#looks like when you get a long strand of hair caught on a wood fence and the wind blows it real fast

[lespritdekin]

enslaving appetence.

the man dressed in white was an enigma, but his revolting desire to possess you for all of his eternity wasn't. na jaemin was the devil's entity in human form, and he scorched you in the burning flames of your nightmares.

pairingㅡ yandere!jaemin x fem!reader

other charactersㅡ best friend and crush!jeno

genreㅡ yandere!au

warningsㅡ madman!jaemin, stalking, obsession, unhealthy possessiveness, mentions of sexual preferences, breach of privacy, implied physical abuse, use of a baseball bat.

song recㅡ she will be loved by maroon 5

disclaimerㅡ as far as my miniscule intelligence could muster, i may have posted this piece on wattpad a year ago or two under the name 'neo alternative plots' or alike. with that explanation, please don't react to the oneㅡshot's presence here on tumblr negatively. this also isn't proofread.

You watched as the pink decorations of the ceiling mimicked your nose, the happy smile on your face getting greeted by an excited Roseanne. You embraced her dressed her figure as she did your own, the gentle noise of the lullabies of her favorite songs supplemented her girlish saturnalia.

You observed your environment and smiled widely, this was the theme you wanted when you were sixteen, and you're happy your best friend got to live her dreams.

You were scooping in a small bowl of punch to drink and munch on as all of you were at the backyard of Roseanne's home, a film on going about your female companion's life story to where she is now. As you were about to pull a slice of lasagna from the tray, a large figure dressed in white shadowed your hand.

You looked up to see a gorgeous brunette with dark, tantalizing eyes, his pretty lips in a small lopsided smile. You unconsciously swallowed the lump in your throat and pulled your hand away from him, apologizing for the things you've never done wrong.

❝I don't accept apologies from gentle faces, princess.❞ A lethargic smirk made its way to his devastatingly breathtaking face, the air escaping your nose suddenly asking for entrance.

❝Although, I'd love to see you rotten.❞ The leathery substance of his inky voice held your throat captive in its seat, the inching hand on your own tiny one made your skin crawl. Your eyes trembled from their sockets, the humidity of his lips turning your skin cold.

What did he want to turn you in?

R-Rotten?

❝P-please,❞ You squeaked, his eyes turning darker, duller, more disheartening. ❝Let go of me.❞ The nimble appendages around yours tightened their grip, the male forced a smile. You yanked your hand away, and a broad back made its way to greet your mousy nerves. Your cheek touched the soft fabric of his lavender pullover, and you immediately acknowledged the scent.

❝Respect the girl's privacy, man.❞ Jeno grumbled from his strong stance, the sardonic, hateful laugh of the man with midnight eyes eyeing your best friend's hand on yours, the way your fingers clutched at Jeno and not at him.

❝Pretty boy came to pretty girl's rescue, how romantic.❞ The white silk of his fit tuxedo adjusted, his hand running up the thick strands of his brown hair. His head hung down, but his eyes bulged forward. Your hands scrambled to find substance of relief when his feet came closer and closer, his abyssmal orbs boring right into your savior.

❝Better watch out for the Madman if you want your skin unscathed.❞ The silence of his voice caused you to wince, and you hid your face on Jeno's back, his hand instinctively holding your arm. The odd chap turned away, went on his heel, and disappeared into the party. You held your head, Jeno turning immediately to hold you close to him.

❝You're alright, [Name]. You're safe.❞ Tears blurred your vision and you cried, large thumbs swiping them away. Jeno didn't need to ask what you needed to have, wanted to hold, he was there through it all, and he's seen you in lights other people haven't, seen you burned and drowned and survived.

❝I'll take you home.❞ Jeno excused the both of you, telling the birthday girl that you needed to leave. Rosie embraced you and wished for your well-being before you left. Jeno never let go of your hand, you've been staring at it for the entire while. The male looks down at you, an apologetic smile on his face.

❝I'll hold your hand, don't worry. The parking lot's only a few blocks away, I'll keeping you close.❞ You didn't give him a response, continuing to walk along side him.

You sat inside the front seat and held your phone with trembling hands, your best friend turning on the heater for you. He kissed your head before driving away from the parking lot, wanting to play the first song of your favorite playlist whenever you're feeling down.

❝Dㅡdo you mind?❞ You softly asked Jeno, his eyes suddenly turning into crescent moons when he looked at you. ❝Go on.❞ You turned your phone of and browsed through the screen, pressing onto the first song of a dozen. Your nose had turned red from crying, and the only way you could ease it away was by listening to your favorite songs.

Jeno caught a glimpse of your face once the tune reverberated within the vehicle. He sighed, absolutely despised when male after male molest you. You weren't a toy to play with, you needed care, love and guidance, some things he's always done to you for so long.

You felt revolting. You felt like your world was crippling, distorting, shattering, just as you were finally alright again, just as you were finally read to be happy again. Your fingers shivered despite the ongoing heat of the car. Your best friend took notice and held your hand in his again, your heart almost ‎skipping another beat.

He brought you to your flat and made sure that your roommates were home. He gave you a towel after knocking on the door for permission, seeing your newly washed face gave him feathers inside. You were so adorable like that. You dried your face and changed into a pair of thick pink pajamas, your thoroughly scrubbed hand rivaling the feminine color.

You assisted Jeno on the way to the door after he made sure all of your windows and doors were locked and snug. You laughed at him softly after the occurrence of a male touching you like a predator temporarily left your mind as you see Jeno with roseate adorning his cheeks.

You look up at him with red eyes, already wrapping your arms around him. ❝I could kiss you right now.❞ He muttered, holding your cheek. ❝But, I don't have your consent, and your roommates are probably awake.❞ You giggled wholeheartedly, causing him to heave a sigh despite chuckling.

❝[Name], your parents might hate me!❞ He whined, but you continued to laugh, you didn't give a damn if he brought you to a stage and kissed you in front of a crowd, you didn't care if he kissed you in a family reunion.

❝You two are so annoying!❞ Someone screamed from two bedrooms down, the both of you and Jeno genuinely laughing. Despite allowing his submission to appear, his hands never left your back protectively, and you felt safer than a baby getting taken care of an entire village.

He held you in his arms one last time before walking through the doorway, closing the door after him. You leaned your back on the smooth wood and slid down, keeping your squeals at minimum. Your person of interest of almost a year held you like you were the most delicate thing in the world, kissed your hair, made you feel special, and wanted your parent's approval of everything.

You went back to your room and screamed into the pillows, your hand waiting for the phone to ding. You eventually turned drowsy, but you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, but they were futile. You went downstairs and had three glasses of water, all chugging them down in one go.You washed your face in the kitchen sink and washed your glass and was about to return, not until one of your favorite songs played through the speakers from your room.

Your eyes trembled, and so did your hands.

You immediately hid inside a bottom cabinet, covering your mouth with your hands.Your roommates never entered your room strictly without your word, and they disliked your odd taste in music for them to play your speaker and one of your favored songs. Just before you could foolishly land your foot over the creaking wood of the stairwell, the screeching noise of your room opened, heavy, aching boots gripped the silence of the flat, and you almost pissed yourself.

You covered your ears, the sound of another thumping object frightening you. He desired nothing but to daunt you, turn you into a demented marionette, just like him.

Beauty queen of only eighteen

She had some trouble with herself

He was always there to help her

She always belonged to someone else

Each nerve in your body stiffened and your teeth clattered, you assume your hair stood in all directions, and you're certain your heartbeat's abormally thumping inside your chest. You need Jeno, but your phone's in your room, you could call or run for your roommates, but he'd already be there, appendages wrapped prettily around your neck.

And indeed, he was awaiting for your arrival of submission.

I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door

I've had you so many times, but somehow, I want more

The deafening dollops of burning rubber on wood ceased sound, but the certain reverberating outcries of polished wood on rusty ones had you inching closer to the corner of an enclosure that barely fit you, and your mind was running wild. He could feel it, your idiotic heartbeat grumbling inside an unprotected fence, something he can break so easily.

❝I don't mind spending everyday out on the corner in the pouring rain.❞

Your eyes shot up, the accostumed voice in your ears, the silent, demanding whispers, the glacial, dispassionate delivery of a monster, and you've only heard it once. He smirked, tracing the dimly lit crevices from the street lamps standing tall on the fronts of the floor, the thin glass of the windows making him believe how pathetic you were, how much of a feeble-minded whore you were.

Look for the girl with a broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay a while

You hear footsteps again, aggressive, menacing, resounding, and he was so close, so near of getting his hands on you, taking what was never his. You enclosed your fingers and bit your knuckle, closing your eyes shut. Tears encaptured the pink-stained skin of your plump, delicate cheeks. He could materialize the trembling clatter of your teeth, the perspiration in between your chest, and the reverberating drift of your clenching pussy.

And she will be loved

❝She will be loved.❞

[jimlingss]

Kale’in Me Softly

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 90% Fluff, 9.5% Angst, 0.5% Smut, Farm!AU

➜ Summary: After your grandfather's passing, you decide to take over his farm and plant the trendiest vegetable: kale. It's a struggle to be in the countryside when you've always been a city girl. But there's someone less than sympathetic — a grumpy farmer across the acres who's constantly trying to pick a fight with you.

➜ Warning: Strongly implied smut

cr.

