sounds like an understatement. Your breath hitches in your throat, surprised by the act and realism of Jimin – the man you’ve grown to love throughout all these years – has committed such a sinful, yet delightful, treason for the sake of his own greed. The same act you do not disgust, appall, or dislike. You greet it, after a few moments of shock, with happiness. A passion of feeling what you pined for all this time. Acceptance, understanding, and need.

Jimin’s warm fingers run along the side of your face and down the length of your arm. “Pretend it’s just a dream.” He smiles in between kisses.

A subtle tear breaks the brim of your eye as you capture Jimin in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. You bring him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting his tongue in your mouth.

When it’s just a dream, you’re allowed to cross the lines of right and wrong. Do the things you want to do, impulsively or not. That’s why you don’t bother to wait when you desperately cling to him, tangling your soft fingers through his messy hair. You feel the way Jimin presses himself into you, not a care of his royal guard status or what your title is. He brings his love out to another being – you.

You feel the gentle pull of his hands at the lining of your padded clothes. There’s so much keeping you bundled, but he’s sure he can keep you warm with his body. His hands roam under the fabrics, feeling the touch of the soft skin of your hip. He skirts his hand up your back, pressing his palm onto you to drag you into him.

“Are you sure?” You question him as if you’re being fooled. Tricked into thinking this truly is a dream and not something you will remember.

“I’ve never wanted something so desperately,” he admits with no embarrassment. “So many times I’ve had to tell you to look away from me. Entertain these other suitors… It hurts. But I know I will always be there for you even if your feelings aren’t as they are now. Even if you didn’t feel for me. I can’t help that. I’m bound to you.”

Your eyes roam the expanse of his body that you can see against the pale sheets of his old mattress. His words send glee to your heart. Had you known this hurts him as much as it hurts you, you would do something about it. Find a way to make something work. There must be a way.

“I’m sorry for being so distant with you in regard to your emotions. But, I do it to protect you. I’m not right for you.” Jimin whispers as his lips reconnect with yours. A carnal desire brewing deep inside of him, no doubt inside of you too.

“Jimin,” you whimper against his mouth. The crack in your voice is threatening to snap.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t,” you sniffle.

Your head is a clutter of sensitive emotions ransacking your brain. Clouding your headspace as if you are in a daydream. But you accept it. Allow this illusion, real or not, to be as real as it can ever get.

You accept him and this moment of time.

The heat of Jimin’s body keeps you warm from the chilled air outside of the sheets. Slowly, he shifts to have you laying on your back as his body crawls over you. Jimin plants soft and wet kisses down your jawline to a sweet spot on the side of your neck, multitasking with the buttons of your thick clothes.

The second he is able to free portions of your body from the garments, his skin slides over yours. Touching every delicately smooth surface of your body. Rising goosebumps through each sway of his fingers across every inch. You melt into his touches, a quiet whimper and pleasant hum escaping your nose.

“You’re so beautiful,” he comments as he levels his head with yours. He takes a moment to peer down at your morning face, admiring the way you look even with a rough night. Jimin remembers your eyes the most. How genuine and curious they are. He reminisces about the first time; when a shot of an electrifying spark penetrated his entire being because of his imprinting nature… how it connected him to you for as long as you live. “I will never lose you.”

Jimin can feel the way your body speaks to him. How together all your nerve endings and atoms feel as if they join like a perfect puzzle. It leads him further to your core, trailing his hand tentatively as he waits for a clear sign for him to continue.

He presses himself gently against you, showing you his growing need for you. The hardened appendage pokes you like a soft tapping on a door, trying to be as polite as possible.

You take his face in your hands, pulling him down for another emotional kiss. You nod to him, giving him the clearing to roam your most secretive bits.

After removing the access clothing from your legs, his fingertips glide up your inner thighs. He shivers when he inhales suddenly, taking in the small whiff of your scent. Instinctively, and almost casually, you bend your knee to allow more access for him.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over your core, brushing against the edges before feeling the slick heat from your lower lips. He teases you at first but not on purpose. Jimin swallows nervously, fighting with his body to remind himself to take things slow.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling at the plump piece of flesh as his index finger runs down your slit. You shutter with a breath of hot air blowing out, enjoying the foreign touch.

Unsure what to do with your hands, you begin to run them down his hard chest to mimic the similar style of approach he does on you. Though you’re halted the moment you hit his navel by his hand.

“Allow me to focus on you,” he requests in a soft tone. He raises your knuckles to his mouth where he plants a chaste kiss to them.

He suggests for your hands to remain away as he descends down the valley of your breasts. Each tender kiss he leaves to your feverish skin in the commute to your lower region has you squirming. You hoist the blankets over your body as Jimin disappears underneath them, taking the heat too. He’s able to maneuver skillfully between your legs, slotting himself neatly as you spread them wider.

You don’t get to see the way Jimin licks his lips when his eyes focus on your core for the first time. How your scent hits his nose at full force, reminding him how beautifully wet you’re becoming with the tension built up around you. His finger returns to you, sliding down your slit and nudging against your clit. It causes you to jolt, instinctively closing your legs around him as much as possible. But he keeps them open with his hands and body as he moves closer.

Peeking under the covers, you see the dark hair of Jimin sinking between the junction of your thighs. You capture the scene, branding it in your memory the moment Jimin’s mouth abruptly comes down on to your clit. You cry out, gripping the blankets in hard fists as his tongue languidly flicks over your sensitive bud as his finger teases your entrance.

“Shh,” he tries to tame you when he inserts his finger into you. You clench tightly, shift your legs even more as your body adjusts to Jimin.

He’s wondering what you’ll feel like if he inserts another, if it’ll pull another whimper and a moan from you. And he has to; to spread your entrance wider and stretch your walls open enough to allow him inside. Prepare your body for the intrusive thoughts bleeding into his mind of your body shaking under him with pleasure.

Jimin curls his fingers once he adds a second one into the mix, slowly pumping them in you at a steady pace as his lips caress your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks your bud so dangerously, it makes you cry out even louder and begins to disturb the silent winter morning air.

His free hand comes down to your waist to stop your hips from bucking into him. Jimin releases his mouth from you and calms his fingers as he hushes you once again.

“Quiet, Princess. Please.”

“Jimin, I-I’m-” You pant softly. Your chest shakes with the rise and fall and intense pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be sorry,” he interjects. Jimin slides himself up your body again while still securing his fingers inside your core. “I know it’s hard to not be loud.” He places a kiss to your cheek before finding your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his plump lips. Gently, he adds a third finger into your entrance and captures your whine with a sealed kiss.

He uses this moment to experimentally widen your walls with the scissoring effect of his fingers. Fighting off the impulsive clench your body naturally does. When his thumb presses into your clit your body jumps.

Your hands rush to his head, combing through his hair as you fight to anchor yourself on something.

Jimin winces from the strength and harsh pull, but he doesn’t let it bother his actions. Instead, he is kissing your neck again as his hand wraps around your back. He lifts you up like it’s easy until you’re straddling his lap, legs still parted wide for him. Jimin removes his fingers from you, allowing him to push you closer against his hardness. The contact makes his neglected member flinch with excitement.

Your cheeks prick with sparks of warmth as you look Jimin in the eyes again. Both completely naked and in each other's own embrace. Your hot slick presses against his shaft and Jimin cannot help but use his hand to push you into him again.

The blankets have fallen around the two of you, leaving Jimin’s strong muscles to hold you upright on top of him and exposed for him and only him.

“You can’t tell anyone…” he begins as his lips lock with yours. “What happens here must stay here.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” You ask, catching your breath in between kisses.

“Want and need are two different things.”

“I want both of those though,” you exclaim. “I want and need you, Jimin.”

He silences you again, but this time with his tongue. He dives deep into your mouth, groaning with the taste of you that excites him.

“Don’t ever speak of this,” he reminds you. “You mean more to me than you can ever imagine. You’re special to me, Y/n. You will always have me.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you hear his sincere words. Relief is an understatement. The reassurance and verbal notice of Jimin’s confession is enough to send you to cloud nine. His loyalty and dedication to your family's name isn’t the only thing he cares for. The importance of you and how you are something more to him sends your heart into eternal bliss. Maybe all it took is to finally hear it from the source.

“I’ve always loved you,” you declare as if Jimin never knew this himself.

He nods, leaning in to capture another kiss from you as your hands tugs on his shoulders. Your mouths move together so perfectly, reminding you how you want nothing more than to do this for the rest of your life. Lightly, your clit brushes against his hardened and untouched dick. The sensation of how close you are to it sends excitement through your body, arousing you more as you desperately rock against him for more stimulation with his help. Your slick drips along his lap, making the glide easier for you.

You admire the tip of his cockhead pointing up toward you, silently requesting to be touched.

“Help me,” you whisper as your legs try to help raise you above him.

