#both qualities that someone who might or might not be a bit deranged

[mistkisbiggestfan]

.

Oh my God.

I had a very funny and slightly strange idea...

Imagine that there is mutual sympathy between the reader and Jax. In short, Jax has crush on reader, but the reader... don’t know it.(or just don’t see it)

So, a new person appears in the circus. It doesn't matter who it is, what it is, what their name is, etc.

So, the newcomer and the reader became very close friends. I mean, sleeping in the same room, hugging, holding hands...(I mean friends, no lovers)

Look, I just want to see Jax get jealous, okay...?

Thank you🫶❤️

Jealous! Jax (Romantic) + Pomni (Platonic) / Gn! Reader

Jax (romantic), Pomni (platonic) / Gn! Reader

A/n: Back on the grind we go!! Hell YEAH!! I actually like how this turned out, hope you like it!! REQUESTS FOR TADC ARE OPEN!!!

Summary: Jax may or may not have a crush on you and be very much jealous of Pomni being your close friend. Words: 1448 Request: yup!

There was always a spark between you and Jax, surprising? Absolutely. 

The thought that this deranged, unhinged, smooth rabbit man could ever feel such complex emotion as love was insane, at least to everyone except for you. 

Sure he has some bad qualities, but that’s normal. (Get a grip bro this man is beyond saving /j)  

He was here once you got into the circus, and that first time you met, both of you hit it off great! He was always smug and funny, but nothing too overboard. Of course everyone realized right off the bat, and Ragatha just came to you and was like: “How did you do it?” 

You were confused, Jax was always like that! A bit silly, and very charismatic. 

And so this feeling bloomed, but somewhere where none could see, not even you. You liked him a lot, surely, but he wasn’t the type to fall for a person, he was so sure of himself, you knew there was no chance of him swooning over someone, not like it’s a bad thing, but he wasn’t a type of person to beg for affection if it was to be taken away. 

Or so you thought. 

You let your crush take a backseat in this h#!! of a ride. But meanwhile, to Jax’s absolute demise and confusion, he found himself staring a bit too long, or laughing a bit too loudly at your jokes. He fell, definitely not first, but most definitely harder.

The thought process was quite simple really: “Absolutely no f*@/!n# way.” 

But oh well, he’s 100 % the type of guy to try to impress you every chance he gets, even at the expense of others.

Not like he cares about others though. 

What you might not realize is how under all that narcissistic and overall not the best person is someone who is like, very touch starved. 

He would die to even hold hands, but just with you.

That pisses him off slightly, he never had such problems, and it’s not looking good.

He has a way with words, but not a way with emotions. That concept is foreign and very, unsettlingly new to him. 

Then a newcomer comes around, a silly little jester – Pomni! Both of you become friends really fast, because unlike Jax, you’re actually one of two best comforters in the Digital Circus, the first-best being Ragatha.

That’s why Pomni always sticks with either you or Ragatha. 

At first it wasn’t that much of a problem – You were good at putting others at ease – Jax knew that, and with time, he also knew that Pomni hated physical touch.

So when he saw you two hugging or anything like that? My man is pissed. 

And it became an actual, apparent problem. Because the smaller jester stuck to you like glue, soon she was even sleeping with you in your room: “Because hers was too stuffy.” Yeah, he wasn’t buying that. (It was the truth tho lmao) 

And when Caine brought it up one time, asking you and Pomni if you were dating?? Fuming, you could really see the smoke coming out of his ears. 

Of course both of you quickly shut that down, saying that no, you weren’t dating, and were actually far from it. 

Part of him wanted to accept that, why did he even care? The other part told him to fuck up Pomni’s mind to the point of abstraction, one sentence could destroy her so why not?

It wasn’t hard to catch on with his emotions, you saw him pull pranks which were just getting more and more cruel. And there was no way you could let that slide. 

Especially since Pomni was coming to you for advice on love herself, since she had an eye on one, quite pretty ragdoll here in the circus. 

– Good thing this is just a dream, right Pomni? – Jax elbowed the smaller jester, leaning over her, he watched the product of his words show off in the girl’s eyes, as her pupils became dark and disorganized scribbles. Both of them stood somewhere near your room, everything happening because Jax saw Pomni walking to yours again. And he wasn’t having that, so he decided to mess with the jester who was stealing your attention lately.  Pomni stayed silent, making Jax snicker lightly, but something interrupted this $h!t show from going on further, light footsteps. The taller man turned around just to see you coming down the hallway, his smile widened. You focused your eyes on two figures before you. – Jax, Pomni! – You smiled at Jax, making him look away for just a second, before you turned to Pomni, smile turning into a frown. – Pomni? Finally stopping you looked at your friend who was visibly not doing so great. You spoke up again. – Hey Pomni, are you doing okay..? – The jester shook her head, breaking out of the trance, she looked at you, her pupils dilated. – What? Uh, yeah, you know what, I’m going to go. – She said quickly, before awkwardly speeding away from you two.  You sighed and looked at Jax, who was smugly looking at you. – What did you tell her this time Jax? – You questioned tiredly, anticipating any reasonable response from the rabbit. He laughed. – Oh nothing much you know, just typical stuff. – His grin widened.  – Jax. – You looked at him sternly, at times like this you wondered why you even liked him that much. That, seemingly brought him back to earth for a second. – Maybe something about this being a dream.. you know, just typical stuff.  You knew how Pomni was, h#!! she told you herself. Poor little thing, she was battling so many emotions right now, especially since she fell for one of the circus members, just like you – which you could relate to. And know you were looking at him, wondering why?  Looking at him, you mentioned for the rabbit to follow you. Finally, as both of you stepped into your room, you shut the door behind you and turned to him. – Jax, what’s up your @$$ lately? – You asked, mad.  Well that was anything else he expected from you, seems like you caught on to what he was doing, he sighed still smiling smugly. – What do you mean? – You know what I mean. – You said, crossing your arms on your chest, looking up at him.  – Not a single clue! – He played along, to a one sided game. You weren’t having that.  And then out of all things you could’ve done, you managed to surprise him, catching his breath in his throat, why? Because out of all things you attacked the weakest part of him – His crippling touch starvation – You caught one of the straps to his overalls and pulled him down so you and the rabbit were on the same eye-level, faces dangerously close to each other. And as he felt your touch on his body, he felt something clicking in his at the moment thoughtless brain.  But as soon as the touch came, it was gone, and he felt it linger long after you left the room, leaving him staring dumbfounded at one spot in front of him for far longer than what was deemed normal.  And now he was left with two options, mess with your new friend and get all this newfound and surprisingly great but still negative attention, or apologize and somehow get you to touch him again.  As he was leaving, walking along the halls towards his room to think, he saw Pomni down the hallway, she saw him too. She looked confused, caught up in this tricky territory called love, just like him. But this time, he decided to leave the jester be, which brought him one step closer to his new habit of longing for you and your touch. 

Did he apologize to you? Yeah, if you can call it that. It was a typical, Jax fashioned, half–@$$ed apology, but only because his ego didn’t let him go as far as saying an actual sorry.

But he did change! Well, kind of. He was less obnoxious towards Pomni, and let her adjust to this new hellish life she was forcefully pulled into. 

After noticing how the jester’s eyes literally turned to hearts when she looked at Ragatha, and when he overheard you giving love advice to her, he definitely gave up on making her abstract out of pure jealousy.

Instead, making it his goal to get you to touch him in any way, yes, he’s that desperate. 

But that made you just more in love, he was actually (a little tiny bit) nice!! 

Let’s just hope no new people come around, because jealous Jax is literally a walking death threat. 

[masterchef901]

Some rampant Freckle theorizing (Idk how confirmed this is but we roll it (lackadaisy spoilers))

I was thinking about Freckle and the theory/general idea that he killed or hurt his dad and Rocky took the blame for it, and the more I think about it the more it explains a ton of Freckle's character.

Like, we'd have the obvious and immediate: he follows Rocky and does whatever he asks without question, because Freckle feels like he owes him a debt, one worth killing for. Not to mention, we have some more rationale behind Freckle's habit of trying to fix things when stressed, and his original intentions of becoming a cop, both of which may represent a sort of penance in his mind. Try to make things better to make up for how he made them worse. Get dangerous criminals off the street, to make up for the fact that he feels he is one.

But then we get a bit more in the details of things:

"Remember to always lie" lands a lot heavier in this paradigm, doesn't it?

But the way the other letters are framed right there with him make me think they're a part of the trauma too. That make me think that every single one of these weighs on him, makes him think: "Rocky's struggling out there because of me"

"He's suffering because I lied"

"I'm doing this to him"

"I ruined his life too"

and yet, at the same time,

"If I tell anyone then Rocky suffered for nothing"

And that would absolutely eat at someone. Eat at them enough that a particularly inflammatory letter would leave them curled up and broken in their room marinating amongst years of other accumulated pain.

And bearing this view of his past in mind, I speculate a bit on his defining trait in the present:

The oft-accepted explanation is that he's just a "natural killer", or that these acts of violence are in some way a release of other, possibly unrelated pent-up stress and anxiety. But bear with me a moment, and consider another angle:

You're a murderer. You've spent years lying about it. You threw your cousin under the bus. You lied to your mother. You're a murderer and you can never forget it. You always lie. You have to remember to always lie about being a murderer.

And then you kill someone again.

And this time it's in front of plenty of witnesses, it's to protect someone and most importantly: it isn't a secret to these people.

I posit that in this moment, Calvin "Freckle" McMurray is feeling honest with himself for the first time in years. He has internalized the feeling that he's a murderer, and now he gets to wear that, and be "himself", for what he feels that is, and he doesn't have to hide. He doesn't have to hide that he's a murderer anymore. In the most fucked-up possible way, Freckle is owning who he is. Maybe it's a stretch, but I think what we're seeing is the euphoria of relief, from a particularly twisted confession.

The next time we see him actually shooting again...

There's still some of that derangement, but it also seems to me that Rocky's doing most of the laughing. And maybe it's the involuntary mud-bath he takes after this panel, but...

That mania sure faded quick this time. Even though he's digging for it, trying to find it, the euphoria just isn't coming the way it did just a couple canonical days ago, and I think it's because there's nothing more to get from it.

The killing confession's been given, and there's no more relief to be found in trying to let himself be a killer. Now it's just... more bloodshed.

At this point, we've caught up pretty much completely to our protagonists in the story. From here, we move from the 'bear with me but' kind of speculation to just totally rampant guesswork. But what could this mean for our adorable gunman's future?

Well for starters, I think we'll see his work quality start to take a dip once he realizes he doesn't actually love it.

And for seconds, it means that he's probably not done riding the guilt train either. If anything, he might start working out his confusion, realizing just how fucked everything in his life is. Might even begin to resent Rocky for it.

And perhaps most interestingly in my mind is how this poor kid's emotional state is going to interact with his relationship with Ivy. After all, I feel like the very nature of the relationship is still settling, and we don't really have a clear view of how invested its members are in it. Maybe Ivy's just in it for some fun and Freckle's along for the ride and eventually the ride'll end and that'll be that. But, uh, something about the laws that govern narrative existence makes me think that this will perhaps not be the case.

Because suppose that Freckle starts feeling it more deeply. He might easily see his first true confidant in Ivy - someone who he owes no debt, who he's under no obligation to lie to, and who seems both aware of and okay with his homicidal tendencies. He could really come to lean on her a lot as he develops and navigates his trauma. And this leads to some outcomes:

If Ivy's willing to reciprocate that trust and vulnerability, we get treated to some absolutely delectable hurt-comfort.

If she isn't, she might back off, even sever things entirely as she's not used to dealing with this kind of baggage in a partner. Depending on how in-love Freckle's feeling at this point in this timeline, the sudden pain and isolation on top of his freshly re-opened trauma might be enough to send him into a complete mental break in the worst case.

And either way, and no matter which way anything goes, we get some absolutely killer drama.

[xenon-demon]

After my original musings on the Streamers!Stobin & Deranged Fic Author!Eddie AU (post linked here), here are some more thoughts, Ronance Edition:

In this universe Nancy is also a streamer who uses Nancy Keene as her professional name (in reference to the pseudonym used by the authors of the Nancy Drew books, Carolyn Keene), except her content revolves around political commentary and reporting on whatever major news is breaking on the internet. She focuses on correcting misinformation and providing reputable sources for things, since we all love purposefully spreading misinformation on the internet (surely we all know the meme I’m referencing), mainly so that when she issues or accepts a challenge to publicly debate someone she knows she’ll aboslutely wipe the floor with them. Her political commentary is pretty iron-clad as well, to the point where it just makes the conservatives look bad when they say she doesn’t know what she’s talking about because not only is it obvious she does, but she probably wrote the book that everyone else learns about it from.

So Nancy Wheeler is usually very no-nonsense in her content. The most casual her streams ever get is when she’s doing a Q&A stream and might deign to answer a couple of questions about her personal life, as opposed to her political leanings or thoughts on journalism-related topics.

This is why no one really knows how to handle it when she pops up as a special guest on BirdBox_’s twitch stream. What’s more, they’re playing Minecraft together, and Robin is busy building their base and making it look all pretty while Nancy goes charging into the mines for resources.

Neither of them address it for the entire two hour stream, just acting like it’s totally normal and common for them to collaborate together like this - and from the way they’re interacting, they’re clearly close. There’s a few moments that come across as awkward, where Nancy makes a joke that Robin laughs just a bit too hard at, or Robin rambles on about something the way she does and Nancy’s response comes in too late, her webcam showing she’d just zoned out and stared at her screen. These moments are outnumbered by the number of times they genuinely thrive in conversation, such as bouncing off each other and one-upping a joke until they both get killed by a creeper because they got distracted laughing. (Nancy was so mad about that one, she had 10 diamonds in her inventory that just got lost forever.)

Seeing how well they get on, and how much they’re both clearly enjoying it, both Nancy and Robin’s fans decide to just roll with it. There’s a healthy subset of Nancy’s fans who have wanted to get to know her a bit beyond her professional persona and hope she doesn’t feel pressured to only make that kind of content, and Robin’s fans are enjoying seeing a different side of her to the one that comes out with Steve. It’s a win-win-win; the fans get some great content, and Nancy and Robin get to spend some quality time together and get paid to do so. Fantastic.

Afterwards, Robin is an absolute mess, obsessively watching and rewatching the VOD and bemoaning how obviously smitten she looks. She won’t stop on her own, so Steve has to hide her laptop in the one place she’ll never look for it - the drawer in his bedroom containing his sex paraphernalia. (Which is really not as exciting as that makes it sound; Steve wishes he was having sex even a fraction as wild as some of the stuff his fans imagined him doing, but then just getting laid at all would be a good place to start. It’s hard out here for the hopeless romantics who want to get laid but are sick of it not meaning anything.)

Meanwhile Nancy, nearly a thousand miles away in Boston, has her sights set on a brand new mystery to solve; is Robin Buckley an appreciator of women? Does she by any chance kiss girls? How does she feel about the colors orange and pink, especially when there’s a white stripe in between them? Or the colors pink purple and blue for that matter, but Nancy’s already bringing those ones to the table. She’s absolutely not letting herself entertain any thoughts of what might happen if Robin is gay, since that would just be setting herself up for disappointment if she’s not. The internet seems convinced she’s dating her roommate-and-best-friend-and-business-partner, but Nancy’s never trusted the internet’s popular opinion before and she’s not about to start now.

Robin and Nancy keep streaming together. The ones on Robin’s channel are them playing games like Overcooked, Animal Crossing, a tonne of Minecraft (which Steve joins in on eventually and keeps building the ugliest houses ever), and on a few notable occasions It Takes Two. The streams on Nancy’s channel are less frequent, and usually consist of Robin popping in for a Q&A stream, but there’s been a few times where they’ll bounce back and forth off of each other in one of Nancy’s political commentary streams.

Before long people start shipping them. It’s mainly Robin’s fans, since Nancy’s fans are not the fandom type of people, but with all these new streams Nancy’s been doing with Robin she’s starting to build that sort of audience for herself as well. Robin is equal parts thrilled and mortified, because oh my god they think I should date my crush and are writing stories about me doing just that this is the best day of my life, but also oh my GOD poor Nancy must hate this and is never going to stream with me again. She doesn’t calm down about it until Nancy is asked about it on stream a couple of weeks after the shipping started to get really out of control - and that was all thanks to someone deciding to @ Robin and Nancy on twitter under a thread where someone had written an absolutely deranged fanfiction about them through the medium of fake social media screenshots.

(Nancy takes a long sip from her cup of tea before reading out the next question from her chat window. “Dear Nancy, how do you feel about being shipped with BirdBox_? Or people writing about you? Because BirdBox_ gets that sort of thing a lot but you haven’t had to state any boundaries about it before.”

Nancy hums to herself. “That’s a good question. You’re right, I haven’t had this kind of audience before - not that I mind, I love Robin’s fans and I’m so thrilled you’ve all seemed to welcome me in to your space.” Nancy leans back in her chair and looks off into the middle distance, her foot absentmindedly spinning her chair a little as she thinks. “I would say... it’s ultimately up to Robin. As you said, she has experience with this, and I trust her. Whatever she says her boundaries are, I have the same ones.”

Nancy looks back at the camera and smiles, pleased with her answer. After a moment, however, her eyes widen and she rushes to add, “And don’t make sexually explicit or inflammatory content about me, but I would hope that’s obvious enough that you wouldn’t do it anyway. And I would hope Robin’s told you not to do that too.”)

If Nancy’s quietly thrilled that people think she should date Robin, and is using this as a way to put the ball in Robin’s court about how she feels about dating another woman (maybe even dating Nancy specifically?), then that’s Nancy’s business and Nancy’s business alone.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am not from the US, I know nothing about the country except what I learned from having a hyperfixation on Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance, all I know is according to google Emerson has a Boston campus so badda bing badda boom that’s where Nancy is. Stobin meanwhile live in Chicago, and I haven’t decided where Eddie is yet but my gut says Indianapolis. Actually yeah after thinking about this for five seconds I’ve decided, Eddie & the CC boys are from Indianapolis and grew up there.

Also for context, the gang (Steve, Robin, Nancy, the Party, basically everyone but Eddie and the CC boys) did still go to high school together in Hawkins only for the older teens to move away for college/to live their lives away from the shackles of rural midwest America. Upon finding out they all became streamers/internet content creators, Nancy reached out to Robin and Steve to say “hey, I don’t know if you remember me from high school, but I remember you!” and things snowballed from there until they became friends. (I haven’t decided if Steve and Nancy just never dated in this AU, or if they did and it was significantly less of a big deal due to the lack of Upside Down trauma. Plus I’m imagining them in their early-to-mid twenties here so even if they did date they’ve had longer to get over it.)

[cloudbattrolls]

Yeah well Gliese is kind of a prick and shouldn't be counted. Don't tell her I said that. Anyway. Hey. I only suggested Ullane cuz you guys have quite a bit in common: Are traveling buddies so you're hanging out all the time, both deranged as fuck and dogshit at romance, and both had experience some kind of Feelings for Glasya. And who else do you have to talk to, anyway? Lucy? Fleure? Quilis but in a haha-so-I-know-this-guy-who-has-a-crush-on-someone-and-I-want-advice-to-help-them way?

"Was she wrong? That's how trolls feel about me having romantic feelings. No matter how polite they might try to be."

It sighs at the listing of the qualities it shares with Ullane.

"I'm not supposed to be good at it, I'm a security system. I'm not supposed to feel such things anyway."

It doesn't respond to the rest.

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

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

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

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

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “As in bi-curious?”

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

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

    ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

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

  He’s lying. You can tell.

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

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

  He’s angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

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

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

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

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

  “Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

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

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

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

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

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

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

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

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

  “You’re bossy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

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

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

        ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Thank you.”

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

  “Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

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

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

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

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

  “Last time you said that…”

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

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

  “Who is it?”

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

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

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

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

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

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

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

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

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

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

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yoongi, what-“

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

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

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

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

   Brother?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Why not?”

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

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

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

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

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

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

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

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

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

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

   ||\\

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

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

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

  No. He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m sorry.”

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

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

  “What, now? Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

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

  “H-How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

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

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “My place.”

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

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

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

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

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

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

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

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

  “Not even then.”

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

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

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

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

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

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

  Alright. Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “B-But the protocol-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

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

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

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

  “So you rebelled?”

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

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

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

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

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

  “Because of the devil, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

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

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

  “Then why?”

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

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

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

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

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

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

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

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

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

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

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

  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

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

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Can we go home, please?”

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

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

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

[ouyangzizhensdad]

The Mo Village arc and establishing the MC

MDZS is a sprawling book with many characters, but it seems that it was clearly important to MXTX to establish her MC’s characterisation very strongly from the start. Although the novel in its entirety leans toward providing a strong characterisation for WWX, I thought it’d be fun to look back at how it is conveyed to the readers in the first few chapters before the inciting incident at Dafan Mountain

(N.B. I’m using a composite translation made of different translations so the wording/format might be slightly different than the version you are using)

Framing

The prologue starts with a conversation between unnamed characters in an inn, discussing the news of WWX’s death. While it was a clever way to already introduce an important theme of the novel (the effects of public opinion and how easy it is to make someone into a irredeemable villain) and get the exposition out of the way, it also frames WWX as a character: as readers, we are introduced first to perceptions of him, a characterisation-from-hearsay we’ll be able to compare to his characterisation in the novel. WWX is a “scourge” whose death is celebrated, who “defected” and bit the hand that fed him, a “deranged” killer who took thousands of lives. But before he went on the crooked path, he was a promising youth--although others seem to think he was corrupted from the start.