Home — you left it all behind for this.    The tractor chugs and wheezes. Its wheels roll over the craggy and unpaved road, making you feel every bump and pebble through constant jolts and bounces. The sweltering heat of the scorching sun was already making you break into a sweat and you sigh, listening to the buzzing of cicadas and the sputtering engine.   But otherwise, it was quiet. More than what you were used to. There isn’t any traffic, honking, construction or the noise of motorcycle engines or sirens of ambulances. There’s just the rustle of leaves and the swaying of grass strands.   “I can’t believe Old Man Seok had such a pretty granddaughter.”    A laugh bubbles out of you. “It’s all in the genes. Did you know my grandfather?”   “Everyone knew Old Man Seok. Everyone knows everyone here. But it sure helps that our farms are next door to each other. Just down yonder.” The middle-aged farmer grips the steering wheel. A good-natured aura in spite of his intimidating disposition, he feels like a strict but caring father figure. “He was very kind even to the end of his life. Offered my family a lot of jam throughout the years. A good man through and through. My condolences.”   Your smile softens. “Thank you.”   “I gotta say, it’s nice to have a new face around these neck of the woods. Doesn’t happen often.” The corner of the man’s mouth pulls and the wrinkles by his eyes crease. “You should come meet my son sometime.”   “I wouldn’t mind.” The tractor pulls up to the worn house you’ve seen in your mother’s childhood pictures. “I always love making new friends.”   You hop off the tractor the moment it comes to a stop and the man wishes you luck before you thank him again and he’s on his merry way.   With only one packed suitcase in hand, you walk up to the house and push your Gucci sunglasses to the top of your head to get a better look. The fence, door and roof are made with a cherry wood that compliments the forest green walls. The patio, on the other hand, is out of oak that matches the rocking chair in the corner. There’s white trim lining the rectangular windows, giving you a peek at the purple, paisley curtains inside.   The house looks tattered through time, but cozy.   “You’re leaving?!” — “Do you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?” — “Do you even know what you’re going to do there?”   The voices of the friends you left behind echo in the recesses of your mind while you fiddle with the hem of your dress in the shade of classical blue — 2020’s pantone colour and a fantastic fashion statement. It’s not farm-appropriate, but better than most of the things in your closet.   You went shopping for the last time before you packed your one pink suitcase, but you’re starting to realize those tight, denim overalls might not work like they do in the movies.   “You think you can run a farm?!” — “I didn’t raise you so you could go back to the countryside!” — “You don’t even know what you’re doing, Y/N! Grow up already and stop being ridiculous.”   An exhale squeezes out of you as you dispel away your family’s discouragement and you grip your grandfather’s letter as you finally muster the courage to approach the house.   When your grandfather passed away, you inherited ten thousand dollars and his five acre farm. It’s small. Nothing worthy of bragging about and one of the hundred of reasons everyone thought you would sell it. They even urged you to, so they could get a split of the money. But they never thought you would refuse. That you would leave everything behind and come all the way here.   It’s a mess.   Thick layers of dust coat the antique furniture and peering out from the kitchen window, the field is littered in leaves and twigs, wooden planks and debris. A sense of guilt overwhelms you.    You can’t believe your family let it become this way.    You set down your belongings and almost immediately, you begin to look around. Pacing the backyard, the field, the barn, trying to figure out what is what. And it’s not long before a dark-haired man with doe eyes and a permanent dear-in-headlights expression finds you.   He nearly startles you to death with his timid greeting. “H-Hi...”    “Holy shit!” You press your hand to your chest, spinning around and he boyishly grins. “You scared me!”   “S-Sorry…my bad...” Boots, jeans and a white shirt, he looks like a newly graduated high school student who stumbled into the wrong place. “Are you Y/N?”   “That’s me.” You wonder if he’s here to kill you. The farm setting was the perfect location after all and serial killers these days have the potential of looking as cute as he does. “You’re...?”   “I’m Jungkook. I used to work with Old Man Seok. My mom told me you’d be comin’ today and that I should show you around, so….” He scratches the back of his neck, oddly endearing for how awkward he is.    You let him guide you despite having already gotten the chance to peek at almost everything — a detail you leave out to spare him from being disheartened. But with Jungkook here, he has the strength to widen the doors of the old shed out back and you get a better look at the storage and old equipment.   “God.” You cough and bat your hand from the dust piles arising. “It’s so dirty.”   “Yeah. The tractor needs a bit of fixin’ up which I can help you with, if you need.”   It’s clear that towards the end of your grandfather’s life, he was too weak to properly take care of his property. You can tell by the way the field is in tatters, all his crops long dead and his machinery is in desperate need of repair. But as you gander at the space, you discover that there’s everything you need right here. Shovels. Wheelbarrows. Sickles and spades.   “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”   Jungkook nods, wearing a small smile. “Your grandpa used to help me out a lot, so it’s the least I can do. If you ever need any help, I’m down a few acres West by the market. Just give a holler.”   Your cheeks warm, realizing he’s not as young as he appears to be. “I will.”   After a while longer, Jungkook leaves you to get settled down and you bid him farewell. You know it’s going to take a bit of time for you to get used to this change, but with a sigh, you try your best to familiarize yourself with the land and surrounding climate.   //   Back in LA, you were a fashion design marketer.   Originally, you set out to fulfill your childhood dream of being a top designer for a big brand like Chanel or Dior, but along the way, you ended up in the marketing sector. It wasn’t as bad as what people thought. A kind of niche you actually quite enjoyed and while you might've left it all behind for the farm life, you know the first step to starting anything is doing market research.   So at nine in the morning sharp, you enter the farmers’ market.   Open every Sunday, there’s a certain bustle and liveliness in the atmosphere. People from surrounding communities and even far away cities have come to get their fresh produce and dairy products. The market place is held in an open building with doors and massive garages wide open, practically held outdoors itself, and as you walk along the stands, you notice goat milk to beeswax lip balm being sold. There’s everything someone could ask for, bath salts and herbal soaps, baked goods and handmade aprons and quilts. You didn’t know farmers’ markets had so much to offer.   “Would you like to try some raspberry jam, darlin’?” A plump lady offers you a spatula.    “Sure. Thank you.” The sweet taste ends up bursting on your palette and you hum at the taste, considering buying a jar for breakfast. But she interrupts with a curious stare and a bigger smile.   “I haven’t seen you around before, dear. Did you come from somewhere far?”   “Oh no, I just moved in. My grandpa was Seokjin….”   “You mean Old Man Seok?” Her entire spine straightens, face lighting up. “I never knew he had a granddaughter!”   You warm, proud that your grandfather’s made such a lasting impression. “I just moved in a few acres away.”   “Taking care of your grandpa’s farm?” she asks and when you nod, the woman practically swoons. “Why, what a gracious thing you’re doin’! Old Man Seok would be proud to have a granddaughter like you! Keepin’ his legacy alive like that. Heaven knows I can’t even get my boy up to milk the cows!”   You laugh and she ends up handing you a small jar of raspberry jam for free, wishing you the best of luck.    Apparently word spreads fast in this place. After ten minutes of exploring the market, kind and overfamiliar strangers approach from behind their stands, greeting you and taking your hands. Some muse how similar you are to your grandfather while others happily send you some cheese and bread. By the time you’re at the end, it looks like you went grocery shopping.   But in the midst of it all, you get the chance to talk to some customers. Making conversation with a pregnant woman, an elderly man, and a little kid overly excited to use his allowance for some candy. People are receptive and friendly, more than what you’re used to back in the city. But you study what they purchase, their spending habits, what people seem to be interested in.   Then, your attention is caught at a cute honey stand — jars of honey sealed being sold with beeswax candles tied with pastel yellow ribbon. More importantly, you recognize the doe-eyed boy at the cash register.    “Jungkook!”   He greets you with a big smile. “Oh, hey, Y/N! I didn’t expect you’d be here.”   With your previous lifestyle, the attention of a cute boy like Jungkook isn’t enough to make you bashful — a few years too late on that — but you can still appreciate how endearing he is. “I’m just taking a look around. Thought I should get to know the place since I might be here soon.”   “How’re things going? Did you settle in yet?”   “I did actually.” It wasn’t in the realm of your expectations to make friends so quickly out here, but to have such pleasant small talk with Jungkook proves your anticipations were wrong. “It took a lot of time to clean the house, but totally worth it! I strung polaroids above the mantle and I found a vintage armchair that’s really in style, so I’d say things are going pretty well.”   The boy grins from your enthusiasm. “It sounds like you’re adapting better than I would.”   “I’m trying.” Your smile becomes sheepish. “I’m still figuring out the fields and the land. I haven’t even gotten started in clearing out the shed yet.”    He nods, lips parting to respond. But then there’s a call of his name behind him and he sighs before sending an apologetic expression. “Sorry. My ma has more honey to unload from the truck. I gotta skedaddle before she yells, but I’m glad things are working out for you!”   Jungkook’s undoubtedly cute, even when he says goodbye and promises to catch up with you soon. You don’t dwell either, continuing to parade through the market by yourself and discover all the places you missed on your first walk that was overwhelmed with others intercepting.   What piques your curiosity this time is a wooden stall with a soft green cloth draped over the flat surface and a sign that reads ‘Romaine with Me’. What’s offered in the crates are lettuce. Lots and lots of different heads of lettuce lined in rows like plush animal prizes on display at carnival games.   You don’t pay much mind to the man behind the stall that’s sleepily blinking and leaning his head in his hand, elbow propped up and figure slumped over. He looks like he’s dozed off but somehow kept his lids peeled back.   You approach and read the labels underneath. Red. Green. Romaine. Boston. Bibb. Arugula. Batavia. Radicchio. Iceberg.   “I didn’t know there were so many types of lettuce,” you mutter to yourself.   “It’s two dollars for each bundle or head,” the man suddenly pipes up in a raspy tone, nearly startling you to death. You realize his pupils have darted right on you and that’s he’s not in fact sleeping with his eyes open. “Romain is three. And there’s a sale on the radicchio.”   The man has an oddly intimidating disposition for looking so tired. He has tender features and seemingly soft skin that makes you wonder about his skin care routine. Yet, his hair is as dark as his cat-like eyes that have narrowed in on you. You suddenly feel pressure to make a purchase lest you waste more of his time.   “What are the differences?” you ask, studying the lettuces in front of you.   “Iceberg, romaine and radicchio are crispy. But iceberg has a clean and fresh taste. Romaine is more bitter and radicchio is a bit bitter and spicy. Boston and bibb are butter lettuces which are softer and have a sweet taste. Boston's leaves are wider and lighter green than bibb's. Arugula is peppery. Batavia is your usual with more crinkled leaves. Red and green are your standard.”    The man breathes the explanation out with only one lazy inhale in between and when he’s done, he gives you a look as if asking if you’re satisfied. But you’re more than that. You’re genuinely impressed.   He spat facts at you and you’re not sure what to do with the information.   “You know a lot about lettuce.”   “I’m a lettuce farmer,” he deadpans.   “Really?” The corners of your lips pull, even more intrigued than before. You didn’t take him for much of a farmer. The man has a kind of bad-boy vibe that you’re accustomed to and without much thought, the clumsy words stumble out of your mouth— “I thought farmers were dirtier.”   “What?”   “Like sunburnt, straw hats, overalls.” You nod, studying the produce and missing his offended expression. “Like that’s totally the farmer’s aesthetic.”   “Aesthetic?”   “Yeah,” you hum, not realizing the man was glaring holes into you. “I’ll take a bundle of the romaine, please.”   You end up going home shortly after, trekking underneath the sun with recyclable bags full of food that fills your fridge, sure to be enough for a whole week. You’re not sure what to exactly do after that — there’s plenty of tasks and jobs to be done, but you’re not certain where to start.   So you decide to take a break — partly to relax and partly to procrastinate. With your sweat wiped away and a fan whirring in the corner, you plop down into the vintage armchair and grab one of the magazines you brought with you. But it isn’t a good read, not when you had already looked at most of the pages on the plane ride over here….   Your mind ends up wandering, considering what you should do with grandfather’s land, if there was anything new you could offer at all. And at the same time as you’re flipping through the magazine, you stumble on a particular page. A recipe for an avocado kale poke bowl.   You skim it and your eyes stop at a single word. Kale.   Kale. It sticks to you like glue and you squint at the text, the four letters in print. Your mind searches and it hits you that kale was never sold at the farmers’ market. There was everything, every fruit, every vegetable. But not kale.    A smile stretches across your face, determination blooming in your chest. Organic kale was a total new fad. Good for you. Healthy. Sought after in the city, but yet to be prevalent in the countryside. It was a perfect opportunity, one that was sitting right in front of you this entire time.   Relief overwhelms you as you make a decision on your niche: kale.   //   It starts off with books.    Gathering as much information as you possibly can, you also learn through guides and internet articles on your chosen crop. You find out that kale becomes bitter over the summer, sweetest in the Fall after being touched by a light frost. It bolts in Spring, so sowing seeds is most appropriate around April to May while they can still be planted throughout the seasons. It provides a yield between late September to early May, direct seeds maturing in fifty to seventy days while transplants take a bit less than half the time.   You learn how to protect seedlings from pests, purchasing lightweight fabric to cover rows, and you begin to plow the fields.    It takes time to clean up, to get your grandfather’s equipment fixed, to become financed. But you start right away and soon, you’re sewing the seeds eighteen to twenty four inches apart. Getting transplants. Watering them appropriately. Working day and night.   You’re not exactly sure if you’re doing this right. Especially on hot days when you’re sweating buckets, dirt has marred your skin and your lower back screams. But you know that even if you fail and have to pack your bags, the effort of trying would be enough for you to feel satisfied.   So, you persist.    And day by day, the seeds begin to sprout. The dirt is littered with tiny green specks and you feel thrilled that it’s actually growing. Slowly, but surely, you would return this farm to its former glory by your own hands.   //   It’s another Sunday when you take a trip to the farmers’ market.   In spite of having only been here for a short amount of time, you’ve become acquainted with the market. You don’t get lost anymore in the bustle and many like to stop you to ask about your day. It’s a hospitable place, never making you feel uncomfortable or awkward, and you feel relieved that your grandfather was surrounded by such warmth till the end of his life.   You’re also starting to become familiar with one particular wooden stall and the sleepy man behind it.   No matter what week it is, he’s always there, wearing the same loose flannels but in different colours, flipping through a pamphlet or dozing off. He only looks up when someone comes to buy lettuce.   But today, he’s joined by an older man that recognizes you all too easily. “I almost didn’t see you there without being so gussied up in those city clothes. Looks like you’ve gotten yourself comfortable with farm life. Almost reminds me of Old Man Seok back in his heyday.”   Immediately, the younger lifts his head up, brow cocked. “You know her?”   “She’s Old Man Seok’s granddaughter. I gave her a ride to his farm when she first came,” Mr. Min introduces and his son gives you a better look, one that’s ridden with a modest amount of distaste. “Y/N, this is my boy, Yoongi, that I was talking about.”   It never occured to you how similar they are. Their husky voices and quiet yet intimidating dispositions are unparalleled. But the older seems more open and friendly than the younger who has a blank expression and his eyes narrowed in at you. Although you don’t get much time to dwell, ask him that the issue might be or if that’s simply who he is.   Some people naturally have a resting bitch face and Yoongi might be one of them.   “How’s the countryside life doing for you so far?” his father asks and you smile, attention redirected.   “It’s not too bad. But the sun’s hot and I didn’t know farming could be so hard!” Your head quirks to the side, still awed that this was the lifestyle of so many. “I always thought it would be easy cause the organic edamame plant back at my apartment wasn’t so bad to take care of.”   Yoongi scoffs.   “Yep, it’s difficult alright.” Mr. Min’s engrossed and asks, “What’re you growing?”   Enthusiasm and a sense of pride makes you exclaim the answer— “Kale!”    Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice while his father is made even more curious.    “Kale?”   “I was thinking about what wasn’t being sold at the farmers’ market and I found that kale was underrepresented,” you rant, “Kale’s totally the new wave. It’s a trendy, super food and packed with antioxidants. Did you know that kale is among the most nutrient-dense foods on the planet?”   “Can’t say I knew that.” Mr. Min has his mouth upturned into an amused smile. Yoongi, on the other hand, sighs. “I’d love to hear more about it. My wife’s quite passionate about these kinds of things too. She practically runs the entire farm! You should come over for dinner sometime, Y/N.”   “She should?” — “I’d love to!”   Both you and Yoongi talk over another, but you don’t hear him. You’ve never been invited to this kind of thing before and your family rarely ate together. So, the aesthetic of sitting down for a countryside meal with a farming family, like it’s Thanksgiving, is a fantasy you’re eager to fulfill.    //   Unfortunately, dinner at the Min household has to be held off when your first harvest comes.    Finally after a month of waiting, there’s actual kale out in the fields that are ready to be collected. The leaves are small, a little bitter and it’s not a large yield — but it isn’t bad for the first time. You’re happy enough that you’ve grown something, so you don’t nick pick for now.   Instead, you focus on wrapping up the bundles, on preparing a stall, on organizing a spot at the market to sell. And when the days of busy work and high pressure accumulate into the first Sunday of the month, you’ve arranged crates of freshly washed, organic kale ready for purchase.   It’s exciting. One week you’re walking around as a customer and the next, you’re on the other side of the stand as a vendor. You get to witness the behind the scenes of other farmers, the doors opening at nine sharp, the increasing bustle of the market.   But for some reason, you only have a few people who stop by and only one who buys a bundle.   “Don’t be worried,” Jungkook comforts, having stopped by once he noticed you. “People tend to buy what they’re used to, so just wait a while. You’ll eventually get your own set of customers!”   You can only hope he’s right.   By five in the evening, it’s over and you hold in your sigh. You wonder what you should do with the abundance of kale you have left, but you try not to linger as you close shop and the market shuts its doors.   Everyone seems to disassemble their stalls with ease, carrying crates to their cars, collecting their earnings. Most are gone within ten minutes but you struggle, unable to keep up when it’s all too new to you and before you know it, you’re the last one left in the space that’s still cleaning up after yourself.   The only person you catch is Yoongi who’s walking off, passing you with a crate of two lettuce heads, having already sold most of it. You notice he’s in one of his open flannels again, this time it’s yellow and gray, and you send a friendly smile. But he doesn’t say anything or make a change from his indifferent expression.   But then he stops. Five meters away.   “You should stop treating this like a joke,” Yoongi deadpans, swiveling around on his heel.   You freeze, halfway from grabbing the mason tip jar that you decorated with washi tape the night before. You blink, not sure if Min Yoongi is actually and willingly uttering words to you or if it’s your imagination. “What?”   But it isn’t. He is very much talking to you. “The market isn’t here for someone like you to play games.”   Now, you’re just confused. “But…...I’m not playing games...?”   “It’s obvious you’re not serious about this.”   You scoff. You’ve had your fair share of running into mean girls in the fashion industry and in High School, the ones who are snarky and make passive aggressive insults that are disguised as compliments. You just never expected to run into something like that here.   And in such a straightforward way too.   Usually people are more subtle when they show that they don’t like you.   “You can’t accuse me. You don’t know anything about me!”   Yoongi stares at you boredly. “You’re making a mockery out of people’s livelihood.”   “I’m trying to learn.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.    You suppose from his perspective it might be off-putting that you’ve come from nowhere and you’re trying your hand at the farm life. But you swear you haven’t been condescending nor have you ever looked down on anyone. At least you hope it hasn’t come across that way.   “I don’t know what I’m doing, but if it seems like I’ve been mocking you then I’m sorry.” This isn’t just a hobby to you nor is it a spectacle for your amusement. You’re serious. Even if you might come across as ditzy, insincere and inexperienced. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to insult me. I already know I was stupid for coming here. Why do you think I came alone? This is a whole new world for me and I’m trying, so I’d appreciate some empathy.”   Yoongi stares at you. You stare at him.   The two of you have your eyes locked in one another’s, and you want to throw hands, but then he suddenly walks away as if he didn’t hear a word you said.   You glare at his backside, huffing out in frustration.    As if your day wasn’t bad enough, he had to make it worse.   //   “Stop being ridiculous, Y/N!”   Your mom’s voice is jarring on the other end of the line. It’s grating to your ears. There’s a strong urge to hang up, but you’re not sure if she’ll call again. You’re surprised she called you in the first place — the likelihood of a second time is slim.   “I’m actually doing well, thank you very much.”   She ignores you. “Sell the land and come home. Do you really think you can do this?!”   Tears sting your eyes against your will. You inhale to keep your voice even and steady. “I do actually. I’m learning while I’m out here and it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”   “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. You had a high paying job. An apartment. Clean water to drink. Lots of food to eat. You were comfortable! And you gave it all up, why?!”   “The air’s fresher here,” you quip much to your mom’s chagrin and frustration. “I’m a grown woman, mom. I can make my own decisions.”   “Until you make others pick up after you!”    You wince, hand tightening on your duvet. You try your best not to cry. She doesn’t need to know that you’re running out of money, that your kitchen is filled with leafy greens you couldn’t sell, that your back aches from working out on the fields. “Don’t come running to me when you finally get bored or you’re halfway to starving to death.”   You know they think sooner or later, you’ll show up back home with your packed bag. But you refuse to give in. You’ll prove your friends and family wrong — you’ll follow through with this.   If there was one thing you were good at, it was being stupid. Being stupid made you at the bottom of the class, it made you have friends who used you, it made you struggle. And it made you resilient. It made you know what working hard to get to where you want meant. It made you determined.   And you’re gonna fucking give it your best! Even if the smarter route would be to give up!   So with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you brace yourself and enter your kitchen full of kale. If you can’t sell it raw, then there are other things that you can try.   //   “Get your kale kombucha! Your kale smoothie! Full of vitamins and nutrients!”   You’re holding a tray of paper cup samples, voice loud with a wide smile. A woman who’s looking at your stand curiously passes by and you steal the chance, smoothly intercepting her way. “Would you like to try one, ma’am?”   “Sure.”   She takes a sample and once she sips, her eyes light up and her expression becomes inquisitive. The woman approaches your stand, looking over the products you have. “It’s really delicious. How much is it for a smoothie?”   “The three sizes are here.” You gesture to the display and she hums. “Two dollars for a small, two fifty for a medium and three for a large. We also have salted kale chips, kale guacamole and kale pesto.”   “Is this all homemade?”   “It is!” Your enormous smile is proud. “I grew the kale organically and made these with fresh ingredients.”   “I’ll take a large smoothie, this guacamole and a bundle of just regular kale then.”   “Coming right up!”   You’re no stranger to the art of advertising — it’s one of your strengths with your marketing background. You’re pretty sure the chalkboard signs are doing a good job of directing attention to your stall and the samples are certainly going a long way too.   “Can I try one, miss?” A little kid tugs on your green apron and you lower yourself down to their eye-level, happily handing them two.   “Of course you can!”   Sunday after Sunday, you do better and better.   Of course, it’s not without constant trial and error, honing in recipes and packaging, learning how to keep products as fresh as possible. But the improvements make the labour all worth it.    You notice how Yoongi watches you across the floor and when you smile, he immediately looks away. But there's little time to pay attention to him when the lineup at your stall gradually becomes longer and longer. Jungkook helps you out when he can, whether that’s manning the register beside you or handing out samples to draw in curious customers.   “You’re gonna run me out of business soon, Y/N.” Jungkook says in the midst of a slow down when you’re finally able to catch your breaths.   “Please,” you giggle. “I’m sure you’re the one drawing in the business. Weren’t those last two customers trying to get your number for the past ten minutes? Last time they kept on asking me about you too.”   The boy laughs shyly and it’s all too endearing. “They’re just bein’ nice. If anything, you’re the one drawing in the customers since you’re so pretty and all.”   More giggles bubble out of your throat and you lean closer to him. “So you think I’m pretty?”   Jungkook realizes what he said and his face reddens. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I mean...isn’t that a fact?”   “You’re too sweet, Kook,” you sigh wistfully. “Thank you for helping me.”   “Anytime, really.” Jungkook’s smiles softly and his lips part, but before he can say anything, his peripheral vision finally catches the weight of a third party’s stare. His eyes travel across the market floor to the wooden stall of lettuce — right on the man behind it who’s rolling his eyes.    You follow his line of sight and a knowing smile appears on your features. “Jungkook, can you hand me the sample tray?”   You might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that big of an idiot. For the past two weeks, you’ve noticed how Yoongi keeps staring at you. You don’t suspect it to be sudden infatuation either. Most likely, it’s surprise that you’ve proven him wrong or reluctant admission that you’re on your way to success, or perhaps passive aggression too.   Whatever the case is, you approach him and witness him visibly stiffen as you come closer.   Your smile remains bright when you ask, “Is everything okay, Yoongi?”   “I’m fine,” the man deadpans. “You should move. You’re blocking my customers.”   “You have no customers.”   “I would if you weren’t standing there.”   You scoff. “You are not cute.”   Yoongi’s brow lifts, amused at your comment. “Excuse me?”   “I want to make peace,” you outright declare, having no shame with confronting him. “I’ve had my fair share of drama back home and I’m not looking forward to picking fights here, so I forgive you.” Yoongi snorts as you raise your sample tray as a peace offering. “I know you’re curious, so you try one. My kale kombucha is my most popular item. It’s a fermented tea that has lots of healthy yeast and bacteria.”   “No.” The dark-haired man rejects without needing to blink. “Kale is disgusting. There’s a reason no one sells it here.”   You’re shocked, not knowing where to start. But there’s no point in arguing with him and spewing nutrition facts. Your pride is much too high to insist too, so you merely lift your chin. “Fine. Suit yourself. But one of these days, you’re going to fall in love with kale, Min Yoongi.”   It’s a challenge — but a one-sided one. Yoongi simply sighs as you strut away, feeling more tired than he did before.    //   The engines of the moving truck rumbles and coughs as it rolls down the dirt road.   It’s drawn the attention of several, including his dad and mom. They’re peering out the front window, curtains tugged with their noses pressed to the glass. Usually, Yoongi doesn’t care much for what the neighbours are up to or keeping up with community gossip, but for some reason, his curiosity is piqued enough that he glances out as well.   “What’s going on?”   “There are trucks coming back and forth from Old Man Seok’s land.”   Yoongi wonders if you’ve given up and you’re moving out. He wouldn’t be surprised.   But suddenly, before he can walk off and mind his own business, his mother whirls around. “Yoonie, go check up on our new neighbour.”   He exhales exhaustingly. “Why?”   “Well, you’re friends, aren’t you?”    “We’re not.” It’s a firm fact, but his mother doesn’t hear him. She’s already moving into the kitchen and making him follow her. He knows arguing is futile — once she’s set on her mind on something, no one can change it.   “Go on and deliver some cheese too.” She hands him a paper bag. “We haven’t welcomed her properly yet and it’s customary to at least give a greeting and gift.”   Yoongi begrudgingly obliges and minutes later, he finds himself making the trek across the acres to the cottage that always reminded him of Christmas with its cherry red roof and forest green walls. The polluting trucks drive away in the meanwhile, wheels turning against the gravel fading, and the countryside returns to its quaint atmosphere. As he comes closer, Yoongi notices the wooden spools on your lawn and some barber chairs littered around, akin to a dumpster yard, but he avoids them and walks up the porch, knocking twice on the door.   He can imagine thrusting the bag in your hand, muttering a greeting and question or two before getting back to the farm. Yet, what he doesn’t anticipate is silence and then noises farther away.   The man sighs and decides to follow the sounds lest he spends the rest of the afternoon waiting at your front door.   He rounds the house to the backyard.    “What are you doing?”   Yoongi discovers mason jars, picnic blankets, wooden crates sprawled all over on the grass — things he guesses the trucks brought over — and he finds you on a ladder with fairy lights tangled around your limbs.   You jolt. In horror, Yoongi watches the ladder dangerously wobble back and forth, but luckily, it steadies and you twist yourself around. “Holy shit! You almost scared me half to death!”   “What are you doing?” he repeats, more urgently and concerned than before.   “I’m setting up fairy lights obviously.” Your smile is big, cheeks swelling with it. “I’m gonna decorate part of the land with hipster furniture and channel the farm aesthetic. It’s going to become an Insta spot. Hashtag kale-in-farm.”   Yoongi doesn’t understand half of what you just said and he’s not sure if he should even ask.   “What’s a hashtag?”   “You don’t know what a hashtag is?” Your eyes are perfectly rounded, looking at him like he’s an alien and he chuckles. The irony isn’t lost on him. He isn’t the weird one — you are.   “Should I know what it is?”   You don’t answer, merely climbing off the ladder and his breath hitches at how you don’t watch your step.    Yoongi doesn’t get stressed easily, but he swears he’s going to get a heart attack looking at you.   You pull out your phone suddenly from your back pocket and after some tapping, you thrust the screen in his face. “This is Instagram, see? It’s an app where you can follow people and see the pictures that they post. An Insta spot is a place where you can take good Instagram pictures. Hashtags is a way to label the posts, so others can see and search it up. Or at least that’s what I think it is. It’s kind of hard to explain, it’s one of those things that just catches on and you get after using it. This is my page, see?”   You’ve given your phone to him and Yoongi eyes your bikini photos before handing it back.    “Uh-huh.”   “I can’t believe you don’t have an Instagram. You should make one and add me!”   “No thanks.”   You huff, pouting at him and Yoongi’s mouth twitches as he resists the small smile. There’s something in the way you react to him being mean to you that makes it all too entertaining.   “My mom wanted to give you some cheese.” He hands the paper bag over and you excitedly peer inside. “It’s just goat cheese. Usually she makes a cherry pie as a housewarming gift, but today….was a bit last minute.”   Yet in spite of the measly present, Yoongi’s taken aback at how happy you seem. “This is so sweet! Tell your mom I said thank you! I should probably give her some kale—”   He lifts his palm, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. “There’s no need.”   “Well, tell her I said thank you.” You put it down on the wooden patio steps and move towards the ladder. Then something by his foot catches your eye. “Oh, can you do me a favour and put that typewriter on the wooden crate?”   Yoongi doesn’t know why you have a broken typewriter, but he follows your instructions. His eyes travel to several worn bikes you have leaning against the railing. It’s strange considering you don’t seem like the type to bike.   As if reading his mind, you laugh. “They don’t work. It’s just for the aesthetics.”   “Uh-huh.” He turns back, about to bid goodbye and leave this mess behind him. But as he turns away, he witnesses you step on the highest prong of the ladder. The part you’re not allowed to step on. With the danger warning signs plastered on it that says ‘STOP’ in big, red letters.   Yoongi’s breath hitches and he lurches over, grabbing the ladder to steady it as it wobbles.   “Woah!” You regain your balance and turn to grin at him. “Thanks for that. You saved my life!”   “Get off.”   “What?”   “Get off the ladder before you die.” His stern command has you obeying and you come down to the ground again. Yoongi sighs and takes the lights from you. “I’ll do it. Tell me where you want them and hold the bottom rung for me.”   You’re bewildered, but you don’t reject his offer of help. Yoongi follows your instructions too, working quickly and more efficiently than when you were, and you can’t help but giggle as you watch him string the fairy lights.    He glares at you. “What?”   You look up at him, beaming a grin. “For being such a mean, old grump, you’re actually pretty reliable and considerate, Yoongi.”   He diverts his vision elsewhere. “Whatever.”   But it’s all too true.    In many ways, Yoongi reminds you of peppermint candy. Hard on the outside but with just a bit of melting, all too sweet and sugary on the inside.   //   It starts off with you.   A post, a cute caption, the hashtag. You manage to get Jungkook to follow suit and then it’s a group. A person who shows up with their friends, stopping by to enjoy your kale farm and haphazardly filming their adventure to put onto their social media. Then it’s three or four, more and more of the hashtag being used, of pictures being taken, of others catching wind of the trendy new place to take photos, of fresh kale being harvested and kale kombucha being sold.   It’s an exponential growth and before you know it, there’s a bustle at your farm.   Strangers that park in the designated area, families enjoying the picnic spots, young adults posing for photographs underneath the strung fairy lights after dark. Your kale chips and smoothie sales skyrocket and after constructing a website, you know you’ve made a name for yourself.   You hire Jimin, Jungkook’s cousin, to help you out. Recently turned eighteen, he’s gentle and luckily attentive. He excels in customer service and in between selling your products and doing measly tasks to upkeep the farm, you know you’ve finally found a sustainable income aside from the farmers’ market alone.   “This ‘s what I call innovation,” Yoongi’s dad muses as the two of them stand near the tractor, looking over the field to the figures prancing on your land and listening to the laughter that leaks over. “It ain’t often a smart woman suddenly shows,” he says, glancing at him. “You should take advantage of it.”   “It’s not smart.” Yoongi turns away. “It’s dumb luck. There’s nothing impressive about it.”   His dad sighs at him, but as they retreat home, Yoongi can’t help glancing over his shoulder.   //   Yoongi has accepted that you’re a complete wild card — when he thought you were making a spectacle of this rural life for your own amusement, you make a whole declaration about how serious you are. When he expects you to move out, you instead bring bits and bobs to your farm. When he expects you to completely and utterly fail, you thrive.   Yoongi always thought that he was the enigma — hard to understand, hard to get to know, one of the many reasons he isn’t particularly close to anyone. But in reality, you are. At surface level, it looks like you’re simple-minded, overly enthused, optimistic. Yet you continuously defy his expectations.   And he has to applaud you for it.    But of all things, Yoongi most certainly did not expect to see you on his porch one afternoon.   “I got invited by your mom for dinner,” you explain with another infamously bright smile and your arm lifts with a bag. “I brought kale!”   “You did.” He holds in his sigh.   “I don’t know how you want to eat it, so it’s raw….unless…..do you not have electricity? I can go back to prepare it.”   “What?”   “You know, electricity.” When he stares at you, you begin explaining to be helpful. “The stuff that gives you light and power and you can turn on the stove—”   “I know what electricity is!” Yoongi shouts. He’s almost always calm, but you have a talent for being condescending without even realizing.   “What’s with all the noise?” His mom emerges and her face immediately lights up, lips forming into a warm smile. She wipes her hands on her apron and comes to embrace you. “Y/N! I thought I heard your voice! Come in, come in! Oh my word, what’s this? Kale? Thank you! Was the walk here long?”   “Not at all.” You smile, being ushered in the kitchen. It still amazes you how much Yoongi looks like his mom. They both have tender, soft features. Albeit, the male took on his father’s personality and characteristics, his physical appearance compared to his mom is nearly a carbon copy. “It’s only a few acres away. I love your home, by the way. It has a good energy to it.”   Yoongi wonders when you got so comfortable with his parents.   “I’m preparing dinner right now. Should be done fairly soon, but Yoonie! Why don’t you show dear Y/N around the farm?”   Yoongi knows he doesn’t have a choice and you hold in your giggle at his dejected expression. It’s not often you can witness him being obedient and when he takes you through his backyard, you can’t help poking fun at him. “Yoonie?”    “It’s a childhood nickname,” he grumbles.   There’s an urge to squish his cheeks together. They’ve always reminded you of jello or bread loafs, but for the sake of not being slapped, you control the desire.   The Min property is vast.    Chicken coops and several sheds are close to the house, but in the distance, cows and goats graze in the open pastures. The lush fields seem to stretch to the horizon, only broken up by the occasional tree left to grow in peace. It’s a tranquil landscape and there’s an urge to sit back in a rocking chair and knit. Even though you don’t know how to knit.   “How big is the farm?”   “It’s a hundred acres.”   Yoongi says it like it’s nothing impressive, but it’s still fifty times the size of your own farm.   “Is that all lettuce?” You look over the plowed fields filled with green.   “Some of it is asparagus and carrots, but it’s mostly different kinds of lettuce,” he explains, “We don’t sell all of it at the market. We got a few contracts from grocery stores and those get shipped out, so we’re always busy year round.”   You’re amazed. His family manages to do a lot more than you and you already feel swamped half the time. But you suppose you still have a long way to go before you can call yourself a real farmer.   The pair of you approach the fence and you watch the goats chewing on their grass, bleating at you. You grin and mimic their noises, oblivious to the way Yoongi steals a glance at you. “What do you do with all the animals?” you ask.   “They’re for personal usage. We eat chicken eggs and my mom makes cheese a lot.” Yoongi diverts his vision at your intense stare and clears his throat. He didn’t know all of this was so interesting to you. “Have you ever milked a cow before?”   “No!”   “Do you want to learn how?”   “Yes!”   This time, Yoongi can’t hold back his chuckle at your childlike enthusiasm.    He leads a smaller cow into the stall, introducing her as August, and you help him brush her down. Yoongi shows you how to wash August with warm, soapy water, how to clean her utters and let the milk down by relaxing her. He demonstrates as well, clamping the top of the utter between his thumb and first finger before squeezing.   You follow his instructions, mimic his movements and milk squirts into the silver pale successfully. “It feels kind of weird.”   The corner of his thin lips pull. “Is it supposed to feel nice?”   When your hands get tired, Yoongi leans over to help you out, explaining how often someone can milk cows for, where August came from and how long she’s been around. You never expected how awfully endearing it would be to listen to a farm boy talk about his precious cow, but it is. Or maybe that’s just Yoongi being Yoongi. Everything that comes out of his mouth is interesting to you.   “—months ago and…..are you even listening?”   “Of course I am!” You totally weren’t and he doesn’t seem to believe your assertion either, so to divert his attention, you turn the direction of the utter and squeeze. The line of milk squirts directly at Yoongi’s kneecap, dampening his jeans and you laugh at his scandalized expression.   “What the fuc—!”   “Stop! Stop!” You stand, giggling incessantly while blocking your arms up when Yoongi lunges down and squeezes two utters at you. The milk is warm and sticky against your skin. “I’m sorry!”   “Too late!” His cheeks are swollen with a gummy smile, happily taking his revenge.   Before any of you have realized, the sun has gone down and there’s a lingering scent of milk on your clothes. But no one other than you and Yoongi notices or at least his parents don’t say anything.   “How are things going, dear?” his mom asks you with a satisfied smile as she watches you devour her dessert apple pie. Dinner at the Min’s was all too cozy and welcoming. Food had filled the rounded table and the family, albeit only three members in total, had gathered together.    For the past few months, you’ve been eating by yourself with a magazine by your side or in front of the old television with some obscure show on. You missed having conversations over delicious meals and part of you wonders how you’ll return to your regular routine after tonight.   After a taste of the forbidden fruit, you’ll wish every night was like this.   “Better than expected actually. It’s a learning process, so it goes up and down, but everyone’s been so helpful to me that it hasn’t been bad.”   Yoongi’s father nods solemnly. “All on your own too.”   You become shy under their praise. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to preserve the memory of my grandfather and all I have is his land, so....”    Sometimes you lay awake thinking about how much your life has changed. A year ago, you were still in LA in a high rise apartment working, and in an effort to connect with your family roots again, you left it all behind. But you don’t regret your decision whatsoever.   From the moment you came here, no matter what challenges you faced, it all became worth it in the end. It’s a hard life, but a peaceful one. A simple and serene way of living that you always needed.   “Bless your heart,” his mother swoons and you realize Yoongi’s gazing at you too — with an odd sense of gentleness that you aren’t used to. Or maybe that’s merely the dim lighting of the small dining room. “You are the hardest working, gosh darn smartest young lady I have ever met.”   You look away from Yoongi, face warming at the compliments. “No, I just try my hardest.”   “And try hard you do!” His mom leans across the table, eyes bright. “Don’t you think so, Yoonie? Isn’t Y/N marvelous?”   You turn to him expectedly, but Yoongi’s eyes are suddenly down at his empty plate. “Well, there’s nothing else to do out here but work, so isn’t that the default?”   You scoff and it takes his attention. “You aren’t cute at all.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “Excuse me?”   “Don’t pay any attention to him, Y/N.” His mom bats at your arm. “He’s too much like his dad.”   “You mean, he took after my best traits?” The older man at the table has his brow cocked and you smile at the banter, but the woman beside you doesn’t entertain it.   “He took after your temper and grumbling.”   “Which is why no one ever bullied him.” Yoongi’s father slaps him on his back and he sighs.   His mom turns her head to continue, “Never mind them. I swear, Yoonie used to be the cutest kid in the whole country. I don’t know when he changed. Do you want to see his baby pictures?”   Your spine straightens and your eyes widen. “I would love to—”   Suddenly, there’s the ear-piercing noise of the chair leg scraping against the wooden floorboards. Yoongi has stood up and tosses his napkin down. “It’s getting pretty late. Probably time to go home, right?”   You laugh, but oblige only because it gives you reason to come over again. Yoongi’s mother at least assures as much, promising that next time you’ll be able to see all the albums and photographs of that time he cried while being chased by a goose — something you’re looking forward to, much to Yoongi’s dismay.   He’s just too much fun to tease.   The more and more you get to know Yoongi and the people in his life, the better you’re coming to realize that he’s not that much of a grump at all. It’s a facade, really. A thin curtain that hides how soft and pouty he actually is. Less like the bad boy you initially thought. More like a farm sheep.   “You didn’t need to walk me home, you know.” You turn to him, glancing at his profile. “It’s only a few acres away.”   “Yeah, but then I would never hear the end of it from my mom. It’s dark out anyway and it’s not like I mind.”   You nod and the pair of you fall into a comfortable lull. There’s a lot from tonight that you have to think about and it’s not just about Yoongi and his family. After seeing how they run their farm and how much they’ve expanded, you wonder if you’ll ever get to that size too.   “What do you think if I started growing quinoa and soy?”   He gives you an incredulous look, still visible in spite of the darkness, and it makes you laugh.   “What would you do with quinoa and soy?”   “I don’t know. Make different smoothies or flavours of kombucha? I would have to look into it. But it’s just a thought for no—” The pitch of your voice raises as you lose your footing, about to plunge. But then Yoongi yanks your arm back, steadying you before you trip in the ditch. “Oh my god! I almost died!”   “Watch where you’re going, woman,” he scolds and his hand boldly wraps around yours, palms clasping together firmly. You glance down, foreign to the feeling of his affection and Yoongi notices. He looks straight ahead, but quickly explains, “If you die and haunt the farm, that’ll bring down the value of the land nearby.”   You scoff. “You’re lucky you have a cute face, Min Yoongi.”   His lips curl. “I thought you said I wasn’t cute.”   “Your personality isn’t, but your face is alright.” If anything, you’re downplaying it, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Out here, you’re a good eight, but where I’m from, maybe you’re a six and a half.”   His laugh is mellifluous, and it infects a smile on your own features. “What about you?”   You look down to where you’re joined at the hands and muse how much larger his palm and fingers are to you, how his skin is calloused from working the fields, how warm and secure it feels.   “Clearly, I’m a ten wherever I go,” you quip. “Can’t you see?”   Yoongi apologizes, “I’m sorry, I might be blind then ‘cause I can’t see you as attractive at all.”   Another scoff tears from you, a lighthearted one that makes his grin widen. “You know what? I take it back. You aren’t cute at all. Not even your face can make up for your sour personality.”   Yoongi chuckles, squeezing your hand, and it’s awfully unfair how your face heats more.   //   Despite how busy you get managing the Insta spot, planting and harvesting kale, and cooking and packaging products, you never fail to find time to be at the market every Sunday. While your other sources of income are slowly increasing more than what you get from the farmers’ market, the atmosphere and sense of community is enough for you to scrape up time out of your week to set up your stall.   And it’s often the time that you get to have your conversations with Jungkook too.   “So….did you try it out?” Your eyes glisten, locked into his. “What did you think? Did it work?”   The boy scratches the back of his neck. “I...don’t think kale shampoo is it, Y/N.”   You deflate, keeping your sulking to a minimum. It didn’t work for you either, but you were trying to see if it was just your hair that was the strange one. “Really? But it looks soft.” You reach over and plant your hand in his black bed of hair. To your surprise, it’s even silkier than it appears.   “Woah! It’s soft!”   Jungkook ducks his head, colour blooming on his cheeks. He doesn’t bat your hand away nor does he lean into your touch when you pet him incessantly. “It isn’t that soft…”   “What shampoo and conditioner do you usually use? It feels so nice, Kook.”   The both of you are oblivious to the flannel-wearing man from across the market who’s glaring above the heads of lettuce. He bores his gaze into you, wondering what the hell you’re doing in the middle of the farmers’ market and putting on a show for all the older ladies to watch. Don’t you know how gossip and rumours start at this place? Merely chatting is enough to grab attention, but to be outright flirting like this was downright reckless.   His jaw ticks, nostrils flaring. He’s uncomfortable. It isn’t any of his business, but Yoongi feels an urge to do something. It’s utterly irrational. Completely out of the norm of his usual behaviour.   But somehow, he finds himself abandoning his stall and crossing the floor.   “What the hell are you two doing?”   “Yoongi!” You turn, greeting him with a big smile and suddenly that irrational emotion is replaced with something else that sits at his chest. To have your attention, he feels…..satisfied. Even if it’s childish. “I was just talking about the kale shampoo I made, but I think it’s an idea I’m going to have to scrap.”   “Shampoo?”   “It left a sticky mess on my head and took me ten minutes to wash it off,” Jungkook tells and his smile softens at your sigh. “Sorry, Y/N.”   “Maybe kale conditioner would work better....”   At the same time, Jungkook’s name is called by his grandma nearby, so he bids goodbye and a see you later to the both of you. It’s a slow down period right after lunch, so there’s fewer people around and with Yoongi here, you take the opportunity. “Can you watch my stall for me?”    “What?”   “I need to go to the bathroom.” You clasp your hands together and bat your lashes, trying to appeal to him. “Pretty please, Yoongi? I would really, really appreciate it.”   He exhales and waves his hand boredly, not sparing you a glance. But you already know he’s relinquished before he says it. “Fine.”   You jump up with a smile. “Thanks! You’re the best!”   In the next three seconds, you’ve jogged away and Yoongi’s left standing at the market, watching your stall and his stall from across the floor that he abandoned. He wonders how he got into this predicament, but doesn’t dwell when his eyes stray to your bottles of fancy kombucha on display.   He picks up a bottle, curious as to how you made these fancy labels, and he snorts when he notices in tiny text it says, ‘don’t kale me’. You’re such a dork, it’s impossible to believe. Then again, his mom decided to make a pun for the lettuce stall too, so he’s not one to talk.   For a moment, Yoongi ponders what the hell this kale kombucha tastes like.   He got a chance to try it before when you waltz up to him all those weeks ago with a tray of samples, but he denied you out of pride and stubbornness. He knows it must taste somewhat decent if you’re making all those sales. He’s seen people drinking it as they walk around too, but he’ll be damned if he actually went up to you and bought one. He’s sure you’d throw a celebration and do the whole ‘I told you so’ dance if it was actually delicious.   Relinquishing, he places the bottle back on the display.   But then the awful happens. Time slows — there’s a noise and the entire dainty shelf is collapsing. Yoongi is helpless to the way the bottles collide against the ground deafeningly, how the dark green liquid splatters on the concrete, to the way the glass shards spray. He cusses and manages to catch one bottle before turning around.   There are people staring at him — customers alarmed and vendors sympathizing.   But more importantly, you’re standing meters away, returned from the bathroom.   He catches your shock, your confusion, and then the heartbreak — even if it only lasts for a blink before you’re smiling again.   You come over, looking down at the mess. “I didn’t know you hated me this much to sabotage my stuff like this,” you quip jokingly. But there’s no banter or excuses being made. There’s silence. And you lift your eyes to meet Yoongi’s, realizing how mortified he is. “Hey, it’s alright. I knew the shelf had a few loose screws, but I didn’t know it would fall like that. I should’ve fixed it sooner.”   “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”   “You don’t really need to do th……”   “I’ll make it up to you,” Yoongi states more firmly than before, eyes darkened and you swallow hard. He knows you’re trying to cover up how hurt you are, how you’re trying to save face and not only is he embarrassed, he’s guilty. “You were supposed to sell all this, weren’t you?”   You give in and Yoongi grabs a broom, aiding you in cleaning up the mess. You’ve never seen him so serious and solemn before, but it makes you glad that he’s the one here to help.   //   At six in the morning, you wake up and less than ten minutes later, you hear the wheezing engine of a truck out front.   The sun was barely on the horizon, but when you walk out to the porch, you discover Yoongi shutting the door of his vehicle and coming up to you. He’s dressed in an oversized purple and black plaid flannel and gray shirt underneath, black hair flopping to the side, features softer than usual. He’s yawning and rubbing his eyes, all too endearing that you have to admit it.   “Mornin’,” you greet with a grin and he merely grunts, gesturing inside your house. A laugh draws out of you and you open the door for him. “You didn’t need to do this, you know. I told you I was totally fine.”   “Just accept my help, lady,” he sighs and looks around your living space, glancing at the polaroids strung above the brick mantle, the recycled jar of flowers on the kitchen counter, and the couch cushions made from flour sacks you reused. You grow warm under his scrutiny, realizing that no one has ever entered your home before. But while you expect to get criticism, Yoongi instead says, “I like what you did with the place. It’s cozy.”   You smile, still a bit self-conscious. “Thanks. Do you want tea? Coffee? Kale juice?”   “I’m fine.” He follows after you, stepping into the kitchen. The space is crowded or maybe it’s just you feeling small with him so close. “I’m here to help. What do you usually do at this time?”   “Well, I usually start by harvesting whatever kale I can. The weather seems good today too and there are some fields that need to be plowed, so I should do that and then plant some seeds…”   “Okay.” He’s already tugging his sleeves up. “Let’s get to it.”   It’s unusual to have someone join you during your morning chores, but it isn’t unwarranted. Granted, you have to teach him a little on the way you do things, but he already knows a lot from working on his own farm and you find Yoongi is a great listener. He might have a blank expression and be exceptionally quiet, but his occasional questions are insightful and he’s attentive when he mimics you.   It’s peaceful — the sun not yet sweltering in the sky or giving an unbearable heat that makes it hard to work, the animals in the far distance not awoken, the breeze curling through your hair. When you look up from your spot, you see Yoongi working as hard as you are and it tickles the corners of your lips into a subtle smile.   Things finish twice as fast and then you’re taking a break, making breakfast for Yoongi.   His company is nice at the table, even when he complains that your sunny side up eggs are too overcooked and you threaten to throw him out. It’s a kind of banter that doesn’t so much irritate you — rather, it keeps you on your toes, making you giggle at witty remarks while he rolls his eyes.   After breakfast, Yoongi insists on washing the dishes and succeeds when he whines and feigns annoyance on how you don’t trust him to clean your plates. He ends up fixing a light fixture in your kitchen too after you mention that it sometimes flickers off and startles you.   He’s helpful and handy, more than you thought he would be, but you try not to get used to it.   “This is where you keep your kombucha?” he asks as you show off the pantry that you’ve practically changed into a cellar.   “Yep.” You tap one of the large jars on the shelf. “It takes five to seven days for it to ferment after I make it. Then, I have to add in the kale and let it ferment for another three days. These babies will be ready for tomorrow. But I have to make a new batch today.”   “That’s a lot of work,” he comments.   “Oh. You haven’t seen it yet.” You brush past him, smirking.   Yoongi looks all too cute in the pink apron. It’s a comical sight and albeit, isn’t actually a part of your usual routine to wear one, you made it up on the fly just to see him wear it and he’s too cute.    “What?” His head whips up, brow cocked at the way you’re grinning.   “Nothing. Hand me that bowl.”   It’s a bit of an irony that Yoongi hasn’t tried any of your kombucha, but is first to learn the recipe from you. You show him how to brew the gallon of black tea, how to add the cup of sugar in and allow it to cool before pouring it into the jar.    “What’s that?” he asks when you’re sticking a rubbery flab into the jar.   “It’s a scoby. It has a bunch of yeast and bacteria that helps with fermentation. It’s made from kombucha, sugar, black tea.” You seal off the jar and Yoongi goes quiet. You look up at him, discovering a thoughtful expression on his face as if he’s impressed you know what you’re doing. “I’m not completely stupid, you know. I know I come across as—”   “I never thought you were dumb,” Yoongi suddenly states without missing a single beat. Your eyes become rounded and the corner of his mouth pulls. “Maybe insensitive and ignorant, but not stupid per se.”   “Hey!”   “There’s a difference,” Yoongi laughs and insists, “Being ignorant means you just haven’t learnt yet, but being stupid means you can’t learn at all.” He ducks when you half-heartedly swing and more chuckles fill the home, including your own. But Yoongi’s right. You had no clue what you were getting yourself into when you first arrived. Everything’s been a learning process, but it finally feels like things are falling into place.   Yoongi helps you wash the kale out back and stays by your side, peering over your shoulder, as you make the kale chips, guacamole and pesto. He stirs and gets ingredients when he can, and you find he has quite a knack for packaging things neatly. He’s somehow careful yet efficient.   “I didn’t know you did so much.”   “Yeah.” You wipe your sweat with the back of your hand. “I try to space everything out, but sometimes everything falls on the same day and I’ve been running low on products, so I can’t put it off.”   He hums, sealing the jar of pesto shut and then working on smoothing the label on the surface.   It’s mid-afternoon already. You didn’t realize how quickly time was going. The golden sun is already coming through the windows of the kitchen as you and Yoongi work across from one another, falling into a lull. You turned the staticky radio on, but it often acts as background noise when either of you start another conversation.   You giggle and he tilts his head up at the noise. “What? Did I put the label on upside down again?”   “No.” You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “It just kind of feels like we’re a married couple, that’s all.”   Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi freezes. But then he eases, the corner of his own mouth tugging.   “You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?”   “Seduce you?!” You scoff, looking up to see him focused on tying the ribbon around the jar. “I have higher standards than that, Min Yoongi.”   “Says the one who’s been flirting with me all morning.”   “I’m not flirting with you.”   “Uh-huh. Don’t tempt me with the suggestion of marriage then. I might actually do it.”   You’re baffled, made speechless with how he twists his words and how sweet he can talk. Your face heats and you know that if you open your mouth, you’ll blubber and make a fool out of yourself. So you opt for a huff and silence which only spurs on his chuckles and inadvertently makes you sulk harder.   If anything Yoongi was the flirt. But you’re not about to declare it in case he asks if that means you’re affected by it. Because you are.   The rest of the afternoon is spent finishing on packaging and storing away the products to sell tomorrow when the Insta spot opens and the following day at the farmers’ market. But as you dust off your hands, you feel the gurgle of your empty stomach and you offer to make him an early dinner.   “Is there anything you want to eat? My cooking skills aren’t that great—”   “Clearly.”   You glare at him. “—but I can look up any recipe you want.”   Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise and he leans over to open your fridge. You peep over his shoulder and at once, blood drains from your face.   “There’s nothing in your fridge, Y/N.” He turns around with puzzlement on his visage. “How did you make breakfast this morning?”   “I….used the last of my eggs to make breakfast. I didn’t think you would actually stick around long enough for dinner.”   “And what would you have eaten tonight if I did leave?” With one foot keeping the fridge open, he starts taking out several things like a maid cleaning out your kitchen. “The strawberries have gone bad...and there’s….mold on the bread. How do you live?”   “My budget was a bit low for this week and I underestimated how much groceries I would need.” When he pulls out the drawer with bundled kale, you stop him. “That’s for me to sell.”    “You don’t eat what you grow?”   “Not really,” you admit. “I don’t actually eat much kale….I brought lots of instant noodles from the city, but I ran out two weeks ago….”   He shuts the fridge. “I’ll talk to my mom and bring more eggs and milk to you more often.”   “You don’t need to do that.”   “No, but I want to.” Looking at you, Yoongi realizes that you’re really just a girl who came from nowhere to start a whole farm. Partly hopeless and causing an urge in him to take care of you, but for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind as much as he thought he would. “Move. I’ll make dinner. You have some iceberg lettuce and kale that I can work with.”   He starts rolling up his sleeves again and you don’t let your eyes linger on his exposed veiny forearms for long.   You feel a bit embarrassed that you didn’t prepare more and that he caught you at a struggling week. But more than that, guests are supposed to be treated better. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   “Don’t be.” As he passes, he plops a hand on your head and you look up at him, surprised at the unusually affectionate gesture. “I’m quite the chef, you know. I make better breakfast than you do.”   Yoongi probably does, but your pride won’t let you admit it. “Psh. You haven’t started yet. Don’t get so cocky.”   You help by setting the table and then pulling a stool to watch him cook. Maybe it’s a bit lame, but you’re impressed at his knife skills and how fast he chops the lettuce and kale into thin strips, keeping a constant rhythm and never once stopping. You scoff when he glances at you with a smirk, but there’s little you can say, especially when he sautes it in a pan with oil and half an onion you have left.   The house is filled with a mouthwatering scent and it’s even more delicious than expected once the plate is plopped down in front of you and you get a taste.   “Oh my god….how did you make this?”   Yoongi smugly shrugs. “I made it up on the fly. Can’t help that my talent is inborn.”   You’re too busy eating to retort with a snarky comment. “Maybe I should marry you.”   He laughs and quickly eats before you steal his own portion.   The sun eventually goes down and it’s hard to say goodbye after one of the best days you’ve had since coming here, but you know you’ll see Yoongi tomorrow and the next day — whether that’s across the acres and through a giant wave or arguing as you do at the market.   He’s always been around, an addition to the farm life itself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Yoongi returns home, he announces that he���s back. There are storming steps, his mom enthusiastic and racing down the stairs to ask him how it went. His dad looks around the living room corner as well, and he sighs at their intrusiveness.   “It was fine.” Yoongi tosses the keys aside, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s actually a lot more hard-working than I expected.”   He walks off before they can bombard him with any more inquiries, but they understand their son well enough and they exchange knowing smiles.