Jimin positions his cock when you’re hovering over him. Your arousal drips teasingly over him, dressing the mushroom head of his tip in a shiny coat. He breathes out a strangled breath as the curse word ‘shit’ runs out of his lips.

Slowly, you drop down on Jimin’s cock. Allowing him to stretch you open as the first inches penetrate you. He holds you up, allows you to sink down at your own pace as both your mouths open with pleasurable surprise. A silent gasp leaves the two of you breathless as you sit flush against him, ignoring any prickling pain as your walls flutter around his cock. Squeezing and unsqueezing rigorously as your head tosses back with eyes screwed shut. Jimin groans with a string of incoherent words, muffled by the way he presses his lips into the side of your neck.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Knees already threatening to buckle and morph into jelly, your hands hold onto Jimin’s sturdy shoulders when you look down between the two of you. There’s fascination running through you as you watch the way your breasts rub against his chest each time your body moves down his; watching the way he disappears inside of you and filling you up.

The two of you moan in unison as you experimentally roll your hips into him. Jimin’s fingers tighten around your thighs, jerking his hips up to meet yours. He keeps a leisurely pace with you as he wishes nothing but to make you feel pleasurable. You can feel the way your orgasm slowly builds within you as you hold Jimin’s head closer against your neck. A desperate way of holding onto something while you begin to tremble with sensitivity.

“Is it too much?” He questions as he holds you impossibly closer to his body.

You breathe deeply, clutching his cock with your walls.

“No,” you choke out. “I need more.”

Jimin pulls you off of him to greet your face with his. He lays you down expertly, letting your body rest soft against the mattress again. Jimin is able to hook his arm around one of your legs and gently lifts it higher, testing the new angle and watching the way your face contorts with pleasure.

You cry out his name as you feel his cock run across a specific spot inside of you, making your toes curl and back arch. The sparks in your body flying like lightning in the sky.

There’s a tightness in your stomach that shoots down to your lower region, alerting you of your approaching orgasm. Jimin notices from the way you shake with each thrust he gives. He holds your legs wide, allowing deeper access to push into you as his abdomen flexes every time his body bangs into yours.

“Like this?” He breaths out, a glimpse of blue shining from his eyes.

“K-keep… Y-yes,” you moan, feeling him hit every mark with this new angle.

Jimin lowers himself down to catch your lips with his, closing your mouth and muffing your noises to the best of his abilities. He absolutely loves hearing the sounds of your whimpers and pleasure, but he’s not trying to allow everyone else to hear them.

Another quick and particular movement of Jimin’s hips has you coming undone beneath him, bucking your hips up to match his thrusts as you squeeze tight around him. You feel the way your nails dig into his shoulders as you shake uncontrollably as Jimin continues to thrust through your orgasm. The sounds of your bodies colliding heightens with squelching noises, your dripping arousal coating his entire pelvis and leaking onto the sheets below.

With a few more sharp thrusts, Jimin pulls out of you and spills his seed onto your stomach. Dressing your smooth skin with strings of milky residue. You catch the ending bit, watching the way his cum spurts out of his cockhead as Jimin presses his pelvis down, using both him and you to squeeze his slick-hardened cock.

Jimin moans with you, still molding your lips together as he holds you close to him. When the two of you calm down from the euphoric sensations, he places his forehead against yours. He looks down at you with soft and serene eyes. Filled with love and adoration. This new sense of energy and vulnerability flows through him.

It’s happiness he shares with you when you both shyly smile at another. Ignoring all the heated labor breathes and dampened hairlines. You get lost in his eyes, wishing that the crisp amber coloring is the solution to all your worries and problems. And in some ways – they are.

“I love you.”

Jimin speaks calmly as he declares his emotions for you. His lips press into yours once more to seal his statement.

You can’t help but look up at him with watery eyes. You want to burst into a full blown cry when you see the way his eyes glisten too, but you don’t. Not wanting to spoil the moment of sincerity for either of you.

“I love you too,” you respond as you brush strands of fringe away from his softening face. It’s almost long enough to tuck behind his ear, which you scowl when you watch the piece fall right back in his face.

You share a soft chuckle with him as he moves slowly, making sure to not spread the mess on your stomach everywhere.

“I’ll clean us up and we can go back to resting for a bit.”

“Okay,” you smile softly. Your hands begin to cover yourself the further Jimin pulls away from your body.

Jimin is quick to find a feasible cloth from the corner of the room and just as fast to return to you on the bed. He wipes you off first, as he should, before cleaning himself. He kneels down on the mattress as you try to subtly admire his entire naked body. Realizing he is still so unfairly beautiful without the suited armor and clothing he usually wears.

“I should have you know, now that you’re awake…” he huffed a laugh. Jimin slides himself under the covers, meeting your body with his. His arm crosses over your torso, hand running down the other side of you until he pulls you close by the waist. “Your family is safe. We defeated the threat last night and your castle will undergo some reconstruction from the damages. But everything is maintained again. I’m sure we will have to return within the day.”

The news makes you happy. The outcome could have been far worse in many ways. But hearing these words from Jimin is comforting. It makes you proud and grateful for him. You aren’t sure what the future will bring. How this dreamy secret must never be spoken about. What this could all mean now. But what you do know, is that he loves you too, and that is enough for now.

Moodboard credit: @/kth1

#safe haven #kth1fics #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #park jimin #jimin #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin pwp #jimin oneshot #jimin imagines #jimin drabble #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #jimin au #bts fanfic #btspwp #werewolf jimin #btscreaturescoven

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magicicephoenix · 9 months

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Friendship - The Ink Demonth 2023 (#2)

An unlikely friendship… or, perhaps, one that should’ve been long anticipated.

(or: this prompt was practically made for them, how could I not?)

#the ink demonth #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy #the ink demon #toony #ath au #doodle dump #almost posted without any ink shines and immediately hit the brakes #them! them! i love them so much #ft bendy’s absolutely messed up leg. sorry dude. no reliable balance for you #drawing prompt

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sweetainwen · 7 months

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ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴsɪɢʜᴛ [WANDERER/SCARAMOUCHE]

Summary: the creator just wanted to find the reason for that system error, but she had brought with her an unwanted insight into the game itself, causing a dangerous and unexpected collapse within him.

Pairings: yandere!Scaramouche/Wanderer x fem!OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: sagau, yandere!au, isekai!au, futuristic!au, sci-fi!au.

Warnings: jealous!wanderer, fluff, angst, d^aths (no blood tho), wanderer losing his mind, noncon kissing.

SUMERU ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

I STARTED WRITING THIS BEFORE THE FONTAINE RELEASE, SO IT'S NOT PRESENT

THE WANDERER'S NAME IS THE ONE I CHOOSE (IT MEANS "LIGHT", "RADIANCE")

Word count: 12k+

A hand gently, lightly brushing his hair. The humming of a sweet, soothing tune tickling his ears. A smile, a face, a calm voice and muffled words.

His eyes struggled to focus.

Everything was blurry, but he could catch those details of the one who was tenderly lulling him.

She was moving her lips, she was talking. but he did not understand. He was still groggy. Nevertheless, he sensed it.

It was home.

“Here, your food.”

He snapped his eyes open, staring at the bowl in front of him before looking up at the arm holding the item and finally at the person sitting to his left on a medium tree trunk.

The Wanderer saw her give him a surprised look, blinking.

“Oh, sorry, did you fall asleep?”

He let out a grunt, almost snatching the bowl out of her hand and spilling out its contents, causing her to gasp slightly.

“My, how grumpy,” she snickered amusedly. “It seems like I'm putting you through torture. You can't call me a bad cook, big hat guy.”

He took the spoon between his fingers, sighing annoyed at the way he had been called for the thousandth time, “Quit with that name.”

“I would if I had a real name to call you by,” she shrugged with a smirk on her face, the spoon playing with the food in the bowl. “But since you won't tell me, I had to give you one. It suits you, doesn't it?”

Her eyes were fixed on his hat at that question, and the Wanderer preferred to ignore it, causing her to put on a feigned pout.

She took a bite of her lunch, "Is this how you treat your travel companion?"

“You are not.”

“But we are traveling together to Sumeru!”

“You have decided to join. Without my consent,” he reminded her, his gaze now on her.

“You didn't refuse though.”

This time her sullen face was genuine.

He stared at her without arguing back, the impulse to leave her there on the spot taking over. However it dissipated shortly after the lively gleam in her eyes struck him.

Again.

“Stop talking and eat up. We need to get back on the road.”

He brought his gaze back to the food, but he could feel the young woman's victorious smile.

She was truly a whirlwind in perpetual motion. She got into constant trouble between hilichurls, treasure hoarders, and even fatui.

It was better to call her a loose cannon.

That was just how he had met her several days before, though the hilarious part was that the hoarders were running away from her.

And he even ended up in the middle of their battle when those bandits had tried to use him as a shield.