“But it can’t all be blamed on the path he cultivated. Ultimately, it was still because this Wei Wuxian’s moral character was too flawed, angering the Heavens and man alike! By the heavenly law, everyone answers for their deeds in the end, good and evil……”

The rumours also suggest that if WWX comes back to the world of the living he will enact his revenge upon them all, and his unimaginable powers would allow him to rain fury upon both Heaven and Earth. We get told: this guys is an incredibly powerful villain, reviled and feared by many. 

But the Yiling Laozu had enough power to overturn the Heavens and smother the Earth, move mountains and drain seas—at least, that was the way the rumors went. If he wanted to resist the summoning of his soul, it wouldn’t exactly be outside of his abilities. If in coming days his spirit were restored, if he forcibly possessed a body and were thus reborn, then not only the cultivation world, but all of humanity would inevitably meet with an even greater frenzy of vengeance and curses, sinking into a chaotic age of foul winds and bloody rains.

Establishing WWX and how he reacts when he’s thrown into an unpleasant situation

When WWX is brought back by MXY, we already have something to contrast him against thanks to the hearsay and rumours, and from the get-go we get a sense that WWX is not this fearsome figure that people made him out to be.

I’ll never get over the fact that our first introduction to WWX’s is the equivalent of the “the audacity of this bitch”.

Hazily, he thought: that’s quite a lot of courage you must have to kick this Laozu. 

Our MC and POV character is thrown into a situation, and from his reactions we can rapidly tell that he is someone who is observant, resourceful, good at deductive reasoning and thereby apt at solving mysteries. This is something that is reinforced at many, many points in the first few chapters and helps us buy in into what happens later in the novel when they uncover many other mysteries. WWX is a guy who figures shit out.

When WWX figures out he was summoned as a “an unforgivably evil malicious spirit“, we  get his take on his public perception.  

Wei Wuxian reeled at the implications. How had he been classified as “an irredeemly evil, malicious spirit”?

Yes, his reputation was rather poor and his final moments, horrifying tragic—but he had neither haunted nor had he seeked revenge on the living since becoming a spirit. He would dare to swear upon the Heavens and the Earth that you would never find a more peaceful and well-behaved lonely soul of a wild ghost!

At the same time, readers get a sense that even when he’s dealt a bad hand, WWX does not wait in despair for his luck to turn. Even though WWX describes his situation as “hopeless” and keeps “repeating over and over How could this be! in his heart “, he immediately goes into problem-solving mode, trying to figure out the situation and the wishes MXY forgot to share. This also happens  later. 

There was not a single thing to help him find some joy in being reborn! He might as well sit and meditate for a time, and adjust to the new body.

That same passage gives us a sense that WWX is not rushing into situations without taking the time to take it in, make up his mind and prepare as much as he can: the fact that we see him do meditation twice during that day (before he goes to the East Hall and after he checks on the Lan juniors) also contributes to that idea.

The chapters convey as well that WWX is sympathetic to MXY’s situation and does not resent him even though he forced WWX to enact revenge in his stead. As readers, we thus receive the following message: WWX is not prone to being resentful, to hold grudges.

He had originally wanted to wash his face and pay a few respects to the owner of this body, but there was no water in the shack—neither for drinking nor for washing. 

WWX is also, for a lack of a better word, sassy. It’s clear that he has a flair for the dramatics and lots of attitude. Look at that dramatic entrance.... he just.... yeets the bowl he was holding....

He pondered for a moment. Then, rising to his feet, he kicked the door open.

The two servants, in the midst of making eyes at each other, screamed in horror as the double doors of the shack suddenly burst open. Wei Wuxian threw aside his bowl and chopsticks and walked outside without anyone’s leave [...]

We are also introduced to the fact that WWX does not seem to take himself seriously and loves to shock people. 

When it came to wild displays of misbehavior, Wei Wuxian was a master. In the past when he ran wild, he still had to mind appearances lest others accuse him of having not been raised right. But now that he was a lunatic anyways, what face did he need! He could go straight to making a scene, acting however it pleased him.

While WWX is clearly not the one-dimensional evil monster depicted in rumours, we do see that he can be cunning: he lies easily if he feels it motivated, he is very good at talking people into a corner, apt at making them do incriminating things by leading them on, which he does by humiliating the Mo family for their mistreatment of MXY in front of a crowd. But in a way, that is also a quality of his: he is not just silver-tongued; he’s good at assessing a situation and people’s characters, able to figure out what will set them off.

We further get proof that he is not a blood-thirsty monster who disregards others when he tries to figure out if he can satisfy MXY’s spirit without having to wipe out the Mo family (although it is clearly the obvious solution) and when he is shown to care for the well-being of others. This is illustrated by the way he double-checks (through ruse) that the zhaoyin flags are properly set up and will be used safely by the Lan juniors. 

During the conversation, Wei Wuxian had already finished making a rapid examination of the Yin Summoning Flag in his hand. It had been painted in the correct manner, and there were no missing sigils either. There was not a single error or omission, so they should worked as intended. That being said, the person who had painted the flag lacked experience, and the painted sigils could only attract the evil spirits and walking corpses within at most five li. That should however prove to be enough. (chapter 2)

[...]

Wei Wuxian’s first thought was that something had gone wrong with the flag arraw the youth had set up. His inventions needed to be used with extreme caution, or else risk disaster. This was also why he had gone to check earlier if there were anything wrong with the array. (Chapter 3)

As our POV character, WWX comes across as endearing through little details: it’s in the way he calls LSZ a “good little seedling (好苗子)” and calls the Lan juniors a group of “小朋友“ in his inner monologue, or when he defends the Lan juniors from Mo-furen’s accusations. Or the way he likes Xiao Pingguo because it looks at him with contempt:

A donkey was tied to the handle, chewing on it. When it saw Wei Wuxian run over rashly, it seemed like it was surprised, and eyed him sideways as if it were a real person. Wei Wuxian made eye contact with him for one second and was immediately touched by the minuscule amount of contempt in its eyes.

Establishing how WWX acts in high-pressure situations

Things escalate quite quickly into accusations of murder and death and resentful corpses. This first sequence is thus our introduction to how WWX acts under pressure and in high-risk situations (which will continue to happen to our MC until the end of the novel). 

WWX is shown to be cool under pressure and quick to think on his feet, constantly re-assessing the situation and the risks. He is also seen as expecting people to arrive to conclusions without him needing to explain them out loud, like when he takes out the zhaoyin flag that MZY stole from his corpse, letting the Lan juniors understand on their own what happened. When he needs to explain, he will not do it in a straight-forward manner, giving small hints first (this preludes many of WWX and LWJ interaction when they understand each other’s thought process with only one sentence being said, and preludes how WWX will continue to act with the Juniors later on, making them think through the situations instead of feeding them the answers).

We also get the proof that WWX does not privilege self-preservation over the fate of others.

If he wanted to avoid having the situation get out of hand, Wei Wuxian should retreat. If they people who came did not know him, then all would be well—but if they happened to be someone who had dealt with him or fought against him in the past, it would be hard to guess what would happen next.

But the curse meant he could not leave Mo Village yet. As well, the spirit that had been summoned had taken two lives in quick succession, meaning it was extremely vicious. If Wei Wuxian left now, once the reinforcement arrived, the streets of Mo Village might already be packed with corpses missing their left arm, of which some would be blood relations of the GusuLanShi. 

After a short deliberation, Wei Wuxian thought, fight a quick battle to force a swift resolution (速战速决). (Chapter 3)

[...]

Wei Wuxian was watching the battle attentively. His tongue was slightly curled, suppressing a sharp whistle inside of his lips, preparing it to be let out. The whistle would be able to evoke even more hostility in the cruel corpses, which might turn the tables. Then, however, it would be difficult to ensure that nobody knew that it was his doing. 

In the blink of an eye, the hand moved like lightning, ruthlessly and precisely breaking Madame Mo’s neck. Watching as the Mo family grew closer to defeat, Wei Wuxian prepared to blow the whistle that he suppressed under his tongue. At the same time, the echoes of two strums on a stringed instrument came from far away. (chapter 4)

As well, we are told something about WWX when he only leaves once LWJ arrives: certainly because he’s afraid that LWJ might recognize him but mostly because (as it will become clear later on) he trusts that LWJ will be able to handle the situation in his stead. In order words, although WWX is willing to risk himself to help others, he is not careless with his life and safety (for instance he makes sure to destroy the proof of the Offering ritual before fleeing to make sure no one can figure out the fact that he is back from the dead).

WWX will not hesitate to fool people or pretend in order to help his goals. In this case, he is trying to help and fight without appearing like a powerful cultivator who can do modao, balancing self-preservation with the incentive to protect the people present. This is why he pushes LJY in front of LSZ at one point in the battle, instead of blocking it himself, while pretending to just be a lunatic doing lunatic things.

Inside of the Lan clan’s uniform jacket, there were compact stitchings of incantations using thin threads of the same color, included for protection. However, against strong ones like this, it could only be used once before it became invalid. During the emergency, he could only kick Lan Jingyi and use his body to protect Lan Sizhui’s neck.

This sequence also allows the reader to know more about modao and WWX’s skills, and how he can control corpses, as well as how WWX perceives his own abilities. 

TLDR:

The Mo Village arc, in conjunction with the prologue, competently sets up a lot of the moving pieces for the novel. It also leans heavily toward establishing a strong sense of characterisation for our MC and POV character, which is neat! 

NB: I think it’s also very telling that the next chapter after the Mo Mansion arc begins with us learning that WWX has been, in the past few days since his retreat, lorded over by a capricious donkey. WWX is clearly not someone who takes himself very seriously (often mocking himself):

The donkey ran over there and nothing could make it leave. Wei Wuxian hopped down and slapped its honoured buttocks. “You’re definitely destined for wealth, even harder to please than I am.” The donkey spat at him.

[kayparker20]

Inner Turmoil - Chapter 6

I'm so sorry about the wait this time around guys. I threw myself for a loop with this plot and I've been struggling a lot to figure out what I want to happen next. I decided to focus on a minor issue while I brainstorm what happens next. It's a bit feelsy but it's not super dramatic. Also kind of realized it was almost too long so the next chapter will have a spicy start before the real plot happens.

Hope you enjoy this somewhat filler chapter!

Chapter 6 - Village Gossip

FFN | AO3

Ino sat at the front counter of her family flower shop, impatiently waiting for the jonin ninja in her store to get a move on. They would always come in, pretend to look around while gossiping, and never buy one thing. She hasn’t liked them since she heard them being hateful towards Kurenai-sensei, probably out of jealousy.

“Can you believe, of all the beautiful shinobi, he dates his former student?” The woman scoffed and brushed her fingertips over the petals of lilies in a bouquet. “I think I would have rather heard he was gay, before that.” Her long, charcoal hair was curled and flowing down her back in waves. 

Another rolled her eyes. “Yeah, gay for Might Guy, even.” Fiery redhead, model body. “Of course, Hatake was too perfect to have no flaws, I just didn’t think it would be something so repulsive like fucking children.” 

“Do you think she fucked her way into jonin level?” The darker haired woman speculated. She turned around and looked at some roses that had been to her left.

Ino had been idly doodling flowers on a piece of blank receipt paper before hearing the topic they had been discussing. Her hand stopped mid-petal at the last comment before she narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper.

“I mean, maybe. Must have been easy to become jonin when you’re the Hokage’s apprentice, and being taught by a legend.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. I hear she’s quite the bitch at the hospital.” 

She felt her mother’s eyes on her as she squeezed the pen, staring daggers meant for the women at the counter. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she needed to stay cordial and polite because they were customers, despite how abrasive and tactless they were.

She flipped her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder before addressing the women with a sarcastic smile. “Excuse me, ladies, is there anything I can help you find?” Her tone dripped with deviance through her smile. Her whole body felt tense with her anger as she forced herself to appear relaxed and helpful.

Two can play this catty game.

The women turned in her direction, both sporting smirks on their expressions. They both stared at her as if she were boring before cocking their hips to the side and giving fake smiles in her direction.

“We’re just admiring, but thank you.” The redhead shot back in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure? I think a bouquet of yellow hyacinths, lavender, and iris would go nicely with your hair.” Ino offered slyly.

She stole a glance at her mother, expecting to see an expression of disapproval, and was surprised to see the faintest smile spreading across her lips. 

The darker haired woman narrowed her eyes, clearly catching the message. “You have something to say, girl?”

Ino kept her demeanor as she shook her head. “Oh no, I was just offering. Purple and yellow complement well, you know?” 

Before either woman could snapback, the elder brunette cut in politely. “Ladies, it’s time for our lunch, and we must close for the next hour, so please take your pick. We can check you out for your purchase. We’re glad to give you your flowers before we find our meal for the workday.” 

Ino’s mother sounded elegant and was the epitome of professionalism as she gave a gratuitous grin towards the women.

Both women huffed in defeat.

“No, miss, thank you for your time.” The darker haired woman gave a strained smile before she walked out, the redhead following.

As soon as the door shut, Ino let out an annoyed sigh. “Thanks…” She huffed before crossing her arms across her chest.

Her mother just shook her head softly. “Your cleverness and restraint amaze me sometimes. It was rather amusing.”

“It’s exhausting, not amusing. I much would have preferred to hit them. That was far from tasteful gossip.” Ino scowled. “How could they accuse Sakura of using sex to get rank! As if she isn’t a jonin level medic! Or uh, I don’t know, the medical director of our hospital! The disrespect!” 

Her mother sighed. “People are going to talk, and you have to admit it’s at least a little scandalous. Those women are just jealous, and will say anything to make themselves feel better.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Ino argued.

Sakura walked in then, smiling. “What doesn’t make something right?” She inquired curiously. “What gossip did you dig up now, Pig?” 

Ino turned, her eyes wide to see Sakura. “Oh, uh, nothing!” She chuckled nervously. “Ready for lunch?”

Sakura looked at her surreptitiously. Clearly, something was up. “Spill it. Now.”

Ino crossed her arms, before giving her a defiant look. “And if I don’t?”

“Are you going to make me beat it out of you? Was it about me?” Sakura deadpanned. “You never refuse to tell me gossip unless it’s about me and it's negative.”

Ino hated how well she and Sakura knew each other in moments like this. They couldn’t hide anything from each other. She sighed before uncrossing her arms. “It doesn’t matter, I handled it anyway.” She said matter of factly.

Sakura stared at her friend before shrugging. “You’re telling me at lunch, come on. Off to get our dango and tea. Director or not, I still run on a schedule. And I got behind after being gone a couple of days.”

Ino lips spread into a teasing grin. “Behind because you were off saving my ass or behind because qualities like procrastination and tardiness are rubbing off on you?” 

Sakura gave her an unimpressed look. “I was late one time. Definitely behind from saving your ass from our deranged classmate.”

They started walking towards their favorite cafe. It was nice outside even if it was a little cooler. Leaves lay around the ground, dry and crinkling under their footsteps. She could only wonder what Ino was all in a tiff about today, being as she saw the very same women she knew to leave the shop with all too knowing smirks. She was also slightly discomforted by them because when they saw her, their expressions suddenly turned downright venomous.

It wasn’t too uncommon for her to get those as the news of her and Kakashi spread, once rumors became truths. It made her wonder about Anko’s offhanded ‘sex god’ comment. Maybe they were a couple of those one-night stands? She frowned at the thought, not thinking Kakashi would have entertained such rude women. 

“Aren’t those the women that you got upset at for talking at Kurenai some time ago?” She wondered to her friend aloud.

“Oh, yes.” She snapped back. “They’re worse than me for spreading everyone’s business and their bullshit two cents about it.” 

Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she heard Ino sound unenthused about new gossip. Usually, it meant it was about someone she cared about, and that it thoroughly pissed her off. Even more so unusually, she would normally be more than ready to rant her pretty reddened lips off about said women being conceited and judgemental and downright horrible. 

Yet today, her blonde friend was being clipped and avoiding discussing the topic. She decided to test it out again. “So what treachery were they discussing today?”

Ino hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Sakura the things people were saying about her and Kakashi. Her friend had been so happy. She seemed to glow this past month since she had started dating him. She didn’t need to be troubled by people thinking the exact opposite of a situation. 

She smiled at her friend. “Oh, not much. I just hate how they loiter in the shop and force me to deal with their presence, yet never buy anything.”

Sakura just gave her friend a bored look and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“That’s her. Can you believe such a young girl is with a man like him?”

Sakura instantly frowned, refusing to look in the direction of the people they just passed. She tried to remind herself what people said didn’t matter.

“I don’t think I want Mika to have a male sensei. Do they all prey on their students?”

Her expression turned into a downright glare. How dare someone to accuse him of such horrible things? Why did they blame him? Why was it so hard to just believe they loved each other? Hearing the things people said on the street made her miss the way their friends easily accepted them. 

“Must be easy to make jounin when you’re the Hokage’s bitch, and fucking one of the commanders.”

Ino watched as all the same bullshit those women had said in her little shop floated around them. Maybe she wasn’t really able to protect Sakura after all, but she’d be damned if she was the one who brought that sort of mood on.

“Don’t listen to it. They're wrong.” Ino said sternly, flinging hard glares directly at anyone who dared say something within their earshot.

“It was me those women were gossiping about in your shop today, wasn’t it?”

Ino snorted. “I told them rather professionally exactly how I felt about their false ass opinions.”

Sakura sighed. “I think the ones I hate the most are him being a pedophile, or me using him to get rank.” Her face contorted into anger. “I’ve been a jounin since before I even realized I loved him, for fuck sake!” Sakura growled out. 

“Does she pine after her whole team? First the traitor, now the sensei. Jinchuriki and socially inept next? Maybe she just whores around for them all.”

Now that one was just funny. She laughed as she and Ino entered their shop. “Alright, as if! Did you hear that one?” 

Ino raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Sai knows how to fake an orgasm like he does a smile? That’d be rather disconcerting. Being cute only gets you so far.”

They sat down at their table and ordered their tea and dango. The homey atmosphere of this place always put Sakura at ease. The place had always been so down to earth, and the staff here were so nice and she had known most of them for at least quite some time now. 

She remembers coming to this little cafe for the time with her team as a genin before Sasuke left. He claimed it was a treat for doing so well on a mission, before disappearing when it came time for the bill to be paid. She remembered feeling so angry back then, how dare their sensei pull some sheisty trick like that! But now it was just funny, thinking about times when their lives hadn’t changed so drastically.

“Watch out, Team Seven’s Mistress, coming through.”

Sakura wrinkled her nose. “Okay, now that sounds like a scandal for sure. I could never even dream of taking Naruto from Hinata, let alone sleeping with him. And don’t get me started on Sai.” 

“Shouldn’t she be here soon?” Ino inquired.

As if on queue, the bell rang as another customer entered, and it was their black haired Hyuga friend.

“Hina, over here!” Sakura called.

Hinata meandered over their table and sat next to Sakura. “Hi, guys!” She spoke softly, happy to see her friends.

“Tell Sakura here to ignore these stupid rumors jealous nimrods keep spreading,” Ino said blandly. “Well, at least the boring ones.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow. “There are ones that aren’t boring?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Apparently there’s one that I’m fucking my entire team.”

“Oh, now that’s just dirty! Who would do such a thing?” 

“Which thing, fuck the whole team, or fuck Naruto?” Ino said in a teasing voice.

Their friend turned beet red. “I-I don’t either Sakura or myself would uh… Have relations with an entire team.”

Sakura slumped in her seat. “You’re right, but people think my sensei is a pedophile. Which hurts because he would never have thought of me, or any of young girls, in such a way.”

Ino and Hinata watched as Sakura looked so hurt. How do you tell your friend to ignore things she hears whispered as soon as she comes into a room, or simply a vicinity. No one had to deal with something like that. Then again, neither of them were dating men much older than them, or ones who had been their teacher. But why does that matter when they’re adults now? Sakura had been a jonin for two years now after she and Shikamaru had gotten promoted when the fourth war ended.

“They are just jealous that a younger, prettier, and more talented kunoichi took their eye-candy off the market.” Ino insisted. “Easier to keep their ego intact if they blame him for being gross, or you for using him.” 

“I guess…” She sighed. “Look at me, worried about stupid gossip when my old teammate is hellbent on making me join him…” Sakura shivered at the thought. “Even now, there are three ANBU following me at all times.”

“Wait, even at Kakashi’s…?” 

Sakura nodded.

“I bet they watch…” Ino smirked deviously.

“Ino!” Hinata squeaked. 

Sakura just shook her head, more than used to Ino’s antics. She knew it would take her ‘innocent’ friend some time to get used to Ino’s crudeness, but she felt better being around both her close friends.

“Do you think people truly think that low of Kakashi? People think he would groom one of his students?” Sakura asked seriously.

Hinata shrugged. “You can’t expect people to necessarily think super well of someone who openly reads porn in public.”

“Hey, Icha-Icha is a wonderful series.” Ino piped in. “Even Sakura agrees with that.”

Sakura laughed at the comment. “It’s true, but I guess you have a point. No one sees that unless they’ve dared to read the beloved Ero-Sannin’s work. Lady Tsunade swears to burn every copy of those books, but she secretly has her first edition collection, signed by Jiraiya himself.”

“I guess society might accuse us of being molesters next, huh, Pig?”

Sakura frowned. “I sure hope not, considering I’m certain being a molester consists of much more than enjoying romance novels that might be slightly too pornographic at some points along with the good plot.”

Hinata giggled lightly. “I think anyone who had ever actually paid attention to you and Kakashi-sensei interacting would have realized you were the one going after him.” She smiled softly.