You never expect to see Yoongi awkwardly lingering on your porch like a car salesman, especially considering you were once doing the same thing at his house not long ago. But while he’s here just to deliver some apple pie his mom made, you eagerly pull him inside.   “Why? Why?” he whines childishly, but stumbles after you anyway.   “I need you to try something for me.”   It was an Insta spot day, cars filled in the lot you designated, people from the city out in the back and the chatter loud enough to leak inside the kitchen. Families were strolling about, children picking kale, young adults posing for countless pictures by the picnic blankets and decorations. Yoongi can’t quite understand what their fixation and fascination is to drive all the way out here for such frivolous things, but if it works then it works, he supposes.   You set the apple pie on the table and notice Yoongi peering out of the window, primarily watching the brunette boy fussing about and working the register behind the cute stall you made.   “Oh, that’s Jungkook’s cousin, Jimin,” you tell him, even though he probably already knows. Everyone knew everyone around here. “I hired him to help out.”   “Doing well enough to hire people?” he asks, brow lifted and a smile raising on his cheeks.   “I guess you could say so.” Your pride is supported by the bustle outside the window. “I need all the help I can get.”   “Are you trying to get me to help out too? Because I don’t work for free, lady.”   “Pft. No. I thought you might want to try out the kale kombucha you made with me last week. You came right in time actually. I just got it packaged and everything. Wait here. I’ll go grab a bottle.”   Without another word, you pull the door open and Yoongi sighs with a softened smile, watching you march across the land to chat with Jimin. But within seconds, his attention is taken away by the squeak of the door and a middle aged woman sticking her head through.    “Excuse me,” her voice is shrill, “is there a bathroom in here?”   “Uh…” He’s fairly certain you don’t let anyone inside your house and that he caught sight of fancy porta potties you set up on the side. “No. If you turn the corner, there’re some bathrooms you can use.” Yet, she blinks blankly at him and Yoongi holds his long exhale in his nose. Whatever your intentions are, it seems like he’s working for you anyhow. “I can show you.”   Yoongi hopes he’s not wrong or it’ll be terribly awkward, but luckily for him, there’s indeed bright blue stalls and the woman thanks him as she waddles off. But he can’t take refuge inside your home when he’s interrupted by someone again.   “Excuse me!” This time it’s a group of girls around his age giggling with caked makeup and dressed in short rompers. They thrust their phones forward before he can utter a word. “Can you please take some pictures for us?”   “Uh, sure.”   Yoongi feels out of his depth. Embarrassed. While you knew nothing about farm life, he knows nothing about city life. You might’ve disproved a lot of prejudices and stereotypes he held, but he still feels awkward and out of place in their scrutiny. Like he’s part of a completely different world, and he’s not sure what to say or how to act.   But he still tries and crouches down, trying to frame the photo and catch the trees in the back with the stringed fairy lights above. “One. Two. Three. Smile.”   “Thanks!” The girl comes forward to look, but before he can ask if it’s good enough, her friend comes up to him with another phone.   “Can you take another one?”   “Alright.” He gets back into place and times it. “One. Two. Three.”   Yoongi hands back the device and is about to duck his head and seek refuge no matter who calls out to him, but the girl stops in front of him with a brightened smile. “Is it alright if you take a photo with me? I’ve never had a picture with a farmer before!”   Yoongi sputters, speechless. For one, he hasn’t taken a photo in years, much less for a stranger’s personal collection. And secondly, he’s not some spectacle to be gawked at. He’s not some dancing monkey or clown. Not a poster boy or a cardboard cutout. This is his life—   “I’m sorry.” A voice calmly cuts through his annoyance and Yoongi feels a hand against his shoulder. You’re beside him with a polite smile. “Staff aren’t allowed to be photographed.”   “Oh. Okay.”   They walk off and resume their activities. You take Yoongi’s hand and tilt your head towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go back inside.”   He feels safe inside your house again when he can remain an observer and not a participant.   “Sorry about that. Some people can be a bit insensitive, but most of them have good intentions.”   “It’s fine.”   You pour out the bottle of amber liquid into a tall glass. “They probably just wanted a photo since you’re good-looking.”   “What?” Yoongi snorts and turns around with a grin. “So you think I’m good-looking?”   “Isn’t that a fact? That’s why people were staring at you. The whole rugged look works well for you.” You plop down the glass in front of him before you can think twice about the honesty that just unabashedly spilled from your mouth. “Try it. You had a part in making it, so it’s only right, right? And if you like it, I’ll even let you bring some home.”   He rolls his eyes at your mischievous smile and lifts the glass to his lips. It’s fizzy, and the taste is both tart and slightly sweet. It reminds Yoongi of sparkling cider, but with a herbal hint that he assumes is the kale. He doesn’t utter a word, even when you’re watching him intently. But after Yoongi smacks his lips together, he goes for a second sip.   And you take that as a positive sign. “You like it?!”   He’s startled at your overly excited voice. “It’s not bad.”   “See?! I knew it! All you needed to do was to try my amazing kombucha recipe and your mind would be changed. Didn’t I say that? I totally told you I would get you to like kale!”   “Hold on, hold on.” Yoongi stops you in your ramble. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only said it was decent.”   You laugh. “Sure. Whatever you say.”   He sighs, but ruffles your hair as he walks past, already bidding goodbye. “Get back to work.”   “Yes, sir.” You dramatically salute him and he leaves through the front door. But then it hits you a moment later. “Wait a minute….”    This is your farm. Not his.   //   You’re thriving in more ways than one. Aside from your personal projects on the farm, you’ve gotten yourself established at the market, like one of the decade long vendors who’ve spent their whole lives here. After a few months of setting up your stall, now everyone knows you by first name basis. A few older ladies even gave you the nickname of Sunshine and it only makes you love them more.   “You’re staring at her a lot, Yoonie.” His mother nudges him and he tears his eyes away from you across the market floor.   “No, I’m not.” He’s not sure why he bothers. Yoongi feels like a child trying to deny the obvious.   “Go talk to her. Lookin’ is not gonna do you any favours, young man. You have to talk.”   Yoongi already knows — he doesn’t need his mother to tell him.   “She’s busy,” he grumbles, “I’ll talk to her later.”    Fortunately, a customer comes up and Yoongi takes the opportunity to escape the conversation, immediately moving to ring them up and leaving his mom with a hopeless sigh.   At the same time, someone approaches you. After taking a sample from the tray, she decides to purchase a whole case of pesto much to your delight. “I actually bought smoothie and kombucha from you last week,” the lady mentions as you’re packing it up for her and you nod.   “I know. You bought two large smoothies and half a case of kombucha, right?”   Pleasant surprise takes hold of her expression. “How do you remember? Don’t you get a lot of customers?”   “I remember most of them, but I especially remember your Chanel classic handbag,” you point out with a smile. “The medium pink is a rarer one, plus it’s not the kind of thing lots of people wear in this sort of place.”   “You have a good eye,” the lady notes and you take the compliment. “It’s the only flashy thing I own and I have no other place to wear it aside from running errands.”   “Oh trust me, I’m like that too.” You grin, finishing up and passing the machine card for her to tap and pay. “I find that as long as you have confidence, you can pull anything off and it makes running errands a lot more fun.”   The lady laughs and easily agrees. She takes the box you offer her, but lingers. “Your kombucha and your smoothies are delicious by the way, and the pesto seems pretty good too.”   “Thank you. It took me a while to narrow down the recipe, but I think I nailed it.”    “You did.” She affirms and then out of the blue, asks, “Would you be willing to sell your products at the supermart? It’s a local grocery store I run with my husband, five miles from here, just down Imlings road.”   You’re speechless, blinking twice at her as your mouth opens and closes. The older woman waits patiently with a smile and you muster a half-coherent answer. “I-I would definitely consider it!”   “Great.” She smiles and then reaches over to her pocket. The woman hands you a business card. “Some folks around here have contracts with me too, and I’d love to add your products on the shelf. Give me a call some time tomorrow and we can chat about the details.”   You’re stunned and only broken out of your trance when a customer comes up and clears their throat.   It’s a triumphant day. You feel like you’re floating, walking on clouds — and Jungkook notices how you’re humming to yourself too and boyishly grins. “Something good happen, Y/N?”   The pair of you are walking out, Jungkook carrying your boxes as you lug your totes with you while waving goodbye to the other vendors that were leaving for the evening. “Just everything. I feel like things are going right for me, you know? And that’s kind of rare for me.”   “No, I get you. Pop always says there are rainbows after the storm. Then again, he always says how the Kim’s are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”   That makes you laugh, but then the two of you interrupted by a sharp cry of your name. “Y/N!”   You witness Yoongi running up to you, completely out of breath.    “Hey. Are you okay? Where did you even come from?”   “Never mind that.” He straightens out. “Let me drive you back.”   “Oh, Jungkook was just going to….”   “Nah.” He insists and takes the boxes from the younger boy. “Our houses are closer together anyway. I don’t mind.”   “What about your mom?”   “She’s already left since she’s having dinner with a friend.”   You look at Jungkook who’s wholly confused, a deer in headlights and you decide to spare him from the trouble. “Well, alright. Thanks then.”   It feels a bit odd, but you take him on the offer and bid Jungkook a goodbye. The rest of your kale and belongings are packed into the back of Yoongi’s truck before you’re getting in. It’s old and worn, but the vehicle feels like it’s full of memories. You buckle yourself in and then he’s driving off with the fuzzy radio playing in the background as the golden sun sets over the horizon.   “Jungkook ain’t shit,” Yoongi suddenly pipes up after a moment. You glance over to discover him looking straight out the windshield, hands gripped on the steering wheel. And you burst out laughing.   “What?”   “He was seeing Aria for a while and then left her for the hills, so he’s got a reputation around here. I thought I should let you know.”   You see him peek at you in the corner of your eye, but you can’t repress your grin. “You sound like a boyfriend.”   “Yeah, well, I’m actually a good one.”   “Oh yeah?”   Yoongi’s knuckles are white and with the way his tongue peeks out to lick the seam of his lips, you wonder if he’s nervous. “I could show you.”   A giddy giggle that belongs to the sixteen-year-old you bubbles out. “And what would dating Min Yoongi look like?”   Yoongi plays off of your playful tone. “For one, I haven’t gotten to show you around properly yet and you still haven’t gone to one of Taehyung’s bonfire parties. He’s the guy with the strawberry farm. And I have access to his exclusive parties cause we went to school together, so you could use me to get in.”   “Hmmm….you drive a hard bargain, Min Yoongi.”   “I know how to cook a mean dinner if you give me real ingredients too.”   You laugh again, leaning your head back against the seat. “You’re too good at sweet-talking. Does your mother know you chat up girls like this?”   “Maybe. But I only really sweet talk you.”   He’s bold tonight and it’s not doing good things to you.   Your face is heating and you’re incessantly tapping your fingers against your leg. Beneath the lighthearted flirtation was a sort of simmering nervousness that’s filled with questions of if the line is going to be crossed and when that would be, and who would be the first to make the move.   Yoongi parks the car in front of your house and pulls the keys out of the ignition.   The pair of you naturally shift and look at one another. Your gazes lock together and there are three seconds of tense silence — neither wanting to get out, to break the rather intimate moment. Where you muse how brown his eyes are and Yoongi, himself, hitches his breath.   And then you’re lurching over for a kiss.   It’s all mouths and noses bumping together, obscene and sloppy, but a long time coming. His lips are softer than expected, only chapped at the corners, but you don’t get to think about it for too long or deepen the kiss. Not when you’re too busy giggling and laughing against him.   You pull apart, hands grasping onto the collar of his loose flannel. “You’re so eager.”   It’s a bit unusual to see Yoongi be anything other than annoyed or composed, but you soak it up as much as you can. The sunset is painting his skin golden and the car smells like him too. It seems like you’re surrounded in Min Yoongi and it’s fully welcomed.   “You are too,” he retorts on an exhale, hand skimming down to the dips of your waist. But then Yoongi swallows hard and retracts. He leans his arm on the steering wheel and looks out the window in disappointment. You wonder if you did something wron— “I can’t stain the truck. My mom has hawk eyes and she’s gonna know if we do something, and I’d rather she not.”   You scoff and lean forward, swift enough to plant a kiss on his cheek and pull away. “For such a good talker, you sure are stupid, Yoongi. There’s a whole house behind you and no one in it.”   A gummy smile spreads into his face and you feign a tired huff, lifting your chin and sticking your nose in the air. You add, “But for your information, I only give people the time of day when they make it worth it for me.”   He’s already opening the door and accepting the challenge before you can finish.    “Oh, I’ll make it worth it alright.”   You find out that Yoongi has a dirty mouth and an even nastier tongue. Part of you always wondered if he hated your guts, but you couldn’t be any more wrong.    You’re tugging on the strands of his hair, chest rising and falling as you pant. “W-Where did you learn how to do that?”    The bastard shrugs with a smug smile. “I might be unlikable, but I’ve had plenty of practice before.”   “Oh yeah?” The corner of your own mouth tugs. “With who?”   Yoongi grins and lifts himself up to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. “You wouldn’t know them. But they’re not as important as you are.”   “I’m going to choke over your greasiness, Min Yoongi.”   “Good. Choke.”   “You’re gonna have to stuff me with your cock first.”   Yoongi laughs at how you’re desperately tugging him closer to you, but he easily agrees with one condition— “Only if you’re good for me.”   The pair of you are sweaty when you finish. You thought the old bed frame was going to give up mid-way. Luckily, it held up even with all its loud squeaks and creaks. But you wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dent where the headboard slammed against the wall.    But you’ll count your losses later. You’re just relieved that there was no one in the house.   While Yoongi might’ve been all soft groans and rapid exhales, he made you absent-minded to your own noises that somehow leaves your throat sore. You’re sure anyone who would’ve stood by your porch would’ve heard and been scandalized for the rest of their life.   “You know.” You turn to Yoongi, having stared at the ceiling. His eyes meet yours. “You’re pretty good for a farm boy.”   The playful quip ticks him off enough that he does it again. Yoongi pins you underneath him and is merciless. Your bubbling giggles turn to tears leaking down the side of your face from overstimulation, but you climax again through a moaning apology.   When you’re spent, Yoongi collapses next to you.    You’re surprised at how cuddly he is, how he naturally reaches for you, torso molding against yours and arms wrapped around your waist. In spite of feeling hot and sweaty, Yoongi holds you against him and you relish in it. “How is it possible that no one’s snatched you up yet?”   “Maybe it’s because I’m known to be standoffish.” He smiles against your temple, soothed by the way you run your fingers through the strands of his hair. “And what about you? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband I don’t know about that’s waiting in the city?”   “No. No one’s drawn me in quite like you have.”   Yoongi’s smile pulls into a grin, and the pair of you are lulled by each other’s inhales and exhales, unintentionally falling asleep in one another’s embraces like lovers underneath tree canopies on a Summer afternoon.   It’s some of the most peaceful sleep you’ve had, but then you’re shaken awake by a rattle and an ‘ow’. Your eyes open to find the other side of the bed empty and Yoongi nursing his hip after presumably bumping into your nightstand. You sit up, disoriented as he’s hopping up and down, barely getting his pants on.   “I need to get home before my parents find out I was gone the entire night and start asking questions.” His voice is thick and husky, hair in a disarray, eyes bleary and barely awake.   His panic makes you giggle and you watch him struggle to put on his clothes. Peeking outside, the sun isn’t up yet and the clock reads that it’s five in the morning. “Are they even awake this early, Yoongi?”   “I don’t know. Sometimes.” He fiddles with his flannel, putting his arms through the wrong holes, and even when he figures it out, he doesn’t realize it’s inside out. “I’ll...see you later?”   “Wait. Yoongi.” You stop him for a second and he turns around. It feels awfully juvenile, like you’ve reverted back into your sixteen-year-old self that giggles over crushes, but Yoongi always seems to make you feel that way. “Are we….dating now?”   “If I didn’t make it any more clear last night and by sleeping over, then I don’t know what else to do.”   It takes a beat for the words to sink in, but once it does, a bright and overexcited smile overcomes your features. Yoongi snorts before the corners of his own mouth tickles.   When he’s gone, you discover that you miss him already.