It had been a scene comical enough to almost make him sneer.

And that was when she proclaimed herself as his travel companion, since they had to go the same way.

“Have you gone freaking nuts?” he blurted out with crossed arms.

She blinked before putting on a huge smile, “Why not?”

“I could kill you too.”

“You don't seem like a bad guy at all, hat guy," she shook her head, stretching her hand toward him and eyes twinkling like stars. “I'm Clara. No last name, just Clara. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

And he had let her come with him.

He felt a kind of force drawing him toward the young woman. He could not respond in any other way to her gestures and words than with indulgence.

And it irked him that it was no problem for him.

Those eyes on him now accentuated the annoyance he had been feeling for the past few days.

As a result, he put into action what he thought whenever he was stared at intensely by her before continuing on his journey.

A movement of his hand was enough to create a vortex that surrounded the young woman and carried her away from him.

The gasp of surprise and words of displeasure never failed to be heard.

But she always managed to return and take him wherever she wanted to go.

Such as booking a room at an inn for the night.

“Using your element to get rid of me is completely pointless. You are perfectly aware that I'd be back on my feet in no time,” Clara sneered at him, sitting on the windowsill with one leg toward her chest as he lay on the bed far from the open window.

“And you acknowledge the fact that I could harm you with that.”

She giggled in response, and he saw that particular glint in her eyes again that if he could lose his breath, it would have happened by now. The smile that followed it made the picture even more vivid.

“You would have already done what you had to do, Hikaru.”

He frowned, astonishment at hearing that name, “What?”

“Oh. Calling you big hat guy all the time doesn't seem appropriate, and since you won't tell me your name, I decided to give you a real one. Why?” She brought her arm on her knee before resting her chin on it. “You don't like it?”

“Why that name?”

This time, the smile she showed him was a sweet one, devoid of any malice.

“Because you remind me of how a person can emanate their own light, and head towards the end,” she explained in a soft voice, her face now turned up to the night sky. “Like a bright star high in the sky.”

Silence filled the room.

The Wanderer did not know what to answer, and he did not want to answer. The name said so lightly, but with meaning, was the same one the traveler had given him.

It was so strange.

“Although... these stars and this sky seem to have something wrong with them.”

The Wanderer sat on the edge of the bed, confused by the sudden change of subject, “Wrong how?”

He watched carefully as her expression became thoughtful, almost serious, absorbed in finding an explanation.

“It's as if ... you want to go one way, but you are pushed in another. Determined to follow that set thought of yours, but it gets diverted, and you don't know whether to continue or not. A false sense of control. A purpose-built hope.”

She went back to look at him. And the feeling he got from it was totally different.

She seemed to be observing him, seeking something deep within him. Like an astrologist reading your future.

“Well, it's probably just my mindless reasoning," she shrugged, her facial features softening. “I'm going to go to sleep now. Good night, Hikaru.”

And as she got up and headed for her bed, that feeling vanished along with her no longer being in his line of sight.

He lay back down again, confused for the umpteenth time by their interactions. There was definitely a double meaning in what she had said, and he even began to believe that it had some connection to the reason for her journey to Sumeru.

And at that point, after days and nights together, he was wondering: what was she looking for?

Everything was dark, he could see nothing. He could only hear murmurs and noises.

But then there was a gentle touch, his hair being tousled by her hand.

All went quiet, and a faint, sweet chuckle echoed in that darkness before making way for a soft, muffled voice.

He felt it. Deafening and overpowering. That strange feeling.

“You're such a good boy.”

Like it was home.

He snapped his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was Clara’s surprised and slightly worried face.

“Is everything all right?”

Disoriented, he tried to grasp the situation. One of her hands was at the side of his head, while the other was in his. He couldn’t blink.

And Clara, surely noticing his inquisitive look, was quick to explain.

“I saw you stirring in your sleep. I thought you were having a nightmare so I tried to wake you up, but you grabbed my hand,” she showed him their intertwined hands. “Then I tried to soothe you with caresses and reassuring words. And it worked.”

She gave him a smile, but he said nothing. He only stared at her.

Clara tilted her head slightly to the side at that reaction, not understanding what else he wanted to know. Or he probably didn't believe what she had told him.

She did not give it much thought.

When Clara felt his grip loosen, she gently freed her hand from his, standing up.

“I brought your breakfast. It’s on the bedside table. Eat with no rush, I’m going downstairs.”

And she walked on, closing the door behind her.

The Wanderer sat at the edge of the bed and sighed deeply, his eyes going to the tray with his breakfast mentioned by Clara.

He had been experiencing those moments for days now. It was beyond annoying.

Dreams that showed scenarios that then affected him emotionally and psychologically when he woke up. Not just any scenes, but of himself in situations that seemed familiar despite the fact that he had never actually experienced them.

Memories.

It was also strange and impossible. Because he was a puppet. He could not sleep, consequently neither could he dream. However, he was doing both, and he was unaware of how he was doing it.

What was he to expect now? That he would no longer have to pretend that he had to eat?

Of one thing he was sure though. It had all started after the arrival of the one he was now watching chatting and giggling with an inn employee outside the inn after leaving the room.

He sensed it. That greater force pushing him back toward her.

Uncontrollable and domineering.

And another emotion mixed with it. An emotion so strong that he wanted to rip off the head of that young man standing too much close to her.

Instead, he moved closer, catching their attention, and with a movement of his fingers, he made a vortex appear around the young woman that dragged her away from the guy, leaving both of them stunned and confused.

And after throwing a glance that made the unfortunate man shudder, he went behind the whirlwind with Clara rolling her eyes.

He just sneered, feeling a little better. Clara huffed after being released far from the inn, adjusting her disheveled clothes and walking toward the direction they had come from.

Knowing her intentions, he stepped in front of her and before she could even open her mouth to argue, he revealed the object of interest and threw it at her, watching as she tried hard not to drop it.

“Your bag,” he informed her, putting a hand on his hip.

She just shot him a glare, her eyes almost twitching.

“What am I surprised about? Your social skills certainly can't improve in a snap of the fingers,” she muttered displeased, fixing her shoulder bag over one shoulder and checking the contents for possible breakage. “Be more careful when holding other people’s things! And stop frightening people for no reason at all! Poor guy was praying that he wouldn't end up in pieces.”

He did not speak, resuming his walk as if he had heard nothing.

“Ignoring my words, are you?” she gave up, going after him.

“Just a little while and we will arrive at our destination,” was what he communicated instead.

He suddenly felt himself grabbed by the arm, almost causing him to lose his balance, and caught her radiant face a few inches away from his.

He could tell he had had a heart attack at this.

“Really?! Finally! Then we must hurry, I can’t wait to get there!”

He frowned, trying to break free from her grasp, but was taken aback by her sudden jerk forward before she started running and dragging him with her.

She was too enthusiastic for his liking, a child in an adult's body. Hopping here and there like a rabbit with a goofy smile and sparkling eyes through the streets of Sumeru.

He felt like a nanny and couldn't say he was pleased about it.

“Sumeru is just as it was portrayed to me. I love it!”

“Your elation over a city is quite childlike. I could swear I'm dealing with a child.”

She hopped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and puffing out her cheeks, “And you’re too edgy and grumpy for my liking. Change your mood when you’re with me. I won’t tolerate a gloomy atmosphere.”

“You’re such a-“

“Cute, lovable, little person? I am, thanks for noticing that, Hikaru.”

She stuck out her tongue at him before a smile spread across her face, and he grimaced at what he called her antics. Realizing the presence of the god of wisdom coming toward them with her lips upward instead made him roll his eyes.

“I take great pleasure in seeing that you have finally found yourself a friend.”

That sweet, little voice made Clara turn around, and was taken aback as soon as she saw who was before her.

The Wanderer placed one hand on his hip, shaking his head at her words, “You shouldn’t.”

Nahida slightly giggled, shifting her focus on the young woman by his side, conscious of how she struggled to conceal her astonishment and nervousness in her presence.

“I’m- I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Dendro Archon! I’m… I’m Clara!”

“Very delighted to meet you, Clara.” She almost cooed at her reaction. “I’m hoping he’s not causing you any distress.”

She gesticulated, eyes wide open, “Oh! Of course, he isn’t! Our traveling proceeded smoothly! Not one person was the victim of his aggressive look or word!”

The Wanderer gave her a look and Clara pressed her lips together after the gaffe she had made.

The little Archon cocked her head to the side, entertained by their interaction. But the most interesting behavior was that of the former balladeer, somehow influenced by the young woman to be more calm and condescending.

“You seem to get along pretty well.”

The duo looked at her, baffled. Before they could comment, the clatter of rapidly approaching wheels against the ground alerted the young man.

His hand was quick to rest on her hip, bringing her closer to himself and thus preventing her from being run over by the wooden cart.