Sakura thought about that. She knew she never made intentional moves on Kakashi, but apparently everyone close to them knew they loved each other, or that there was at least something going on. She couldn’t help but feel touched at how accepting his friends were, even if Anko and Genma teased her relentlessly. Or made threesome jokes, which Kakashi bluntly shut down quickly. However, a large majority of people were the stark opposite.

She should have known that Ino’s ideals about them being shinobi bending morals a bit was closer to romanticism than what society thought in reality. She felt like she was just as much an adult as Kakashi and the rest, even in her 20s. She’s gone on deadly missions just like Kakashi, let alone with Kakashi. She’d been through a war. She’s damn near died, multiple times, and she had saved people’s lives and held the ones she couldn’t save.

Yet people dared to treat the situation like Kakashi was dating a child, instead of an equal? So what if he had trained her, it’s not like he ever made a move on her? 

Hinata was right, she made the move on him.

“I knew what I wanted, even if I only got the courage to express it with a little encouragement from sake. At first.” Sakura crossed her arms. “But why do we have to justify our damn happiness?” 

The waitress walked up to get Hinata’s order after that. “What can I get for you today, miss?”

“I’ll have green tea and a rice ball, please,” Hinata spoke softly with a pleasant smile.

“Sure thing!” She flashed a smile at them before striding away to take care of the order.

Ino sipped her drink before shrugging in response to the question. “I thought you already know people talk about anything we do, no matter what. Especially when they’re jealous, and you have plenty of things to envy.” 

Sakura huffed before. “Yeah well, I didn’t get them without effort, and that especially includes Kakashi.”

The girls fell silent. Hinata and Ino could only say so much in attempts to make Sakura feel better. It’s not like you could ignore an issue when everywhere you went you were hearing whispers or receiving horrible glares sent in your direction.

The waitress brought Hinata’s order about and paused a moment. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed a bit nervous. She chewed her lip subtlety before looking at Sakura.

“Miss?” 

Sakura raised her eyes to make eye contact with her and gave a polite smile. “Yes?” 

“Is it true that you’re dating Kakashi now? 

Sakura nodded, her smile fading slightly in fear of some directly aimed judgment. She came here often with Kakashi, he used to bring the whole team here. 

“I just wanted to tell you I’m very happy for you guys. I’ve seen you guys together often, and sometimes I wondered if you were the one he bought the lattes for every so often. He’s come here for a long time, but he always seemed so…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Aloof. Always polite, but kept to himself.”

Sakura nodded softly. “He’s uh… He’s been through a lot, even more so than the average ninja.”

The girl gave a sad smile. “So I’ve heard. When he started bringing you and those boys here, he seemed to change. Like a spark in him ignited. Is it true that the blonde was his mentor’s son?”

Sakura’s smile turned a little less stiff as she nodded again. “The Fourth Hokage, yes.”

Hinata and Ino listened with small smiles, glad to see their friend getting some positivity towards her relationship from someone other than friends. Hinata’s face flushed slightly at the mention of Naruto as she thought of him distantly.

“I’m sorry about the things I’ve heard people say. Anyone who truly has been around you can see the chemistry you have, sometimes I wondered if you were secretly together. I have never seen him so relaxed around anyone besides you.” She smiled brightly. “He had friends of course, like those dashing men, Asuma and Genma. Or the….very lively Gai.” 

Ino wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I’d consider Asuma-sensei dashing.” She muttered softly under her breath.

Sakura's eyes widened softly. “Thank you… It’s nice to hear someone say something nice about it.” 

“Sakura, it’s almost the end of your lunch break isn’t it?” Hinata wondered aloud, catching the time on the clock. She gave a soft smile before 

“Oh, look at that, it’s the rank climbing whore with her flower bitch of a friend.” 

I guess that’s one way you could refer to Sakura and Ino, at least within the last month. She couldn’t imagine how upset Ino would be if she would only ever be remembered as her ‘flower bitch of a friend’. She would probably be remembered as Ino-Pig, and she hates that nickname.

She could attest to the fact that she hated being referred to as a ‘rank climbing whore”. Didn’t have to sleep with multiple men or do something dirty like have an afraid to fall under the description of whore? She had only just lost her virginity to Kakashi a month ago… 

She sighed and reminded herself that these women wouldn’t care to hear technicalities and that it would probably only antagonize them to carry on with more horrible accusations and scornful comments.

The waitress instantly frowned at the woman. “I can ask them to-”

Sakura shook her head. “It’s whatever, don’t scare off your business. Thank you for your kindness.”

Ino instantly slid her gaze towards the nasty tone, sending daggers. “Are you even acutely aware that Sakura was made a jounin almost three years ago?” She spat. “Pretty sure she only got with Kakashi roughly a month ago, now carry on with your trivial lives.”

Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes, hoping the sting that suddenly arrived would go away with them. “Right, I need to go back to work. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” She stood from the table and turned for the door.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna go run and tell mommy Hokage?”

Sakura’s eyes twitched as she started gathering chakra into her fists, ready to shut them up herself. How much disrespect could someone dare to have? Was this really out of pure jealousy?

She kept telling herself none of this was worth getting this upset over. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to cry from the humiliation or punch them through the wall of the restaurant. She had never felt so ridiculed before, and it was infuriating. 

“I’ll bet my old student would be an easy target to get some action from when I was bored. Especially from emotional types like yourself. Just a few sweet words and you probably melted for him.” The other woman cackled.

Sakura bit her cheek before she left briskly, ignoring the shrieking she heard from Ino, or how Hinata tried to run after her. She felt stupid for letting those women get under her skin, but she couldn’t help it.

This is what people were saying? What else was there? Did she seem that naive, that her sensei could take advantage of her? She knew there would be talking about this, but she never expected those sorts of accusations. She expected disapproval and even some daunting glares. 

She went straight for her office and buried herself in the paperwork she had to catch up. It was a decent distraction. Verifying shinobi physicals, signing them with her approval. Later they would need to be given to Tsunade. She signed paperwork regarding the children’s clinic she was opening with Ino, mainly financial documents for the grants involved in the program. More paperwork was needed to be signed for hospital grants for unfortunate patients.

Kakashi was walking to the cenotaph, feigning ignorance to all the looks she was currently receiving from the majority of the people he passed. Many whispers went about. Mostly about wretched of a man he was, accusations of pedophilia and grooming. Some against Sakura for whoring herself into rank, which didn’t make even a lick of sense if you asked him, considering she was made jounin after the fourth great war. 

He sighed softly. There were much bigger issues now that these people couldn’t even begin to think about. If he ever thought that beginning a relationship with Sakura would have put her in danger, he wouldn’t have indulged in the idea no matter what, if it had meant she would have been safe.

Granted, it was starting to be believed by Tsunade that Sasuke was coming for her either way because he did Orochimaru’s bidding. And healing arms isn’t related to Sakura’s love life. Sasuke was bothered by the fact that Sakura was with somebody else, but was it that she moved on, or that she was with Kakashi in general? That was the question that was begging to be answered in his mind at the moment. No matter what, she would be safe. She might not have any special jutsu, but she had quite the punch with her chakra latent strength, so even in the event he wasn’t there, she believed in her to protect herself. Not to mention the three ANBU guarding her at all times, and he knew one of them was Genma, though she didn’t. 

His mind wandered a bit as he walked from the cenotaph to training ground three, the same one he always used with his beloved team. His thoughts were everywhere, mainly on just how happy he had felt. 

Nothing felt more right than when he laid in bed at night with Sakura in his arms. Her hair splayed about the pillow, her face buried against his bare chest. Her skin felt so soft against his, even with the few scars she held in comparison to his body. Listening to her breathe lulled him to sleep every time she spent the night at his home. She was so warm and inviting, and she always clung to him.

She still had nightmares. Sometimes she just trembled in her sleep, others he woke up to her sobbing into his shoulders or screaming his name with so much agony in her voice it ripped his heart out. He couldn’t imagine what she was seeing, he didn’t like to think of the ways Sasuke may have conjured up to murder him. He always held her close and tried to comfort her, but this had never been his strong suit. He stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. It seemed to work well enough most nights, and he was glad because he didn’t know what else to do and it made him worry.

The copy ninja expected to find the training ground empty, but what he found was craters and cracks all over the landscape, along with uprooted trees. Usually, this is what you found when Sakura was training.

Or when she was coping with emotional stress which she has plenty of at the moment. 

Was it Sasuke, or has the ridicule finally reached her? His clenched as he thought of everything he has heard whispered the past few days or the actual direct comments. Mostly from jealous women, some from other jounin who didn’t know a lick about them.

He meandered along, following the scent trail of jasmine perfume, as well as listening for either the next impact or the sound of her voice. He followed it well into the woods of the grounds. It seemed the damage done lessened the further he went, which concerned him. It felt like the anger was fading and turning into something more morose. He moved faster through the forest, catching a glimpse of a porcelain mask he recognized. 

What he found was far from angry, at least now. She was kneeling on her knees, still in her hospital uniform. She was covered in dirt and green stains from nature she decided to take her stress out on. Her hands covered her face, covered in blood, dirt, and scrapes; the telltale sign she had been too far in her emotions to protect herself or even think about putting her gloves on. Her shoulders shook and as a choked sob escaped her throat, his heart just couldn’t take it anymore.

This wasn’t the first time he found her like this, and it wrenched him every time. But it was different this time because it felt like it was his fault to some degree. He never wanted to be part of something that could hurt her so deeply. 

He approached her slowly, giving her all the time to notice his presence. When he came up to her, he crouched down and ran his fingers through her messy hair, letting the pads of his fingers drag against her scalp. She shuddered softly but didn’t say anything. He slowly sat down behind her and slinked his arms around her waist to pull her back snug against his chest.

She tried to force herself to calm down in Kakashi’s presence, but it only seemed to worsen. She reminded herself he wouldn’t judge her, that he’s never judged her. Wasn’t that one of the things she loved most about him? She still felt so stupid for getting this upset over some stupid bigoted opinions, from people who didn’t know a damn thing about her and Kakashi. 

Then again, was that the only thing that hurt so much right now? It’s not like Sasuke hadn’t just kidnapped her best friend or threatened her team leader, that she just started dating. That Sasuke hadn’t shown her just how he might wish to make good on his threat to kill her lover.

The feeling of his fingers running through her hair made a shiver run through her and she let out a shaky breath. She felt him sit behind her and the safeness of his arms pull her close. Her chest hurt and swallowed another sob, still feeling this dumb need to act strong in front of him. If he had found her here, clearly he saw the damage she had dealt to the poor training ground before her anger morphed into pain. She turned her body into him and rested the side of her face against his chest. The silent tears soaked into his shirt but she couldn’t stop them. 

“Sakura…” 

She wiped her eyes hastily before the sob she’d been holding back ripped through her. The sound of his voice undid it and she was clinging to him desperately. 

“I’m here for you,” He placed a chaste peck on her forehead before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, Sakura. I always have, you know that.”

He held her tightly before beginning to stroke her hair. “I know there’s so much going on right now. This stuff with Sasuke, and the talk around the village. Your nightmares. It can’t be easy, on top of continuing to work full time.” 

The sound of his voice was a thread she clung to. Hearing the rumble in his chest when he talked, alongside his heartbeat gave her something to focus on that wasn’t Sasuke, or horrible gossip, or Kakashi being killed in some way or another. She took a long, deep breath. Everything felt so heavy. 

She had just wanted to be with the man she loved, and she finally got that. Why did all this other stuff have to happen? Right as things started to get better, a wrench had to come in it. She knew that she still was with Kakashi, and she had high doubts he was going to leave, but she just wanted to enjoy it.

“Sakura, it’s going to be okay…” 

He took her face into his hands and guided her to make eye contact with him. Her aqua hues were shining with tears that were still flowing down her cheeks. He wiped them gently and smiled softly at her. 

She huffed and slid her fingers into his mask, dragging it off his face. “Better.” She muttered under her breath. 

Kakashi chuckled softly before pecking her lips with his now bare ones. “Oh, I’m sure you think so. Just think, you’re the only one who gets to see me like this.” He held her tighter. “Who gets to have me like this, all to yourself.” He pecked her cheek.

“I know…” A small smile spread across her lips. “Ino keeps saying to ignore it, that they’re just jealous.”

“Hm, she may be on to something. I’m quite the looker.” 

She rolled her eyes before sniffing once more. “Oh yeah, if only they knew what was under the mask.” She huffed. “Maybe some of them do…” She grumbled.

He shook his head, chuckling at the clear jealousy coming off of her. “Oh no. Not a single one night stand had ever seen my face. They would try, no doubt.” He pinched her ass playfully. “Only medics, who usually were too busy looking at the life-threatening issue on my body, and close friends have seen my face.” He smirked as he whispered in her ear. “Some medics are much cuter than others, and I might have let them drag my mask down and kiss me when I was drunk.”

She raised an eyebrow at him before a smile broke out across her lips and she giggled. “Better only be one of those.”

He nodded sincerely before pecking her lips. “Now, you’re smiling again and able to talk. What lead you to wreak havoc on this sentimental training ground of ours, and then break down?”

She averted her eyes instantly, not willing to fully pull her face out of his hands when they were so warm against her tear-soaked skin. Great, now she’s going to look ridiculous.

“Do think they’re right? That I used you to climb rank?” She mumbled.

He frowned. “I think that no more correct than me being a pedophile, considering the last time I check you were twenty. People twist things as they want to make reality appeal to them.” 

“Ino said something similar. A bunch of women took offense that you found someone prettier, younger, and more talented. If they blame us, then their ego is still intact…” She almost laughed as she remembered another one. “Did you hear the one that I’m fucking my whole team?” 

Of course, she found the humor in that one. “Whoever started that rumor must be oblivious because you’ve chased Sai and Naruto through the village with your chakra fists of wrath.” He laughed before pressing his nose against hers. 

“Now, what is actually bothering you? Because I know that you don’t truly care about anyone thinks unless it our friends or Tsunade, who have all expressed happiness for us, with threats to my life if I hurt you here and there…” 

He was meant with silence.

He sighed. “I’m the one who taught you to look underneath the underneath, and I especially know you’re bothered by way more than some gossip we knew would come.”

Sakura sighed and hugged him tightly. “I can’t stand this. I’m being guarded like a dog, all because Sasuke suddenly decides I matter because his snakey sensei put it in his head he needs me. I think I liked it better before when he was cold towards us.” 

He ran a hand through her hair. “I know. But it’s best to keep you safe, and are you going to complain that you have to sleep with me at my house.”

She blushed lightly. “I gave no complaint about that part. More about this part.” She gestured her hands before pointing. 

“One.” In a tree a few yards back.

“Two.” Leaning against a tree in the opposite direction.

“Three.” Right above her in a tree. “Which I believe I learned is Genma, because awhile  a senbon just fell in front of me before a curse was muttered by that one.” 

Kakashi looked up, noting she was right, that one was Genma. Shame on him for losing his anonymity so easily, but it wasn’t like Sakura hadn’t known who most of the ANBU were from treating them anyway. It’s a given he was the only one brave enough to be that close to his fiery little pinkette when she was at such an emotional high. He never knew when to leave anyone alone. He was one of the only people other than Sakura that insisted on ‘being there for him’ when he was having bad days.

“I also hate that I used to feel safe at home, and now I’m paranoid. All the time. He made it into the village without anyone knowing, all the way into my office! And he got out with Ino the same way!” She looked at Kakashi with an annoyed look.

“That bastard could be watching me right now, and I’d have not a single fucking clue!” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. He felt all the same, except he was the one who had figured out he was in the village, and he hated the lack of action he had taken then. He should have done something right then and there. But he gave his former student too much credit. 

And that’s how he feels like this is all his fault. But saying that wouldn’t help her. There wasn’t much he could do to change what was done, but he’d be damned if something happened again.

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, okay? I bought you some books while you were at work before I came here.” 

She smiled softly. He always tried, no matter how hard he felt like comforting was. Whether he knew it or not, he always made her feel better. As he stood up and put his hand out for her to grab, she grasped it tightly as he pulled her up. She inched up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss before his hands gripped her hips and held her there to kiss her back.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” She smiled softly before pecking his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably tear up all the training grounds, not just ours.”

She giggled softly. “Probably, but you didn’t have to say it.” 

He let go of her, just to grab her hand and start walking towards the end of the woods in the training ground. “Come on. Asuma and Kurenai said something going on a double date, and I think you might want to look a little less haggard for that.” He smiled.

She glared at him. “Haggard? That’s a bit extreme!” 

He chuckled as he dodged the fist he knew was becoming before he sensed it. “I love you, too.” He gave an eye crease as he pulled his mask back over the majority of his face.

“Hinata?” Naruto called out softly from his couch as he heard his door open.

“It’s me, Naruto!” She called back cheerily. 

“How was lunch with Sakura? Is she… Doing okay?” He asked timidly.

Hinata sighed. “She’s… doing alright. The gossip around the village bothers her but I don’t think that’s really it.” 

Naruto thought for a moment before sighing. “I don’t understand why he would do this. I thought his main goal in life was to gain power and kill Itachi, so what does Sakura have to do with that?” He grumbled. “She was so happy before all this. I just want to see her like that again.”

“Me, too,” Hinata said before sitting on the couch. “Ino said he acted possessive and jealous over the fact that she was with Kakashi. Do you think he’s always felt some way about her? Like maybe he’d come back for her once he killed his brother?”

Naruto frowned. “I think that’s what Sakura used to hope for, honestly. That he just had to do this one thing, and then he’d be able to come home. To love her, to be a family with our team. It’s what we all hoped for… in a sense. I think Kakashi was able to accept it sooner than we ever could that Sasuke was probably… never coming back.”

Hinata nodded, reaching over to grab his hand. “I know this is hard for both of you…” 

He just nodded as he continued to frown at the floor. “Whatever hopes those were, they were ruined. I’ll never believe he loved Sakura if he was willing to cause her so much pain, whether it was over jealousy or whatever.” 

“You should go train with your team some. It always helps me when I’m being bothered by something going on in life. I think it would be healthy for all of you.”

“You’re assuming that Sakura hasn’t gone and destroyed our favorite grounds yet.” A smile slowly spread across his lips. “Kakashi is the only one willing to go anywhere near her whenever she’s that upset. Sai and I prefer to stay far away from her chakra enhanced attacks.”

He thought for a while on that. It had always been that way. She and Kakashi were always there for the other. Just like most people left Kakashi alone when he was at the memorial, they left Sakura alone when she was destressing in training ground three. Yet, they both never left each other alone. He thought about how that’s what love is, what Sakura should get to experience. Not the way she felt for Sasuke, just this endless devotion with nothing in return. 

She deserved the way Hinata always made him feel, and hopefully how he wanted to make her feel in return. A relationship with trust, admiration, sincereness, and respect was what anyone deserved. He wanted that for Sakura, and he still believed that Kakashi was where she got that from. He had never seen anyone look so happy as they did when they finally got together.

It was so hard not to preach at anyone that said so many ill things about his two teammates within his earshot. It angered him to see their happiness brought down the way people were judging them. Granny Tsunade already warned him it would do no good, but he knew if someone dared say something bad about Sakura close to her, a chakra infused from the Hokage herself was coming their way. So why couldn’t they get mouth load from him?  Seemed unfair if you asked him, but he wasn’t in the mood to anger her with arguing.

“Kurenai-sensei and Asuma-sensei were planning a double date with them. I think they are trying to make Sakura feel better about the...dissent around the village.”

“Maybe that’ll be good for her. I don’t understand what the deal is anyway, I mean so what, he was our teacher? We’ve been in equal rank with him for almost three years now. And I couldn’t give a damn about some age difference when she could die tomorrow at 20 years old. Any of us could, right? We’re adults. It’s not like we’re kids anymore.” He huffed in annoyance.

Hinata sighed softly. “Just because we see it that way, doesn’t mean other people do. However, I’ve noticed most of the people spreading the rumors are women that wanted Kakashi themself. Ino said they’ll blame them to keep their ego intact.”

Naruto raised his eyebrows. “So basically a bunch of women Kakashi’s age is mad because he hardly gave them anything past a one-night stand. And that’s they were one of the lucky ones in the last decade, and now he’s with Sakura, who is youngers, prettier, and probably ten times the kunoichi they ever would have been…?”

Hinata giggled softly. “Yes, pretty much Ino’s exact words. Like typical, they’re putting down our friends to make themselves feel better.”

“Leaf shinobi are supposed to be better than that.” He grumbled before getting up from the couch. 

“Not everyone has the same ideals as you, Naruto. But your ideals are one of the things I love about you, that so many people love about you, and why you’ve inspired many others. It’s one of the reasons why one day you will make a great Hokage.” 

He smiled. “You believe in me, don’t you?” 

“I always believed in you, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” She smiled tentatively.

He pulled her up by the grip he still held on her hand before kissing her softly, winding his arms around her hips. “I love you, Hinata,” He mumbled against her lips, pulling her against him.

She smiled before pulling away. “I love you, too.” 

“Maybe we should plan a double date with them. That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it?” He grinned at her before pressing his forehead against hers.

“I think it's a good idea, and I’m sure they would enjoy it too.”

Kakashi brought Sakura a cup of tea and sat down next to her, handing her the hot drink of peppermint. She took it from him, instantly taking a sip from the cup.

He watched her closely. She was curled against the arm of his couch with her knees against her chest. Her pink strands just barely fell around her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her face was still stained with tears, but she had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of her shorts she had brought here. She seemed a little more relaxed, not so overwhelmed by the anger and pain. He could still sense how uneasy she felt, and he just wanted to make her day better. He hoped the dinner with Kurenai and Asuma would help lift her spirits some, a positive in all the negatives.

He loved her so much, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He’d heard everything the village had to say, some of the things he had once thought about himself. That he had been disgusting. He hated himself for it. 