The morning alarm rings at six. But by then, you’re already up.   You’ve fallen into a natural schedule, a cycle that your body has picked up on and has awoken before anything needs to call you. And after brushing your teeth and running a comb through your hair, you’re taking care of your farm. Plowing fields. Harvesting kale. Having breakfast.   You also package the last of the pesto and guacamole, pouring the kombucha into the bottles with the proper labels. Some of which are prepared for the grocery store to pick up while others are packed for tomorrow. Afterwards, you come to the farmers’ market and meet Hoseok, a boy you’ve hired to help you take over. He helps you man the stall and the cash register, giving you the freedom to chat with customers and other vendors or complete other tasks with Jungkook.   By afternoon, you come back to the farm to check out the Insta spot and aid Jimin in running things smoothly.   “This is beautiful, Y/N.” Today, you’re graced by a few friends from the city. They drove out here after you reached out to them again and you couldn’t be more pleased from their genuine reactions. “When you said you were coming out to start a farm...I didn’t imagine this.”    “It took a lot of work, but it’s not half bad, right?”   Mina leans in, eyes flickering around. “Where’s this infamous Yoongi?”   A laugh spills from you. “He’s busy. You’ll see him next time.”   “I keep hearing about him, but I haven’t even seen him or his picture once,” Tiffany huffs. “I’m beginning to think he’s fake.”   You grin and insist, “I promise you he’s real.”   “Oh my god!” Yeri startles the group by the sheer urgency in her voice, but when you all swivel to her, she has her phone held in the air, screen directed to her face. “This is the perfect lighting! Guys, come here and take selfies up before the sun moves!”    You can’t help smiling as you watch them, matching their footsteps as they approach the fields. You can tell that they’re still surprised, that they love what you did — and you couldn’t be prouder.   At ten at night, the last people have filtered out and you bid them goodbye.   “Great job, Jimin. Thanks for the help as usual. It didn’t get too busy when I was gone, right?”   “Not at all.” The brunette with the polite smile shakes his head. “Oh, but the customer feedback box was full. I put it in the living room for you.”   “I saw that. Thank you. I’ll take a look tomorrow.” Looking ready to go, you walk him to the door. “Rest up then! I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Goodnight, Y/N.”   But as one man leaves, you catch another down the road. The familiar truck is chugging, head beams piercing through the darkness settling across the horizon. Jimin recognizes it too after months of the same routine and smiles at you before he’s on his way.   The truck is parked on your lawn and the dark-haired man in the flannel is already smiling when he catches you through the front windshield. He opens the door and slams it shut as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and the screen door held behind you.   “Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.”   Yoongi chuckles and grabs a crate from the back of his truck. “It’s groceries from my parents.”   He meets you at the porch and plants a chaste kiss on your lips as a greeting. You follow him into the kitchen as he beelines to it. It’s almost like this is his home — an idea that tempts you greatly.   “Aw, she packed me more pie.” There’s goat’s milk too and you store it in the fridge as Yoongi organizes your cabinet, making sure there’s enough sustenance to keep you healthy for the week. You’ve already told him that you could take care of yourself, but he’s stood firm and you didn’t argue. It was a guilty pleasure to be pampered by Yoongi after all, and you weren’t about to refuse it.   “My parents want you to come over soon. They keep asking me about you.”   You nod. “I’m happy to come over whenever they want. But I should probably bake something. Your mom always makes me food.”   “Nah. She does it cause she likes to. How about Tuesday?”   “That works for me.”   “Have you eaten yet?”   One shake of your head leads to him cooking and then the pair of you sitting at the table across from one another and sharing a warm meal. You ask Yoongi about his day and he tells you about bailing Namjoon and Taehyung out of jail. Apparently, they landed themselves into trouble after they lost their cow and went looking for it. Yet somehow, they ended up miles away on an orchard farm where they had a confrontation with an old grump and got arrested for trespassing.   But as exasperated as Yoongi likes to act, the irony isn’t lost on you how he drove that far out to bail them out and keep the secret from their parents. He’s the kind of man that conveys his feelings through his actions instead of his words and you’ve come to endear that quirk about him.   After dinner and cleaning up, you turn on the twinkling fairy lights strung along the backyard and stand on your patio, leaning against the banister. The land and rows of kale are strangely bare without people and the ruckus of crowds, yet there’s a certain peacefulness of the uncertain horizon.   “What’re you thinking about?” A husky voice sounds beside you as Yoongi meets your side.   “Nothing.” You shake your head. “All day I’ve been feeling proud of myself, that’s all. I think...my grandfather would be proud of me too.”   “Of course he would be.” Yoongi drapes his arm around your shoulder. “I’m proud of you too.”   As calm and detached as Yoongi may be at times, he still has the effect of catching you off guard when he sweet talks. And it’s a kind of duality that makes you adore him even more.   You wrap your arm around his slim waist, grinning and he plants a wet kiss at your forehead.   “Hey, Yoongi. Since you love me….does that mean you love kale too?”   “Those things are mutually exclusive.”   “But kale is my lifeblood.” You look up at him. “You can’t love me without loving kale.”   He scoffs at your ridiculous argument, but it’s pointless back and forths like this that you enjoy the most. Especially when Yoongi gives in. “Fine. I love kale. But for the record, I love you a lot more.”   You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I came here.”   You’re glad you never gave up or gave in to the discouragement of your family, the apprehension of your friends or the voice inside your own mind.    You’ve finally found your place.   “I’m glad too.”   There’s no need to go home when home is right here.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #7

She slid silently through the compound, her black clothes blending with the shadows as she made her way to the main building. When she reached the side door, she quickly pulled the glove off her left hand and brushed her fingertips across the electronic keypad. Her eyes fluttered as millions of numbers flooded her mind. Twelve seconds later, she entered a six-digit code using her gloved right hand. The door swung open, and she stepped inside, carefully wiping away the fingerprints as she crossed the threshold.

That was easy.

She repeated the process at three more doors as she made her way up to the third floor, her heart catching each time the sound of footsteps sent her darting into open office spaces or behind potted plants.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the correct corridor.

They do not pay me enough for this.

She counted doors as she walked: ehu, riau, silu... she paused in front of a plain wooded door with a traditional lock.

Slipping a set of lock picks from her pocket, she knelt and felt the lock with her bare fingers. Then she twisted the tools until the lock clicked open.

Entering the office, she took stock of the bookshelves along walls and the large window before stepping forward and taking a seat at the desk. She pulled off her black beanie and removed the sharpie holding her bun in place. Long blonde strands fell around her face as she pushed up her left sleeve before resting her fingers against the sleeping computer.