The man carrying it apologized several times under Hikaru’s grim gaze, and Clara and Nahida’s surprised eyes before going on his way.

Clara thanked him and, moving slightly away from him, turned to Nahida with a curious look, “There is a lot of movement around. Is there any celebration going on?”

“A festival. Would you like to partecipate?”

Her eyes sparkled, “Can I really?”

“There is no prohibition on this,” Nahida giggled. “Everyone is welcome. With Hikaru's company, it will be easier to integrate.”

“Excuse me?” his eyebrow shot up.

“She’s not familiar with Sumeru. Consequently, someone who is should be her guide.”

It wasn't the beaming face and the implied order of the Dendro Archon, it was Clara's eyes filled with expectation and eagerness to witness a common joy that dragged him through the stalls ― one of which she had almost ended up being scammed and if it hadn't been for her stopping him, he would have probably literally blown up every one of his pieces for sale and the seller himself ― and ultimately among the people moving to the beat of the music.

But he had stood on the sidelines, leaning against a tree and watching as she laughed and got involved with the locals. On her head the hat she had snatched from him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Her face that showed eyes like sparkling gems filled with life, red cheeks, and lips fully spread in a joyful smile.

She was some sort of flower in the midst of the desert. You found it strange that it was there and at the same time you thought it was wonderful to see it there.

It led you to get closer and stand there admiring it. To cup your hands at its sides and hide it from any intruder.

A sight that you wanted only yours to witness.

And the way he was thinking irked him.

His ears sensed a shift in the air, and Hikaru was able to quickly catch the hat Clara had thrown at him with one hand.

“Guess you’re not fond of festivals. Or should I say people in general?” she remarked, moving to his side and placing her elbow on his shoulder. “Oh, look! I can touch your shoulder even like this!” she added in mock surprise.

He didn't speak, but Clara saw him raise his arm slightly and form a small swirl of air from his hand. She stepped back just far enough not to be blown away with her hands in surrender ― although she didn't think he would really do that.

She tried not to laugh, but it was impossible.

And it was in that instant that Hikaru saw all around her become blurred and overlaid by an environment all too familiar to him. Her clothes replaced by others and her laughter accentuated.

It echoed in his ears. Overbearing, piercing.

It mixed with the muffled music and chatter in the background of the festival.

A desperate cry broke in, words overlapping each other. Distorted and almost inaudible.

His head began to ache, his eyes squinted, and an annoying ringing thrummed in his ears.

And it became more and more unbearable.

He wanted it to stop. It fucking hurt.

“Please! Please, don’t leave me!”

“Are you all right?”

The suffering vanished as soon as her hands touched his cheeks, bringing him back to the present.

“It's better if you reach a quieter place. Or maybe go straight to bed. It's pretty late, I'd say.”

He didn’t utter a word, completely disoriented by this event. And with no hesitation, he agreed with her suggestion, leaving that chaotic place under Clara’s attentive eyes.

She crossed her arms pensively.

“I assume that your research is not bearing fruit, given the way the situation is somewhat out of control.”

Clara looked at the Dendro Archon beside her, blinking away the fear from her eyes and with a hand on her chest the near heart attack she had from her sudden arrival.

“Don’t ever do that again if you do not wish for my death!” She exhaled, “I cannot ask such questions without having at least a phase of knowledge and trust between us. It will just take a little longer because of his wariness. Nothing is out of control. What gave you this impression?”

Nahida didn’t look away from the crowd and Clara followed suit, “Is this the first time he has shown himself like that?”

Realizing that she was referring to how Hikaru had grabbed his head with one hand and his face had distorted in pain, Clara cocked her head to the side, not sure how to respond.

“I think it is. Although he had a pretty awful nightmare last night. He wouldn't stop squirming and at one point wouldn't even let go of my hand. The situation is indeed quite strange.” She shook her head, crossing her arms again, “He should not experience this kind of thing; he is a puppet. Still, seeing him trying to hide it is very amusing.”

She smiled, amused by the memory of him eating and sleeping like a normal human being.

Nahida hummed thoughtfully, “It may be a consequence of your closeness.”

Her gaze ended on her again, and Nahida did the same.

“You two share something deep,” she replied at her silent question. Something that both unites and changes you.”

“Like… a connection? Are you trying to say that because of this connection that we have,” she pointed at herself in a surprised manner. “I am instigating a change in him? He forgets everything if I get out of the game and then remember again if I go back in?”

“A deep connection. The more you feel, the more intriguing and dear is something or someone to you,” she clarified her hypothesis. “You must remember your effect on the people of this world. Your presence can be sensed by every single individual here. You are the creator. A powerful figure, more than us Archons. We are not fully aware of the influence of each of your actions. And I forewarned you of my inability to help you in such dangerous cases. What I see is total blackness; you are not part of this world. That’s why you have to be careful not to ruin the balance of Teyvat more than Dottore and Wanderer have discovered. Do it for the sake of all of us.”

Clara let out a sigh, and nodded.

Her voice was sweet and gentle, but the weight of the words spoken was not light.

The things that were taking form in this game were not supposed to occur. Having real interactions with people here was not an expected possibility, because it was a game.

A game that she herself had given shape to and was having huge success.

She was living in an era where technology was overdeveloped, it could very well be compared to a sci-fi movie. Time travel had been discovered, even flowing into parallel universes. Computers were no longer cumbersome but a small device that showed you in hologram what you wanted, like the keyboard and the mouse itself.

Being a video game producer, she had in mind a game that would bring back the old days, a gacha style of gaming that had gone out of fashion long centuries before, leaving only complete games to continue through time.

Thus, she had shared with her co-founders this idea of hers, which was accepted with some misgivings.

She did not have many expectations either, nevertheless people had liked it, taking her by surprise. Probably because this generation had never seen any, except in documentaries or such, and wanted to experience what it was like to live in an earlier era.

Some time after the game was released, she had thought of creating a more realistic alternative of it using VR headsets to engage even those who had felt no interest.

However, something had gone wrong, because she had experienced firsthand one of the scenes she had intended to include in the game that was still far from being added: the Tatarasuna Mistery. In which a mysterious disease had infected, killed many locals and scarred Hikaru to the core.

She hadn’t been an exception.

The crying, suffering, screams, desperation.

It had been too much to watch and had nearly given her a panic attack.

And she had done the only thing she believed was right: use her VR headset to get out of there. When she did, she was wearing the clothes of that world and had some small wounds on her feet from running on the ground barefoot in terror.

It was then that she realized she had created a parallel universe of that game. The game codes had been mixed up and incorporated by the three-dimensional-capable machine she had used as a technical test, bringing to life the scenarios that were still being designed.

This discovery was too dangerous to share; in fact, they decided never to talk about it again. The fright and concern her co-founders had felt after seeing her in that state had been enough to agree to keep quiet about the matter.

Unfortunately, a problem occurred when an event came out further on, in which Scaramouche, the sixth fatui harbinger, made his first appearance.

Some of the scenes were not what they were supposed to be. They had changed. Scaramouche should not have said that the sky was fake, a hoax. But they had let it go; it gave a sense of mystery and decided to go with the flow.

After that, Il Dottore said the same words. It was not a simple concidence. Her game had a reality on its own and was writing its own story. Even their employees were beginning to detect strange things.

She wanted to solve the issue, but she did not know whether destroying that universe would bring consequences in the game and be discovered by the S.T.C.C.O., the Spatio-Temporal Continuum Control Organization.

Wandering between worlds must be authorized by them to prevent ill-intentioned people from changing parts of history for selfish purposes, and if they did not show permission they could shut the company down.

Risking a life of progress was out of the question, consequently the only option was to look for a foothold in that same world and figure out how to fix it against the disagreement of her co-founder friends.

The only way she believed possible was to ask for help from the one who had wisdom and knowledge on her side, The Dendro Archon Lesser Lord Kusanali.

She smiled. Kind, welcoming. And a small movement of her head in a reverent greeting.

“Welcome, outsider.”

She was petrified of Nahida’s awareness of her. It showed her skill as the ruler of a region, but it was all the same frightening how her identity could be so easily discovered.

She found out later that not everyone could do that, only the archons, so she had breathed a sigh of relief, hoping, however, that she would not one day end up buried alive for all the pain they had felt because of her.

Her explanation of the events, where she came from and who she was, had left Nahida speechless. She had understood she was a foreigner, but not the significance of her presence there.

Everything about the young woman had some kind of wall blocking any outside access, and the reason she could not was precisely her provenance.

The Dendro Archon had then taken her to Hikaru while he was still Scaramouche, and the sight of him lying unconscious after the battle with the traveler had made quite an impression on her.

Everything here was real; you could talk to them, joke with them, touch them.

Remorse had made its way into her, and unconsciously she had approached and reassured him of his rebirth.

He was now Hikaru, the Wanderer.

She still had to find out what made him think everything was fake before releasing another region and archon quests, though it was proving quite difficult to do so.