But now, he couldn’t think of life without her. Without being able to hold her at night, or to kiss her. Without being able to see the way she smiled whenever he told her he loved her. The warmth she held for him in her beautiful green eyes whenever she looked at him. He didn’t want to think of a day when his bed no longer had the faint smell of her jasmine perfume. 

“Kakashi…?” Her voice sounded soft and hesitant.

It pulled him from his thoughts instantly. “What is it?” He asked softly, looking up to meet her eyes.

“You’ve got that distant look you get when you’re thinking about something sad…” She set her tea down on the coffee table.

He tried to smile lightly to shake off her concern. “I’m okay, it’s nothing.” 

She rolled her eyes before shifting over to his side of the couch. “Okay, sure. I’ll pretend to believe that. Now lay down...”

He shifted so that he was laying on his back, and watched her curiously as she crawled over his body. She laid between his legs, resting her cheek against his chest. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable before wrapping an arm around her back. She let out a contented sigh before closing her eyes.

He ran his free hand through her hair gently as a smile spread across his lips. He kissed the top of her head. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so.” He spoke softly, a little surprised she had demanded affection. 

He thought she might get distant from him, too bothered by some of the things people dared to say, maybe even think they were true. He should have known she wouldn’t believe them for a second, but it didn’t stop him from preparing for the worst. He played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands loosely around his fingertips. Her body felt warm against his, and it was a comfort he never realized he needed until the first time he held her so intimately.

“Does any of this gossip bother you at all?” She wondered aloud. 

Her voice sounded so small to him. It was rare she sounded so unsure. She was usually so confident these days. He wasn’t surprised to see that it bothered her, even if she felt it was stupid. He knew what was going to happen when everyone found out, but it didn’t mean he liked it or that it didn’t bother him. He used to listen to all the things that were said about his father, so the village dissent wasn’t new to him. Minato had urged to learn to ignore it long ago, but it did seem more difficult to ignore these, at least the parts where he was accused of some things he couldn’t even dream of.

“Some of it does…” He sighed. “I can’t act like people just assuming I’ve always had a thing for you doesn’t upset me. I also fear that you might feel they’re right, and it’s not true.” He tightened his arm that had been around her. 

He tried to figure out what to say that didn’t seem accusatory, but also still be honest with her about his concerns.“I don’t care what they think, but I worry about how what people say will affect you, and your view of me…” 

He watched her closely as she lifted her head to look at him. “I love you, and nothing anyone says will make me think any different of you. I just hate… It angers me that they just instantly assume you’re this gross creep when it was ME who initiated this relationship.”

She huffed before resting her chin against his chest. “If anyone should have ever felt harassed, it was you… But no, they just automatically assume you’re just this lecherous man that groomed me from the time I was twelve.”

“Well, I do read porn in public, so people have the right to believe I’m lecherous…” He smirked. “Not everyone knows it had some real plot to it, or care to know.” He brought a hand to her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Just like they won’t care to know the real story behind us…”

She was looking into his eyes, at his face, before she bit her lip. “So, you don’t think I just used you and clung around you to climb the ranks as some of the women are saying?”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me some jealous sluts are making you doubt your real abilities as a kunoichi? How would you have ever charmed me into giving you jonin rank? I was tough on you guys, not to mention I’m not the one to credit for your abilities.” He kissed her nose and then her Byakugou seal. “Tsunade is to credit for all your skills, not me. I’m not even the one who gave you the recommendation. I wasn’t allowed to be a proctor for your exam either, because you were my student and it leads to bias- negative or positive.” 

He pushed some of her hair out of her eyes again before smiling at her. “You earned jonin, and I’m damned proud of you for it. The other jonin kunoichis are just pissed because you’re better than them and they know it.”

“Mmmm, and maybe because I have Konoha’s number one bachelor all to myself?” She grinned, blushing softly at his words.

“Well, of course. Thank gosh, because the ‘hot-ake’ pickup lines at bars were becoming rather boring. And now, when a girl doesn’t know how to take a hint, I can just ask her if she likes chakra punches for a drink?” 

Sakura burst into laughter, burying her face into his chest. “Oh, yeah, that’ll make a great reputation for us to have.”

He sat up, taking her into his arms. “Team Seven already has quite the rep, I doubt that’ll change. Now, go shower for that dinner with Asuma and Kurenai. It’s my job to make us late, not yours, remember?” He carried his slender pinkette into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the sink.

She was beaming at him as she placed her hands on each side of his face. “I love you so, so much, Kakashi.” 

He gazed into her eyes, thankful for the happy glow returning to them. “I love you, too, Sakura. I always will…” He gave her lips a quick peck.

As he stepped back, she slid off the bathroom sink counter until her feet were on the floor. She began to strip before her eyes widened with sudden realization. “What the hell am I supposed to wear to this dinner on such short notice?”

“Oh, I got that covered. Dress in the bedroom. I hope you like it…” He gave a sheepish smile before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

He chuckled at the tinge of pink that spread across her cheeks. He wasn’t sure how that was worth blushing over, considering all the other things they’d done lately. He picked up her teacup from earlier and walked into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink for later. When the shower turned on, he moved onto the bedroom, gathering up things he had grabbed from her house while she was at work.

He’d seen her go out in various settings enough in the past few years to know that his favorite person took care to do her hair and makeup. He had grabbed her makeup box, along with both her straightener and curler. He almost forgot the hair dryer at her house but had turned around at the door to get it. He wasn’t exactly sure what shoes she would want to wear. Looking back on past conversations he had overheard, this was supposedly a difficult task, according to Ino. He just grabbed the black, ankle high boots that had a buckle(which he realized was just for looks), and a small heel. Surely, those went with anything, right? Hopefully.

He grabbed a few more things before taking them back to the bathroom. He hung the dress up on the towel rack, as well as some underclothing he bought for his own eyes later. He looked around the bathroom. Never once had it ever felt small to him, but now he was wondering where the hell he was going to put three new additions. Did women need both a straightener and a curler?

“I think I’ll need to invest in shelves if you’re gonna be here forever.” He said in mock annoyance.

“I’m using your razor, just in case your mind, but it’s too late if you do…” Sakura said languidly, clearly paying more attention to her legs at the moment. “And what are you talking about?” 

“You’ll see.” He smiled before pulling the shower curtain aside. “Your lotion is on the sink when you’re done. If you need my help, I’ll gladly lather your legs with it for you.” He gave a wink before leaving again. 

“Oh god, we’d never make it dinner if I let you do that.” She mumbled affectionately as she finished the last stroke up her leg.

He stared blankly at the curtain once it was closed, wondering just how the hell Kakashi knew what lotion she even used. She shrugged it off, not putting it past him to look rather odd sniffing random lotions in the store until he found a scent he recognized. The thought made her heave with laughter as she rinsed the excess shaving cream off her legs. 

She stepped out of the shower, and her mouth fell open in her surprise. She quickly realized what he meant by needing to get shelves, as there was nowhere to put all her hair tools besides the straightener on the sink, hair dryer on the back of the toilet, and the curler on top of his medicine cabinet. Her lotion, which was the same bottle from her house, was sitting next to the cup that held his toothbrush. 

She grabbed the towel on the hanger, to see the dress hanging there, and her heart was full. 

It was a dark emerald green a-line dress. It had a sheer lace overlay that had floral patterns stitched into it. The lace continued over the chest into long sleeves, completely see through around her shoulders and arms, the solid colors would frame her chest. It was so dressy but simple all at once. Pretty but not too much, it was perfect. 

And then there was the navy blue lingerie set next to it that just made her turn rosy-colored all over again as she started to dry herself off even quicker.

“Kakashi, you bought lingerie?!” She screeched in embarrassment. 

 He laughed, having finally heard the response he had expected. “Sakura, I buy porn in public, I don’t think buying lingerie for you is that shocking.” He came into the bathroom. “I also noticed you were severely lacking any.”

She huffed and pouted in his direction. “Oh yes, because I had so much reason to wear it.” 

He raised an eyebrow in her direction in surprise. “You don’t need a ‘reason’ to wear hot things.” He stepped behind her and reached for the garments. 

He held them to her form as he spoke against her ear. “This navy will look stunning against your smooth and light toned skin. It’s strapless, so it won’t show through the sheerness of your dress. The woman said this lace is comfortable. And I honestly just wanted to see your ass in thongs. I am a pervert afterall.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll hook the clips for you if you’d like.

Sakura stared down at the blue fabric. She’d seen plenty of Ino’s lingerie, having been made to help her blonde rival choose which to wear on particular occasions. She had never felt the need to buy any. Ino seemed to only wear it on dates, and she never even bothered with those. Not to mention, it’s not like she even had all that much to show off. She bit the inside of her cheek before turning to face Kakashi. “Uh… Sure.” 

He frowned. “Is something wrong? You don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“N-No! It’s not that. I love them, I just… don’t have the body for it.”

Kakashi looked at her dumbly for a moment before turning her body to face him. “Sakura, I promise you, you do. If you didn’t have the body for it, they wouldn’t make your size, which I had to ask Ino for before you ask.”

“Oh, god! I’ll never hear the end of how romantic or hot or whatever it is that you bought me underwear that...might feel slightly more appealing than cotton.”

“Much more appealing than cotton.” He corrected her with a smirk before tilting her chin up and kissing her.

She returned the kiss before pulling back. “Okay, fine. Much more appealing. Now, get out so I can get ready. Your lips are way too enticing.”

“My kisses or the fact you can see them in general now, hm?” He teased.

Damn him.

“Both, now go before we’re late! You have to get ready too, don’t you?” She playfully pushed him towards the door.

“I won’t take anywhere near as long as you.” He shot back as she effectively pushed him from the bathroom.

When he heard the hair dryer turn on, he looked at the time and realized maybe he should start getting ready. He lazily walked back to his room. He pushed through the hangers that had old, worn out ANBU uniforms hung on them. He wondered if they would ever be used again. He found the smoky gray long sleeve button shirt he had been looking for. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even worn this shirt. He vaguely wondered if it had been the funeral service for Jiraiya. 

He stripped down to his boxers before grabbing the black slacks on the hanger behind the shirt and slipping them over his form. He grabbed the shirt and the tie, laying them over the bed.  He pulled a white t-shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his lithe form. He grabbed the button up and slid his arms through the sleeves. He buttoned it up to the top, leaving it open. He glanced at the tie, debating if it was necessary to wear. He tucked his shirt and buttoned the pants. He adjusted everything until it felt comfortable and wasn’t pulling one way or another. He grabbed the dress shoes from the floor of his closet, and her boots before walking back to the living room. 

She came out of the bathroom to see Kakashi folding up the sleeves on his shirt, which was a much hotter sight than she thought it could have been. She smiled lightly before sitting down next to him.

“Thank you for the clothes… And bringing all that from home.” She spoke softly. 

He nodded as he looked over, finding her as beautiful as always. The dress had gone to the middle of her thighs. He could see the difference in her wearing the bra instead of wrappings in her chest which was an appreciative sight he hoped for. She had put on some shimmery gold shadow and smooth liner along her lashes that ended with a small wing. Her lips were tinted pink and shined with gloss. 

She looked gorgeous.

“Nobody would ever think you were kunoichi if they didn’t know the only pink haired person in Konoha was none other than my lovely Sakura Haruno.” He smiled before kissing her cheek. “That dress looks way better actually on you than it ever did on a hanger.”

She smiled before leaning against him. “I like it. I’m kind of excited to go on a double date with them. It’ll be fun, right?” 

He cracked a half smile. “I’m sure you’ll make it fun.” 

She smiled before slipping the shoes and standing up. “Well, let’s go!”

She was brimming with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even worn makeup, let alone fully dressed up. She grabbed Kakashi’s hand as soon as they got outside of the apartment complex, and had not let go of it since. The subtle click of her heels as she glided through the streets to the park they were supposed to meet their friends at was enough to draw everyone’s attention to them.

He followed her idly, almost being dragged as she insisted on walking so much faster than he ever did. The way her eyes shined with happiness, and the way the light from the streetlamps caught the glitter in her shadow, was mesmerizing to Kakashi. She didn’t look like that for anyone, but she had done all that for him. He never thought she needed makeup, but the gold went well with her eye color. 

She didn’t seem to notice anyone looking at them as they walked together. When she looked back at him, all he saw was pure love and joy, and it made his heart clench. That’s all he ever wanted to give her, no matter what. 

“You look beautiful, Sakura…” He gave an eye crease and squeezed her hand lightly. 

A light blush dusted her cheeks before she looked away and walked to the gate of the park. Asuma and Kurenai were already there. 

“Hey, guys!” She grinned. 

“What do you know, Kakashi did wear something other than the jounin uniform.” Asuma said in a defeated tone. “I guess I owe Genma twenty bucks now.”

“I told you.” Kurenai said as she rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe he’s with her, of all women.”

Another woman sighed in annoyance. “Clearly, you don’t know what life is like as a ninja. Sakura is one of the most caring people in the village, and that vet was her sensei but only for a short time, she was mainly trained by Lady Tsunade.”

“She’s a child!”

Sakura turned her head towards the conversing women, surprised to see someone she didn’t know defending them. Curiosity shone in her eyes, and she felt Kakashi pull her towards him, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry about any of that tonight.” He murmured into her ear. “I’m not having some random opinionated people ruin your excitement.” 

She turned to him and smiled. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Kurenai said the women are being more brutal about this than they were when we started dating.” Asuma chuckled.

Kakashi scoffed. “Oh, trust me. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime, and it’s not even the only scorn I’ve dealt with, however, it’s for sure the worst.”

Sakura leaned up and kissed his mask cheek, leaving a slightly sparkled spot on the fabric. “Blame Naruto for convincing us to confess.” She giggled. 

He looked down at her before sliding his hand down to rest on her hip. “Sure, why not. But I don’t regret it either way.”

They walked alongside their friends into one of the fancier restaurants and sat down in a booth. They chatted idly for a while about anything and everything. Kakashi mostly watched Sakura, just happy to see her smiling nonstop. Happy to think it was things he did that made her smile and feel so happy. 

He watched her lips as she talked, starting to understand a little bit why she wore the lipstick in the first place. She always had pinker lips, but the red made them more prominent and seemed to demand his attention. He moved his hand to rest on her thigh, a bit surprised by how warm her skin was. 

“Wait for a second, you don’t even know who the ANBU that are assigned to guard you are? I mean I know anonymity is their thing, but usually, in guarding situations, at least the person being guarded knows?” Kurenai shook her head in disbelief.

Sakura shrugged. “I wasn’t told. It must not be that dire to hide who they are, because I doubt Genma would be careless enough to accidentally drop a senbon in front of my face.”

“The other two don’t know you outside of being Tsunade’s apprentice, my former student, and now my lover who is being threatened by a missing nin who was formerly your teammate.” Kakashi said lazily as he blinked a few times to focus back on the conversation.

“In other words, they probably don’t see a reason to reveal who they are if they don’t already know you.” Asuma affirmed.

“I picked who was watching you. I would have preferred Tenzou and Genma, but he’s still on our team and not with ANBU anymore. So just Genma will do, but I trained the others myself. They also think I’m a pervert.” He gave an eye crease.

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Overprotective? I’m pretty sure Shishou would have chosen decent candidates. I’m almost her daughter, according to Shizune. And that’s because everyone knows you are one.”

“Nope. She asked me to choose.”

“Ino keeps insisting the ANBU watch you guys fuck, and I insisted that there’s still privacy in guarding, especially when the last person she is getting guarded against is Kakashi, contrary to some of the villager beliefs here.” He added with a chuckle. “However, now that you mention Genma is there, I have some serious doubts.”

Sakura’s complexion instantly heated up into a cherry shade. “You don’t actually think-”

“Shizune threatened before I did, apparently.” Kakashi said with a chuckle.

Sakura stirred her miso soup a little more before taking another bite. “I sure hope it worked.” She mumbled.

She thought loosely about this moment, just out on a date with their friends. She had always wanted something like this. Just comfortable and genuine, just love. His hand on her thigh was surprising at first, but comforting. She didn’t miss the gazes that were pointed toward their table, or how people whispered, but she forced herself to focus on the date. 

Which wasn’t that hard as she kept stealing glances at Kakashi dressed more casually. She definitely could get used to him wearing clothes that fit his form a little snug compared to the standard jounin garb. She enjoyed the way the fabric moved over his well-toned figure but was still loose enough to only just barely give an outline of the muscles that flex under it.

She felt Kakashi’s hand slowly moving across his thigh, and she dared to glance at his face, which looked perfectly normal, and nothing like he was stroking her skin under the table. She gulped as she crossed her legs over his hand in an attempt to hide it from others. His fingers felt cool against her heated skin, and she was trying to fight off the building arousal. He only squeezed her thigh in response which led to her stifling what would have been a small moan. 

It was awfully hard to focus on anything people could have been whispering about them when she was trying to keep control of her pleasure, and she wondered if that was his goal. Or if he was just being the pervert he was and enjoying toying with her, having known how sensitive she is to even only his touch. Judging by the imprint of a smirk under his mask she could see if she squinted, it was probably both.

“I don’t think even Genma is stupid enough to test Kakashi on that matter.” Kurenai flashed a comforting grin. “So, how did you two finally figure out you both loved each other?”

Sakura smiled in return. “Well, drunk us shared a kiss, but he got all “this isn’t right” and I told Hinata about it a couple of days later.” 

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Naruto came to my apartment ready to beat the breaks off of me because she didn’t just tell Hinata, she sobbed to her about it.” He corrected her as he removed his hand from her thigh, letting his fingers slowly slide off her skin.

She shivered slightly before huffing with a pout. “I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, I know.” He gave her an eye crease. “I tell Naruto I love her and some other sappy shit, and he tries to convince me to tell her but I won’t. And he ended up convincing her to tell me.” He pulled her against his side and brushed his lips against her temple. “And now here we are.”

“Is this part where you skip me finding you two together?” Asuma asked with a knowing grin.

“I had suspected you had some type of feelings for her before the bar. I knew she did because she never smiled as much as she did around you. After the way you threatened the guy at the bar, I was for sure about you.” 

“Now just what made me so obvious?” Kakashi furrowed his eyebrows.

“You, well you with three careens of sake in his system, acted more like a jealous boyfriend as opposed to a protective team leader. Right down to openly wrapping your arm around her waist and stroking her hip.” Asuma deadpanned as if that was a stupid question.

Sakura’s cheeks dusted pink once again. “Ah, so that part didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else like I thought it had…” Her voice was quiet and timid as she felt Kakashi rubbing her hip through the fabric of the dress in the same manner as the night before. 

Kurenai laughed softly. “Kakashi hardly ever got involved with women, so when he does we pay close attention. Anko was the first to point out that he was way more touchy with you than any other one before.”

“Wait, really?” Sakura asked as her curiosity became peaked before amusement shone in her eyes. “Well, no wonder why every freaking woman in the town hates my existence right. now.”

Kurenai and Asuma both laughed at her amusement at that new fact. Their plates were about finished and it was seeming to be the end of the night out. They all said their goodbyes before heading back home for the night. 

The whole walk home, she couldn’t help but wonder how Kakashi was rumored to be phenomenal in bed. Well for her it was far from a rumor now. But how did he have that when he didn’t want to be touchy with the women? He would touch and stroke and kiss every inch of her body whenever they made love, and she couldn’t picture him being any other way. It seemed like it was half the fun for her. Then again, she’d never had sex before Kakashi, let alone casual sex. Maybe that was the difference?

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 3 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr.

Chapter 3: Worries

"Sam… can you run this by me again?" he asked as he stopped searching for a moment and glanced at her. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Her response was a roll of the eyes. "I thought we went over this already… Don't you want to know what we saw last night?"

"I don't!" Tucker voiced, causing the two of them to look at him. "What? That thing was scary! For all we know, it could still be out here, and I for one, have no desire to see it again!"

"Why, aren't we brave?" The sarcasm in Sam's voice spoke volumes. In an almost immediate response, Tucker covered his head with his arms. Apparently, that tone was a verbal warning of the threat of pain. Sam could apparently be rather scary when she felt like it.

"Hey! Don't get mad at me! I just want to keep my good looks safe for the ladies! Besides, you're the one with the grudge!"

That answer just seemed to anger Sam more. "How selfish can you get? You don't even care that other people could be in danger?" Though it was true that she had sworn her vengeance on whatever they had seen, rational seemed to have come back to her in the hours after the chase. She currently just wanted to know who or what that was.

"I do… except, in my book, I come first! Besides, shouldn't this be a job for the police instead?"

"Like they're going to believe a couple of kids. We'll probably be the ones to get in trouble if we say anything. They only take it seriously if we find some kind of proof."

Danny stayed silent as he watched their fight continue. Sam did have a point; whatever it was that they had seen the night before could potentially be dangerous to anyone in the area. It also seemed unlikely that the police would believe them, since they would probably just pass it off as some kind of animal, which it definitely was not! However, he sided more with Tucker. If it wasn't for Sam's persuasiveness (aka threats), there was no way that he would have come back to the cemetery for quite some time.

He glanced around the familiar surroundings and shivered slightly. It was only about one in the afternoon, but it felt like it was much later. The shadows appeared more pronounced, the statues looked corrupted, and the air seemed stale and heavy. It was almost as if that thing's presence had managed to taint the area.

Even though he really did not believe in the so-called paranormal, there was definitely something demonic about that creature. That thought caused him to sigh. He was being silly. There was probably a very logical explanation for what he and his friends had seen. It was probably just some drifter or psychopath… which is just as comforting.