The flood of information was overwhelming, but she was used to it. Mentally scanning through dozens of files, she searched for the information she’d been sent to receive. She pulled the cap off the sharpie with her teeth and began scribbling on her forearm. She was nearly done when the handle of the door—which she’d foolishly left unlocked—began to turn. She ran the side of her fist against the computer screen, clumsily smudging her fingerprints as she looked around desperately for a place to hide.

She was halfway towards the heavy window curtains when a deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Well, well, well. This is most fortuitous.”

The lock clicked into place.

She lunged for the window, but a gloved hand caught her arm and swung her around.

“It will be much easier to learn directly from you what Supervillain is planning....”

Villain’s voice trailed off as he took in her mask and black clothing.

“You don’t work for Supervillain.”

She pried her arm free and skirted back a few steps, heart pounding. She’d never met or fought Villain before, but knew what he was, and his powers were more dangerous to her than most.

“No.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, little hero.” He narrowed his eyes, “What language is that?”

Hero hastily pulled down her sleeve to cover the writing. She had to get out of here. Now. But Villain was standing between her and the door. Like her, he was clad in all black, and it seemed like he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

“Listen,” she began to edge to the side. “your battle is with Supervillain, not me, so I’ll just be going.”

He mirrored her movement and pulled off his gloves. “I don’t think so.”

She swallowed.

“It seems like you already retrieved the information I need, and it will be much quicker get it from you than try to locate it on Supervillain’s server.” He took a step forward. She took a step back and switched the marker to her bare left hand.

Her back hit the window, and then he was right there.

Much much much too close.

She steeled herself and met his gaze.

“Go right ahead.”

His eyes widened as she offered him her right arm.

He pushed up her sleeve, eyes flickering across her face, expecting some sort of trap.

Tightening her grip around the sharpie, Hero let her powers flow through her.

Villain’s long fingers closed around her wrist as her mind went black.

She stood impassively, letting the blackness wash through her mind, erasing all conscious thought. His brows narrowed in concentration, and her knuckles turned white around the marker. His fingers tightened briefly before he released her and stepped back.

“You’re a mind reader as well?” He asked, pulling his thin gloves back on.

“Um what?”

“Only other mind readers are immune to my powers.”

Not only.

And she wasn’t immune to his power exactly. She’d just focused on the information stored in the sharpie, which, coincidentally, was the color black.

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just special.”

“Special enough you managed to break into Supervillain’s lair and hack his computer?”

“Something like tha—“ but he jumped forward and pressed a gloved hand over her mouth.

Shouts and hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Villain leaned in close, breath brushing her ear. “If Supervillain catches us, we’re worse than dead.”

“Truce?”

He nodded then promptly shoved her to the side. Pulling on a length of wire spooled in a cylinder at his belt, he hooked it onto the window frame.

He bent to flip the lock.

“Wait!”

Hero stretched her hand out and touched the electronic locking mechanism.

“It’s alarmed.”

Villain looked at her curiously. “Can you disarm it?”

“Not from here.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be quick then.” He gestured to the desk. “You might want your hat though.”

She rushed to grab it, shoving the ends her hair into her jacket and pulling the beanie on to cover the rest.

Peeking through the glass at the ground below, Hero swallowed. There was a reason she didn’t have flight powers.

The handle on the door rattled, and Villain pushed open the window. Blazing alarms split the air as Villain put a foot on the windowsill.

“If I take you with me, I want all the information you have on him.”

The door burst open.

“Deal.”

She didn’t have time to think about the looming drop before he pulled her against his chest and they fell through the air, bullets whizzing above them. They hit the ground with a jolt, and Villain grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and away from the guards streaming towards them. They made it to the perimeter fence, and he boosted her over before easily swinging himself up. He led Hero into the trees, where a motorcycle sat concealed behind some bushes.

“The flash drive,” he gasped, bent over, hands on his knees.

“What?” she wheezed back, clutching her side.

He straightened. “Before we go any further, I want the flash drive you copied.”

“I don’t have a flash drive.”

His eyes darkened, and she rushed on, “But I do have the information on what Supervillain is planning.”

“So you read the files, know all the details.”

“I, well... not exactly... with my powers...”

She pushed up her sleeve.

“Look, this is what I have. But can we please have this conversation somewhere else.” She glanced back nervously at the fence and the flashlights that were growing closer.

Villain grabbed her shoulders, pulling her towards him, green eyes gleaming in the light from the compound.

“First, you’re going to tell me: what exactly is your power?”

She sighed.

“You ever heard of osmosis?”

[bluehairedtracii]

Hooks and Coins|| Harry Hook x Reader Soulmate AU!

Requested: by @lemonypink

Warnings: Harry being cute 

Pairings: Harry Hook x Swann-Turner! Reader

Author's note: Oh my gosh this took so long! I’m literally so sorry! My motivation for writing has been a little iffy lately. Buuutt I’ve also been binging Criminal Minds soo it kinda gave me a creative push to start writing again. (Spencer Reid fics comin in the future) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I get back into writing again. 

P.S. Melody is Melody from the second little mermaid movie, and I know she's kinda not mentioned again in the fic but just know that this is y/n’s best friend and that’s who she is lmao.  I also thought the Coin would fit well in here because of the movies just sshhhh. Enjoy!!!!

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"it's soon! I swear!" The night of your 16th birthday, the day your life would change.

The day you get your soulmate tattoo.

"Are you sure??" Melody whines. "I'm positive! Look, it's not even 12:00 on the dot yet- ONE MORE MINUTE!" You look back from the phone on your lap to your right wrist.

"It's twellveeee." Melody cooed.

"Please please please..." You muttered still hopeful.

Then it hit, well stung. "Ow, ow, I feel it!"

"Let me see!" Melody basically climbed on top of you and saw it before you could. She gasped "oh my gosh y/n..." "What? What is it?" You tried to pull back your wrist to see, but Melody kept it steady.

"Y/n, as your best friend, I have to warn you as to what you're about to see...."

"C'mon Mells, it can be that bad." You sighed and tried to pull away from her. 

"You have to PROMISE Me that you won't freak out?"

Annoyed, you sighed and smiled "I promise." "Okay.." she released your hand. You rubbed your wrist and looked at the small tattoo, "A Hook?" "Not just any hook... Penny told me about this." "This is the same hook as the famous Captain Hook himself! It must be his son!"

"Captain? So my soulmate is a Pirate? Like Dad and Mom?" Melody nods almost worried.

"Awesome."

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

"It's late Harry, your sister is gonna kill us if we get caught and wake your dad." Gill rubbed his eyes as he walked towards the galley of the ship.

"I know, but this is where the best lighting is...in a few minutes, I'll get me soulmate...well uh, tattoo I mean." He whispered and unlocked the door, cursing at the squeaky floors.

Harry turned on the lamp nestled on his father's desk. The room lit up illuminating the maps that his father and oldest sister had drawn up while sailing the open seas. He dreamed of nothing more than doing that, sailing and hailing a crew of his own, but for now, he follows Uma’s orders. 

“One more minute Harry.” Gill whispered looking at the tickless clock on the desk.

“Aye, ow! fff-!” Harry cupped his hand and flipped it to see his wrist, he bit back the pain as he saw the black ink form on his wrist. He’d been confused and tried to make it out as it formed. “Bloody hell, this sure is detailed in’it?” Gill loomed over Harry's shoulder, wondering what it was himself, Gill was sure he wasn't ready for his soulmate yet if he had to endure this much pain. 

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled as the pain stopped.

He opened his eyes to see the grim Aztec Coin staring back at him.

“Holy shi-” “Gil do you know what this means?!” “She’s spooky?” “No GIl, you git, She’s a pirate! and she’s a Turner...” He says in awe as he smiles down at his wrist.

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A few months later both of you seemed to forget. The events of your daily lives getting in the way. You’re training to go off on a sailing trip with your dad for a few months, and Harry is… currently Helping Uma get revenge on Mal by kidnapping Ben. 

But.. you were unaware of this. Obviously. 

Lonnie and you were fencing/sword fighting in the school’s courtyard (for fun) when you saw the boys rushing into the limo. You both caught up to them and questioned them immediately. 

“What’s going on here Jay?” Lonnie snickered full well knowing what’s happening because she overheard it earlier passing their room. “We.. uh..” “we’re going with you..” Lonnie cut the pair off. And this is how you went to the Isle of the Lost for the first time. 

They had told you the plan but left out the part about who they were going to have to deal with if the plan went south. You were nowhere near nervous. All those times you’d trained with Lonnie and your parents at the shop basically were all for this moment. Your pirate self was ready. 

Mal handed over the wand and you cringed a bit. “She’s gonna know it's fake…” you turned to Lonnie and whispered. “Shh I know, get ready..”  you prepped your sword and placed one hand on your lapel while the other was free to toss the swords. 

That’s when everything went south. You and Lonnie sprung into action and helped the others. The sounds of metal clashing mixed with the creaking of the ship and the salty sea air made you happy, it filled you with adrenaline. It felt like you were at home.

2 people fighting you at once, then three, then none, one by one you tossed them overboard.

You were caught in the crossfire between Carlos and some other goons so you ducked under them and sprung onto your feet right into someone else's back. 

You both turned to each other, swords ready, you saw him and you felt that burning in your body. The one that your friends always said happened when you met your soulmate… “Ow!” “Oi!!” Harry lurched back and held his hand. And so did you. 

“You…” he pointed at you “are you…?” you held up your hand and showed your tattoo. He gasped and smiled “I knew I’d see you one day..”  you said in awe. You heard Uma yell for Harry and his smile faltered into a smirk.

“Sorry lass, no ‘ard feelings right?” “Obviously.” You struck your sword first and your swords clashed with each other. “I knew you were good Turner, but not this good.” he laughed as you both turned a corner of the ship. “Thanks! Maybe I can teach you sometime Hook, You seem a bit rusty!” “Oi! My ‘eart Lass.. that one hurt!” 

You snickered and he had caught you by a wood post “awe, our first dance is over now?” your eyes sparkled. He smirked ”Aye if this were different, i’d very much like to get to know you lassy…”  he got closer almost closing the gap in between you two. And his lips brushed yours before you heard Mal and Lonnie yell that it’s time to go. You smiled “sorry Luv, it’s time for me to go!” you kiss his cheek and push him away into a hole that’s in the ship. “Oi! That’s not fair!”

You were the last one to leave and thought of an idea, you caught up with them and helped Mal to kick off the ramp back to the car. “Find me!” You blew a kiss to Harry and smiled, and so did he. on the inside, of course, he had to be “mad” for Uma’s sake. But right now he was anything but. He just met his Soulmate and she was everything he dreamed of.

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Almost a year had passed when you had first met Harry. And you constantly think about him every day and so does he. 

He sat at the bow of the ship looking out to the ocean thinking about you. It’s all that he’s been thinking about actually. He’s waiting for the day you can be with each other and in each other's arms. You literally took his breath away, because you kicked him, but he was entranced by your skills and beauty. He dreams about learning with you, meeting your folks, owning a ship, and most importantly.. Sailing away with you to see the world. He was stuck here. 

Though he didn't know that you had convinced Ben (it took a lot of convincing) to let Harry over onto the isle for a while. Your boating trip with your dad had gone so well that you also convinced your dad to let you go alone this time. Your parents knew how a forbidden love felt more than anyone else. The love between the two of them, a humble blacksmith that was the son of a pirate and the daughter of a wealthy governor who found that boy so long ago. They were never supposed to be together in society's standards, but their love was the strongest bond. They granted their blessing to you, they knew you'd be safe. You’re a strong pirate and they want to see you the happiest you can be.

You smiled and looked out the window of the limo as it crossed the bridge. Mal and Evie both came with you so they could help you find him and tell him the news. You guys slip onto the docks while Mal and Evie keep guard on the limo and watch you just in case you need back up. “Ursulas…” you smile and cross through the swinging doors, you found him and you felt the burning feeling in your body again. So did he. “OI!” he dropped the basket of chips he was holding and growled at the mess he made. He was fuming until he locked eyes with you. “My princess has come back to me?” he smiled and walked towards you completely forgetting about the fries as he kicked them to the side. “Hey Hook.” you smiled and felt his hand on your face but he backed away. “Woah Turner you ain't gonna kick me ‘gain right?” “no.” you laughed and you both hugged each other. 

He took the two of you outside “what are ye doin here luv? I mean, you don’ ‘ave to make any excuses to see me, but you came all the way from the other side.” he laughed and pushed back a strand of stray hair behind your ear. You blushed and held one of his hands, but unknowingly played with one of the rings on said hand. He bit his lip smiling at your nervousness. “U-Uhm.” you were surprised by the nerves in your voice, you were never this nervous before. This boy is going to wreck you. “It took major convincing, but I finally convinced my family and Ben to let you come to Auradon with me for a three-month sailing trip…” you smiled and looked at him. His eyes lit up and he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. “Are ye serious?! Of course I'd go with you!”  “Great! We leave…” you check your watch on your left arm. “ In 30 minutes!” “Aye! I need to pack!”  you laughed.

 he backed you into the wall. You smirked, “oi, I've been trying to do this ever since the first time we met.” He closed the gap between you two and the feeling of his soft pillowy lips on yours brought you comfort and warmness. You kissed back and ran your fingers through his dark locks as he tightened his grip around your waist. You never wanted this to end. “25 minutes!” You heard the girls yell and you pulled away and laughed. “I've finally found my Turner..” “And I’ve finally found my Hook..”

[jee-ns]

(ii) ladybugs. // kjn. // one-shot.

you couldn’t do anything. it was a curse you thought. all these years you’ve been through you’ve been waiting for this day. but what’s stopping you? what if you don’t want to get better. what if you wanted to stay this way. she was a miracle. that should’ve happened a long time ago.

note : i also rushed this one so sorry for the mistakes and confusions LOL - admin 🗣

warnings : violence, alcohol , abusive behaviour, mentions of death.

words : 1.3k

next : (iii) ladybugs

you looked outside the window of the dining area which had the whole view of the garden. it really captured the garden’s beauty. everything was perfect. it was a windy day. so you hoped you wouldn’t be sweating again if you meet that girl yesterday.

your face redden at the thought. god im a narcissist. but you crossed your fingers so you’d meet her again today.

after finishing the meal you took a walk outside the house and ran some errands in this small town. you met mr bae and he was just exquisite. he’s the owner of the convenience store that yehan usually goes to. so after hearing that yehan was your caretaker. he didn’t hesitate to say “if you need any help just come to me”

you also met mrs choi who’s the owner of the bakery you drove past yesterday when you arrived. the interior of the place really captured your attention.

walking down the thin lane where only one car can go through. you thought about your itinerary for today.

1. get home

2. help yehan put the groceries away

3. go outside (to see the girl again)

there’s something about the girl. your so hooked on her. come to think of it “i don’t even know her name” you cam to a stop with your mouth agape. you blink twice and put a pin to ask her what her name was when you get home. if she was there again.

-

upon arriving, yehan greeted you and you offered to help her. she denied once again "yehan .. groceries doesn't irregulate my heartbeat. don't worry to much" you held her hand that was going for the plastic and looked at her with sincerity. she let out a breath that was laced with worry. "fine.."

you maneuvered around the kitchen swiftly, figuring out where each food belongs and remembering them so you could come back at night and have a snack. you glance outside to catch a glimpse of the girl. she wasn't there. your mood went sour after that. you didn't want to go outside anymore. but you went anyway cause stress isn't good for your heart.

the wind of the warm day instantly makes your mood less sour. you took a walk around the garden, walking through the flower field, avoiding the tree for some reason. 'the tulips were a nice addition to the garden' you thought. then something caught your eye. it was a red ball. you furrowed your eyebrows. 'why would this be here?'

you grabbed it and smiled softly. you pulled it out the field. it looked like a dodge ball from gym class. you've never really had fun with it since you didn't have the ability to play dodgeball . . . yet. you set it down for a while not knowing what to do with it.

“kick it”

you heard from behind. you turned around. it was the girl from yesterday. your forehead crinkled with curiosity so you did what she told you to. you kicked it as hard as you can. the ball went rolling near the entrance to the backyard.

you had fun kicking the ball around. until “y/n don’t play with the ball. your heart rate!” you heard yehan yelled where she stood in the door frame. she had her hands out with an irritated face on.

you lowered your head and sighed. you walked towards her and handed her the ball. she ruffled your hair making it a bit messier. “you know why im taking it from you right?” she questions as you only nodded and walked away.

you walked back to the tree and slumped down on the trunk of the wood. looking slumped. you heard the sound of a stomp on the grass. like some landed on it “gee that was harsh”

you looked up and it was the girl again. “hey” you said lowly with your head still down. she hopped over your leg and crouched down. with instinct looked up and saw her smiling softly down at you. she moved a strand of hair away from your face. the gesture made your heart melt with the way she did it so softly.

"c'mon" she said as she tucked your hair behind your ear and held out a hand for you. you took it and stood up. she looked back and you with a gummy grin. "follow me" she pulled you to the leaf wall that serves as a fence. there was a small gap between the different bushes. she squeeze between the bushes and you could see her face through all the leaves. she had an encouraging smile "c'mon!" she urged you.

you quickly squirmed through the bushes and she quickly grabbed your hand again and dragged you through the woods, trusting her with where she was going and you just let your legs follow her. while she was dragging you, you looked around and appreciated the beauty of nature. the rays off light breaking through the tree branches. you saw birds soaring over the trees in the blue sky.

looking around made you unaware of where she was taking you. she suddenly came to a stop and you tripped over and fell to your face on the cold hard ground. you heard a gasp coming from the girl. you could also hear her chuckle a little. she helped you up "im sorry about that." you got up a little loopsy by the hit to the head.

you looked up to see her face turn from a grin to a worried look. "why" you said as you wipped your face to avoid from being embarrassed by how your dirty face would look after the fall. then, you suddenly felt a sting on your cheekbone. you hissed and the girl pulled your hand away from it. she planted a kiss over the cut.

"there i kissed it better" she said with a grin

you hummed and looked down while you take form into being a tomato. "i like how you look" you perked your head up. "the scar just makes you look brave and courageous" you chuckled at her statement. you were far from brave evermore courageous. you've spent half of your life afraid of everything and anything because in every situation there's a slight chance of you dying.

"come here." she patted beside her. she was sitting under a tree. you finally realized you were right in front of a lake. you took a seat beside her. the sound of the water mingling with each other filled the silence between you two. you suddenly remembered the question that has been bugging you all day. "um hey what's your name? i dont mean to be rude but when we met you didn't-"

"jennie" she cut your rambling off.

"jennie" you tried saying it. trying to get the feel of how it rolls off your tongue. you smiled and leaned your head on the tree bark. this is one of the most exciting days you've ever had in your life. "this is where i go when i need to calm down." you looked at jennie while she looked over the lake. her hand was fidgeting with a bracelet with a ladybug on it. you didn't notice the bracelet on her before.

"you like ladybugs?" she looked at your for awhile before looking down at her bracelet. "alot actually" she said with a giggle at the end of her sentence. "i had a small plushy her name was lily. she was the luckiest ladybug there was. we had great adventures together. she got hurt once on a mission together. her left antenna got ripped off on a tree branch. that's the reason why she's the most special. cause no matter what life throws at you. you'll still have to get back on your feet. alone. sadly, i left her." she said smiling at the start then she frowned. "where did you left her?"

"at my house."

[magicalsalamander]

Flowers that Speak Poetry

Pairing: BTS Seokjin  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Fluff | Angst | Smut | Alien | Childhood friends | Tattoo artist |

Summary: Butterflies are one thing, but flowers and butterflies bring prosperity. The Butterfly, a servant to the Flower Inn, home to Anemonas of Anisum, was your home and it was all you knew. However, home for you lied across the yard into the next. In the shadows, Jin painted with needles on bodies, but for you, he painted with brushes butterflies on your skin. Like the butterflies, your heart fluttered when you were with him, but he always called you a child and treated you often as such. However, will your heart always be able to flutter when another offers to buy you from the Inn?

Warning: Rated Mature; explicit language, war imagery/mentions, species-ism(?)/racism(?) -alien vs humans, mentions of alcohol and consumption, slavery, prostitution, tattooing is illegal, trafficking, bullying, abandonment, insecurity in body image, death of minor charactors, it’s alien, dom/sub implications, possessive behavior, soulmates(ish), virgin reader, unprotected sex, fingering and riding.

Words: 25.6K

A/N: Story inspired by the story Mademoiselle Butterfly by Ogura Akane but with its own twist. I’ve read this story when I was younger, and it’s been a favorite for a long time, so I wanted to pay homage to it. I really recommend you read the story after you read this, please. I’m sorry for the delayed release AND GOING UP UNEDITED. Header image edited by me, but I don’t own the photo. Thank you for reading!

masterlist | moodboard

*UNEDITED*

Unceremoniously the wooden screen door slid open, rattling gently as you peered inside inconspicuously. You had heard shouts, even from within the Flower Inn, and felt the tickling need to check it out. Within the living room, the man lying, who had been making a hideous face in the light of pain, startled as he caught you suppressing a laugh. “HEY! Who are yo-ugh!” Grunting at the pain you giggled harder at his inability to complete his thoughts. “Brat, don’t laugh!” He finished that shout with a yowl as the needle pricked him deeper. You covered your mouth suffocating another chuckle.

Ironically the appearance of the customer was exactly as you predicted. He was burly, older, scared from civil battle, maybe not from the capital because of the slight tone in his scream. Human men were always the type to wail like a woman in labor while getting tattooed.

The tougher they are on the outside the weaker their inner heart is.

With a heavy sigh Jin pressed down on the man with his free hand harder, knee jerking to hold him but pausing. “Please don’t move.” The man whined grumbling unsavory words underneath his breath relaxing for a moment before Jin continued to poke the remaining ink of the needle into the outline.

You glanced at the tattoo as Jin turned and dipped his needle tipped stick back into black ink. “Don’t disturb me. I’m in the middle of work right now, Butterfly.” You already could imagine the lighthearted glare he wished he could’ve spared over his shoulder at you. You blatantly disregard the warning tone and carried on as if he hadn’t spoken. Lowering your white canvas apron, you had been using as a makeshift coat, you shook off the droplets of rain on the porch then slipped it back on knotting it in the front. You smoothed out your linen navy skirt, before you placed a docile hand over your chest and bowed forth dramatically. You softly apologized to the customer in your sweetest tone then you relaxed against the doorframe.