She just had to try several times in different ways until he gave in.

That was why she had asked Nahida to send him on a trip and have them meet in the least forced way.

It would have taken her longer, but since in this universe time seemed to pass as it did in his game and unlike his world, she didn't mind.

The same could not be said of her indecision about whether or not to knock on the door of the room where Hikaru had decided to rest.

She could feel tension in the air. It was strange. And… intimidating.

Especially after talking to Nahida.

“Are you coming in or not? Don’t have any hands to open the door?”

She almost let out a scream at this sudden voice, a hand on her chest.

The way both of them made her almost die of a heart attack from a fright was really impressive.

Opening the door slightly, she let only her head pop out, almost shy, "I just wanted to know if you're feeling better."

“What do you think?” He articulated sharply, not even glancing at her.

“Well…” She entered the room, walking towards the bed where he was sitting and standing a short distance from him, “Is it a headache? Do you want me to fetch some medicine?”

“It’s not necessary. It will go away on its own.”

“Oh, good.”

Silence built between them.

Perhaps it had not been a good idea to visit him now, he was definitely not in the mood for small talk or anything else ― as he always was ― but she could not leave him alone.

“What’s your purpose here?”

After the initial moment of stupor, with a blink of her eyes, she could only say, “What?”

He looked at her, and almost took a step back because of how dull his eyes were.

“Sumeru probably has something to do with your traveling. What is it that you’re looking for?”

That was totally unexpected.

She thought she would have to work her way up to simply have a reply from him without creating suspicions. Even though it didn’t look like there wasn’t any from his intense gaze.

“Answers.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight hint of amusement in his hollow eyes at her short response, “Answers. To what? The bright star high in the sky and the feeling of being controlled?”

He was definitely mocking her and the metaphor she used to express her opinion.

“Precisely that one.” She tilted her head to the side, “What do you think about it?”

“Everyone is controlled by someone one way or another. Willingly or unwillingly.”

“That makes sense. But how are you aware of that control? What signs do you see to come to that conclusion?”

“I don't know. Your instincts?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again, sighing slightly.

It was too good to be true. It was Hikaru they were talking about. The personality could not change.

She had a pang in her heart. She had given him that personality, like every character in the game. She had caused trauma and tragic experiences.

And that struck even deeper.

Everything in the palm of her hand, but as soon as something was out of control she wanted to fix it right away.

It was also a logical consequence of her work environment; she could leave nothing to chance.

The guilt still consumed her from the inside.

She realized only now how they had remained silent and with their eyes on each other.

He seemed to want to peer deep into her. To look for behavioral changes, for a weakness, to give certainty to doubts.

Or perhaps she was influenced by her own guilt.

It was suffocating.

Her hand moved, slowly, giving the puppet the choice to shrug it off, but he did not. It rested on his head and began to gently caress it.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a faint whisper, but a strange glint flashed through his eyes at it.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, just… I’m sorry.”

It had been spontaneous. She wanted to tell him, even though he did not understand the act.

And again, the same gaze as a few moments ago was on her. This time it was less oppressive and more… soft.

He reached for the arm of her hand still on his head and put it down, before pulling her close to him and resting his head on her stomach. His arms wrapping around her waist.

The word astonishment did not fully describe how she felt about this gesture.

It was completely out of character. Nonetheless, she had to remind herself that he was no longer a mere character in a game and that anyone who got an aloof, arrogant and conceited attitude could fall apart.

As a result, she encircled his head with her arms, attempting to convey comfort and reassurance.

She felt his grip on her waist tighten slightly, but was completely oblivious to the effect her words had on him… and the sudden change in his eyes hidden from her sight.

Thus, when he was standing at her heels the following days, it had her somewhat confused.

Scratch that. It was really confusing how calm and kind he had become to her.

It was likely due to that moment they shared together a few nights before, but the shift was…

Well, at least he had not completely changed; that would have been unsettling.

But she did not expect that he would even lie beside her on the grass, on a small slanted ledge of a hill, to watch the sunset together.

A bird flew in front of her and, following it with her eyes, she saw how it landed on Hikaru's head.

He sighed but did nothing to get it off.

It wasn't the first time this had happened; even if he tried to make it leave, he wouldn't succeed like he did with the others, and that made her laugh.

“They love you, huh?”

He didn't look at her, “Shut up.”

“Never.”

He raised his hand, ready to make her fly faster than a bird, but she surrendered by shaking hers.

“Oh, my! You should calm your horses! There's beautiful nature here contributing to a breathtaking view and you want to sweep it away? That's so cruel!”

“I eliminate possible contamination.”

She blinked, “Wait. Me?”

With his eyes now on her, he cocked an eyebrow matter-of-factly, “Who else? The bird? Is your brain a decoration by any chance?”

She snorted, sitting down on the grass, “Then you should avoid associating with a person who has her brain as a decoration. That way you can avoid becoming dumb yourself.”

She was about to get up, but Hikaru's hand putting her back down blocked her from doing so.

And without saying anything, she smiled, bringing her arms under her head again and closing her eyes. A slight smile took up the young man's lips; she would not find out though, for it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

And after he did not know how long, heavy breathing of a sleeping person could be heard instead, and when he looked to his left, Clara was completely in dreamland.

Hikaru let out a small snort of disbelief at the scene.

The sound of stepping on grass behind him caught his attention.

“You like her company now, don't you?”

He sat up, watching the bird finally fly away, “She is bearable.”

Nahida giggled, “So bearable to follow her around, right?”

He reimaned silent as he got up and brushed off his clothes from the dirt, but didn't miss to give her a side-eye.

The little Dendro Archon observed as a small wind began to rise with a movement of his hand, lifting Clara into the air and carrying her directly into his arms; one below the crook of her knees and the other wrapping around her back. Her head drooping before resting on his chest.

With a nod toward her as a sign of goodbye, he jumped up into the air and flew away, leaving her alone.

Along with her worries.

She sighed slightly, “Seriously, I hope nothing happens.”

It could not be said that something was not wrong, as doubts had crept into Hikaru's mind anyway.

Such an answer as Clara's would have pleased no one; it was too vague.

That was why he had changed his attitude a bit, to get more informations.

Laying her on her bed, he took the bag off her shoulder without waking her and sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze drawn as always to her face.

He had a gut feeling of her being involved in those chaotic and confusing fragments of situations he was recalling, although there was a certain confidence ― which by now had wavered ― that he had never experienced them.

Getting closer was the best method to piece together those called fragments, but the more he did, the harder it was to detach and stay focused.

She was the one distracting him.

A few strands of her hair had fallen across her face, and his hand reached out to move them aside. After that he heaved a sigh, realizing that he had been staring at her for he did not know how long before he recovered from that strange state of daze.

He was definitely losing his mind.

He stood up and walked over to the chair placed by the door to put Clara's bag, which he still had in his hand, on it.

Before he could open the door a sudden noise stopped him. It had echoed in his mind, like a jingle.

Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Another forgotten memory.

Looking behind him, he spotted the bag upturned on the ground with something out of it. It almost seemed to shimmer under the moonlight coming in through the open window.

And as soon as he took the fallen object in his hands his brows furrowed.

It was big, almost as big as half his head, and black. There was some kind of rope tied to the ends of it and eyes in the center of that small bizarre thing.

He recalled Clara’s exaggerated care for her bag, figuring now that it was most likely for this item and its possible fragility.

The more he stared at it, the more there was something tickling his mind.

And it turned into a deafening ringing that caused him to blink several times before he heard a muffled voice and saw blurred images of that same object and a young woman showing how to use it.

“Bring this to the back of your head, then this to the front.”

Like a puppet, he led that rope behind his head and the large part in front of his eyes. It fit like a glove.

“And press the button on the left side.”

He skimmed lightly for a prominent spot until he found it.

Through that device, a spiral of colors appeared before his eyes as the ground beneath his feet seemed to disappear into thin air before he felt it again.

Now he could only see white, and he quickly took that thing off, finding himself in a completely white and empy small room. A sliding metal door opened ahead of him and he hesitantly stepped out.

What he saw left him totally shocked.

There were pictures and drawings of a lot of people posted on the walls, but the ones he recognized immediately were Lesser Lord Kusanali, the Raiden Shogun, the traveler, their fellow flying being.

And himself. In all his forms.

To his left was a chair that had small wheels instead of feet and a kind of desk with another strange invention on it; there were almost transparent windows in which one showed a picture of flowers and writing in a small square while the other showed letters and symbols.

They were not part of the alphabet of the Teyvat language, so he could not tell which letters they were.

Next to them was yet another one with an almost mouse-like shape.

Attracted, he tried to press the arrow symbol pointing to the left located in the middle of that rectangular window, and a female voice suddenly boomed in the room.

She had used a welcoming tone, however, he did not understand what she had said except for a few words.

Xu Shi Han.