In truth, he would rather just forget about the incident and chalk it up as a bizarre situation that he never wanted to ever deal with again. He had also made a promise to himself to never again sneak out of his house at night; being scared half to death was so not worth it. However, he had this sinking suspicion that Sam was going to make him break that. Speaking of which…

"What…?" he asked after he realized that she had asked him something. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Jeez, Danny, get your head out of the clouds." Judging by her expression and the fact that Tucker was hiding rather poorly behind a nearby bush, they had stopped arguing for the time being. "I just wanted to know if you had managed to get home okay last night. I mean, you didn't get in trouble or anything, did you? I kinda forgot to ask earlier."

He frowned for a moment. "Surprisingly… no," he replied before giving them a sheepish grin. "I… uh… fell when I snuck back through my window. If you haven't already noticed, I'm kinda klutzy. Winston's use to that, but it's a little weird for me to fall at night. If he did wake up, I guess he assumed I fell off the bed again."

Sam shook her head. "Again…?"

"I don't do it often!" he replied in an embarrassed protest. "Just a couple times a year!"

"And that makes it so much better."

"Um, I don't mean to pry or anything," Tucker interrupted as he came over. Apparently, he now thought it was safe for him to come out of hiding, though he did make sure that he was out of Sam's punching range. "But, why do you call your dad by his first name?"

That question earned another sheepish look. "Well… um… I'm actually adopted. Winston's been my guardian for as long as I can remember. Apparently, my parents had asked him to take care of me if anything would happen to them…" He sounded wistful for a moment before he sat down on a nearby bench. Raising his head, he glanced at them while wearing an expression that was unreadable. "I… I really don't know what happened to them. Winston's not very comfortable with the topic."

After a small pause, Sam glared at Tucker, who cringed. "Tucker! How could you bring that up?" she demanded as she moved closer to him.

"Sorry!" He immediately backed away from her as he raised his hands again. "I didn't know!"

That caused Danny to chuckle, which caused both of them to look at him. "It's okay, really! I don't mind. Let's just go back to searching before Tucker gets hurt."

"Tucker likes that idea!"

Sam glared at the nervous boy for a moment before poked him in the chest, "Fine, but this doesn't mean that you're off the hook."

….

"Sam!" Tucker whined about an hour later. "Let's call it a day! We haven't found anything! And besides, we promised Danny yesterday that we'd show him around."

Once again, Danny agreed with him. There were definitely less boring activities than failing miserably at finding anything. They had found nothing! It was as if there was absolutely nothing to even suggest that there had even been something other than him in this part of the graveyard within the last day. It was definitely frustrating since there was a small part of him that did want proof that he hadn't just imagined last night. Even if Sam and Tucker had seen it, maybe it had been some weird group hallucination. He had heard those were possible.

Sam glanced around again and gave a frustrated huff before she kicked the ground. "I guess you're right… even if I don't want you to be. I guess we should lea… Hey, what's that?" She pointed at something before she sprinted over to whatever it was that she had seen.

He and Tucker shared a look before they followed her. By the time they had reached her, she had picked up what appeared to be a piece of paper and was examining it. Apparently, it contained either an image or word that was holding her interest.

"Um… Sam… what… oomf!" Danny's words were cut off when Sam shoved the paper into his hands. "What the heck?"

She glared at him while she impatiently tapped her foot. "Just look at it!"

After giving her a look, he complied. At first, the only thing that caught his attention was that he was holding a rather old piece of paper. That normally would not be too weird since littering was unfortunately common, but this paper wasn't just weathered, but it also had a strange feel as if it was more along the lines of canvas than actual paper. He then noticed that there were black marks on it, which he realized was a sketch of what appeared to be some sort of figure.

He turned the paper a bit to see if he could get a better feel for the picture. It appeared to be an ink sketch of what he took to be a demonic figure with… possibly flaming hair. After a moment, he also realized that there seemed to be writing on the top of the paper, but the letters were too faded for him to make out.

"So… what do you think?" Sam asked after he had handed the paper to Tucker.

"Not much," he replied with a shrug. "Sure, it's creepy enough, but I don't think it's related to this. Papers find their way here all the time. Possibly someone lost it out of their sketchbook a while back."

She just shook her head. "Danny, I tend to do a bit of sketching myself… That's not a type of paper, if it is paper, that you commonly use. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I've never seen it before."

"Sam, you're probably over thinking things. I really don't think that it's anything out of the ordinary," Tucker told her as he gave it back to her. He then glanced at Danny and grinned. "Although Sam's usually pretty level-headed, she sometimes lets her love of anything weird run away with her."

"Take that back!"

"In this case, I don't think I will."

"Would you still say that if you weren't standing behind me?" Danny asked as he tried to turn to get a look at his friend.

Tucker gave him a serious look. "Dude, have you seen her boots? They hurt! Oh… alright." After receiving another glare, he gave up on hiding and looked over at the still irritated goth. "If it will make you happy, I'll try to find some information on it when I get home. Though, to be absolutely honest, I'm fairly certain that picture's nothing more than the product of someone's deranged… oh, I mean artistic… mind."

Try as she might, Sam couldn't resist chuckling at his comment. "Thanks. If anyone could find something, it would be you."

"I'm glad you noticed."

"Sure, I noticed. It's your only redeeming quality."

"Hey!"

"Sorry to interrupt another one of your fights," he told them as he raised an eyebrow. Their "play" arguments were throwing him for a loop. How was it possible they were still friends if that happened as commonly as it seemed? "But, am I missing something?"

Sam laughed as she waved him off with her hand. "Don't mind us. Both of us keep forgetting that you don't know any of this yet. Although he might not look like it, Tucker's amazing with technology. I swear that he could honestly bring down a satellite with that PDA of his." She then glanced over at the boy who had brought out said PDA and had begun checking it in a strangely loving fashion. "I'm actually surprised that he didn't mention it yesterday. Perhaps he was trying not to scare you way."

After a moment she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Come on! We should leave now before he starts trying to induct you into his technologic world…"

xxxxx

The door slammed which let him know that his charge was finally home. If it was any other day, he would have actually gone to greet the boy, but this was not the case. He was currently stuck on the phone listening to someone who was irritating him more and more with each passing second. Even though he was usually a patient man, it was taking all of his self control to not raise his voice at her.

"Ma'am, I understand the consequences," he told the voice on the phone tiredly as he tried to wrap up the conversation, "But I assure you, that not only am I acting on his parents' wishes, but that I am also taking very good care of him."

What the woman said next absolutely enraged him. "That remains to be seen!" was his indigent reply. "Please reserve your judgments until you or one of your people come to do that review. Now, have a good day." The woman had tried to respond, but he cut her off by slamming the phone. Those people were so tiring, but that one really knew what to say to get under his skin.

"Uh… is everything okay in here…?" Danny asked carefully as he appeared in the kitchen. His expression clearly said that he hoped that he was not in trouble.

Winston sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he sat down. "It's really nothing too important, just another call from the state. Apparently, they're now attempting to use scare tactics." He then looked at the boy and tried to smile, "So, how was your day?"

Danny shrugged as he too grabbed a seat. "Sam and Tucker showed me around town some more, and we hit the arcade for a bit before Tucker had to head home. We're going to try to get together again in a couple days."

"That's good…"

"Um… are you sure you're okay?"

He sighed as he looked up at the boy who seemed worried about the absent-minded response he had recieved. "Yeah… I guess I let them get to me more than I had thought. Anyways, how does pizza sound for dinner?"

"That sounds great!" Danny then got up and headed towards the hall. "I'm going to be in my room for a while."

"That's fine." Winston then got up and picked up the phone again. After calling the pizza place, he headed into the study and tried to relax.

Why was in the world was that man getting involved in this? He had heard the rumors that the man had begun to involve certain aspects of his many companies in some of the state cases, but until that call he did not believe that they were actually true. Due to the money that those companies held, it was going to much more difficult than he had originally thought to keep Danny. Not only that, but the head of those companies, Vlad Masters himself, had personally become interested.

According to that woman, he claimed to be a friend of Danny's parents. If that was the case, why didn't they ask him to take the boy? But, that was beside the point. Even though the man was well-respected, there was something that just did not sit right with Winston. Sure, he might be a business genius, but he had gained way too much power too quickly. There were rumors that those gains had not been made above the table, and Winston believed that they were true.

It was also known that the man was not above using underhanded tactics in court. If this case did end up going that far… there was no telling what that man might reveal. Danny's story was complicated, and even though he had done what was asked of him, it was unlikely that a jury would see it the same way, especially with how unbelievable the story really was. Most likely, Masters would corrupt the tale, making it even worse.

Then there was Danny to think about. While it's true that he had not be entirely forthcoming with what had actually happened, he had planned on revealing everything on his upcoming birthday. However, with the current mess, he was unsure what precisely to do. If he was to wait and the boy was told a corrupted story, it would most likely shatter his world. He could not let that happen, but he did not want to add stress to him, especially since there had been no indication it was true…

A sudden crash followed by a yell immediately got him out of his seat. That was….? What was that? He stood still for a moment trying to figure out from where the noise had originated when he realized that had been Danny's voice. Sure, the boy did have a tendency to trip, but there was no way that was normal.

He immediately ran to boy's room and opened the door. "Danny! Are you all right? I heard a crash!" He looked around expecting the boy to be near his chair or bed, but instead he was on the floor, plastered against the wall. His piercing blue eyes were wide and frightened.

Worried, he kneeled beside the boy, placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, and gently shook him. Unfortunately, he still did not get a response as Danny was still staring at something. His military instincts kicked in, causing him to tense and glance around the room looking for anything that was out of place. After a moment, he realized that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he still kept himself prepared potential surprise.

"Danny…" he whispered harshly to his charge as he continued to watch, "what happened?"

There was no sound until he heard Danny take a deep breath and move. He looked back to see the boy leaning his head against the wall. His breathing was still heavy, but it looked like the worst of the shock of whatever had happened was beginning to wear off. "Are you okay?" he asked cautiously as he glanced around again.

"Huh…?" the boy's voice was startled. Had he only just realized that he had come into the room? "Wh-what's going on?"

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he knelt down again. "Did something happen? Did you see something weird?"

At the last question, his charge tensed and glanced at his hand as if he was examining it. After a moment, he hesitantly looked back at him and shook his head. "I… I'm fine, but what's with the twenty questions?"

He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Really? Daniel, I heard a crash and a yell from you. I was worried," he told him as he helped him to his feet. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

This time, he was answered with a nod. "I'm fine… I just … fell off the chair... and managed to knock some of the stuff off my desk…" Danny cringed slightly when he realized how weak sounding his excuse was. He then became more animated and began to push the older man towards the door. "I promise! I'm perfectly fine! N-nothing's wrong! Just give me a few minutes to clean up everything, and I'll be right out! The pizza's supposed to be here shortly, right?"

Before Winston even had a chance to attempt to get a word in, Danny shoved him out of the room and slammed to door. He remained there, a little stunned for a few moments. Whatever had happened definitely spooked the boy, it was probably nothing like he had said… but he could not help but wonder. A normal fall like that should not be so frightening.

He took another glance at the door before he headed back into the kitchen. Maybe he should watch the boy a little more closely, just in case.

[catubarca]

Harry Potter Next Generation Headcanons

im bored. im full of emotions, and am rly missing the HP world... i just want to write down my headcannons for the next gen kiddos tbh.

please remember these are just my opinions? its okay if yours are different. im just bored and want to share my thoughts,,

Teddy Lupin

his name is Theodore Remus “Teddy” Lupin. it’s just what it is

I don’t care what JKR says, to me his name will always be Theodore

i can’t do this “Edward” stuff im so sorry,,,

h u f f l e p u f f

proper school uniform? never heard of it

messy hair, messy clothes

punk rock child

we’re talking like,,,at least two (2) lip piercings ok

absolutely terrible in herbology. do not leave this child alone in a greenhouse, bad things happen

fuckin hoards chocolate

its a problem

dating Victorie Weasley

random bursts of dancing

keeps a lock of hair pink for his mother

lives with the Potters, enjoys pretending to be Ginny to ground his siblings

“Lily, why aren’t you coming out of your room? Dinner’s ready?” “You said I’m grounded! You tell me!” “What? Oh, for the- THEODORE REMUS LUPIN-“

s m i r k s

effortlessly cool,,, but so so dorky,,, in a cool way

Victorie Weasley

ravenclaw!

looks a lot like her mother, Fleur, but inherited those Weasley freckles

a little confused a lot of the time

absolute sweet tooth (teddy abuses this fact a lot)

Mom Friend™

will help you with your homework

always got a book on her

super beautiful and like,,,, the absolute nicest person,,, but

cannot dance

like at all

adores Charms class

a softie you don’t want to cross

“I’m the oldest”

Dominique Weasley

inherited the Classic Weasley Red Hair™

idolises her Uncle Charlie

“I wanna save animals and work with cool dragons, just like Uncle Charlie does!”

Bill almost has a heart attack

always bringing stray animals home

(“is that a lizard in your pocket, Dominique?” “Yes! His name is Blob.” “You know how your father’s afraid of reptiles, sweetheart, you can’t bring it inside.”)

Gryffindor child

favourite class is definitely Care of Magical Creatures, she and Hagrid like to talk about proper care methods for rare creatures

perpetual dirt stains

BIG middle child vibes

doesn’t really label her sexuality… just kinda does what she wants rly

all the pets in Hogwarts love her

rumours are she’s got an innate, natural magical ability to make them all love her

(she feeds them under the table)

it’s a mystery

big advocate for animal rights

f e m i n i s t

willing to throw hands at all times

usually all smiles though

one of those people who use their whole bodies to laugh

kind of an accidental heartthrob

romcoms

Louis Weasley

looks the most like his mother

ravenclaw

absolutely filled with curiosity. always reading or talking or learning

random facts

(how do you even find that sort of information?

you don’t want to know)

coffee boy

sort of musically talented?

he and James Sirius preach the importance of skincare to all who will listen

secretly full of sass and dry wit

vry graceful and fluid

e y e r o l l

awkward smiles? can never smile properly in photos

on the ravenclaw quidditch team

Ravenclaw Prefect

(“You might be older, but I’m taller.” “Fuck off!”)

only watches High Quality™ tv shows/media

kind of a disaster, despite the gracefulness

Molly Weasley

Classic red hair

comes across as a bit uptight, like her father

I don’t care what you think. (She really cares what you think.)

E y e b r o w s

death glares

drinks like 5 cups of coffee in the morning

studies,,, like a lot

definitely a Gryffindor though

mom jeans

always ready to debate a topic. will destroy opponents.

has been trying to start a successful Debate Club for like 4 years now

naturally falls into the position of a group leader

would be a teacher’s pet, if she wasn’t ready At All Times™ to debate the relevancy of the course syllabus or outdated teaching methods

got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait in Headmistress McGonagall’s office.

(Dumbledore’s portrait was laughing, until she turned and ragged on him for a bit. Minerva thought it was absolutely hilarious, so she just let Molly go at it for a while).

full of rage towards everything, but wears a very careful mask of aloofness

to calm down, she likes painting her nails

she’s very good at it

she’s also very good at painting and art in general, weirdly enough

Lucy Weasley

G R Y F F I N D O R

adores shitty puns and has a terrible sense of humour

brown hair, not red

loves to prank people, which makes her Uncle George very proud

Percy complains about her behaviour, but makes sure he knows he’s proud too

(charming all the cauldrons in the potions classroom to scream whenever they’re stirred takes a more complex understanding of spell work than one would expect).

a pit of a punk streak

rly loves hip hop

high key drama queen

does she ever stop yelling? we’re yet to find out

average grades in terms of theory, but she’s the best in terms of applying information

especially for her pranks

has allies throughout the castle, from the portraits to the students

the bigger the prank, the better

but is a firm believer in “confuse, don’t abuse”

all her pranks are mostly harmless

is a surprising lover of older literature, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, an influence of her sister

a bit rebellious

Fred Weasley II

name isn’t officially “the second”, but it sounds cooler

James Potter, Lucy Weasley, Molly Weasley and Fred Weasley are like the Marauders 2.0

says “squad” and “lit” unironically

niche humour

hipster vibes

avid music lover

smiley sunshine child

takes after his mother the most in looks, just like his sister

a chill type of gryffindor

plays quidditch, and is an excellent chaser, just like his mother

the absolute undisputed King™ of puppy-dog eyes

just,,,, beautiful

the True teacher’s pet

hands in his work on time,, asks lots of questions,,, likes helping students understand their work,, what a boy

can hella nyoom

runs so fast

look at him go

as you might expect, loves a good prank. always down for a laugh

Roxanne Weasley

Gryffindor and pROUD

absolute Queen tbh

was definitely Head Prefect or Gryffindor Prefect at some point

loved by the school

absolute legend

G I R L   P O W E R

infectious laughter

has a soft spot for Louis Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy

these poor disaster children,,,, they need a Mother

M O M

big mom vibes

mothers the hell out of all the first years

a feminist through and through

can be found nodding aggressively to Molly Weasley’s semi-deranged, furious ranting

YAAAASS

loves slang. uses so much slang. always up to date with trends and memes

has all the gossip

becomes a mess around pretty girls

absolute blushing, stuttering disaster around cute girls oh my god

her eye make-up game is killer

sparkly

Distinguished Lesbian

Rosie Weasley

did someone say Weasley™?

red hair and freckles and curls oh my

on the autism spectrum, has trouble socialising sometimes

hella passionate about stuff

hangs out with Scorpius and Albus, the Golden Trio 2.0

f em ini st

her jokes are the best. high quality sense of humour.

Ravenclaw

likes to read. it’s quiet in the school library, which is nice.

abysmal at herbology

surprisingly good at Care of Magical Creatures though? Animals are just,,, so much easier to deal with

overall, really good grades though

bit of a silent type, but she’s actually a riot to hang out with

actually pretty good at quidditch? She’s not on the team, and she’s not super interested in playing, but?? She’s not bad??

She can land a solid hit with a beater’s bat

(eyes you judgementally over the top of a book)

dry wit humour

will throw hands over chess

Hugo Weasley

hufflepuff

unbeatable at chess, like his dad

a lost puppy

someone please help this child

softie

kind of low-key emotional

so supportive!! and loyal!! high-key best friend material

foodie. loves food. please feed him.

takes a bit more after his dad appearance wise

loves to cook. spends lots of time with grandma Molly and his dad in the kitchen

Professor Longbottom is his favourite professor, because he’s more chilled and laidback.

other professors and classes fill him with Distress™

loves astronomy too

maths whizz, so good at arithmancy

(“uh, actually-“)

a little bossy, like his mother

is trying so hard

maybe a little too hard

a bit insecure and nervous, but so soft

please treat this child carefully and with love

James Sirius Potter

Gryffindor

L O U D

a fucking disaster child

what’d you expect, putting “James” and “Sirius” together?

DRAMATIC GASPING

flails his hands around when he talks

s t r u t s

bisexual mess, had a crush on both the Longbottom children at some point

is better than you at everything

including being a different gender

fuck you that’s why

so pretty

he’s so pretty

is thIS CHILD EVER NOT LAUGHING AT SOMETHING OH My god

laughs at everything

all the time

always

high-key emotional

badly timed finger guns

looks like a model in photos? wtf?

gets invited to Girls Nights™

wears nail polish and makeup

loves to yell at people about gender roles and defying stereotypes

TEA SIS

not on the quidditch team surprisingly enough, even though he’s pretty good

prefers to be in the stands, doing A+ commentary on the games

if he can get Fred to stop mid-air due to unbearable, suffocating laughter at least once a game it’s a win in his books

has it OUT for the hufflepuff quidditch team and no one knows why??

definitely makes puns on his name

it drives everyone insane

harry always replies he’s just making his namesake proud

that also drives everyone insane

smug lil shit

Albus Severus Potter

“It’s just Al.”

S L Y T H E R I N

will always find a way to get what he wants, eventually

“dad, why did you name me this way?”

unimpressed

sigh

hella smart. is topping at least five classes

Aunt Hermione is his favourite. She’s the fucking Mistress of Magic! All that power, the ability to make change and improve the Magical World as a whole-

sass master

the reason headmistress mcgonagall keeps a bottle of scotch under her desk at all times

the only potter child to inherit The Eyes™

absolute insomniac

kind of emo, but turns into a fucking softie around Scorpius Malfoy it’s hilarious

adverse to violence. prefers a verbal beatdown method

really tall? despite having shorties for parents??? no one saw it coming

(especially not Teddy. He’s always scared of losing his last few inches of height)

Functional Gay

he’s on the slytherin quidditch team, as a seeker

Lily Luna Potter

Gryffindor

FEMINIST

do not mess with lily luna potter

she may seem cute and sweet, but she will destroy you

inherited her father’s black hair

disaster lesbian

transfiguration is her favourite subject, by far

has no idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

Existential Crisis Father-Daughter Bonding Time™

do you ever sleep?

takes after Ginny the most in personality

also, kind of the most like James Fleamont Potter in personality, too?

Loves to help her brother out with pranks, laughs at him when he gets caught and she gets away with it

The only one of the Potter Children who hasn’t got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait

because she just ignores him instead

loves talking to the portraits around the castle

Super good at Quidditch, is on the team as a Chaser

Quidditch Captain at some point

adores Hagrid, but who out of the Potter children doesn’t?