Heavy rain fell off the black clay tiles of the roof creating a sporadic cascade of water. The stone steps leading up to the porch were stained a dark grey as water pooled on their surface. The dark wood of Jin’s home appeared darker, but the white walls even brighter as the grey clouds looming over dispersed light. Borgo was archived by old buildings built from when the first humans settled on Anisa seven hundred years ago. You had heard that humans, your species, came from a planet called Earth. The planet itself was gone, but the few human languages spoken was the only true remainder of old Earth on Anise. Guerrian was quickly replacing the old tongue with the new regime’s customs.

Jin was a man of his work, requiring peace and quiet—then there was you. He was used to your shenanigans, they never phased him anymore; fourteen years of familiarity tends to create a tolerance for chaos. He raised a brow expectantly at you, but you held his gaze as you further relaxed against the doorframe, slumping into your spot in spite. You might even grow roots there if you so felt like it. Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes, he returned to his work receiving a hiss as he began tattooing again. A small smile pulled at your lips in your small victory.

You took a deep breath in, falling into a natural rhythm you had with Jin. The crisp, autumn air was causing the tip of your nose to inflame in response to the chilled, wet air. It was refreshing compared to the air within the Inn. Something about this air was completely different from just over the fence. Even the way the rain hit his roof was different. You smiled at the tree that sat in Jin’s yard as most of the leaves had turned auburn. It was as if they had absorbed the molten heat from the previous summer and it left a scar in place of the once vibrant green. It was all we had to hold from the blistering summer as it had long past and it only reminded you that winter was quickly approaching. You wondered if Earth had similar seasons like you do on Anise.

Turning away from the yard you asked habitually. “Can I get one next Jin?”

“No.” Short and sharp.

You chuckled under your breath.

For now, you were content to sit and watch his wide shoulders that narrowed to his waist as he meticulously worked on the tattoo. Jin’s work was always incredible, to think it came from him poking a needle in and producing a masterpiece. A dragon, so Jin called it, curved around the man’s back with the face of the beast between his shoulder blades. You remember seeing the dragon piece in his sketchbook and having to ask him what that was. Apparently, it was an ancient Earth beast that used to roam. He had proven it with an old book he had that his grandpa had left him that had all types of creatures that used to live on Earth.

You changed your mind after that, you were glad you didn’t live on Earth or ever saw it.

It was when the man shifted his head, burying it in his elbow suppressing groans that you noticed his hair was cut short. It was a fresh cut. Would this man’s tattoo heal in time? Your chest squeezed at an even more churning though. Would Jin ever have to cut his hair short too? The large tattoo meant that he feared the red letter more than the needle. You knew it though, the fear was inevitable, weren’t all young men when they neared thirty? If they lived long enough to see it that is.

You brushed the thoughts away, physically dusting yourself off with shooing sounds to accompany it like you were warding off evil. It was no use worrying about that when there’s no letter in hand.

Jin finally spared a glance over his shoulder, the customer sighing in relief for a short break. “Butterfly.”

You froze, the look he gave you had your heart doing somersaults; his gaze wasn’t unique or uncharacteristic, it was simply him existing, but his cordial calmness gave him this ethereal command. Butterflies within your stomach fluttering to their content enticed by the honey tone of his voice. His black hair was parted but the strands curved and hung off his forehead outlining his honey skin. The long, lilac robe made that went to his knees if he stood was made of silk, the white collar that formed a V from the crossing of the lapels framed his neck. His black pants accompany the ensemble made of the same material of his robe. He told you his outfits were traditional. It was what his grandpa wore, so would he.

You couldn’t help the tinge of heat that rose to your cheeks as he called your name again and you met his raised brow.

For sure he had caught you staring.

“They’re calling you.”

“No, they did’n—.” Your lips formed a pout, although the motion didn’t clog your ears as you wish they had been.

From next door, the Flower Inn, Cherry was out in the yard shouting, “Butterfly! I can’t believe I’m standing in the rain for this girl! Butterfly!”

Your shoulders sunk.  

Cherry’s voice grew louder, “BUTTERFLY! I swear to the gods if you are at Kim’s and not doing YOUR CHORES—!” Her booming voice sent a shiver down your spine and you were at attention immediately not caring to hear the rest of what she had to say. There was only one Anemona you feared and that was Cherry… second to the Mistress, and if she found out you were here…

You shot up from your spot!

“I’ll be back later Jin!” You paused struggling to pull your apron back over your head. ”Bye Mister! Come back safe!”

The man receiving the tattoo found it upon himself to chuckle and waved at you as you scurried across the yard holding up your skirt to keep it from getting wet while still holding your apron over your head. You hopped over the fence with slightly struggle nearly tripping as your skirt caught on a branch of a bush. They could hear murmurs between you and Cherry as you shouted, “I’m okay! I’m good—no, I didn’t trip Cherry. All good! Ah, wait, Cherry! Stop pulling me, I’ll come willingly—!” Resounding giggles filtered through as you wiggled out of her grabbing your ear. You ran towards the Inn with Cherry shouting about you running off again.

The man rested his head on his forearm chuckling lightly. “She’s cute. Is she an Anemone?”

Dipping his needle in the viscous ink he let it drip off like his smile. “No, she’s a child.”

The customer laughed, “A child? She looks ripe to me.”

He winced, convulsed in pain, then shouted colorful profanities he couldn’t understand.

Jin finally moved his knee up and gently placing it on the man’s lower back only using only some strength. His black eyes evolved as his pupils bursted orange. “YAH, I said don’t move! How many times do I have to tell you. Don’t make me tell you again!” He dug his knee in a bit for emphasis.

The customer whimpered burying his face further into their elbow.

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

Fits of giggles were loud through the screen doors as loud grunts and boisterous drunk laughter followed. You dropped the serving tray back in the kitchen staring longingly outside the kitchen window. The cooks were busy with their backs turned and other servant girls were on route. You eyed the fresh pastries on the table and quickly slipped a few onto a napkin and tucked them away in your apron pocket. They were so warm as if you had put a warm stone in your pocket. The thought alone made you shimmy in place.

Quick on your feet you dashed out of the kitchen. You peered down the hall waiting for signs of stirring, but quickly you realized it was clear. The multicolored lanterns hanging from the ceiling were bathing the hall in warm light and flickered as you sped by. You crept down the hall down towards the servant’s quarters; your newest escape route after getting chewed out by Cherry. Your feet were light on the polished wooden floor that was so glossy it twinkled thanks to your handiwork. A small smile pulled your lips imaging the smile from Jin when he takes a bite. Should you have swiped more?

Eyes widening you plastered yourself in a crevice against the wall behind a dresser as an Anemona stumbled out of a hosting room with a customer. The customer’s cheeks were red and high in happiness as he drunkenly laughed. His pupils were dilated and red, all the same, but you missed it in his sudden movement. In a blink of an eye he had her pressed up against the wall on the other side of you. They shared a lasting kiss, sounds emanating from both of their throats and your cheeks would’ve flushed if it was the first time you had seen it; being twenty-three you had seen more than a pure eye could handle over the past decade and some. You waited for them to stumble down the hall towards her room. You sunk further into the shadows as the dresser jostled as he stumbled. In a husky laugh he pressed her up against the wall breathing hotly on her neck. Curiosity got the best of you as you leaned over gripping on the dresser as you peered over. Your eyes widen as big as saucers. You recognized her, one of the thirty Anemona that worked at the Inn, but what was her name? Was it, you scrunched your brows…Daisy? No. You wrestled through the countless names, but none felt right. You weren’t close to anyone though. Cherry was the only one you spoke to regularly. Well…spoke to was a loose term around these parts.

You slunk back as her eyes flickered about his face. He attempted to whisper but instead spoke loudly. “Let me buy you, Lily.”

She twirled the hair at the nape of his neck with well-manicured fingers, “What can you give me Sir?”

“I am a Guerra of ranking! I can give you anything. Get you out of this Inn, of Borgo, and into my palace.”

She giggled. “Palace? You live in the palace?” He hummed sinking into her neck and taking a loud sniff. She pets the back of his hair, “Buy me then. I want it all.”

He growled full of lust, “But first let me see you in your room.”

She giggled taking his hand as they raced by you, his figure appeared like a large shadow in his haste as they whisking away upstairs towards the second and third floor rooms. You couldn’t remember which one was hers. At some point so many women had passed through these walls that you didn’t bother learning their names. Especially when a man would moan it in ecstasy. You knew they were all going to be bought by someone. You sighed heavily when their footsteps disappeared. Third floor, they went to the third floor.

You may not have known her name, but you knew of her. Had seen her face countless times. You knew she was in love with the boy who worked in the kitchen, the one that made the pastries. You caught glimpses of them when they thought they weren’t being seen. After you leaned against the door one day, catching him with a dreamy expression after she left the kitchen. You struck a deal with him; he’d make extra pastries just for you as long as you kept his affair a secret. Suddenly the pastries in your pocket didn’t feel so warm. You couldn’t lift your gaze as you stared at the floor feeling almost paralyzed. In this world, your world, moments like these you’re reminded you have a debt to pay. There wasn’t room for choice. You had a debt to pay just as much as everyone else.

Anise was a planet you used to call home until it was torn apart. It was constantly at war as you had heard from the whispers of elders and retold stories of their parents. Years ago, your father never returned after he was forced to cut his hair short. His red letter on the table as his hair surrounded it. He joined the army to fight in the uprising against the Guerra, quietly leaving that night. It was your mother, two siblings and you until your town was affected by the war. Guerra were known as true warriors, a fearless and fierce race. No one knew of them; galaxies far and wide had never heard of them until they began integrating and conquering planets. Quickly they became the feared from the edge of the universe, but what was even more unnerving that they looked human like.

You remember in flashes the night when they came to Silva, of them in packs, tall, ominous shadows with red pupils, swords and fist a light as you huddled under the window with your family. You remember seeing the flames reflected in your mother’s eyes, before it felt too warm where you hid.

Your mother took you and your siblings and escaping Silva, but in the new town your mother grew a debt despite working herself to the bone trying to feed you and your siblings. You were the oldest. Clearly you can recall the warmth of her hand, the grey sky, and the damp soil as she walked you through the town of to the merchant. With tears streaming down her face as you pleaded with her, she promised to come back for you. She promised, but promises were never forever.

The merchant took you to Anisum, the capital overtaken from the humans by the Guerra a hundred years before you, even though you put up a fight. She was going to come back for you, but how was your mom supposed to find you if you were in Anisum? You don’t remember much besides the hunger pains, the cold nights in Winter as you sat in back of the horse drawn cart next to other young human girls and boys. The cart pulled up next to places across the capital and into nearly every district. The kids dismounted as the merchant bargained with the shop owners or people. You were the last in the cart. In the district of Borgo, the merchant pulled up an Inn, the Flower Inn, the building silhouetted in darkness from the twilight hours, but from the windows of the three floors emanated light. The entrance door clanked open as the heavy doors swung open and the Mistress stepped out onto the street. The merchant nodded and she quirked a brow. Your head was tipped back her index under your chin as she looked you over. She said nothing about your runny nose or tears slipping from your eyes. Her gaze was chilling as it was unreadable and stoic, yet you couldn’t stop crying. Quietly she turned and placed a few coins in the merchant’s hand, then the merchant shoved you out of the cart. You struggled to get up, your weak knees and limbs were tired. The wheels of the cart turned as the merchant left. The Mistress went inside and your elbow was yanked until you stood. You gazed at the person picking you up, although at the time you had no idea, it was Cherry, a human who just a few years older than you. “Come inside, it’s cold. There’s much work to do.”

You nodded wiping your face and you followed her inside Flower Inn.

Although at the time you were none the wiser, but you grew to realize where you were sold to. Borgo, the city of the forgotten, where the humans are of the servant class and the Guerra gain pleasure. It’s the only district between the divided land of humans and Guerra where both species roam freely. The Flower Inn was no stranger to pleasure, entertaining and catering to Guerra and wealthy human alike, as long as they had money they were welcomed.

The sound of giggles brought you from your memories. Your eyebrows knitted as you sighed at the reality of the rhythmic thumping coming from the ceiling. You’re going to have to do extensive laundry after the amount of council members that decided to visit tonight to celebrate something you couldn’t bother to remember. Emerging from the shadows you crept down the dimly light hall until you snuck into the shadows again and slipped outside. Chirping from nightcrawlers greeted you in symphony and the cold night air had you shivering instantly. You looked up to the night sky the two moons shining bright in the east and the third, just a small after image, in the western sky. Feeling a chilled breeze, you pulled your arms tighter around you uselessly. The night air always dropped towards freezing, temperature dropping dramatically as soon as the sunset. You worked fast across the yard as you made your way into the neighboring yard, breath near visible. The tree in his yard was your guide as the green leaves glowed golden softly. The midrib and veins of the leaves had a bioluminescence, coming to life at night from the stored solar energy during the day. It was the only tree in Borgo that did that, it was like it was alive. Like his tree, scattered warm light was visible from the frosted glass of his screen doors and windows. You instinctually smiled, he was still awake. You nearly jogged up to his porch, kicking your shoes off before you climbed up onto the porch leaving your shoes on the stone steps. You opened the never locked door without prompting finding Jin sitting in front of a table on the floor painting another sketch. Warmth instantly embraced you like you were sitting in front of a furnace.

“Jin, I’m home!” You teased.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

You sighed slipping down next to him. “Thanks for the welcoming. It’s great to see you too Jin.” When he didn’t humor you, you continued on a small rant resting your chin on the table. “They’re already drunk. At this point those men are searching for something else besides alcohol. I could hear the coins dropping form their satchels with every fake giggle.” You rolled your eyes, “Tell me Jin, are men that simple that a single laugh can empty a man’s wallet?”

He laughed at that breaking his concentration, causing you to smile at the squeaky sound. You quickly fished out the goodies that were still steaming. “I brought you some Junq tarts.” You handed him one before you took one.

He grabbed your wrist faster than your eyes could process his movement as you brought the pastry to your lips. His hand was stained black from his ink. Your eyes flickered from the treat to his with your mouth still wide open. He glared at you, “Did you eat, or did you skip again?”

Your mouth clamped shut as you blushed. You tried ignoring his question by still attempted to bring the pastry so sweetly calling your name to your mouth. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he plucked it out of your hand setting it away from you, including his. He’s learned from experience. You whined defeatedly rubbing your wrist dramatically. “Fine. No. It got too busy I didn’t have the time.” The Mistress had informed you and all other staff an hour before the arrival of the Guerrian government officials. To say you were busy was an understatement, and your stomach grumbled loudly against your will in convenient timing. A pastry wouldn’t kill you, but Jin always wanted you to eat properly. He laughed as he got up, adjusting his silk, blue robe taking the treats with him as he went to the kitchen to prepare you a meal. He grumbled, “Now I have to start a fire.” You longingly stretched out your hand as you watched him take the treats away.

You were nearly drooling when Jin had placed food in front of you. You looked to him with gleaming eyes and thanked him for the meal. That was another thing Jin was great at. He could cook a delicious meal out of the simplest ingredients. His meals were worthy of being served at a royals table. You moaned at the first bite of food as the bite of braised meat and rucke grain nearly melted in your mouth. He gazed at you with a smile before he picked up his brush and began painting again. You nearly shoveled the food in your mouth choking on how delicious it was. He patted your back, “Slow down, there’s more in the kitchen. No one is going to take your food.” Your cheeks flushed as you sipped on water clearing your throat. You nodded and began asking him about his day. You ate slower, keeping conversation with the background being accompanied by soft hum of distance music from the Inn.

After nearly licking your plates clean, not leaving a single grain of rucke, you rolled over onto your back snatching a cushion to rest your head on. You watched Jin as he carefully dragged his brush on the paper, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You felt content, you could fall asleep. Fighting off sleep you sat up, all be it slower because of your full stomach. Softly you called to him to gain his attention, “Jin~Jin, Jin-ie.” You held out your wrist and forearm for him. “Draw something for me.” He sighed taking your hand gently into his, the stains of ink only randomly on the tips of his fingers. His long, slim fingers grazing over your soft skin almost medically, but you brightened thinking how delicate he always was with you. His hands were always warm, but it was just something that was always true for him. Your heart was racing, and you tried your best to suppress it.

“The usual?” You nodded.

He dipped the brush and began carefully painting. It sent a small shivers down your spine as the cool ink touched your skin.

You had met Jin fourteen years ago when you were nine and he was thirteen. The house was originally owned by his grandfather, but he had passed six years ago. Jin took over the family business, continuing to practice although tattooing was considered illegal; In Borgo, anything went, as long as the officials who cared didn’t catch you. Customers still came.

The first week at the Inn, Cherry pushed you out the entrance tossing you a satchel of coins with a list of things to pick up from the market. Feeling lost you trudged your way towards the street following the makeshift map Cherry had drawn out for you. Confused at the simple line drawing, you paused when out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of movement coming from the house across the Inn. As you peered over the fence like a bandit, you saw a boy sitting on the porch hunched over a floor table. He looked to be very concentrated in what he was doing. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you wanted to see what he was doing, but you underestimated the strength of the fence. It collapsed forward into his yard and you screamed, faceplanting into grass and bushes. Startled he dropped his brush and rushed over to you helping you up, nearly fishing you out of the bushes. He laughed once he realized you were okay. You forgot about your pain as you were surprised by the sound of his laugh. It was unique and it reminded you of when you polished the floors. Your face had blade of grass and dirt stuck to it. He crouched down then brushed it off. You felt like a brief zap of static shock zip through you at his soft touch. When your eyes met his, your heart skipped a beat, his near black eyes were captivating. He was handsome and if your face wasn’t flushed before it was then. Immediately you wanted to run from embarrassment, but he introduced himself with a full smile. After a confession of why you were lurking at his fence, he showed you what he was working on. It was a sketch of a butterfly. Your eyes lit up and immediately. He watched you carefully as you turned to him holding the paper. “It’s beautiful.”

Butterfly…it all started with a butterfly.

After persuasion and consistent pestering, you wanted a picture for yourself. Instead of giving you a sketch Jin would practice painting butterflies on your arm. A simple design his grandfather gave him to do over and over again. His grandfather always emphasized the basics; a foundation was important. Over the years it became more intricate as Jin became more skilled, but it was always a butterfly for you. You would come back to the Inn and the other girls began calling you Butterfly. Your real name was to never be spoken at the Inn, it was to be forgotten, erased…except Jin knew of it. He was the only one that knew you were Y/N Y/L/N, Butterfly.

Just being by his side…you were happy.

Your forehead was nearly resting on his. His scent was surrounding you like a warm embrace, a mix of the smell of ink and something floral. He looked up and your faces were only inches apart. You held his gaze, his eyes full of unspoken adoration. Your eyes dipped to his lips as he licked them, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. You missed the rose gold color blooming in his pupils as he closed his eyes. He pulled away placing the paint brush back onto the holder. “There.”

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you played it off by checking out his drawing. Had he thrown another log into the oven? It was two butterflies that were fluttering towards you. It was beautiful. You looked up and Jin was already watching you, eyes black but with glimmers of gold that must’ve reflected from the lantern on his table. Your eyes flickered to his lips again before you looked down at your wrist. Surely were imagining what you were feeling just now.

“Thank you Jin.”

He hummed, flicking his eyes low as he waited for all the emerging and existing color to drain before letting go.

A smirk bloomed on your face, “Now, about the Junq treats.”

He laughed, a devious expression setting on his features as he looked up. You knew that look. You saw it coming before his comment. “What do you think held me over in the kitchen while I cooked for you.”

Your jaw drop, “No. No you didn’t Jin! You didn’t! You didn’t eat them all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“JIN!”

Muted sliver of silver and golden light peeked through the door as you cracked open one of the sliding doors. Jin was sound asleep on his floor futon mattress with a single arm strung out from his thick, pink comforter. Pink due to a mistake you had made, but that wasn’t for discussion. The back of his hand stained black from dried ink with splatters on his forearm. Like a serpent it slithers back into his comforter as he groaned in protest when you opened one door completely letting in the bright afternoon light into the once dark room. Particles of dust floated through light that illuminated him before you pushed both doors open. He flipped over on his futon away from you, covering his face back into his pillow and pulling his comforter over his head. Tussles of his hair was still poking out like weeds.  

“Kim Seokjin, it’s noon already! Get up.”

He groaned, voice husky from sleep. “Nooo.”

You left the doors purposefully open, letting in the cold air even though it was causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. The cold was one of the only way you found you could rouse him from sleep, Summers were always more difficult and you had to get creative then. He groaned tucking himself deeper into his comforter on the futon, weeds disappearing. Your nose scrunched at the strong smell of alcohol. You picked up dishes and empty bottles of alcohol before you dropped them off where they belonged. You knew he had his friends over the previous night. It was rare that all his friends could visit. When he had told you they were coming you were excited. As usually he rolled his eyes at you mumbling to himself. The six of them always treated you like a sister and brought souvenirs from their travels. You were too busy the previous night working. Correction. You attempted to sneak out but were caught red handed by Cherry. You were monitored for the rest of the night and had to help clean up all the hosting rooms as well as punishment.

You really needed a better method.

With your hands on your hips, you poked at his back with your foot nearly rocking him. “Yah! Get up. It’s noon! You have to get up.” He just wiggled with your shoving. Frustrated at the lack of progress you got on your knees attempting to yank the blanket off. “Jin, wake up! You have to start the day. Don’t you have customer’s today?”

Suddenly he rolled onto his back and grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. With a late scream he dragged you down onto the futon next to him. His very warm breath tickled your face as he moaned. “Sleeeeep.”

Your face heated and your heart was beating fast. You swallowed as you tried pushing against his firm chest. That was something interesting about Jin you had never seen him exercise, yet from the glimpses you got of his arms during the summer, he was built and toned. He slowly began slumping over you holding you down. He was heavy. He nearly was laying on top of you as he held you within his embrace tighter. He didn’t budge as much as you tried. You felt like you were going to combust from your heart alone, but was he running a fever? You froze as he tucked his head into your neck. His lips were grazing your skin. He huffed hot air onto your neck. “Sleeeep, Butterfly, pleaasse.”

“J-J-Jin.”

He lifted his head up from where it was tucked in your neck pouting. You couldn’t help the chuckle as you cupped his cheek stroking just under his eye. He made a sound that was akin to a purr. Even when he just woke up he was still handsome. He blinked sleepily at you and you saw a flash of yellow in his eyes. It happened so quick you nearly missed it, but you couldn’t second guess it.  

“JIN!” A booming voice interrupted as the door opened. The man gasped closing the door immediately, “Sorry! I didn’t know you had someone over!”