He was sure it was a name.

It was then that his gaze landed on a frame. A picture frame where Clara was smiling together with other people.

What was a picture of her doing here? Was he going insane?

Where the heck was he?

Raising his head, he looked out of that large window that gave a view of huge, long, light-filled buildings and the dark sky.

This made him come to a realization.

He was in another world.

He looked at the picture frame again.

Clara’s world.

She had gotten to Teyvat with that same machine that had taken him here.

He clutches on it still in his hand, overwhelmed by that discovery.

Then who was Xu Shi Han? A friend of hers? A workmate? Both?

Or was this all a hallucination?

Sudden sequences occupied his mind, almost causing him to lose his balance and grunt from the incessant pounding in his head.

He cast a glance at the device in his hand and decided to go back and ask the young woman for an explanation.

It was better to be direct this time, she might even have a solution for those headaches and disconnected memories.

It was beginning to irritate him.

However, as soon as he entered that white room again, put the object on and pressed the button, he had to grit his teeth and hold his head.

It felt like it was being hammered. Repeatedly and relentlessly.

A searing burning melting his brain until it reached his legs, which gave way under the weight of the pain.

There were voices.

It was unbearable!

Voices. Images.

He wanted it to stop!

Giggles. Cries. Screams.

Stop! Enough! No!

Please!

He inhaled deeply and his eyes were drawn to someone standing in front of him with their back to him.

Trees, plants and bushes began to dip into scenery.

Tilting his head to the side, curiosity crept in at the sight of that person dressed in clothes he had never seen before.

She had also removed something black and large from her head and was looking around. He could only see half of her face but wonder and excitement were visible on it despite standing slightly away from him.

Adjusting the basket full of harvested fruit on his hip, he moved a foot forward but found a small tree branch under it, alerting the young woman who spun around at the noise.

It was like being struck by a lightining. She was really beautiful.

“Oh, forgive me! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” he exclaimed in a soft voice, shaking his head. Confusion was visible in her features, and his fingers began to play with part of the rim of the basket, feeling shy, “Are you lost, by any chance?”

She let out a sigh, “I… think so. Am I on a island?”

Even her voice was melodious.

“You are. Kannazuka, more specifically in Tatarasuna.”

He saw her eyes widen and look at him intently, almost as if she wanted to see through him.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Kabukimono, pleased to meet you!” he smiled, enthusiastic about making new acquaintances. “And you are?”

She seemed to have relaxed a little, smiling back at him, “Shi Han. The pleasure is all mine, Kabukimono.”

Technically it was not a lie, yet she was puzzled by the situation because it was not supposed to start that way.

Had she gotten the main settings wrong? A reversed scenario loading? She recalled checking several times before putting the machine into operation.

Glancing one more time at the trees, the bushes, with the chirping of the birds around and the sound of their shoes against the ground, the feeling of experiencing such a realistic sensory stimulus never ceased to charm her.

Her gaze fell on the puppet leading the way to the village after telling her that she could stay with them as long as she wanted. The shy but lively way he interacted with her turned the corner of her lips upward.

“We’re here!” he informed her, quickening his pace.

Chatter and laughter reached her ears, and she stepped out of the way in time to avoid being bumped by two children chasing each other.

She followed Kabukimono with her eyes as he walked over to this familiar young man with a red lock of hair to show him the basket of fruits, being repaid with a smile and probably words of praise.

After that, his attention switched to her, thus bringing the other to look at her as well, and she decided to approach for introductions. She then understood why he looked familiar; he was Niwa Hisahide, the one she would blame for the island tragedy in the game.

They appeared like real people. Having them face her really did have a strange effect.

She certainly could not say that they were fictitious characters and was trying out the game in virtual reality to attract more players, so she had opted for a simpler and quite believable explanation: she was traveling but had gotten lost and her possessions had been stolen.

She had also immediately found a bag to put her VR headset in to avoid curious questions.

Kabukimono had already thrown a quizzical look at it, which was not supposed to happen, since it was not meant to be exposed to the eyes of the characters.

Even if there were inventions here, explaining the use of a VR headset could have involved complications in the game which she was not inclined to have.

Everything had to go smoothly, and her intent had been achieved.

She wore the local clothes, got along well with the villagers, and helped with whatever errands were available.

Still, Kabukimono's reluctant behavior around her had not escaped her notice.

Conversations were brief ― almost nonexistent ― and he would run off, yet he had been so friendly during the first meeting.

These interactions were odd; she did not remember including them as options. Actually, nothing was as she recollected setting them up.

As he was now with the elderly women who spoke to him as he smiled and listened eagerly.

“Don't worry. He had these reactions with us at first too,” Niwa's voice caught her attention as the young man walked up beside her with a hand on his hip. "He just needs some time, you'll see how he won't pull away again."

"But it's been days," she sighed. "And I'm not doing who knows what action to deserve this attitude again. I'm approaching in a gentle way."

He hummed thoughfully, “You are right about that. But... it may be that you are different.”

“Different?”

He smiled, “Sometimes we have different impressions of some people. Honestly speaking, yours leaves its mark, Shi Han. You release positive energy that relaxes and makes one feel at home. Apparently, your energy has a powerful effect on him and that makes him shy and clumsy.” Niwa chuckled at the dumbfounded face she had while he was talking, and shoved the sheath with the sword inside into her hands. “Now take this and hand it to him. He lost his previous sword and had asked me to forge another.”

Awakening from her initial astonishment, she tried to speak but he was already on his way.

So she huffed out a laugh and the only thing she said to him was a "thank you!" to which he responded with a shake of his hand.

She hadn't really noticed that he had a sword in his other hand, caught up as she was in the Kabukimono dilemma.

Niwa's confession had left her speechless. So much for the fictional character!

If they had told her that she would hear such a thing from a nonexistent person, she would have laughed in their faces.

Glancing at Kabukimono, she caught him staring at her before returning his eyes to the women who were walking away after the talk ended. She almost chuckled as she walked toward him to fulfill her errand.

“Hi. Here, from Niwa,” she spoke kindly, showing him the weapon he then took from her hands.

“Thank you,” it was almost a whisper.

“I heard you practice sword dance. It must be difficult.”

“Not very.”

“You put in a lot of effort, though”, she smiled. “This is not to be underestimated. Although I have never seen you dance, I know enough about this.”

He had not responded, he just looked at her. She seriously believed that she was hated at this point and that Niwa's words were just to reassure her.

"Would you like to... watch me?"

That caught her off guard, but she widened her smile, "I would love to!"

She hadn't really expected that! It was a really huge leap of progress!

It certainly had not been easy to ask her to see him dance, but she was really happy about it. And now that she was witnessing that dance, to say that he was talented was an understatement!

The smooth and accurate movements, the relaxed facial features, and the passion-filled eyes with which he performed the poses was nothing short of mesmerizing.

As a backdrop, the trees, the river and the light wind that had risen made it almost magical.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

He was so immersed in it that he seemed to have forgotten her presence after ending his dance, so she applauded him, catching his attention.

"That was... magnificent. I don't know what else to say.”

His eyes drifted to the sword, playing with its hilt, “I’m honored to be complimented.”

Shi Han was completely taken hostage by the tenderness he had awakened in her, and without thinking about it she had mussed his long hair in an affectionate gesture.

Kabukimono had only blinked in surprise.

"Oh, forgive me!" she pulled away, raising her hands in surrender. "You were so sweet that I moved unintentionally. Please, don’t hate me!”

“Hate you? I would never!” he quickly shook his head, almost offended by that.

“Oh. I thought… you hated me.”

“Never! I’m just…” now he looked anywhere but at her, what was probably embarrassment invading him. “You are so beautiful and kind…”

She would have had an explosion of diabetes if he had not stopped!

How in the heck was he so, so sweet? He was a precious cinnamon roll!

“So it is not a disturbance if I request to see your dance again?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s a relief then. And… thank you for your compliments.”

The response she received was sparkling eyes and a toothy smile.

And the following days Kabukimono had left all shyness behind and kept staying close to her like a child trailing after his mother.

He would smile constantly, seek advice on even the smallest things, ask to pick fruits or just go for a walk together.

A total different character.

You could not look at him and not think of protecting him from any danger.

To think that he would change his personality after that tragic event that he would soon have to endure was really a shame, yet the story had to have footholds to continue.

Every action and reaction was calculated and giving them drastic plot changes could have consisted of inconsistencies in moving forward.

Messing up was not an option.

She was going to enjoy the course of events without a hitch.

And watching Kabukimono had become her favorite pastime; he was so adorable and innocent. Like now as he placed the firewood under the cauldron.

Surely he had noticed her fixed gaze on him, for she could see him playing with the sleeves of his robe.

“Asahi is late.”

She chuckled, “He wants to do it himself, as small as he is it will take him a while. He wants to be useful, like you.”