Idolises Minerva McGonagall

just as oblivious as her father

Scorpius Malfoy

Actually in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin, much to many people’s surprise

abSOLUTE DADDY’S BOY

super close with his dad

Draco is just so supportive of like everything he does (unlike his father)

classic blonde malfoy looks

actually really funny?

a cuddler. loves hugs. always leeching warmth off of someone

he and Rosie sometimes finger-tip-touch which is their version of a hug, because he know’s she’s not super comfortable with touch

was basically adopted by the Weasley’s and Potter’s

James Sirius will murder for this child

booknerd, always rambling to Al and Rosie about new books coming out he’s interested in reading.

has had a crush on Albus Potter since like 1st year

always worried about making his dad proud, and keeping up the Malfoy name

sweet tooth

he’s just,, soft. just a warm, happy child. he wants love, and affection. someone tell him he’s doing okay, please.

needs,,, validation,,,

he’ll tell you out loud that he has no favourite aunts or uncles, but he secretly really likes spending time with his Uncle Ron

they had a talk, once, in like the middle of the night at a sleepover with Rosie and Al, about feeling insecure in comparison to others, and learning to be proud of yourself for your achievements

there were a few tears, but it was nice

Ron was actually the third person he told, besides his dad and Rosie, about having a crush on Al

openly a disaster romantic. trash taste in romance novels.

always welcome in the Potter-Weasley households

[ambroseshaw]

🌙 — ALL ABOARD ! The HMS PROMETHEAN welcomes ( AMBROSE SHAW ) to the expedition in their capacity of ( THE MARKED ). They are ( FORTY YEARS OLD & CISMALE ) and might be painted as ( ZACH MCGOWAN ). When you strike up an acquaintance, address them as ( HE/HIM ). Their deeds on land precede their arrival — people say they are ( COMPELLING, CUNNING, and STEEL-WILLED ) but ( VAINGLORIOUS, RECLUSIVE, DISTRUSTFUL ) when the tide turns. Their purpose aboard the Promethean falls in line with ( ESCAPING THE SINS OF HIS PAST — BY ANY MEANS ).

HISTORY

I. Ambrose and his younger brother are born to a woman who has fallen from grace -- Elizabeth Shaw is by no means remarkable, but she used to be something, and from what Ambrose can remember of her, she always despaired over what she could have been. Her family was quick to turn their gaze when they discover she’s been leading a married man on an affair that has ended in a swelling at her belly and no ring on her finger. She’d been no older than eighteen when the cast her out, and just like that, any mention of her was struck from the books. She pleaded with her lover to show the kindness he’d promised with gentle words in her ear, but he was too poor to even entertain the thought of ruining his own bit of kingdom to try and maintain her own. Ambrose is born not long after Elizabeth Shaw has found her place in a brothel in the slums. It is here that he grows up, an ugly and unremarkable child, running secrets back and forth from room to room in exchange for the skill to read and write. His mother does not so much as acknowledge him, or William, for that matter.

II. He doesn’t know who does it, never bothered to ask, but when Elizabeth dies -- he is twelve, then, and William is nine -- someone comes to get her. That someone is a cousin by the name of Cunningham, distant but wealthy, who’d been close to Elizabeth. Older, yes, but close. He’d been searching for her a long time, he explains to her boys, who look so much like their mother it’s almost astonishing. Cunningham takes them both under his wing and sweeps them out of the slums of London without so much as a second thought. Ambrose doesn’t trust him, and the first year is... difficult. They know their letters, but neither of them are educated, and both brothers drag their heels in the dirt trying to hold onto the rowdy beasts that have taken root in their chests. It is not until Ambrose discovers his love of history that he truly settles, and the difference is like day and night. Cunningham plies Ambrose with historical texts and novels, and in exchange, Ambrose makes the effort to learn how to be charistmatic and good and pristine. Few know about his mother, and when Ambrose meets his uncles, his aunts, his grandparents, their scarcely mention her. It is terrifying, really, how easily people are wiped from existence, just that fast.

III. Cunningham buys him his education, and from that education stems advancement. Ambrose learns, grows, works, writes, becomes a professor first of Roman history, Egyptian history soon to follow, and with every piece he publishes or collaborates on, his fame only increases. At twenty-seven he is offered an observational position on an expedition to old Roman ruins in an effort to unearth hidden treasures, and he accepts without so much as a second thought. William accompanies him for these first few journeys, although his younger brother discovers he does not quite have the taste for it. Ambrose, on the other hand, is ravenous. Forget writing; he’d much rather dig as far his own two hands will take him. The expedition returns successfully, and the pieces of old art and sword pommels are hung up in a museum, displayed for and lauded by the wealthy. Ambrose develops an appetite. He funds and embarks on another expedition, this time to the Valley of the Kings, and does not return empty-handed. He is soon sponsored by the British Archaeological Association, and archaeology becomes his life. He returns to London after every trip with some sort of piece or tale, develops a reputation as an adventurer. The airy and stiff-backed Shaws of old are buried by Ambrose Shaw: charming, handsome, daring Adventurer of the world.

IV. The glory days are by far the best. His renown grows insurmountable, the height of mountains. Most turn their gaze from his more unsavory qualities -- his temper, his ever-present status as a bachelor, his sharp tongue and tendency to remark on ugly qualities in others -- in favor of the gleaming, the gold. The stories he tells, the shape of his frame, what he gives away, the parties he hosts. For each successful expedition it is nearly a guarantee that Ambrose Shaw will return and provide nectar of the gods alongside decent entertainment, and worse still, he’s good at that too. No one can touch him, even when he wants to, and he’d like to keep it that way. Over the years William appears on his doorstep, pleads with him to give it a rest (you’ll run yourself into the ground, Ambrose), but Ambrose ignores him in favor of emeralds in the tombs of dead queens and kings, blades polished until they’re silver anew. He doesn’t even attend Cunningham’s funeral, when the old man dies -- he’s on his second world tour by that time, and there’s not much point in turning a ship around for a dead man without much to him, is there?

V. It should be obvious by now that a fall always accompanies pride, and with Ambrose, his fall takes the shape of a dog-headed sculpture, painted all black, with eyes that shine like rubies in spite of the fact it lacks gems. Tucking it away without thought had been foolish, and putting it on display is worse, but it is put up in a glass case and he lays his head down on the pillow without nary a thought to his deeds. And then the restlessness comes. At first, it’s subtle. Sleep avoids him. He takes to long night walks. And then his body aches. He’s not old, necessarily, but the pains which plague him cannot be soothed even by the strongest of opium. He takes to keeping his hair down -- pulling it back reveals the strands easily pulled from his skull. And then what can only be described as moments of madness. He is always awoken from slumber by the hot breath of a hound on his face, gleaming white teeth in the dark, pink tongue lolling, its claws digging into his chest. It trails after him, from room to room, building to building, place to place. He shuts himself up in his apartments, stops hosting guests and holding parties, but becoming a glorified recluse only makes it worse. This hellhound is an awful fact of life, and in his ear it whispers every mistake he’s made, every foolish thing he’s ever said, every missed opportunity for glory. It haunts him, 

PLOT POINTS

I’M THE BEAST / RATTLING THE CAGE, ASKING FOR SLAUGHTER. Why would an archeologist go to a place devoid of history? And ah, there’s the rub. Why would a man who’s dedicated his entire life to keeping his head bowed towards the dirt, always digging, suddenly see fit to turn his gaze towards the sky? Rebirth, renewal, repentance. I’d love to explore (through his relationships with other characters and his developing relationship with himself) the parallels between the man Ambrose so obviously was with the man he is now.

Can others see the corpse he’s unwillingly dragging behind him? Can they see through the flecks of gold as easily as he can to the dirt underneath? I’m sure it shines through, every once in a while. He’s not always unpleasant to be around, even if he more or less shambles around like a dead man walking. I’d like to see if there’s something underneath the horror he’s encased himself in, or if the charismatic and charming Ambrose Shaw is well-and-truly-dead. He feels like a beast walking in human skin, otherworldly in his not-so-subtle bouts of madness, like he cannot control his own body in a way that means anything. Do others see this, and if so, do they confront it, or do they turn their heads?

I SEEM TO BE BUSY TEARING DOWN WHAT I WAS.  I’d love for Ambrose to meet with others who have never heard of him. I know that sounds a little silly, but he craves a world in which he has not shared every piece of himself, a world in which there is no Ambrose Shaw, the archeologist of great renown, and instead… Ambrose Shaw, the man. Relationships of any kind — antagonistic, friendly, romantic — they all feel beyond him now, and I can see him clinging to any person who might see him for what he is beyond his reputation, might go so far as to say they’ll be the only ones keeping him even remotely sane.

On the flip side of this, I’d love for Ambrose to interact with characters who have similar burdens. Sometimes the truths of guilt and grief aren’t genuinely opened to you until you’ve shared them with others, and up until now, he’s found himself silenced, biting down on his own tongue.

WHAT YOU CAN’T GIVE AWAY YOU MUST CARRY WITH YOU. I think that Ambrose almost certainly has lessons he could impart upon less-experienced crewmen and guests, with stars in their eyes and metal in their mouths, searching for a taste of adventure. It might be why some of them boarded The Promethean in the first place. The unfortunate reality is that Ambrose wholly believes the adventure he once adored to be something ugly, beast-like, a journey which warps and changes you beyond recognition.

I’d like to see him impart some of his stories and lessons upon those willing to listen to what he has to say; he used to love hosting, after all, even if now he hates it when someone so much as breathes the same air as he. It might take some time, some thawing of the ice in his middle, but I think he’d share eventually.

TO FEEL ANYTHING DERANGES YOU. What does Ambrose see on the back of his lids, when he closes his eyes? Is it a place, a person, a beast, a being? There’s no doubt in my mind that the further along The Promethean’s journey extends, the deeper Ambrose is going to sink into despair, and until he finds a place he cannot dig into with his two bare hands, he will be haunted. He’d boarded the ship in an effort to run from his ghosts, only to discover they'd trailed after him, nipping at his heels like a great black dog. He is unsure of his end, and if he’s to meet it sooner rather than later, but I’d like to explore his willingness to meet it. Would he accept death, if it meant escaping what shows itself to him in his sleep, even if it meant hellfire?

CONNECTIONS*

*These are purposefully vague, and by no means set in stone. I’m absolutely willing to adjust accordingly with whatever plots and relationships The Marked may have had beforehand! I did one for every skeleton, in hopes of providing a jumping-off point for plotting! If you’re looking for your character, CTRL+F and type in their skeleton title!

I. THE VETERAN: They are similarly haunted, even if the shape their ghosts take the form of is different by a wide margin. Their suffering does not appear to be quite so physical, in Ambrose’s eyes, although he recognizes their stiff-legged gait and paranoid gaze as well as he recognizes his own. I could see the two of them growing close, in the fleeting way that friendships through trauma and regret are forged.

II. THE DOE-HEARTED: In her, Ambrose sees the faces of his own family. His brother tried to sway him from his path, time and time again, and he ignored him in favor of grit beneath his nails and the taste of glory. He wants to tell her there might be no hope at all: once a man is swayed towards the path of hubris, it’s difficult to pull him off of it, and if you do manage, the consequences are often dire.

III. THE IDOL: In them, there is the spirit of expedition, the same spirit he’d harnessed in his youth to carry him far and wide. Their fire is by no means unfamiliar, although they have a different flavor than the usual doe-eyed naivete he encounters from men and women too young. They carry a ghost in the shape of their superior with them, and Ambrose can’t help but feel a streak of pity for them, the same pity he holds for himself.

IV. THE CAPTAIN: Pride makes men cruel, angry, ugly, and so does ambition. It’s… odd, this need to shake them by their shoulders and tell them they’re being a fool, but it’s there nonetheless. He doubts he’ll ever work up the courage, but if there were ever a mirror-image of his old self atop The Promethean, Ambrose fears it takes shape in the form of The Captain.

V. THE SCION: He circles The Scion like a bird of prey because he knows of nothing else to do. They were both caught in the throes of London’s glory, both caught up in the pride that comes from being something. But The Scion was kind-hearted, even if they now find themselves setting it aside, where Ambrose certainly wasn’t. He was nasty, cruel-mouthed and sharp-tongued, basked too much in his glory to bother extending his reach to the common people he once worked alongside. His ghosts and his guilt make him similarly ugly, and I’d like to explore if this is any different from the implied connection he and The Scion had beforehand, if their interactions were surface-level or went beyond that.

VI. THE SHADOW: A wolf is a wolf is a wolf, and in them, Ambrose sees hunger that stems neither of eagerness or inexperience. Their hunger is borne from desperation, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t unsettle him. He, too, has donned sheep’s clothing time-and-time again, lied and cheated and stole to get his hands on the fingerbones of corpses and through the doors of old tombs. He used to be just as hungry, but now his belly has been slit, filled with stones, and any appetite he once had is gone… but The Shadow might reawaken old cravings.

VII. THE IDOL: In them he sees exactly the sort of thing he would have been digging for. Grief, sorrow, and ambition forged into one being, coated in gold and perfect to be put up in a museum. It makes sense, then, given his pretenses, that he would do his best to keep his distance, at the cost of several potentially awkward interactions.

VIII. THE CLAIRVOYANT: They see the thing that hangs around Ambrose’s head. They see the great, hulking wolfhound he has become, alongside the pale imitation of himself that lurks in his shadow. Make no mistake: he may be more terrified than they are, fears answers as much as he seeks them. He dances around the confrontation, skirts around the truth, knows it will find him eventually, knowing they might be the one to bring it.

VIX. THE NOBLE: Their voice refused to harmonize in much the same way his did. They have probably encountered each other, at some point or another, and it seems to be some cruel joke, the way he cannot escape from the very people he once used to entertain. He tries to weave them stories, in the way that he used to, but the words never seem to fit the right way in his mouth.

X. THE COMMANDER: Enough of humility, they declare, and Ambrose wants to tell them he’ll trade his pride for their humility, but he’s seen their silent companion called insecurity dog after as many as twenty men, men he’s dragged around on expeditions and men he’s dug up from graves. Most kings die from insecurity, from a want to be something bigger themselves. Ambrose himself is in the process of decay; he can’t help but wonder if The Commander might follow suit.

XI. THE EMPRESARIO: In them he sees his old self, and when they share the same space, it’s something like a light trying to spark on in the dark. Their ambition is familiar, as is their eagerness to forge a new path ahead. He, himself, had been much the same, in his fleet-footed days as a professor, and he seems to mirror their attitudes and somehow encourage them with ease even with the warning tugging at his tongue, begging to fall from his lips.

XII. THE ROMANTIC: If their brother is a soothsayer, then they themselves are just the opposite. Ambrose takes an admitted comfort to the fact they seem to denounce their sibling at every possible turn, if only because it means there’s a chance his affliction (ghosts, always ghosts) are just… figments of his imagination, lies he tells himself.

XIII. THE LOVER: Beauty is nothing without dread. If history has taught Ambrose anything, it is to fear those who are beautiful above all else, and in that vein, the ghost at his ear whispers to fear The Lover, who has clever eyes and a clever heart. Were he his old self, he thinks he could easily go toe-to-toe with them, but he finds himself older, weary, less capable, and so he holds his tongue.

XIV. THE ENIGMA: He would have trusted them on an expedition in a heartbeat, there’s no doubt about that. They’ve certainly got capable enough hands to do well in a career of bloodshed for a little bit of kingdom. He feels compelled to trust them now, might share a piece of himself here and there, were they willing to let him do so, although he heels more often than he howls.

XV. THE PURSER: They value money the same way he once valued glory, and frankly, that might be all there is to it. By default these days he’s cautious around those who make him think too much of himself, and as someone who vaulted similarly from the slums of London to a position of power, he is waiting for them to meet their Icarian downfall in the same way he did.

XVI. THE DOCTOR: Opium addiction is not uncommon among men in Ambrose’s old circles, and it’s not unfamiliar to him. In fact, these days it’s the only thing keeping Ambrose afloat. I’m not totally sure as to whether or not it’s accessible,  but if The Doctor will provide the one thing… that wins him a few sacred minutes of sleep? He’ll be certain to make himself familiar.

XVII. THE CHRONICLER: Theirs is the pursuit of truth, and there’s no doubt in my mind that at some point or another at the height of his fame, they published something unsavory about Ambrose’s endeavors. Something ugly about the way he relished in digging for the dead. He doesn’t much like them, I figure, and he’d rather avoid them than he would hold a conversation, but… some things are just unavoidable, aren’t they?

XVIII. THE STOWAWAY: When given a choice, Ambrose chose to claw and climb his way to the top, at the cost of his relationship with his mentor, his old friend, his colleagues. He had once been nothing, and given the chance to be something, there was no hesitation at all. He understands them, but once again cannot put words to his understanding. They are lost on him, as most things these days are.

XIX. THE SOCIALITE: He entertained them and their family, once or twice. In fact, it might have been the case there was something between them, every blue moon, when hunger of a different kind struck. But the man he used to be and the man he is now are different creatures, and whatever capacity in which they knew each other has surely changed as a result.

XX. THE SONGBIRD: He’d enjoyed their singing, at one time, when he’d stood at the peak of London’s mountains, but a lark is still a lark, and even the most beautiful of songs can sound sour to the wrong ears. Their fall from grace seems to mirror Ambrose’s, however, and the notion makes him uncomfortable.

XXI. THE HARUSPEX: Regret tinges each and every one of his interactions with The Haruspex, no matter how much he wishes it were otherwise. He might be an old dog, but he is a dog with teeth, and The Haruspex reminds him of a whelp that doesn’t know any better. He wishes he could guide them towards a prosperous future in the way he used to guide his students, but his hostility is now reflex, and he doesn’t know how much it’s going to take to shake them off before he outright tears their throat from the rest of them so they’ll stop yapping.

XXII. THE CHAPLAIN: Faith has no power over terror, but he is willing to try, for the sake of achieving the silence he so desperately yearns for. He will pray, repent, confess, do whatever it takes, but there’s something that wonders in the back of his head if The Chaplain can see through this facsimile of worship as easily as he does.

XXIII. THE WILDCARD: It’s a true tragedy to watch someone who is never wrong make mistakes, but Ambrose keeps an eye from a distance anyways. He could attempt to warn them, if he chose to. He does not, and the reasoning for why that is is unbeknownst to him.

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Week in Review: A glimmer of hope

By Ian Dunt

The confirmation that a vaccine had been approved was one of those moments of pure joy that has no appreciable way of being turned into words. It was less a news item than a shot of pure euphoria, delivered directly into the bloodstream of everyone on earth. For the first in a very long time, indeed since this whole tedious process started, you could imagine getting your life back.

Your real life. Not the half-life version we've been enduring the last year, like some black and white TV with bad reception. Your full colour 4K widescreen TV actual life, where a dinner out with friends is not considered some mad luxury. Where you can hug people without wondering if maybe you just killed them. Where you can walk through cities throbbing with activity and not feel alarm or disquiet, but just the reassuring pleasure of living amid humanity.

It'll take a while. Anyone under 65 isn't likely to be getting the vaccine before summer and probably not until well after that. But it's coming. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. And in a winter as cold and wet and dark as this one, that is extremely welcome.

Of course, the government tried its hardest to ruin it as soon as they announced it. It was incredible really. This was an event in which even the most hardened opponent of Boris Johnson's administration would have felt at least a trace element of appreciation. But somehow they conspired to make sure even this seemingly uncontroversial moment could be recalibrated into an example of moral failure.

Health secretary Matt Hancock, leader of the Commons Jacob Rees-Mogg and health minister Nadine Dorries all tried to turn the news into some kind of deranged Brexit victory ritual, insisting that it was only possible because we'd left the EU. It's nonsense of course. We're still under EU rules during the transition. The UK regulator authorised the unlicenced vaccine on the basis of a flexibility built into the rules precisely for this sort of eventuality.

That's not just a coincidence. It's reflective of the quality of EU rules in all sorts of areas. You see the same thing with state aid provisions, which Britain had to seek an exemption from so it could bolster customs agent capacity ahead of the end of transition. That's a telling moment. It raises the question of why you would die in a ditch to get rid of these rules, as the British negotiating team is currently doing in talks with Michel Barnier, given that they seem to be able to do whatever they want within them. Honestly, without wanting to sound like some hopeless Remainer, EU rules are just really rather well designed - not always, but in the majority of cases - with a bit of give, a bit of flexibility, for when needs arise.

The Brexit argument was weak and very quickly the government stopped using it. The prime minister's spokesperson studiously avoided making the same point that afternoon. Even education secretary Gavin Williamson, who has never encountered a proposition so simple he is capable of grasping it, was wise enough to avoid repeating it on Thursday morning. Instead he chose to descend into a playground fantasy about how Britain was the greatest country on earth.

The Brexit spin was tiresome and also quite dangerous. The vaccine roll-out requires public trust. That entails confidence in government messaging. If senior ministers cannot stop themselves from a tribal party-political bed-wetting session every time they announce something about it, that trust will be eroded.

But even so, they couldn't quite ruin it. There was, even after all their nonsense, hope at the end of the tunnel.

The thing about the vaccine though, is that it has a counter-intuitive effect upon the present. It makes you feel more firm about the rules now by offering the hope of freedom in the near-future.

Not so long it really wasn't clear how quickly it might arrive. There were pessimistic whispers about a vaccine perhaps taking a very long time indeed, about covid life becoming the new normal for years to come. That had an impact on our risk calculations.

If this was the new normal, then you had to take certain risks with covid transmission in order to mitigate risks on social isolation and mental health. You couldn't tell grandparents that they would be unable to see their grandchildren for years. You couldn't have people just left alone with no end in sight. But now that the vaccine is a reality, it changes that calculation. It means that in not so long a time, this will be over. So it makes sense to be firmer now, as we hold out for it.

It creates a painful possibility: that we will pass on the virus to someone vulnerable who we love, just months, or even weeks, before they would have been protected from it by the vaccine. Looking back, that will be a terrible prospect. A few months will seem a snap of the fingers from the viewpoint of 2025. But those who die from this thing will still be gone.