Jin inhaled deeply before he got up, mumbling angrily, “No one will let me sleep today.” You laid their blinking hand still in the position it was stroking his cheek. You hadn’t even realized you had cupped his cheek. “Jimin, it’s okay. It’s just Butterfly.” You winced. Your hands slowly curled and lowered to your chest. It shouldn’t have hurt; he always called you a child and treated you like one. You brought your knees to your chest before you sat up.

Jimin opened the door again and peeked inside his brown hair making an appearance first. His eyes formed half-moons with his short smile as he greeted you and you politely returned it. He was one of the six. Jin was an isolationist, but somehow, he had a close tight knit group of friends. Out of all of them, Jimin was the least you knew about. He was enigmatic only coming in and leaving as far as you were aware.

“Why are you here Jimin?”

“I have an appointment.”

Jin raised a brow, hair still a voluminous bird’s nest. “What?”

Jimin chuckled, eyes turning into halfmoons. “Ah, you’re finally showing your age if you can’t remember last night. Lay off the partying old man will ya.”

A playful growl bubbled in Jin as he yapped neck elongating to spit out a monologue. Jimin continued cutting him short, “I’m actually late, but I knew you’d still be asleep. You agreed last night that you would finish my tattoo.”

Jin grumbled, rubbing his face to dispel sleep, going along with it. “Alright, alright, let me get set up.” He looked over to you, “Butterfly, can you make some tea for us?”

You nodded and made your way over to the kitchen. You missed the glance that Jimin gave you as you walked past him.

You sighed as you brewed tea, his words echoing in your mind. The way he was looking at you earlier had your heart fluttering, but now it was flatlining. You were just a servant at an Anemone house none the less. Jin…was different, it was evident in his facial structure. He was gorgeous and he could have any woman he wanted. Of course, he wouldn’t want a, a—child like you.

When the water was boiling you dropped in tea leaves and watched them sink. Standing there for a moment you let it steep. Placing cups on a tray and the kettle you brought out the tea. With practiced ease you maneuvered like you always do at twilight hours. Jimin was already sitting in the cleared room at the floor table. You placed the tray on the table and began serving with both hands. Jimin stared at you as you poured him tea as well as an awaiting cup for Jin. He couldn’t help admiring your gentleness.

“Thank you Butterfly.” You looked up at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes that had him returning it.

“I’m taking my leave.” You gathered the skirt of your dress as you closed the porch door behind you without sparing a glance.

Jin came back in the room with jars of ink and tools. Jimin raised a brow as he sipped loudly at his tea. “Is she okay?”

Jin quirked a brow not catching on as he set up his inks and needle. His eyebrows scrunched in contemplation before settling, “Mhmm-yeah, why?”

Jimin shrugged, setting his tea down. “I guess it’s just been a while since I’ve seen her.”

It was quiet except for the ceramic clinking and the tapping of tools as Jin maneuvered.

“You know Hoseok has his eye on a girl in that house, but you know how his parents are. They’re trying to push a girl from the upper side, some sort of alliance thing.”

Jin hummed as if to say he was listening, but his head was still throbbing lightly from the hangover sitting in. He looked around and sighed in relief seeing the tea cup as he took a large gulp.

“—it’ll only be a matter of time before she becomes an Anemona.”

“What?” Jin questioned tuning in to Jimin’s chatter, setting down the empty cup.

“Butterfly. It’s only time before that Mistress makes her one too. Human women are now becoming a commodity. The human population is dwindling and the Uppers are seeing to it by buying them.”

“No.”

Jimin shrugged, “That’s a shame—she’d earn a lot if she did. She’s grown up really well. Maybe I—.”

Jin glared at him, burgundy tinging within his pupil, “Don’t you dare. I know what you do with women.”

Jimin chuckled his nails clinking against the ceramic cup. “Why not? She’s grown and can decide for herself.”

Jin glared, opening his jars more intensely than necessarily. “She’s a child! she doesn’t need you and your playboy ways to taint her.”

Jimin laughed nearly falling over. “Child? When are you going to stop using that excuse. I mean Jin, do your eyes work properly? She’s far from being a child anymore.” Ignoring the glare sent his way, Jimin continued, but near mumbling it. ”Honestly, she’s prettier than any of those girls in that house, you know it. She could open her own Inn if she wanted.”

“Why don’t you buy her then?”

Silence answered Jimin back as he had expected. Jin curling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Alright, ready. Lay down.”

Jimin eagerly removed his jacket and shirt exposing the crane tattoo that was partially done on his back. Jimin settled down excited. Jin wondered for a moment how he wasn’t hungover, but then quickly he remembered Jimin’s tolerance level was unmatched. He can’t even remember what happened last night. Humans could always consume fermented drinks as if it was their job—especially Jimin.

After mapping out the rest in his head, Jin dipped the needle into black ink swirling it around for a moment. He moved over to Jimin, pressing down harder than necessary and stabbed into his skin. “OU-OW-OWOWOWCH—shhh---HHH!” Jimin cried out, teeth clenched and lower lips wiggling.

Jin shrugged, smacking his friend’s arm as if he hadn’t put extra force into the prick. “Don’t move.”

Jimin glared at him before yelping again. “JIN! THAT HURTS!”

You hung up the last of the laundry as you hummed a tune Jin had been humming recently to keep yourself awake. You hadn’t slept well last night as nightmares had clouded your dreams with shadow men with red eyes and images of your mother being pulled away by them disturbed you. It all was in flashes and you can’t remember much of it, but each time you closed your eyes again it played again.

You hummed louder to yourself.  

Snowflakes fall down

And get farther away little by little

I miss you (I miss you)

I miss you (I miss you)

How long do I have to wait

And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend

To see you (to see you)

To meet you (to meet you)

You smirked at the thought of when you had caught him mindlessly singing it as he cooked dinner for the both of you the other day. Yoongi had been working on producing the piece and had come over to show it to Jin weeks before, you just happen to be there. You wiped the sweat from your brow, the sun was beaming down strong in the sky. All the ice had melted, and the flora and plants were anew—spring had arrived.

You paused as you picked up another clean piece of bedding then shaking it out. You felt their stares before you met their upturned chins as Anemonas walked by. You stared wistfully; they were gorgeous with dresses made of silk like fabric that you were sure was expensive and hair carefully done so that there wasn’t a stray strand. They looked like they’ve never cleaned or worked a day in their life. They walked with poise and grace that only high tiered Anemona could ever poise. It almost seemed like they were gliding across the floors. They were beautiful and your hands were calloused.

They smirked and near snorted when they caught you staring. You turned away continuing to adjust the fabric, but your ears were still alert. You barely picked up the whispers between them.

“That’s the one that bothers the artist? How pitiful.”

“Doesn’t she know her place?”

“You think he uses her?”

“Have you seen him? He’d never go for her. You’re more suited for him.” They giggled as they kept walking.

Your expression flattened but you worked to keep your face neutral as if you hadn’t heard their remarks. You had swallowed all those feelings, even Jin’s, and let things return to normal. You could swallow your feelings if it meant you could keep being around Jin. As they passed you turned back around and hung up another blanket.

As long as you could be next to Jin, you were happy. That’s all you need.

As you were about to place the remaining last clip you heard stomping coming from the hall. The Mistress was in her slip, it was rare to not see her fully dressed. You watched curiously as she nearly jogged down the hall, her face angry and for once you were glad it wasn’t you on the receiving end of that expression. You laughed at the thought. You turned back and hung up the rest of the laundry still carrying the melody.

Passing by the edge of the cold winter

Until the days of spring

Until the days of flower blossoms

Please stay, please stay there a little longer

----Later

An hour before sunset you were in the kitchen sorting and polishing cutlery. You were talking to pastry boy as he was sneaking small bits food to you. Lilly may not be here anymore, but he still gave you treats. As you popped in a treat savoring the sweet flavor, the kitchen door swung open. Clattering from other various staff sounded as everyone shook. You nearly choked as the Mistress gaze searched the kitchen instinct to run kicking in. Her fiery gaze landing on you. On reflex quickly you swallowed the treat as if your life depending on it. She strode up to you, small, slim figure cutting through the crowd like a knife. Her long black hair flowed wildly around her pale face, but the motion couldn’t compare to her wild gaze. “Come with me now!”

Just when you thought you had evaded her wrath for a day. You wiped off your shaky hands on your apron and bowed, “Yes, Mistress.”

She looked around the kitchen to wide eyed staff, “Get back to work.”

Silently you followed her to her office. She nearly collapsed into her wooden seat but still attempted to do it gracefully. On an exhale, “Butterfly.”

You stood in front of her desk kneading the dirty skirt of your dress. What had you messed up so bad that you were being called to her office? You quickly recalled all recent events. Was this about you stealing pastries? No, you do that all the time. Or was it when you accidently walking in on the couple? Look, you hadn’t eaten and you were a bit tired, they should’ve locked the door. On second thought, maybe this was about you–.

“You shall serve tonight.”

Her statements cleared your thoughts. Your head whipped up jaw slack. “Mistress? I-I believe you are mistaken. I’m not a—.”

Her nostrils flared, “Silence.”

You sealed your mouth.

“An honorable guest has requested you, and this is an offer I cannot refuse. I owe his father a great deal of a favor. You will serve.”

She stood up, face softening as she saw your eyes gloss over. “Butterfly, you are no longer a child.” Your hands scrunched in the skirt of your dress tighter. Those words clung to you like oil. So much was happening your mind was racing a million miles per hour. You’ve watched for years and could probably do it all blindfolded, but that doesn’t mean you wanted to. You didn’t want to.

She began to slowly step closer to you, speaking much softer than before. She played with a loose piece of hair as she tilted her head almost. “Oh Butterfly.” Your eyes lifted until you met hers until they lowered again. “Do you remember that night that I bought you?”

You nodded once.

“I saw something in you, and I only invest in potential. All my girls are of the highest standard. Now I expect to reap those investments back. I saved you, so now save me this favor.”

A knock at the door sounded with two older retired Anemonas coming in after. They were the ones who took care of the styling and dressing of the girls. With a wave of the hand the Mistress commanded, “Get her dressed and ready.”

With a minor bow they surrounded you grabbing your elbow. You felt defensive tightening up. “Come along dear.”

You wanted to argue, but what could you?

You had a debt to pay…just like everyone else.

You didn’t argue as they washed your body with luxurious soaps that made you smell as the others did. You didn’t argue as they twisted and pinned your hair in a specific way. It was as beautiful as you had seen on the others. Or how they painted your face to their liking, red lips being the point. You slipped on the tight slip, then into the silk burgundy skirt that had gold embroidery skillfully woven into it to appear as highlights when the fabric moved. Pulling it up you realized the skirt had two slits in the front just apex at the top of your thighs creating a panel in the front. The bodice was a halter that followed the design of the skirt as they laced you up from the back as you held the bodice up. Finally, with a last heave the dressed forced you to stand upright, they tied it off in a large bow. They finished it off by adoring you in golden bracelets, anklets and hoop earrings, which felt like shackles to you despite their statement of luxury.

As you sat at the vanity staring at your reflection the Mistress came in, she was similarly dressed in her own gown. From the vanity assorted hair pins were displayed. Humming under her breath in approval she picked up a gold pin with a ceramic multi petaled flower at the end. From the flower were string chains of pearls and a butterfly. With ease she slipped it in your hair then placed her hands on your shoulders softly. “You look beautiful, Butterfly.”

You couldn’t recognize the person in the mirror. It was you, but it wasn’t at the same time.

“You will serve Mr. Park tonight. He is the son of the Guerrian Collation Ambassador for Human government. Treat him well.”

Your stomach sunk even further. This person was so high ranking why would they want you? Your eyes slowly looked up to her, “Yes, Mistress.”

Anemonas came into the room and they paused nearly crashing into one another as they stared at you. You wanted to curl in upon yourself, but your dress didn’t allow you. One who you recognized from the when you were doing laundry earlier. Her eyes scanned you, what you didn’t realize was stunned in surprised before she quickly hid it. You hadn’t had the chance to learn their name, nor would you want to. Her voice was clipped, “Hurry girl, he is here now.”

Your legs feel like jelly, but somehow stiff as you walked. You had little practice in the stilted shoes they wore, but that wasn’t why your limbs were stiff. Walking down the hall brought a new feeling to you. A door slid open as Cherry stepped into the hall before pausing. Her eyes widened, “Butterfly?” You held her gaze before you looked back in front of you. She stepped out into the hall watching as you descended the stairs to the first floor. She clenched her fist and quickly turned down the hall.

The girls ushered you and hissed harshly at you. “You cannot mess this up! Do you realize who he is? You! Cannot! Mess! This! UP! Do you hear me?”

How had they known his face? Apparently, he had been here before, but why had he requested you? Had this person seen you serving drinks before? Why you? Why you! You tried to be as discrete as possible, a no name servant among the Flowers. So…why you?

As you had watched Cherry done before, you swallowed your nerves as you steeled your face. Passing the first host rooms the people within were already laughing as their shadows danced on the paper screen door. Night had settled comfortably in the sky, three moons just near peaking. You counted the seconds that passed with each clatter of coins falling from the adjacent room. The laughs being the refractory period between drops. The lanterns above didn’t feel bright enough to guide you forth suddenly and you were running on pure instinct. Pausing at the last room you waited in front of the screen door. Your hands were trembling as you assumed stance that you’ve seen a million times.

The girls opened the sliding doors in unison, and you took a stable step forward that even surprised yourself. “Thank you for having me tonight, I’m Butterfly.” Slowly you raised your head to increase the tension. Playing coy was always the game. At the other end of the table as they lower a ceramic shot glass from their thick lips, his eyes were brazened as his chin jutted out knowingly, the sharpness disrupted by his big smile. He was sitting alone in the room, the largest room available, with a buffet displayed before him. Your eyes widen as you realized who Mr. Park was.

Jimin.

Jimin…was a son of the ambassador? Your mind rattled through memories, although few, that you had spent with him. He had never acted mighty, never flaunted his wealth around you all. How come you never noticed before? It explained so much at the same time, the enigmatic nature especially. Snapping out of your stupor at this moment he was a customer, not Jimin. Softening your eyes into something you had seen the other girls play. “Good evening, Mr. Park.”

He laughed, eyes forming half-moons. When you still didn’t move, he saw the conflict in your eyes. He urged you closer to him with an open hand. “Please, Butterfly, call me Jimin—it’s just me.” With a smirk that revealed his white teeth there was a glint in his eye. “I don’t bite.”

“If that is what you wish.” His eyes roved over you as you strode over to him. The panel of your dress somehow remained perfectly in front of you, but you felt vulnerable with your legs and arms exposed. You shuffled over to him and sat down on a cushion next to him.

He chuckled again, completely amused by you. “You look like a doll dressed like this.”

Jimin was a handsome man, any girl would be lucky to be his suitor. However, he…he wasn’t Jin. You’ve never thought of him as anything more. You felt neutral towards him, this must be how the other Anemona felt. Remembering their words, you automatically put on a face hoping the hollowness was concealed. You giggled covering your mouth with your hand. He smiled lowering your hand from your mouth, “Don’t cover it. You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, he was so close to you, faces nearly touching. Your mind flashes back to when Jin had his face this close to yours two moons ago; how your hand reached for his then, but your hand now remained trained at your side. He wasn’t warm enough.

You sat back, “Would you like me to play you a song Jimin?” His eyes lit up. You entertained, keep conversation, played an instrument, all be it not as well as he was when he took it from you. He blamed it on Yoongi for your lack of ability. It was odd, you felt comfortable but something in the back of your mind was niggling at you. He drank, but very little, when you asked why he confessed, “I want to remember my time with you. I want to remember it all. Does that bother you?”

You suppressed the flush and shook your head. He laughed as he had been all night. Yet, his eyes were sincere and full of adoration. He took your hand and held it gently in his as he looked down at the exposed skin of your forearm with a soft smile grazing his lips. “Did Jin draw that?”

You wanted to pull back realizing that your skin was still stained. You nodded. He grazed the faint butterfly with his finger.

“I always ask for a real one, but he refuses every time. He says I’m too young.”

Jimin huffed, forcing air from his nose to suppress the snort. “But we are the same age and I have one of his tattoos.” Your heart winced at that, it’s true. Another reminder of how Jin saw so little of you, how he didn’t see you the same. Jimin continued seeing your expression have fallen slightly, “A Butterfly shouldn’t be kept in this cage, when her wings are so beautiful.” It’s quiet as he carefully transverses the image. “I want to buy you, Butterfly.”

You tensed up under his delicate touch. He smiled at you dropping your hand to your lap, “Of course, I won’t force you. I never force my women; you must know that. I am man, no feral Guerrian.” He smirked at his own joke, but you sat there stunned, missing the insinuation. The wind had been knocked out of you. This was far from anything you had imagined would happen tonight. He tipped your chin with a crooked finger forcing you to look at him. His eyes were full of adore. “I’m serious, Butterfly. Think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon for an answer.”

He got up and adjusted his clothing, “Thank you for tonight Butterfly, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked out of the room and you sat there dazed. Minutes must’ve passed before you got up but stumbled on your feet. You clutched the table, food nearly untouched as you focused on breathing through your nose. You kicked off the annoying stilted shoes. Never in your life did you think you were going to be bought. You got up, feeling better with your feet touching ground.

You flung open the screen door jostling Anemonas who had been lingered outside the room as you came out. They rushed up to you when they found their ground. “Butterfly! What happened? Why did he leave?”

“You didn’t make him happy did you? No man leaves happy without going upstairs at least once.”

Another asked, “Did you scare him away?”

Cherry pushed through the crowd coming up to you and instantly pulling you into an embrace. She held you tightly as your hands loosely reciprocated. She pulled away but still held you with shaky hands. You had never seen her upset, but you missed the look of concern. Your mind couldn’t focus. “I’m so sorry Butterfly. I tried to convince her to pull you out. She said he requested you. I tried even asking Hos-,” she sealed her lips cutting herself off. Her grip tightened again, “What happened Butterfly?”

You felt like the walls were closing in.

“Butterfly, answer me! Talk to me!”

Over the chaos you answered all their questions. “He wants to buy me.” You couldn’t motivate yourself to have an ounce of happiness in it.

Nameless girl of the hall was the first to speak, “Park Jimin? He wants to buy you? Yeah right.”

Cherry shot her a glare silencing her as the Anemona rolled her eyes. You nodded.

The other girls shrieked in excitement, “Congratulations Butterfly!”

No. No. No! This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You pushed out of Cherry’s embrace and past the small crowd. Their excitement and happiness died out when they realized you weren’t excited like they were. “Butterfly! Butterfly!” Cherry took a few steps after you before she stopped. She sighed, she knew exactly where you were going, but this time she didn’t have the heart to stop you.

Your feet gained speed as you jogged faster and faster towards an exit. There’s only one place where you know to go.

Your feet were freezing, but you didn’t mind the numbness as you ran across the yard and into another. Oddly you felt unclean, tainted and disloyal as you could still feel Jimin’s light touches on your skin and see his smile behind your eyes. Your feet were gaining traction, but the weight of the material of your dress weighed you down. It felt like you were running through water to get to him. Your hair restricted movement and the makeup made you feel stiff. The tree was faintly glowing, the recently fallen leaves in his yard still barely pulsed. You reached the familiar porch with the warm amber light flickering from inside.

You slid open the door and opened your mouth to speak but immediately clamped it closed. A woman was lounging across his floor completely nude from the waist up with her back to you. Her back was covered in a partial tattoo, art you recognized. She turned over to look at you, chest on full display and her face was just as gorgeous as her salacious body. A smile bloomed further solidifying her beauty. “Wait your turn, sweetheart.”

You blushed and suddenly the sliding door slammed closed nearly clipping your nose. Jin pressed in behind you hand still on the frame sealing the door shut. “Get out!” He was seething. “Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my house.”

You recoiled back at his tone and words. He had never yelled at you before. You turned around slowly. Her body clearly still in your mind as you came face to face with his chest. His robe was loose as he wasn’t wearing an undershirt, splatters of dry ink was on his collarbones. You swallowed as you looked off to the side.  

His eyes widened as far as they could stretch. He hadn’t realized it was you on his porch, he thought it was someone trying to sneak inside. It wouldn’t be the first time an Anemona from the Inn had tried to. “Butterfly?”

You hadn’t heard him call your name too engrossed in your thoughts. Gorgeous was the only word that came to mind and the tattoo that was on her back was eerily familiar. You couldn’t help to compare. She was a woman to him. Your lower lip began to tremble as tears were beginning to build in the corner of your eyes. You dipped your head. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Your voice wasn’t as stable as you spoke. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

He heavily sighed removing his hand, but still standing close to you. “You know not go in when I have clients.”

When you hadn’t responded he called your name again, but you refused to look up. He knew something was off, he curled his finger and placed it under your chin. You slowly raised your head, eyes still downturned. He stepped closer nearly whispering your name full of concern. “Butterfly, look at me.” Taking a second you finally raised your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to look away until the hair pin poking from your hair caught his eye. A small golden butterfly was dangling amongst other jewels. A small smile was tickling at his lip before his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes traveled down to the dress you wore, your figure was on full display teasingly by the tight fabric. Your bare legs exposed; the slits dangerously high that almost your entire hip was out. It had him feeling some type of way as he felt his eyes warm as he devoured your being. Why? Why were you dressed up like this, like an Aneomona? A snarl in throat was barely audible at the thought of someone else besides him seeing you like this. Had someone? The threatening sound blooms as  his mouth opened to ask when a breathy voice inside called him. “Jin, Darling?”

The tears you’ve been holding back were threatening to break again. Of course, of course he had someone else. Held someone else. His words that he had always told you ring in your ears, those girls, as well as Jimin’s recent ones. The veil was pulled as you saw the landscape clearly. You were a child to him. He had never looked at you otherwise. You were mistaken all those times. It was only you who had been feeling this way towards him. You had been trying to hide how much it hurt you, but this was undeniable.

You bowed your head, not daring to look up as a tear slipped down. It stung, but you couldn’t bear to wipe it. “I’m sorry.” You raced past him your long dress caught under your feet as you stumbled and caught yourself on the tree. The fallen leaves pulsed brightly as you disturbed them before they looked like falling stars settling back down. Heaving you collected the skirt of your dress and disappearing into the shadow and the dark night as you ran off.

He jogged forward, bewildered as he stood at the edge of the porch as you disappeared. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Ji~~n.”