“He shouldn't tire himself though, since he's not very well.”

“I know, but let him do it. It's really cute to see him so hard-working.”

Asahi, the sick child who would add to Kabukimono's suffering when he would pass away.

He was already ill, that tragedy would take place sooner than later.

Another detail she did not remember at all was his name, because she had not given him one. He was just supposed to be an addition for the character that would become Scaramouche.

But if she dug her heels in over everything, she would start to get headaches, so it was best not to question and just comply.

“Water is here!” the small enthusiastic voice of Asahi caught their attention and they saw him almost trip and tip over the bucket full of water.

“That's too much water, Asahi!” Shi Han burst out laughing, helping him move closer to the fire.

“We still need it!”

“Yes, yes. Pour it slowly or you'll ruin the firewood.”

The teasing, the smiles, the chattering, the caresses. These heart-warming interactions had always fascinated Kabukimono.

Every human feeling and emotion captivated him.

There was something mysterious and inexplicable about the way they worked and manifested themselves.

However, the one who attracted him like a moth to a candle was Shi Han.

The manifestation of her emotions was a subtle but strong trait; the change of them could be sudden or slow.

He often found himself staring at her more than he should, completely invaded by a strange feeling that a puppet should not experience.

He had no heart; it was impossible.

Could it perhaps have been her aura? It was not to be ruled out. The villagers also felt at ease with her and almost considered her family.

“Is something wrong?” Shi Han's gentle voice and her face so close to his made him pull back a little from the sudden entry into his view. “I called you several times. Do you feel strange?”

“Oh, no. It’s just… You seem to feel so much happiness…”

“Are you not happy?” Asahi asked confused.

“I could, if I didn’t have…” Unconsciously, his hand went to his chest. “… a void here.”

“You mean, you wish you had a heart?” He nodded and heard Shi Han sigh, sitting next to him. “Mmh, have you ever heard this story before?” the question gained their attention as the child placed the bowl of food on the floor, “There once was a puppet soldier whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever. But the soldier didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feeling came from. One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina.” He smiled, ”The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

He exhaled, sadness filling his voice, “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart, but that’s not a real heart.”

“Maybe. But what if…” He tilted his head to the side, “… hearts can be born from ashes?”

That would have changed things, but he was not sure.

“You don’t need a heart,” Shi Han spoke, grabbing his hand and slight sparks orerran his body. “The fact that you worry about being empty and that you might not reciprocate in the same way shows that you feel something.” A tender smile played on her lips, eyes looking at him with affection, “You are able to express emotions without it. You are more human that most people. Am I right, Asahi?”

“She is!” he had almost shouted it while nodding firmly.

Her face lit up, as if he had remembered something, “Oh! Asahi! Your handmade gift!”

The child made the same expression, got up and ran to a wooden box, pulling out a doll.

Kabukimono was quite confused.

After the child had gotten closer, he noticed the details of the object better. It was him. Its hair and clothing were the same as his, and it had what looked like a small tear under its eye.

“I'm aware that it didn't turn out that well, but I still wanted to give you a gift.”

He was at loss of words. He had a knot in his throat and his eyes were stinging.

He grabbed the doll and stared at it, a smile forming on his lips.

“Look, you’re smiling,” Shi Han rubbed his shoulder in a comforting way. “You’re happy, Mono.”

“Mono?”

She sucked the air through her teeth before grinning, “Kabukimono is too long. Mono is better.”

He smiled back, feeling shy again but with a tingling sensation.

He heard Asahi giggling, but a coughing fit struck him, bringing Shi Han to stroke his back and him to look at him worriedly.

“Everything is fine, just coughing.”

“You should still get back into bed. I’ll accompany you.”

He followed them with his gaze until they vanished into the other room and went back with his eyes on the doll. He touched its hair, its trim and stitching.

A gift made with affection.

A goal he did not think he could achieve. He thought people would not consider him; lacking a heart he might not feel empathy, or understand certain actions dictated by certain feelings. Consequently, causing estrangements on their part.

Yet they were friendly, loving, and hospitable. They treated him like a son, an older or younger brother, a friend. He felt loved and always wanted to be loved.

And very much loved by Shi Han.

It had become a permanent fixture. He did not want to do anything that could lead her to be bothered by his presence; he wanted to be praised.

More and more.

She had become the first person he spoke to as soon as the sun came out. A strong force continually pushed him toward her. And he did not mind.

Just being near her gave him warmth and love. He could sense it.

Like now, as the sound of the flowing river was heard, sitting at its bank and looking at the night sky.

It was better to say that he was watching her admire the stars.

“I love this view. I've never seen so many stars light up the night.”

“Where you come from there aren't many?”

She shook her head, “No. Let's just say they've… dimmed over time.”

“You will see them often by staying here then.”

She had opened her mouth, but had not spoken. This jolted him slightly and he began to feel a squeeze in his chest at that nonverbal response.

“Are you… leaving?”

Shi Han had definitely noticed the sudden change in mood, because she was hesitating, but she eventually nodded.

“I’m traveling, so… I’m moving all the time.” He turned his head to the other side and pulled his knees to his chest. “I also have to stay with my family. They definitely miss me. But this doesn’t me- wait, what’s wrong? Are you crying?”

Hearing her concerned voice gave him a sense of victory.

First she would sneak in and then decide to leave without thinking about what she had left behind? Without thinking about how he would feel? Was she really going to leave him? Why?

He didn't want to!

Her hand moved his shoulder slightly so she could look at him, but he resisted. He heard her calling him, but he did not answer.

He felt betrayed.

“Mono, please, listen to me!”

“I am.”

“You aren’t. You didn't hear a word I said because you’re still like this.”

He stood up abruptly and looked at her, taking steps back before halting and showing her bag in his hand.

Shi Han had widened her eyes, taken aback and confused by his action.

“Speak the truth. It has to do with that object you always carry in here with you, doesn't it? The way you take care of that thing has always intrigued me. You never show it to anyone, you keep it hidden and you seem obsessed with it.”

She let out a long sigh with her eyes closed, sensing the situation getting out of hand.

She was probably thinking that she would never have thought of such an overreaction on his part and that she didn't even know how they had gotten to this point.

He didn't know either. All he knew was that a trigger had been set off.

“It is because it’s an important object for me. It has an emotional value. It’s a gift.” She explained in a soft voice and stretched out her hands, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

He kept looking at her, stalling for a while until he gave up.

Shi Han reached into the bag and pulled out the object.

"Bring this behind your head," she had lifted that thing above her head and brought with one hand what looked like a strange rope behind it. “Then this to the front,” the large part went in front of her eyes. “And press the button on the left side,” her finger stayed on that specified spot but didn’t press down. “That’s it. But since I break a lot of things, and you know that, I don't use it much to avoid breaking it.” She took it off and smiled at him before putting that thing back in the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Sorry if I startled you. I was going to talk to everybody about it these days. And I was telling you earlier that I would come back to visit anyway, and we may as well write to each other.”

He lowered his head, distress overtaking him.

Of course there were these options, but they were not like having her by his side all the time.

It was different.

“But I will not see you every day.” his voice had come out hoarse, as if he were tearing up.

“You can travel with me. And we can take Asahi with us, too. If you want, we can ask Niwa as well. I don't know if he would agree to travel, but it doesn't hurt to try.” He raised his head, stunned by the proposal. Shi Han cupped his cheeks, her fingers wiping away tears he did not know were coming out, “There, there, stop crying. Have you calmed down? Do you like my idea? No more sadness?”

He nodded, inhaling a deep breath to cool down.

This myriad of emotions were making him dizzy. And what she did next almost caused him to lose strength in his legs.

She giggled, tousled his hair and rested her lips on his forehead. After that, she hugged him. His face leaning against the crook of her neck, warm and soft skin touching.

“You’re such a good boy.”

Her fingers run through his hair, stroking gently and slowly.

He couldn’t think straight. He was over the moon.

He hugged back, tightening his grip as much as he could without hurting her.

It was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, comfort and fondness. Safe from any danger, feeling special, and have no negative thoughts.

She was the last piece to complete his wish.

Like it was your home.

It felt like home.

He had attained peace. A feeling so wonderful that he wished it would last for eternity.

But against his every thought and will, that newly completed paradise was gone.

Black smoke had begun to surround them, and the villagers began to get sick. They were getting worse and worse, and no one knew how the heck to stop the disease.

And they were dying. They were dying and dying one by one. A chain reaction that had spread terror and despair. And the helplessness about the situation didn’t help.

Hence, he decided to ask for help from the one who had created him, the Electro Archon herself.

He did not want to leave Shi Han, Asahi and Niwa alone, but he had to do something.

When he arrived in Inazuma, no one would let him in to have an audience with the Archon. With tears in his eyes and desperation clouding his senses, he did not for a single moment stop asking about his creator, displaying the golden feather around his neck, left by her in his hands.