It means that those who demand more relaxed controls for the sake of the economy are now doubly as foolish and short-sighted as they were this time last week. They are pushing for a human sacrifice without any logical basis to decide upon it. It's a completely senseless waste of life, when all that is required is for us to sit tight - and for the government to escalate financial support - for a little while longer.

The same applies to Christmas. We know what this will entail. People will go home to a multigenerational event in which their family will be inside, often with windows closed against the cold, drinking and laughing - basically a worst-case scenario for transmission. They will embrace, because they are with their loved ones and the human mind finds it almost impossible to believe that this most natural and healthy of actions could possibly be harmful. They will let their guard down.

The government has opened up for Christmas for two reasons. Firstly, because no government believes it can ban Christmas, and secondly because they concluded people would go home anyway. The first is a cynical and self-interested calculation, the second a more pragmatic one. But they both lead to the same place: to tragedies that need not take place.

In fact, for those of us still trying to get through this period, the viability of the vaccine means we should take a sterner view of our behaviour than we did before, or than the lockdown-sceptics or the prime minister are taking now. We have to be more careful, not less. We have to be more strict. Because if we hold out just a little longer, this will become the grim and distant past, instead of the horrible present. And for all the tedious nonsense from the government, it's worth ignoring them and prioritising that sentiment in the months ahead.

It'll all be over soon. Whoever knew how much pleasure we would get from writing such a simple sentence.

[misunderstood-shadows]

The Hunteress: Chapter 5

Warnings: None Word Count: 1856 About: Sequel to Goodbye, I Love You and The Ripper. Alessandra is back hunting with the Winchesters. Something is sparking between her and Sam, but when a new threat threatens the Mikaelson’s she is drawn back into a world she is desperately trying to escape. Edited/Beta-ed: No

Series Masterlist

Sam and Dean stood near the door, both their eyes darting between Elijah and I.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I growled. I was starving, but my fury was overtaking my need to feed. “You should’ve told me the second you knew Mikael and Esther had returned.”

Elijah did not blink. He was stood in the middle of the room, commanding the space in his usual fashion, hand in pocket. “I am here now.”

I rolled my eyes. “A call would’ve sufficed.”

I heard Sam’s rapid heartbeat, and dared a look at him. From the moment I woke, he hadn’t spoken to me. I could sense something was wrong, but Elijah had been too intent on pulling me away from the Winchesters to allow me a moment alone with him.

Now Sam stood, beside his brother, isolated from me. He caught my eye, and managed a small smile. I didn’t want to return to New Orleans with Elijah. I had just escaped, I was on my way to being happy with Sam, and Dean was beginning to accept me.

“You should go.” Dean was set. “Sammy and I can cover our end. If you come back, we can pick up.”

“Of course, I am coming back,” I said softly. I looked between the brothers. “I’ll come back.”

I could see in their eyes that they didn’t believe me.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The Bentley rumbled soothingly beneath us, the scenery outside the window flying by.

“The boy Sam seemed awfully attached to you.”

“I not partaking in meaningless conversation with you, Elijah.”

“This will be an awfully long ride if you refuse to speak.”

“Then I guess that it’s going to be an awfully long ride.”

I kicked off my boots, resting my socked feet on the dash. There was silence, only broken by the sound of the tyres on the highway. I closed my eyes, focussing solely on the sound. The slight chances in frequency, imperfections in the road, even the sound of the engine. Anything to get my mind off the impending sense of dread.

“You should know, Esther is offering a deal.”

I hummed. “What? What more can she do to us?”

“She’s offering to make us mortal. To place us in human bodies, so that we might be purified of the monsters we have become.”

I didn’t answer.

“Alessandra.” Elijah’s voice was soft.

Don’t let him in.

I didn’t answer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I could smell wolf from outside. Elijah threw the car roughly into park, then got out, leaving me to follow.

“Brother! Niklaus!” he hollered.

I wince, following him through the entrance. A crowd of men and women, the remains of the Crescent pack, milled around, looking unsettled, despite the fact that their scent had permeated every inch of the place.

“You do realize that literally everyone in here has supernatural hearing, right?” Hayley said, irritated. I hummed in agreement, drifting off towards the kitchen but still listening to their conversation.

“Where is my brother?” Elijah asked without answering. The kitchen was mercifully clear, and an I dumped my backpack on the counter before making my way to the fridge.

“I'll check his calendar... Wait, no. Not his wife, so...”

“Hayley, this city is under siege by an army of beasts following my deranged mother's every command. Now, considering it was your people who just declared war on my kind, now's not the best time for your particular brand of sass.”

“Klaus left a while ago. If you want to find him, I can't help you. If only there was a magical device that people used to call people? I don't know, I'm out of ideas. Good luck.”

There was a loud bang, and the sound of laughter echoed in from outside. 

Nobody does Halloween like New Orleans.

The fridge was stocked with blood, as usual, along with a selection of meats and fresh produce. For what seemed like the first time in 1000 years, I wondered what it would be like to eat a normal meal, and actually be able to enjoy it. Yes, I could make myself a steak whenever I wished, but it tasted bland and un-filling.

“Alessandra,” Elijah’s was cool behind me.

“Yes, Elijah?” I asked, not turning from the fridge.

“We are going to Marcel’s. The wolves left a message last night. The time for idleness has passed. Leaving now.”

I sighed, closing the door. “Right behind you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I could tell from the layer of dust that the Audi needed a good run.

“Can I drive?”

Elijah glanced at me, at the car, then back at me. “Not. A. Scratch.” He threw me the keys and I smiled.

We drove slowly through the crowded streets, dodging day-drunk tourists. 

Once we reached the main highway across the river, I opened up the engine, letting it roar beneath me. Dean swore by vintage muscle, but I was definitely more partial to a good quality sports car.

“What exactly is your plan?”

Elijah looked over the water as we passed over the bridge. “Marcel said that every vampire that exists today is an extension of our family. Each one is connected to us through blood. They may be the only allies we have that won’t turn on us once this wretched war with the witches is won.”

“So you’re going to teach them?” I couldn’t imagine Elijah, in his pristine suit, teaching a group of baby vamps with Marcel.

“We, Alessandra. We are going to teach them.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I could hear them arguing from down here. I sighed, closing the car door a little harder than necessary.

“We don't wanna run,” a woman said.

“I know, and I respect that. But, believe me, there's a big difference between wanting to fight and knowing how to win,” Marcel replied. True enough, but then theoretically knowing how to win, and actually being able to keep your head on in the middle of a battle was also very different.

“So, show us! You've kicked their ass before, I'm guessing you didn't do it alone.”

I followed Elijah up the stairs. I knew from the tilt of his head that he too was listening.

“Umm, yeah, not that I don't dig the whole Karate Kid vibe that we got going on here,” I recognised Josh’s voice. Good to know he was still alive. “But-- how are we supposed to learn to defend ourselves from an army of super-wolves in, like, one day?

The door to Marcels apartment came into sight and Elijah disappeared from my side. I heard the distinctive sound of two bodies dropping to the floor.

“Lesson one.” I could hear the smugness in his voice. “Always be on your guard.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marcel was speaking to Elijah in the corner while I waited for the two temporarily dead vampires to wake up. I crouched over one, turning his face towards me. young, barely an adult. Did he realise just how long eternity was going to be? Or that he would probably die some horrible, agonising way? Elijah’s charge, Gia, was watching me suspiciously. “So, you’re an Original, too?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“But you’re not a Mikaelson?”

I shook my head. “Just a family friend.”

“What, you just got caught up in their family drama a thousand years ago?” She gave an awkward half-laugh.

“Something like that.” These god-damned vampires are still not waking up. 

“When was the last time you all fed? This is taking far longer than it should.” I saw Gia shrug out of the corner of her eye. “We’ve had to be careful, even over here. The wolves have been crossing the river. Someone got bit just last week a couple blocks over.”

“That’ll have to change. You can fight if you’re not at full strength. Is there a blood bank nearby?” Gia nodded and I stood.

Marcel and Elijah both turned as I approached, ending their conversation.

“They need blood. Apparently, there is a blood bank nearby. I’ll go get supplies and then return here. They’ll need strength to fight.”

Elijah nodded and I turned leaving.

“What’s up with her?” I heard Marcel asked.

I didn’t listen to Elijah’s reply.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The blood bank was barely staffed. A single receptionist greeted me at the door. She was half asleep and a completed solitaire game reflected in her glasses from her computer screen. I was directed, but not escorted to the donation room. I merely ducked into the STAFF ONLY section and made my way to where the bags were stored.

I snagged a bag from a staff members desk, emptying the content onto the floor and then filling it. I sped out so the receptionist didn’t see me.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Elijah, Marcel and I watched as the vampires each tore into the blood bags, draining them and moving onto the next until all the bags were gone. They growled at each other, snatching bags from each other, snarls and growls filling the air.

“Enough!” Marcel roared the minute the last bag disappeared. “Look at yourself! You are out of control. You need to work together if we are win this. Help each other.”

The vampires looked at each other, some looking ashamed, some horrified. Welcome to the world of the shared feed.

“Everyone is to follow me and Tallie,” Marcel directed. “There’s an empty lot outback that we’ll use.”

Single file, calm and sated with the feed, the baby vamps made their way downstairs, tailed by Marcel, Elijah and I. Once outside, they formed a semi-circle each looking expectantly at us.

I stepped forwards.

“Who’s done any sort of fighting? Boxing, martial arts?”

A few men raised their hands confidently, grinning at each other.

I gestured for them to step forward and they did, all smiling smugly at me.

“I don’t want to hurt you, little lady,” one said.

I heard Marcel and Elijah step back behind me.

The other two vamps circled behind me. I watched the one in front of me; his eyes darted between the men behind me, then his right foot slid forward. I ducked a sloppy punch, spinning out and sending the other two crashing into each other.

In less than a second, I was ten metres away. “The wolves will not stand around and wait for you to attack! you need to move. Push off with everything you have. You are vampires. You will not tire. Do not half-ass your attack.”

And then the lesson began. Elijah gestured to Gia, and she followed him back inside for private training while Marcel and I took the rest of the group. They were sloppy and hasty in their attacks, Marcel and I easy dodged them.

“Again!” Marcel shouted.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I smelt wolf before I saw Hayley and a man approach. I glanced

She nodded at me, but didn’t stop, leading the man upstairs. I left Marcel and walked off to the side, where I would be able to hear.

“We need to talk,” she said.

There was a slight scuffled, then Hayley said, “We're not here for a fight. Just hear him out.”

“Speak. I suggest you be succinct,” Elijah said, sounding tightly restrained.

“Please,” said the man. “I need your help.”

[king-of-kings1]

Hi. From the Tragedy of Summerhall to the present days, who are your five favorite characters and which 5 that you like least? Reasons and why. Thanks a lot.

Hi, Thanks for the ask. Man, it's such a great timespan to choose just five favourite characters when there is a lot of great characters from this time period. Still, you asked for five and five you shall have it.

1) Stannis Baratheon: 'The King who Cared.' Do I need to say anything more than that?? I think not. During the War of the Five Kings, the Night's Watch sent pleas for help to all the kings who claimed the realm as their own but only one turned north to answer their call and protect the realm. It was Stannis Baratheon. That action itself speaks a lot about everything. The one true God of Westeros, George RR Martin himself approves that action. The major quality he associates with being a good king is that good king should protect his realm and people and Stannis did that. Sure he has his flaws and he is not perfect but he is the only one (other than the NW) who believes that the WW are the real threat and chooses to fight them to save the realm while the others just play the game of thrones.

2) Ned Stark: One of the honest and righteous guys you'd ever find in the history of Westeros. He is one of the most likeable characters in the series and is genuinely a good guy who wanted to do the right thing over everything. Sure he may have done some 'dishonourable' acts on the way and said some lies but none of it was for his selfish reasons.

3) Robert Baratheon: You'd never find a best friend, protective father, a loving son and a formidable warrior all in one thing unless his name is Robert Baratheon. None of the friendships in ASOIAF is as strong as Ned and Robert's. Cersei got her cheeks bloodied for subtly referring to kill Mya, had she sent her precious twin to do the dirty work in murdering Mya, Jaime's golden chest would've been bashed in so hard while Robert cleaned the bits of Lannister brain off his hammer. Jon Arryn had no kids for many years but he never worried about it because he had Robert and Ned. The father-son bond lasted well deep even to the deathbed of Jon where Robert spent his entire time during the final days of his father. Of all the people Jon Arryn was the only one known to weather the storm that was Robert Baratheon, that thing itself shows how much Robert loved and respected the man who raised him as his own son. I don't have to speak about how great Robert was as a warrior, his accomplishments will speak that for him. If you still don't believe that he is a good person, very well, then, Ned Stark himself was the best friend of the man. Do you think Ned would associate himself with a bad person let alone be his bestie?

4) Arthur Dayne: The greatest swordsman to have ever walked, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne is a hero to any and every noble boy of his generation and the next generation as well. Even sixteen years after his death he is still remembered as the honourable knight and the deadliest of all men you could ever see. His office of the Sword of the Morning itself says a lot about him. To wield Dawn one have to be as honourable a knight as he is skilled at arms. Arthur's approach to root out the kingswood brotherhood is a good example for that. He won the love of the smallfolk and got their help, the people who were helping Toyne and his band of outlaws until then. His epic duel with the Smiling Knight itself shows his chivalry as he let his foe choose another sword when his blade was destroyed and even gave him Dawn as the Smiling Knight asked for it.

5) Jon Arryn: Perhaps the only character who doesn't even have a single dark spot in his entire life. Jon Arryn is a good and kind man who chose to protect his 'sons' rather than killing them by his king's words. It was Jon Arryn who started the rebellion against the cruelty of House Targaryen when Aerys demanded him to kill Ned and Robert. Rather than obeying his king's words as honour would have him so, Jon chose to protect his foster sons and called his banner to defend them. It may have been Robert's arms that won the Rebellion but without Jon Arryn's brain there wouldn't have been a rebellion in the first place. After the rebellion he ruled Robert's realm for fourteen years until his death, and ruled as wisely as any great Hand before him. He loved his foster sons so much, as much and more than their own fathers would ever have. The childless Jon Arryn who had a child of his own body after God knows how many years loved his foster son Robert more than that of his flesh and blood. Jon Arryn was the only one who knew to control and make Robert Baratheon listen, the one task that no one has ever mastered, not even Ned.

Well, that's my list. If there is a chance I might squeeze in Oberyn Martell and Brynden Blackfish up there in the list as well but the ask was just for five. It might be shocking and surprising that the list might not have the popular fandom favourites like Jon or Dany but this is my list. Jon and Dany have more than enough fans to spread the love for them and someone has to do for these legendary characters as well.

So, now to my least favourites. Unlike the above list, I don't have to justify why I hate these guys because their actions speak for themselves.

1) Ramsay Snow: I would never call this guy a Bolton for the only sake that he is a literal bastard by every means. Not a single character in the series is as sadistic and cruel and psychotic as this guy is. All I want to see in TWOW is for Stannis to defeat this guy and hang him so that he can die painfully.

2) Gregor Clegane: The Mountain that Rides. The one man that could give Ramsay a challenge in their bout for the Sadistic championship. The thing he did to the little Sandor is the only example you need to hate this guy. And then there is Princess Elia Martell and her children.

3) Cersei Lannister: The Mother of Madness, the walking, talking and laughing disaster Cersei Lannister is a complete gonzo that there is no way for her to turn back normal again. She is such a deranged woman that she plans to kill the washerwomen because they supposedly shrunk her gowns while in reality it was her who has gained weight that the gowns doesn't fit her. She gives innocent women to Qyburn for him to conduct his weird experiments. She has a whipping boy to beat the heck out of to keep Tommen in check. Cersei loves holding power and abuses innocents at every turn that she is known nothing other than a power-hungry shitbag who thinks herself to be the Tywin with teats when in reality is so stupid than Moon Boy himself. And everyone who thinks that Cersei is a wonderful mom and she loves her kids you might want to check the books because she never loves them in the books but just loves the power that comes with them.

4) Littlefinger: Petyr Baelish is another character that I hate with pleasure. He has been playing the others even before the start of the series. There is no one in the history of Westeros who is as distrustful as Petyr Baelish.

5) Rhaegar Targaryen: All the glamour this guy's been wearing to hide his true face will never fool me. Rhaegar Targaryen is the complete opposite of Robert Baratheon whom the fandom hates vastly. He is a shit friend, a shit son, a shit husband and a whole hella lot of a shit father. Rhaegar left his friends to die in the war he started while he hid in some tower. He knew that his father was raping his mother yet did nothing to save her from that fate. He humiliated Elia more than once and even before the eyes of the entire kingdom. He is the shittiest dad I've ever known in both the fictional world and our world. Rhaenys hid beneath her father's bed thinking that her father would save her before Amory Lorch killed her. That line alone is enough for you to decide how good a dad and a person he really was.

[krugerevengeinej]

So, I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again

I do not think Kaz and Inej will have kids it would be very impractical for them. They’ve seen and experienced some of the worst things that life has to offer and likely wouldn’t be keen on sharing it with children even in the distant future I doubt they’ll somehow magically decide to run away from Ketterdam because they have work to do at least trying to make a difference in the world. But someone’s got to takeover when they’re gone (particularly Kaz he’ll probably die young.) No, they won’t adopt a kid either because that’s still someone who might be impressionable enough to fuck up and they’re not the most nurturing.

Why wouldn’t it be another kid like them who ended up on the streets of the barrel? Someone without family, confused, traumatized and hanging on to coping mechanisms but deserves a chance to succeed and has some useful qualities. There might be some other’s but the next generation of Ketterdam kids probably won’t be the lovechildren of our favorite Dregs that’s just not how it works.

 ·         Inej has younger members of her crew that she’s trained and who’ve learn to trust her, respect her and look up to her.

·         Of course she’s more willing to admit that she cares about them, and wants to see children who, like she and the other crows, went through a lot and had to become too mature too quickly.

·         She wants to see at least a few do better than she did and tries to play role model for them.

·         Kaz is feared and idolized by a lot of kids in the barrel. He probably has a lieutenant, someone who can help him run the gang because Inej isn’t around enough.

·         But he needs someone young enough to be moldable, someone loyal to him who doesn’t have ulterior motives that he can mentor to take over eventually and do a lot of grunt work he hates doing.

·         He really doesn’t want his gang to go to shit after he dies, and he has no idea when that’s going to happen, but it could be any day.

·         So he finds what he dubs an ‘apprentice’ (basically just another Wylan and I know you’ll want to say son but it’s really more like student teacher).

·         He’s too old to be a son and too young to be a brother

·         He’s also a great character so let me introduce you, he’s nearly as fucked up as the rest of the dregs! 😊

·         His name is Aleksander Verona, and he’s a Ravkan boy who’s about 14 or 15.

·         He’s smart and practical but he doesn’t really have an edgy dramatic streak and was in the dregs for a couple years before Kaz noticed him.

·         Because none of his strengths show very well, and he seems a bit boring.

·         He’s very average looking, and the way his says things is very straightforward and simple.

·         You wouldn’t notice he was serenading someone for information, and they wouldn’t either until he’d already gotten it.

·         Any insults he says pass right over people’s head until they rethink what they just heard.

·         He just seems like a very plain person (at least for a gang member in the barrel), but that’s mainly because he keeps everything under lock and key.

·         It comes out in short violent bursts when he finally can’t keep it under control anymore.

·         His outbursts get very vicious and very nasty very quickly and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until its already done and by then its too late because he’s gotten in deep.

·         It’s exactly that trope of when some guy gets in a fight and loses control and literally can’t stop himself because he’s upset about a chick or something, but this happens to Aleks every single time he starts to get frustrated, scared, worried etc.

·         He’s not even that mad at the situation or whatever person he lashes out at, but he gets starts spiraling.

·         That’s his weakness, and how Kaz noticed him.

·         He’d been put on a crew for some job or other that ended up with a brawl and it was him, Aleks and a couple others.

·         Aleks seemed competent but not like anything special, not until it started to seem like they might lose the fight.

·         Then he just tipped over some invisible edge, and the signs were clear.

·         His eyes got hazy, breathing turned to ragged pants and his movements had a precision and force that seemed manipulated by an invisible hand.

·         It was spectacular, some little scrap managed to salvage the fight entirely by himself.

·         And Kaz liked that, he liked it very much.

·         Of course, he didn’t just tell Aleks that he kept an eye on him for awhile and he wasn’t just good in a fight, he was calm and collected (alot of the time), intelligent, and most of all loyal.

·         Almost like a dog.

·         He was perfectly trainable and so Kaz decided to take him under his black, feathery wing.

·         It wasn’t an official thing.

·         It started with him sending Aleks on more exclusive jobs and personal errands until eventually he was teaching him how to do the crow club accounts.

·         Aleks does a lot of the things that Kaz hates doing himself which usually involves running around the city and checking in on things constantly.

·         He’s a very quick study for most of the things Kaz teaches him and even if Kaz isn’t willing to admit it he’s impressed.

·         Aleks is usually at Kaz’s heels and for the manner in which his outbursts occur he starts getting called “Dirtyhands’s Guard Dog”

·         And less commonly, “Prince of the Barrel”, usually to piss off Kaz because he’s not even old enough to have a 15-year-old kid.

·         It’s about 12 years post ck so Kaz would be 29-30

·         Aleks and Kaz lowkey bond over being fucked up messes and it’s really not good because Kaz doesn’t know how to help him at all.

·         All he does is tell him how to not let his issues interfere with work.

·         Especially after Aleks lashed out at someone during a meeting, no physical violence just said some awful things and got that same cloudy look in his eye.

·         But when he lashes out with words it can be just as disastrous.

·         Let’s talk about why Aleks is fucked up, and more of his general history.

·         He’s actually only half Ravkan.

·         He was born in Ketterdam though.

·         His mother had him when she was very young and didn’t even know who his father was but he’s a mutt, probably a little Kerch or Shu, maybe some Kaelish who knows.

·         She died when he was about 5, which would have been two years after ck when the gang wars in the barrel were really starting to rack up carnage. (this is what Kaz had to fight through)

·         He doesn’t have a lot of memories about her but one very vivid one he has is of walking east stave with her and seeing a crow land in front of them.

·         He asked her what it was, and she told but she’d used the Ravkan word, ‘verona’

·         You see it? Yes he changed his last name to the only Ravkan word he knew.

·         He’s actually very disconnected from his Ravkan heritage and isn’t super happy about that.

·         But back to his mother.

·         She’d lived in the barrel for a few years but she got caught in the crossfire and Aleks was left on his own.

·         He saw some really horrible things growing up in Ketterdam around that time.

·         Particularly his mother’s body chock-full of bullet holes and gruesome brawls in the middle of the street.

·         He saw shootouts and watched gangs take people hostage when the stadwatch threatened to intervene.

·         He saw some of the corpses gangs left for each other to ‘send a message’

·         He bounced around orphanages and temporary homes but by the time he was 9 or 10 he was out on the streets

·         And he ended up right back in the barrel.

·         He’d been beaten bloody and had his head held in the canal until he nearly drowned, had his money and food and dignity stolen.

·         He nearly died several times and it was only when he learned how to fight for himself, he started to do a bit better.

·         He always sees himself as a useless child, watching the chaos and being unable to do anything when his mother or anyone was being attacked.

·         Whenever his eyes start to get hazy, he’s flashing back to those moments and he really believes he’s that he’s still a helpless child.

·         Even when he’s bloodied and bruised and panting like a rabid dog.

·         And that’s what he is truly, a rabid dog who’s nearly impossible to keep a leash on.

·         He tries as hard as he possibly can to rein himself in, but he’s never 100 percent contained.

·         There was one particular outburst, when he was sparring with Kaz that freaked both of them out.

·         Kaz had told him to go as hard as he possibly could and that might have been his own fault because Aleks nearly beat him to death (he was about 17 at this point)

·         By the end of it he was covered in blood and his knuckles were bruised so bad he couldn’t even feel them, in fact he couldn’t feel anything.

·         As soon as he became aware, he’d simply dropped to the ground.

·         Kaz had seemed more worried about the deranged, vacant look in his eye than the fact he just got his ass kicked because that’s absolutely the look of a flashback.

·         Something Kaz would know all too well.

·         But they don’t talk about it, because he knows better than anyone that it can’t be fixed.

·         Even if you tried to tell yourself beforehand that it wasn’t real when it happened it was the only real thing.

————————————————————

So @bitchasscrows and I had weirdly similar oc ideas and we started talking and came up with an ass ton of hc. There’s even more than this its like really bad. But I hope you guys like this! She wrote some of her own and you should them up soon, I urge you to read them and ask either or both of us for any more hc!

Its also late and I’m tired so sorry if this sucks or there’s any errors but I wanted to share and I’m too lazy to wait till tomorrow.

[theliterateape]

I Like to Watch | Midsommar

by Don Hall

The first (and only) movie I ever got up and left before it was over was Andy Warhol’s Dracula.

It was an art house revival of the 1973 cult film starring Udo Kier and Roman Polanski and, in 1983, the damn thing was just too much weird and sex and gore for my seventeen-year old brain to process. I was also in the brainwashed throes of Born Again Christianity at the time so I’m pretty sure my newfound moral compass was sent askew by the images of erotic carnage and almost incomprehensible dialogue.

Then I discovered David Lynch and Eraserhead. For some reason, John Nance with his huge hair and the grotesque black and white ominousness of Lynch’s vision grabbed me by the cortex and shook me up. I couldn’t stop watching it. It was on a bootleg VHS copy that I watched over and over. Thus began my fascination with cinema made by the most fucked up white people about the most fucked up white people ever imagined.

You rarely see movies like this made by or with black people or Latinos. The Chinese are just as fucked up but there’s just something creepier about über-white people in groups behaving in wholly bizarre settings that are both fascinating and unsettling.

The Wicker Man (with Edward Woodward rather than Nic Cage)

Dancer in the Dark

Epidemic

Pelle the Conquerer

The Celebration

The work of Lars Von Trier is benchmark for this genre — AntiChrist, Dogville, Nymphomaniac Vol. I & II, The House That Jack Built — white people living in realities and making choices that both defy rationality and explore the darkest surrealism put on screen.

Then came Yorgos Lanthimos.

The first film my wife required of me to watch when we began dating (all three of them before getting engaged) was Dogtooth. She called it a Coming of Age film which is true from an angle reserved mostly for the mentally deranged.

A family of four. Two grown children who seem to think they’re much younger and have never seen a cat. The boy (who is a grown man) being sexually serviced by a maid. A (dead) brother on the other side of a huge hedge row who isn’t allowed on the grounds. The girl (woman) discovers a cache of Sylvester Stallone moves and wonders what might be beyond the hedge row. A murdered cat.

Coming of Age? Sure. White people are fucked up? Definitely.

Then came The Lobster. And The Killing of a Sacred Deer. He won the Best Picture and Best Director Oscars for his latest The Favourite. All bizarrely brilliant. All completely fucked up. All about white people doing things only white people could possibly find themselves doing.

So when Ari Aster presented the world with Hereditary, I was ready. The formula was set: white people, odd occurrences, ominous underpinnings, and a moment in the midway point of the film so unexpected, so shocking, my wife and I screamed, paused the film, and had to walk around the apartment yelling “What the fuck?! No fucking way! Holy shit!”

The ending of Hereditary disappointed some people but not me. I loved it. I loved the idea that this was a sacrificial lamb story told from the lamb’s perspective. It quickly became one of my top ten horror films.

Aster’s latest is a bit of a twist on your expectations. He assumes you expect the gritty and gloomy horror of his first outing and gives, instead, a completely different kind of trippy fable. My wife said it was a breakup movie and, like Dogtooth and its Coming of Age angle, she’s right. But only through the lens of derangement and with the understanding that only white people in Nordic countries could ever be this freakish.

Midsommar is, as he describes it, a dark comedy of the blackest kind and, true to his word, I found myself laughing hard toward the end but it was an odd kind of gallows laughing. Laughing at a idiot sown up in the carcass of a slain grizzly bear with his face protruding out of its mouth like a kid in a bear onesy as they prepare to burn him alive is not normal laughter.

One thing I now know about Aster: he has definitely ingested hallucinogenic mushrooms. Likely a lot of them as, in scenes when the standard cast of Americans amidst the smiling and brutal clan of Swedish hippies drug them up, the camera work and CGI looks and feels exactly like doing shrooms. Exactly like it.

It occurred to me halfway through the film that if I did shrooms and then came to see Midsommar, it might simply put me into a bliss coma from which I’d never come down from because it’s overwhelming enough with just the drugs. 

Further, this is a horror movie done entirely in sunlight. There is no true night or dark. The gruesome details of death and sex are right out there in full daylight which has an oddly cruel and detached quality to it. Watching someone’s head be split in half in the dark is shocking; watching the same thing in broad day makes it feel more antiseptic, more normal. Which is kind of horrifying but not in the way you’re horrified at a scary movie. More like the horrified you feel looking at dead bodies in a morgue when your gory friend sticks a toothpick in the eye of one to see if it’s really like jelly inside.

I loved it. I don’t really know if I can recommend it, though. This shit isn’t for everyone (and maybe shouldn’t be for anyone) so suggesting you go see it is couched with the caveat that I’m not saying you’ll like Midsommar, just that it is definitely worth seeing.

NOTE: I’ve never gone back to Andy Warhol’s Dracula because it’s somehow better to walk out of at least one movie and keep it that way.

[hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon]

Dog meets Duckling

An Excerpt from my Novel-Length Fanfic The Dog and the Duckling

Summary: Sirius is assigned to mentor Marlene Mckinnon when she joins The Order of the Phoenix. His perceptions of Hufflepuff house are drastically changed, and so is his life.

Rated Teen mostly for language and innuendo.

A/N: So most everyone who follows me will have gathered that I headcanon Marlene as Duck animagus for a lot of the fic I write. I decided to put some of the backstory of that up on Tumblr in case anyone was curious. I’ll keep these blurbs listed in chronological order on my Fic Masterlist.  

August, 1980

“I need new friends.”

Sirius mumbled empty insults under his breath. His closest friends had left him in the lurch. Sure, they had a valid reason, what with their 6 day old baby and all...He didn’t really think that they should have planned their family with more consideration for him. But he couldn’t help feel annoyed at the new duties to The Order of the Phoenix he would pick up due to James Potter’s absence for the next 8 weeks.

He felt a smile coming on as he imagined little Harry giving them at least a tiny bit of hell.

James Potter was probably changing a nappy at the very moment that Sirius attempted to keep his eyes open while reading over files on the newly enlisted witch he’s be mentoring. James’s task would be more brief but certainly had a more unpleasant odor. The little parlor room The Order of the Phoenix rented at The Leaky Caldron was perhaps a bit musty from old furniture and neglect, but that was the worst of it.

Sirius has persistent doubts that he’d be a suitable mentor. He didn’t really understand why Dumbledore chose him to take up this slack.

He went over the possible reasons in his head. Because pointless mental conjecture was one of the long list of things that Sirius Black enjoyed more than paperwork.  

I suppose I was the next best thing?

He wasn’t. He knew this. The Potters were the sort of people that took naturally to leadership. They’d been head boy and girl during their 7th year at Hogwarts and they were both more patient and more responsible than most people in their early 20s. Sirius was a far cry from that description.

Two years out of Hogwarts, the goals he’d accomplished were less, “find a wife, buy a house, have a baby” and more “try not to be a gigantic twat to anyone today”.

He was fairly pleased with his progress in being less of a twat. He hadn’t been born to be a good or a kind person because certainly none of his family possessed those qualities. He didn’t even become aware that it was an option until he was 11 years old. His youthful attempts at catching up were often abject failures in real decency. He’d been a major twat a time or 50.

He really had gotten better. He didn’t feel like a decent person deep down, but it was certainly what he was aiming to be.

Sirius didn’t really do “responsible” though. He once bought new clothes because he was so rubbish at laundering spells, rather than practicing up on the aforementioned charms. It seemed reasonable to Sirius. He rode a flying motorbike and never found himself compelled to follow the rules in favor of having a good time.

He considered the possibility that Dumbledore was using this as some sort of mission to persuade him into behaving like more of a role model. The only flaw in that theory was that it assumed Dumbledore had reasons for all the things he did. Sometimes he just did things. No one knew why. Including Albus Dumbledore himself.

But reason or no reason, Sirius was stuck with the job and very soon he’d be face to face with his new mentee; Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house, age 16. It was his his job to teach her how The Order works and let her follow him around, watching and learning,for the next month until she went back to Hogwarts.

She’d be entering 7th year. Sirius figured she must’ve gotten bored and restless during the summer or that perhaps her older sisters and brothers going off to fight in wars seemed exciting to someone that young. With four siblings in the order she’d be an obvious recruit after she finished 7th year.

He spotted the line on the file in front of him that stated Marlene wouldn’t even come of age until August 31st.  Generally, The Order wasn’t wild about taking under-age witches and wizards or even of age ones who were still at Hogwarts.

There were exceptions. Sirius found a pondering what made Marlene McKinnon exceptional more interesting than her file as well.

7th years were particularly vulnerable to recruiting from the Death Eaters. Having a 7th year spying for the order and keeping tabs on who had taken the mark and who was likely to to do so was a fairly useful thing for The Order. It had been done before.

But a McKinnon would be ghastly choice for this task.

The McKinnons were a well known wizarding family. All fervent supporters of Muggle Born equality and every one of them (now that their youngest had signed on) was Order affiliated. Sirius didn’t know their exact percentage of Magical ancestry and thought that sort of tedious detail was better saved for people who were vile enough to care. His mother probably would have known.

The McKinnon parents were a black Londoner witch and an Irish wizard. Their five children had slight variations of skin tones in the middle area between their parents. But every one of them had the same hair. It was instantly recognizable, as it was large. Heaps of ringlets that seemed to grow out rather than down. It wouldn’t be hard to spot a McKinnon in a crowd from a broomstick at a distance. Not a great quality for a spy.

So when the girl showed up 20 minutes early with a smile as broad as Hagrid’s shoulders, he didn’t have to ask who she was. This was obviously Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house. She had more freckles than her sister Grace, who’d been in Sirius’s year, but he contended that they looked related.

The beaming impish girl was tiny under all the golden-brown spiral curls. Sirius had encountered taller 2nd years. Her taste in muggle clothes might have made someone else look like a bit of a rebel.  Marlene, on the other hand, looked like a human sunflower who inexplicably enjoys muggle bands with a penchant for profanity.

She’s actually quite pretty.

As soon as he’d had the thought he mentally backtracked and argued with himself over how she wasn’t really beautiful. She might have been more accurately described as cute. Sweet looking. Like a kneazle kitten. She had nothing of the icy untouchable beauty that his own family was known for. Sirius thought maybe that whole concept was overrated anyhow. His deranged cousin Bellatrix may have been one of the great beauties of her generation, but nearly everyone would agree that she was terrifying.

Marlene was anything but terrifying. The only thing Sirius found disconcerting about her was that she was looking at him like Godric Gryffindor come again.

Was she under the influence of a curse? Was she confusing him with someone important? Or just… confused in general?

Sirius was entirely oblivious to the fact that Marlene McKinnon had been looking at him like that for quite a while. She’d considered herself well over it by now, even. But as soon as she walked in she realized that the crush she’d acquired when she was in her 4th year and he in his 7th, was not entirely a thing of the past. Then-14-year-old Marlene had decided that Sirius Black was perhaps the most impressive young wizard she’d ever come into contact with when she heard he’d run away from home and subsequently been disowned for rejecting his family’s blood supremacist ideologies.

She was completely smitten when she found that along with his principles and willingness to stand up for them, he also possessed strikingly handsome good looks. His high contrast coloring and steel grey eyes in combination with his aristocratic bone structure made it hard for Marlene to focus on anything else, even from across the dining hall.

Her siblings who were still at school with her at the time, Grace in 7th year and Lucan in 6th, took notice of her besotted gawking. The sibling pair, who were always closest with each other, did not hesitate to tease their baby sister mercilessly.

Marlene had ended up saying yes to the first boy who expressed an interest in her in 5th year, just to prove to them that she was over her silly crush. She made a noble effort to overlook Reginald Cattermole’s uncanny resemblance to a ferret. Poor sod. Never stood a chance. She got increasingly bored of him during 6th year and gave him the boot officially some months back. And now she was back to square one. Sirius, naturally, hadn’t even been aware of any of this while it was going on.

He thought that no one looked at him like that. Though he liked to think he was quite pleasant to look at (Marlene would concur), in general he was looked upon with suspicion. And that was amongst his allies. There were plenty of witches and wizards who looked at him with complete contempt. But until that very moment Sirius didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him like Marlene McKinnon had from the moment she walked in the front door.

He was really enjoying it.

But why? It was weird. I should stop. She should stop.

“You’re Sirius Black.”

“I am. But I’m afraid you have this whole introductions thing backwards. I already know who I am. You’re meant to tell me who you are. But I’m fairly certain you’re Marlene McKinnon? Am I right?”

“Yes. That’d be me. Errrm… I meant to have introduced myself. Not just gape at you like an idiot, then tell you your own name. And I’m early. That’s...unfortunate. Uh… I’m pretty bad at this. I’m sorry?”

“It’s alright, Marlene. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re bad at… what exactly?”

“So many things, really.” She laughed.

Sirius decided that the ability to laugh at herself would come in handy if she was always this strange around people. He actually kind of admired that quality. He was of the opinion that most people took themselves too seriously. It was tedious for him to spend time around people like that. He got the immediate impression that Marlene was anything but tedious.

“Well aren’t we all? I’ve never mentored anyone before and I’m sure I’ll be very disappointing. Truly, I’m sorry that you got stuck with me. You can send complaints to the Potters.”

He thought maybe a small dose of self deprecation would put this little tightly wound ball of nerves a bit more at ease. Looking at her posture was giving him a crick in his neck.

It was also Sirius’s earnest opinion that he would be a terrible mentor. He had no idea what he was even meant to do with her. He felt it was likely that he would forget to feed her or something, like he had done with that goldfish he’d won at that muggle fair.

“Oh no; not at all.” She blurted out as if it were all one word.

As Marlene continued to speak, her words tumbled out at an impressive pace without so much as a pause for breath.

“I was thrilled when I heard you were going to mentor me. I always thought you were so brave, walking away from your family like you did. That must have taken an enormous amount of courage. But I hadn’t seen you since you left school and you are exceptionally good looking and I got distracted and forgot that I was supposed to say my name when I meet a person.”

Sirius did his best not to let his face react in any way while Marlene cycled through approximately 50 facial expressions within the span of a minute.

Sirius wondered what planet was this girl had come from. Grace McKinnon had been fairly Hufflepuffy in his recollection, but she wasn’t the personification of a broom crash when she spoke. But just like a broom crash, Marlene was impossible to look away from. Sirius was transfixed. But he preferred to think that he wasn’t quite terrible enough to have to hold back a laugh at a broom crash.

He was at a loss of anything at all to say. Lucky for him that Marlene, whose embarrassed blush might have been visible from her far off home planet, felt compelled to fill the air with more of her rapid fire words.

“Oh sweet Merlin did I really say that? I’m so so sorry. I think I should probably go. Maybe I’ll tell Dumbledore I’m not cut out for The Order. Maybe I’ll move to Spain and start a new life…”

“That really won’t be necessary. Besides it would reflect pretty poorly on me if my first mentee ran away to Spain after meeting me once. So I must object. You’ll be great with The Order. Your heart is in it. It must be. You’ve still got a year of school left but here you are.”

“I thought maybe I could help. Everyone’s so scared. You-know-who is gaining ground. I’d rather be part of something that stops him than sit idle and be scared.”

“See, you do belong here. Please don’t run away to Spain. I’m sure your brothers and sisters would miss you terribly.”

“I suppose they might. A bit. Well, maybe not Gawain. But the rest. Do you know them?”

“I was in Grace’s year. We’ve never been close but she seems like a lovely person. You look a lot like her. You all look alike. Gawain too. What’s wrong with Gawain?”

Marlene did look like all the other McKinnons. But Sirius had never given more the conventional looking Grace a second glance and if he had glanced any more at Marlene it would have constituted a full on ogling.

He reminded himself that he shouldn’t look at her like that. She was someone he’d have to see every day for a month. Then possibly work with in the future. He didn’t dip into that pool. It was needlessly messy, when he was Sirius Black and was not lacking in options.

Marlene had just called him exceptionally good looking which, while true, was not something he expected people to announce at random. So by doing that she confused his brain into considering the ways which she was attractive, or would be, if the circumstances were different. Or that was the mental gymnastics he performed to excuse his giving her the once over, anyway.

“Gawain’s terribly embarrassed by me. I’m… pretty embarrassing. So I don’t really blame him. But we aren’t particularly close.”

“I have a thing or two to teach him about what it’s really like to have embarrassing relatives. Did you know that my first cousin tells people that she’s the Dark Lord’s mistress? You’re not embarrassing. I… look forward to working with you.”

All the impulses Sirius felt towards Marlene felt wrong and contrary to the image he attempted to portray to the world. He was supposed to be blazé about people’s opinions of him. Self confident and cool. He felt anything but cool when intentionally bringing up Bella’s terrible taste in men. Could Voldemort even really be called a man at this point? He looked… not entirely human. Sirius idly wondered if he had all the working bits. But he would not go as so far as to make any inquiries into the matter.

Marlene looked so anxious. Her nervous fingers played with the ripped hem of her too-big shirt. As endearing as her nervous fidgeting was, Sirius wanted to make her feel more at ease.

But why should he care if she’s awkward? Probably that was just her. Why was he making himself uncomfortable in efforts to make her less so? He didn’t do that. He especially didn’t do that for skinny 16 year old Hufflepuffs with huge hair and school girl crushes.

But he did. And he continued to, even as he thought about how he didn’t.

“So you think she’s not his mistress but she tells people that she is? That’s. Wow. I can’t think of many things more embarrassing than that. Actually being his mistress would be less pathetic, at least.”

Her sunny smile was back. Sirius felt a small sense of victory before she averted her gaze down to her yellow-stitched boots.

“I don’t know. I mean that’s my theory. But I don’t keep a sneekoscope in he-who-must-not-be-named’s bedroom.”

“Do you think he even has a bedroom? You know I’ve never before this moment thought of him being a person who does mundane things such as sleep or shag your cousin. But he must, right? He can’t possibly devote every moment of his life to terrorizing and murdering. Do you think he does his own shopping?”

“He probably has his minions do it or else a house elf, but now I really wish he did do it himself. I like the mental image it creates. He’d need breaks from reigning terror for a few hours on Thursday afternoon, because he needs to stock up on fresh produce. Can you picture the poor shopkeeper, totally gobsmacked?”

“You make jokes about He-who-must-not-be-laughed-at too. Gawain would be so scandalized.”  

The pair were having quite a laugh at the expense of the most dangerous dark wizard alive. They were both sure that this was going to be fun. Sirius decided that he needed some fun in his life now that James and Lily were busy with their baby.