Even though Yae Miko appeared in Ei's place, he begged to save the villagers, on his knees, his hands grasping her clothes. Shepromised help, and he believed her.

After returning to Tatarasuna, he saw Shi Han standing outside the house in the distance.

“Shi Han! The shogunate will come here! Let’s inform Niwa and-“

Now close by, he could notice Shi Han's dull eyes and bare feet. A bad omen took hold of him and he ran toward Asahi's bedroom.

When he saw him, Asahi seemed to be asleep.

Deeply asleep.

He had a lump in his throat, his hands began to shake.

That was a joke, wasn’t it? Asahi was definitely joking. It was not the best moment to do that, but he was playing around.

For sure.

“Asahi, it’s not good time to play. You need to wake up. The… The shogunate is coming and…”

One touch and he suddenly pulled his hand away, as if electrocuted.

Asahi was cold to the touch. Too cold.

No. No! No! No! Please, no!

Why? Why was all this happening? What had they done wrong to undergo such a thing?

The child’s words crossed his mind and he smiled through the tears.

He was here. Asahi was still here. His heart was still here.

And without a second thought, the flames enveloped both him and the house. He waited, waited until he could see it, but there was nothing there.

No heart from the ashes but anger and sadness made an appearance.

He clenched his hands into fists, tears that would not stop falling, “How dare you die like this, and break your promise to me?” He sneered, “What a joke… It’s just ashes, nothing left but ashes.”

He lifted his head up, a deep sigh leaving him. He stayed like that for a while before walking out.

He still had his Shi Han. He needed her hugs and sweet words.

He needer her.

However, he did not expect to see her with that black object on her head, her hands still on each side of it.

Hesitantly, he spoke, “Shi Han?”

Their eyes met, and what hers conveyed made him even more desperate.

“What… are you doing?”

Shi Han gulped, lips quivering and voice shaking, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

It was too much.

Tragedy was to come, but she did not imagine it so suddenly. She had not even had time to breathe. It was all going too fast, and witnessing it firsthand had never been in her plans. To see the life of someone you spend time with vanish before her eyes without being able to do anything to stop it was the most deplorable torture there was.

Waking up from the catatonic state with the smell of smoke from the flames Kabukimono had started burning the house in which she had memories was another pain.

She could not take it.

It was all too realistic; she did not even believe she was in her own game anymore. Maybe she was and there had been mistakes during the data transfer.

She didn’t care anymore. She wanted to get the fuck out.

If she had entered in the game with the VR, she could as well come out of it.

Fear was dominating her and she didn’t give a shit about anything or anybody else. She couldn’t.

She was doing what was right for her sanity. And she also felt so bad for that.

“What are you saying? I… I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Wait, wait! What do you mean? What are you trying to say? Where are you going? Where-“

Adjusting her VR, she pressed the button and everything was reduced into a spiral of colors. Seeing the familiar white room again, she collapsed on the floor, relief taking over her senses. Hearing her friends' and co-fonders’ voice put a definite end to that long moment.

But for Kabukomono had been an istant. A light and then nothing. She was gone.

His Shi Han was gone.

Where? Where had she gone? What had she done to make herself disappear? And why? So was it a lie? She did want to leave him?!

His head hammered incessantly, it felt like needles penetrating and pushing deep. His pupils constricted, a silent scream leaving his body, his hands clutching his head to try to stop the pain.

It hurt. It was unberable.

“Shi Han! Shi Han!” he sobbed. “Don’t go! Come back! Why are you doing this?! Please! Please, don’t leave me! Shi Han, please! Don’t leave me!”

Shi Han exhaled, almost running out of air. After regaining oxygen, she sat on the edge of the bed and a sigh of relief left her lips.

She was in her room, probably after she fell asleep and was brought in.

That was terrifying.

Dreaming of those events was not really something she expected. She had had nightmares after returning from here, but they had faded after a few months.

Guilt was kicking in again.

She needed a glass of fresh water for her dry throat.

Movements alerted her and she got up, spotting Hikaru under the moonbeams picking up her bag and placing it on the chair.

“Oh, it’s you. Was it you who brought me here?”

“Did you think it was someone else?”

“I… never thought you would do that,” she giggled. “but thank you.”

He just hummed, “Your bag fell and this thing slipped,” he lifted one of his hand to show her VR, the other one on his hip. “Nothing broken, you can rest assured.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Ah, thank God- Archons. It’s a precious item for me.”

She walked over, checking that nothing was really broken, and put it back in the bag, then holding the latter to herself and returning to the bed to place it on the nightstand.

She wanted to hit herself because she had almost made a stupid mistake. Here they were not thanking God but the Archons.

It had never happened before, but the air was imbued with something strange.

It was heavy, tense.

“Is something wrong? You look nervous, Shi Han.”

“Oh, it’s al-“

Her heart skipped a beat, turning pale. She turned around to look at him, searching for something in his eyes that suggested she had heard wrong.

She had certainly heard him wrong. A trick of her ears. He didn’t know her real name.

“What…?” it was almost inaudible and she saw him tilt his head to the side. “Oh, sorry, Hikaru. I thought- nothing, don’t worry,” she shook her head and gesticulated with her hands. “I really should sleep.”

“Hikaru was the best name you could have chosen. I really had an enlightenment in my life.” One step forward, one more, another, as he continued, “But giving it to me through the Traveler was not necessary. I would rather you had given it to me in person.”

He was there, close to her. Too close. She was petrified.

His irises seemed to glow in the dark. Threatening, smothering.

She did not know how or when, but she felt pressure on her arm, was pulled to the side, and the sound of something being broken echoed the room.

Her eyes settled on the nightstand, where her bag was no longer. Her lips began to tremble, her face to distort with fear, and her breathing became labored.

His foot was still on top of it, the VR inside shredded.

He knew. He knew her real name, about her.

Fuck! Fuck!

How was this possibile? How did he find out?! Did her presence really lead to this? She had been careful, avoiding anything that might spoil the plan. Really!

Realization kicked in and she stared at him, while his eyes had never left her and had watched her every facial change.

“You used my VR!”

“Is that what it is called? It is certainly a wonderful invention.” With his hand still holding her arm, he drew her to him, chests touching and faces a short distan apart. “It made me see your world. Our past.” She could feel his breath against her lips. “You don't know... how painful it was after you left me. Asahi, Niwa, you. I saw the darkness, and called your names. Yours especially.” His other arm went around her waist, pressing their bodies together as tightly as he could, ”I wanted your hugs, your caresses, your reassuring words. You were my support, my fixed thought. But after a while, I began to forget you, only you. Probably because you are connected to my world and can manipulate a few things. And I bet the stars and the sky are part of it, aren't they?”

She gulped, trying to push him away, but she couldn’t.

It was happening too fast, she couldn’t react. Her head was spinning, her pupils shaking.

“But I’m also aware of how what happened has worn you down. You tried to make things better, giving me a new rebirth.” He gave her a knowing lopsided smile, a sinister glint in his eyes, “Everything is okay, honey. Your suffering is coming to an end. You will be reborn with a new you. I promise.”

A flashback of her stroking his hair and humming a melody while he was in a coma popped into her mind. He had recited the same words she had said.

He had heard it all.

“I'm sure you didn't do it all by yourself. Someone helped you. But even knowing the current situation, Lesser Lord Kusanali did not act on it. I assume that no one can do anything if you are involved.” His hand left her arm, which fell dead weight, and moved towards her chin, cupping it, “Am I right, Clara?”

She coudn’t breathe.

Demanding, controlling, out of his mind.

“Am I right?”

She breathed out, “Yes.”

“It means no one can meddle between us. Is that correct again?”

“... Yes.”

His face lit up, a smile making her skin crawl.

He giggled, caressing her cheek. He placed his lips on her forehead, before cupping her cheeks and kissing her.

She was squeezing her eyes, paralyzed.

He nipped at her lip, causing her to flinch and taking advantage of this, he swept his tongue between her lips, tangling and tinkling their tongues together.

He broke the kiss, staring at her with eyes filled with confirmed madness.

And hugged her. Her face against the crook of his neck.

“You’re such a good girl.”

The paradox was paralytic and finding a way out erased.

She realized that she had taken Nahida's words lightly.

But what could she have known? How could she have known that he would behave this way? These were not excuses! She could not have foreseen this!

But unconsciously she had believed that she would not arouse suspicion. Foolishly she had gotten too close.

And she had brought disaster with her.

Memories had surfaced that should not be there.

An unwanted insight into something that should not have been there.

He was so attached to her that his affection had transcended time and space, outclassing that betrayal and seeing the positive side of her redemption toward him that would also be projected onto her game, having a close connection between parallel and video game realities.

But she was the culprit. She had decided to test the waters by prolonging her stay in a place that was beginning to seem strange to her.

And she was paying the consequences. Willy-nilly.

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