Heaving a sigh, he hesitated, something pulling within him to go after you. He turned around grumbling under his breath in a different tongue. He opened the door and closed it behind him with a bit of force. The lantern hanging on the porch swayed on the closing of the door until the wax tipped and the light went out.

Nauseum swirled in your empty stomach, but you couldn’t bear to eat. Jimin would be coming soon. Your mind was foggy yet chaotic with many incomplete thoughts. You felt torn mind and heart; your stupid heart wanted to see him while your mind told you not to. However, you weren’t one to listen to the latter. Standing up on sore feet you make your way through the halls, girls you passed in hall looked at you with envy. You didn’t pay them any mind as you let your feet carry you with the muscle memory. Your feet crunched in the grass as you walked. You paused, the ground under your feet cold, you swallowing thickly, what if she was still there? Would she still be there? You had never seen someone come out of his room before last night. Your stomach churned with all the maddening thoughts. You swallowed it again though. That was none of your business. You were going to respect it, even if you didn’t like it. He was still Jin.

As you entered Jin’s yard your eyes widen, the porch door was already open. Your eyebrows furrowed; he was never up this early. It was always your job to wake him up. You paced slowly with your hands folded in front of you as you peered inside. Jin was sitting at his table already sketching with a steam cup of tea. You crept closer and sat on the edge of his porch. You knew he knew you were there, but he said nothing to acknowledge it. She wasn’t there.

It changed nothing though.

Sitting alone with yourself last night you realized a lot of things. You were twenty-three and if you ever wanted anything for yourself you couldn’t depend on Jin for the rest of your life. You couldn’t watch him be with someone else. You couldn’t watch him smile at someone else. You couldn’t watch him…love someone that wasn’t you.

The Mistress was right and this is how you’ll pay her back.

You were going to leave your childish self behind, even if that meant leaving him behind.

You crawled up closer and sat against the door frame taking a deep breath, holding the feeling before it slipped away. You couldn’t be sad. You didn’t want tears to be the last thing he remembered you by. One last time you asked. “Will you give me a tattoo Jin?”

Without looking up from his paper, “No.”

You smiled, a genuine laugh bubbled and lasted until your stomach began to hurt. In a way that was an answer you wanted. Maybe you didn’t want a tattoo to remember him by, but those words that he’s always told you. Not treating you any differently.

He finally looked at you with an odd expression of concern. Why were you laughing? None the less it made him smile.

Catching your breath, you turned away from him and gazed out at the yard, the morning light flooding and the dew sparkle on the grass in the garden was quite beautiful. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves of his tree creating a beautiful distortion on the grass.

He bathed his brush in the ink as he stared at you. You were too quiet. You had been off since last night. It sets his spine straight as he remembers what you looked like last night. The way you looked had replayed in his mind all night as he worked on that woman’s tattoo, even after he kicked her out.  “Butterfly?”

Your eyes had become glassy without realizing it and you wiped at the tears that were forming. You smiled wide, “Ah. Sorry, just remembered something.” You recounted, “Remember when we first met and how I broke your fence? And somehow you let me still come around even after that?”

Placating his earlier feeling he chuckled recalling the memory. The image of your once smaller being coming into mind. He stared at you for a moment, then taking a sip of his tea. You were still you. That thought made his smile widen. Nothing had changed since then, that was still the routine.

Feeling brave you looked over your shoulder enticed by sound of his laugh like a butterfly attracted to a beautiful flower. You took in that moment where everything feels like it was going in slow motion and you could count the lashes on each of his eyes. He was ethereal, almost too good for this planet, as he is. His features handsome, golden in the morning light.

You turned away from him. “Jin, I—someone bought me.” The confession spilled from your mouth like vomit.

His brush stilled on the page, ink pooling as the paper soaked it up willingly as he stiffened. You looked over your shoulder, quietly waiting for him to say something. You both held each other gaze. His eyes narrowed before he began painting again. In a tone too casual, “Don’t joke around Butterfly.”

“I’m not. I’m leaving today.” You didn’t know how to handle it from here, truly not even having expected yourself to have the gull to come over.

“Butterfly,” Jimin was making his way over towards you crossing the yard. He was dressed smartly in clothing you had only seen worn by wealthy humans. He was showing his true colors now that you knew. Jin furrowed his brows at the appearance of one of his best friends. Normally he would be glad to see him, but something felt off at his appearance. He had no appointments. Jimin was all smile as he came to stop in front of you. His eyes near sparkled as he greeted you. “Good morning, Butterfly.” He then turned towards Jin who was just watching. “Morning Jin, you’re up early.”

Jin nearly tossed the brush at him, even making the gesture. Jimin flinched out of reflex before Jin put down his brush. Seeing Jimin wasn’t just stopping by he stood up and walked until he stood at the edge of his porch right next to you. “What are you doing here Jimin?”

Jimin’s smile bloomed further crinkling at the corners. “I’m here to hear Butterfly’s answer.”

His eyes narrowed at Jimin. Your heart was pounding hard in your chest. Jin questioned, a low undertone of a growl in his voice. “Answer?”

Jimin stepped closer to you, his polished shoes crunching under the grass as he shifted on his feet. He grabbed your hand gently. “What is your answer Butterfly?”

You paused purposefully waited for something, an objection, a scoff, a laugh, anything. It was silent. It was silent except for the thoughts within your head screaming for something yet, the silence from him was louder than any scream, any thought you had. You resisted looking at Jin. You already had your answer. You decided this. You wanted this. You wanted had to do this. You wanted—this. “Yes.”

Jimin pressed a quick kiss to your hand, his plush lips soft. Your face and body heated up to a near sizzle. That was something you had never expected.

Jin’s visage was rumbling beneath barely containing control at the simple gesture from Jimin. He looked up to Jin before meeting your eyes. “We should be on our way Butterfly.”

“Let’s go home Butterfly.” Nodding you took his hand and slipped off the porch.

You paused, “Goodbye Jin.”

He said nothing staring at you as you realized he wasn’t going to say anything. You turned expressionless, matching his. You let go of Jimin’s hand  going back towards the Inn.

Jimin and Jin stared at one another, a certain tension in the air. Jimin’s face suddenly softened as his smile returned as he bowed to his friend before he followed in your direction.

Jin watched as the wind blew by messing up his hair, wisp of his bangs covering his eyes that had turned red. His hands clasped behind his back speckled like they were stained with dry ink.  

The steam from his cup was flowing freely from the cooling tea. He found himself glancing up at the clock on the wall. His fingers rhythmically drummed on the table. He looked up to the clock again and found the small hand had only moved a minute. He had even left the screen door open. He had finished all his clients for a day. His wrist was sore with how many clients he had been taking on. He debated if he should cancel all his clients for the following day.

He checked the clock again and realized yet only another half a minute had passed. He heaved a sigh.

What was keeping you? Where you busy? Had they finally scolded you for the last time? He knows that you found a new route as you recounted your story of it in full detail. His customer had to hear the story that day too, but somehow, they were engrossed in your story. He laughed brushing the hair out of his face. He pulled at the strands, when had his hair gotten so long? You would trim it for him. Maybe he would ask you to trim it for him ton—.

It hit him hard when the sound of the clock ticking drummed in his ears, the memory hitting him.

You were gone.

You had been gone for weeks.

He sighed heavily as he stood up and went to the kitchen grabbing liquor. On his way back he opened the porch door, his body running too hot even for his comfort. He gripped onto the doorframe as he stared at the tree in his yard. It no longer glowed, it had been fading and fading until tonight, it no longer glowed. It was spring it was supposed to be thriving. He placed his hand over his chest and rubbed it in a circle, eyes turning amber. He sat down opening the bottle as he set up his ink block and opened his sketchbook to a new page. He took big gulps of the fermented amber liquid as the rucke flavor covered his tongue.

He had seen you at the marketplace. He had seen you with Jimin as you were perusing the shops. He found himself watching disregarding the shop owner trying to bargain with him. You had nodded along to something Jimin had said. You chuckled as Jimin raised a hideous dress to you then holding it up to him with a brow raised. He had never seen his friend so friendly with a woman. Jimin normally never was seen out with a woman, especially during daylight. The distance between you two was too close for comfort. Speaking of clothes, you were wearing a new dress, not the normal blue canvas one you always wore. Your hair was shinny and were well taken care of, rather than your normal tied up and messy, carefree taming. You were almost unrecognizable, like that night you came to him when he was working. By your gait he knew it was you. He could pick you out of a crowd of a thousand if given. It was almost intrinsic, you. 

He took another gulp of the beer, feeling looser as the liquid cooled his being. His eyes grew similar in color to the liquor as it filled him. He dipped the brush in the ink letting the black ink drip into the block. The way Jimin placed a hand at the small of your back and leaning into you played over in his mind. Swirling his eyes grew darker taking on a red hue before it morphed into hot iron.

Violent strokes scrapped across the page as the hair of the brush made a resounding slap as it hit the scroll canvas. His hand working sloppier as his hand got in the ink of the canvas blending in with his changing hand. Stroking forward, gliding it around as if on autopilot he created. He hooked the brush on the stand as he blinked blearily at the sketch. The alcohol already running heavily through his system. Exhaustion took over him as the buzz was shutting him down. He slumped over hand holding the paper as he sleep overcome him. His lips smacked.

He had painted a butterfly.

You stared at the starless sky having spent the evening watching the sky turn from your windowsill daybed. The three moons had all shifted into the east sky nearly overlapping one another You felt restless. You weren’t allowed to do much, if anything. Jimin insisted he had servants to do things. He was confusing, had he not bought you to do the same? You were having a hard time adapting to his way of life and expectations. His life was completely different from what went on in Borgo. Tall, pristine white buildings with black tiles filled every street in the heart of Anisum. The roads were paved with stones versus the dirt you were used to. People used their given names. You hadn’t realized Anisa, the whole world was…so large. The heart was different as people were more standoffish and selfish, but the same could often be said of Borgo. But there you knew people, there was a sense of community even though everyone was different. Even those who came in from neighboring planets held this air of stature. It was the first time you had seen others from different planets as they government didn’t allow them into Borgo. You saw starship stations, things you had only heard rumors of existing. Of course you had seen them in the sky, but they were so much larger in person and up close. Beings of all skin color, stature and shape filled Anisum.

There was so much, but it felt hollow. This wasn’t home.

There was an ache that comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments.

Knocks sounded at your door and you sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Jimin entered and shut the door behind him with a winning smile on his lips. You matched it in greeting. He strides over to where you were, hands clasped behind his back, a habit he had when he was in front of other officials, but this felt mischievous.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

He sat next to you gazing out the window. “The moons are beautiful tonight, what’s not to be happy about?”

Quietly you nodded. You enjoyed Jimin, he had been nothing but hospitable. He was sweet to say the least. You found out you had a lot in common with him and found yourself build a friendship. Yet, you didn’t feel…

“Are you happy Butterfly?”

Your cheeks heated and you tried swallowing the truth. He had been watching you this entire time you were lost in your thoughts. “Yes, I’m quite happy here.”

He laughed, face contouring comically. That was something you appreciated was he never put up the same pretense around you he had with others here. “Butterfly. I can see your unhappy.”

Waving your hands, “No! No really I���m—!”

“Butterfly, Butterfly, calm down! It’s okay, it’s okay!”

You hung your head in shame. You couldn’t look at him. You felt guilty admitting it even to yourself. You should be happy. You have everything now. All…you…ever…wanted.

Jimin leaned forward elbows resting on his knees. “I want to do something for you. Will you let me?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. You weren’t one to deny him feeling burdened by his kindness. You didn’t like the way the feeling from earlier intensified, he was up to something. “Okay.”

He smirked up at you with a sly smile. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

His chest was rising and falling slowly as he draped his arm across his face. He wanted to pull up his comforter but in his drunken stupor he had only managed to lay his futon down last night. He had slept with the porch door open his body was feeling overwhelmed by an odd fever. His body was tingling with restlessness setting his joints steely. It had made him snappy and alcohol had been a hasty solution to the agitation in his veins. The slight hangover was still drumming in his head and the unsettling feeling in his bones returned. He let out a heavy sigh.

A shadow casted over him and a laugh tickled like a clear bell in his ears. His arm that was draping over his eyes fell away. He let your voice soak in, your words, the way your eyes meet his and didn't turn away. You were smiling down at him, a halo of light behind you. “Jin, it’s noon.”

He kept staring at you. He blinked closing his eyes for a few moments before he opened them again. You pinched his cheek and his face scrunched. “Did you drink too much again? I warned you not to drink so much.”

“What are you doing here?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

You pouted your lips then it fell into a smile in your signature tease. “I want a tattoo.”

“No.” He grunted, rolling over.

You quirked a brow eager for the challenge. “Today, I’m a paying customer.”

“No.”

You hummed nonchalantly, unaffected. “The ones you drew for me never lasted; I want this one to last.”

He sat up on his side and pushed off walking towards the kitchen. You grabbed his hand before he could get out of reach. “Jin. I want this.” You tugged, Please.”

He pulled his hand out of your grasp. “No! No matter how much money you give me I won’t. You…you, you’re a –.”

You finished for him, “Child?” Instantly you felt defensive.

He had the semblance to look embarrassed. “Yes...a child.”

You had been doing a lot of thinking in the past few weeks; amplified last night since Jimin implanted this idea in you of what you’d say to Jin when you first saw him, but this had been something you had been holding in, wanting, for a long time. A breeze blew by shivering the leaves of the tree in his yard and it carried hints of Jin’s scent. Floral but inky, yet the accompanying scent of alcohol was distasteful. You scoffed, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “Over and over again you’ve called me a child and told me not to get involved! But you know better than anyone else that I was never allowed to act like a child.” Ironically you were feeling flushed as he kept eye contact. “So, don’t get involved, treat me like everyone else —a customer. I’m not the Butterfly of the Inn anymore.”  

Your chest was heaving slight as you released all your suppressed emotions. He sat there for a moment before he got up. His blue robe billowing about him as he walked away. The silence always hurt more. A pang of hurt filled your chest. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be when you saw him again. You wanted to him to see you differently. See that you had done things on your own. You sat there, hand hanging in the air. Footsteps returned back lightly thumping on the floor into the room as he stood in the threshold of his kitchen with his jars. Your brows furrowed then it struck you why he was there.

“What do you want?”

You smiled eyes lighting up. Your stomach was doing somersault in excitement. “You know what I want.”

He nodded setting down his supplies and sorting them out. “Where? On your arm like always?”

You shook your head taking in a deep breath. “On my back.”

His face was neutral, but his ears were a burning red. He cleared his throat. He took a moment before he nodded. Your fist clenched on your lap in excitement, it was finally happening.

Your heart was beat so fast. Your pride suddenly was asking to be swallowed. You had never been nude in front of others despite seeing nudity your whole life. Especially in front of Jin. You hadn’t really thought of the real implications of what getting a tattoo on your back entailed. Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“Did you changing your mind?”

You bristled at his question. You weren’t going to change your mind! Taking a deep breath and in a single motion you pulled your robe down and let it pool at your hips, while still clutching your hands over your bare chest with your sleeves. You decided to forgo an undershirt today wearing a thicker robe coat to compensate, but you wore a skirt as the robe wasn’t long enough to be a dress.

His jaw clenched as he tried to not clear his throat at the sight of your bare skin. He closed his eyes for a moment allowing the color to diffuse.

“Lay down.”

You carefully maneuvered and you laid down on the futon. It was quite eye opening how vulnerable and nervous you were feeling. When you settled, he only then moved. You flinched at the unexpected feeling of his large warm hands on your bare back. You both lacked to comment on your reaction. With his index he started at the top of your next and with his thumb of the same hand marking the end point, he inched his fingers counting how many he stretched. It was a simple touch, but it had your shoulders moved closer together as his index and thumb met at the small of your back. “Relax Butterfly.”

You nodded resting your face on your forearm.

The ritual began as you heard him open up the ceramic jars. The scarping of his wooden wire whisk as he mixed the ink fast then slow lifting at the end as he checked the consistency of the ink as it dripped off. The sound of fabric crumpling as he rolled up his white sleeve of his undershirt forgoing his blue robe. The first prick had you hissing through your teeth. You finally understood his customers wholeheartedly. He chided you, “Stay still.” A sound akin between a whine and aggrievance answered him, surprisingly putting a small smile on his face at your reaction. Your hand clenched and fisted the futon underneath you. He found it oddly endearing. Eventually you fell into his rhythmic pricking and the pain dulled out and was tolerable. He was gentle with feather light touches and pricks. Hours passed as he quietly painted you.

His needle was set on the table closing the session. “Done.”

You felt immensely sore, but immensely content at the same time. Carefully sitting up you carefully held your robe over your front as you looked over your shoulder. He was already staring at the four butterflies that flew up towards your neck starting at your lower back in varying sizes. You realized that was the first time you were truly seeing him. No pretenses as you looked at one another. He looked different. His tan skin somehow darker although you were sure he sat inside all day. His eyes having this shade under them that wasn’t there before. He looked ill. While he was tattooing, he must’ve dropped ink on himself, his hands were stained heavily, fingers nearly completely stained black. He was normally a clean worker, never or rarely staining himself. His eyes looked different, almost as if they had a golden hue like the setting sun. He stared at you, but they remained there with noticeable difficulty. Before you could inquire on his wellbeing his gaze tore away from your spine as he moved to close the jars piling them on the tray. His voice was strangely thick, “Clean it well.”

You twisted around facing him fully. “I’ve missed this.” You scooched closer to him stopping just short of brushing your knees to his. “I’ve missed you.”

Proximity was vital to him now as the fever within him returned. A cramp settling in his stomach at the dulcet tone of your plea. “Butterfly—.” His voice had depended as pleaded with you. The fact that he didn’t pull away made you believe in your favor. You ignored distance, holding the front of your robe together with one hand as you reached forward, hand instinctually wanting to cup his cheek. It felt like you were imagining things as you thought Jin was leaning towards you as well. Your fingertips grazed his cheek and the feeling washing over him in local pleasure but his stomach swirled stronger in contrast.

The spell was broken as knocks sounded at the front door before followed by echoes of it sliding open. Jin’s whine were concealed. “Butterfly! Are you done?” Jimin’s voice echoed down the hall.

The feeling disappeared from the air as Jin turned away from you. You didn’t answer Jimin as you stared at Jin who collected his stuff. He got up and the air had dramatically cooled around you as he began walking away towards his storeroom. You pulled your robe back up feeling vulnerable again. His blue robe crumpled on the floor reflected the light beginning to illuminate softly from the leaves of his tree outside. Your words had him pausing. “I have no more excuses to see you anymore. I can’t pretend I miss the Inn. I can’t make detours to this street from the main market without it being more obvious. Or say I want to see Cherry without glancing over and hoping your door is open.”

The tree outside shivered as the wind passed by.

Night was coming soon.

His footsteps continued.

Tears fell from your eyes, but as quickly as they fell, they dried. You tied the knot of your robe tight around your waist. You pulled out the satchel of coins and dropped it on the cleared table not caring to count or ask how much. Slowly getting up on sore legs as you walked towards the front door. Familiar pain can still made you nauseous. As you turned down the corner of the hall Jimin was waiting for you at the front door, hand extended out to you.

Eyes rimmed red and with the saddest smile you walked towards him with your own hand extended.

He sees it all, especially the way you don’t pull away or recoil this time when he holds your hand. There’s no reluctance or hesitation and somehow it makes his hold much looser this time after he can see the dullness behind your eyes. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He had thought this would be the answer. “Are you happy now Butterfly.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jin appeared at the door silently, you hadn’t noticed but Jimin had. Jimin glared at Jin upset at the outcome. He couldn’t believe he was standing there after so calmly when you were clearly upset. Why was his friend so stupid and blind. Jimin neutralized his expression and it turned coy. It was his last coup before he gave up trying. Jimin stepped closer to you, near face to face as he leaned in to whisper loudly into your ear. Daringly he placed a hand on your hip as he pulled you closer to him. “Will you let me see it later Beautiful?”

You nodded not hearing his request despite his proximity and touch. Your mind was elsewhere.

Eyes glinting, his hand was still on your hip. “Let’s go home Butterfly.”

Your feet felt planted as if they had been molded, but uprooted as Jimin gently pulled you alongside him going towards the tall gate. You took a breath then a step towards. Your head swam with regrets, why couldn’t it all turn back to how it was. Maybe you still were a child yearning for him even after such clarity. The ink in your skin didn’t make you a woman. You were still you and he still didn’t want you. They say once bitten, twice shy, but I think for it's more like forever shy. Tears built in the corner of your eyes again, you felt stupid.

You reached the gate Jimin pushing it open until you were jolted by a sudden tug and onset heat. Jin twisted you around pulling you out of Jimin’s touch vicariously pushing Jimin away. You were face to face, a breathtaking sight as his figure towered over you. His eyes were fiery red, pulsing, replacing his black irises. His face feral with something wild you had never seen his gentle feature morph into. He seethed, “Don’t.”

The subtle smirk that Jimin had sent you had been the last straw. He had been holding back, composing himself for so long. He allowed Jimin to mess around, even buy you from the Inn, telling himself you were better off—safer that way. The last thread holding his senses together snapped as unadulterated anger filled him. The tattoo he had just given you was so intimate—his—and it was only his to see. You…you were only his, and all of you was for his eyes only.

You stared wide eye at him. “Jin…your eyes.”

You saw his face shift into horror as he realized he had let himself slip. He dropped your hand like he had been burnt. He brought a shaky hand up to his face as he began to stumble backwards rapidly. His eyes flicked to yours petrified. You blubbered, “Seokjin, you—.” He turned on his heel and ran back into his home, stumbling before he disappearing down the dark hall.

Your mind raced completely bewildered by the situation, yet as a sense of familiarity settled in. Those eyes. Flashes of those eyes. You had seen them in him before, but you had brushed it off as a reflection of light, the sunset, anything but…what you think it is. Those eyes belong to only one thing, the same ones that were outside your childhood home, the ones in your nightmares. You had thought it was just that though, a figment of your childish imagination, anything but real. But they’re just human like…weren’t they?

Jimin got up from the ground and jogged over to you. A heavy sense of guilt in his stomach, Gods, this wasn’t how it wasn’t supposed to turn out.  “Butterfly.” He shook your shoulders when you didn’t answer him. You blinked and looked at him.

Jimin looked at the house then back to you, “Listen Butterfly. I’m sorry Butterfly I-I—I.” You scrunched your brows, did Jimin know? What was going on.  “I just didn’t expect it to happen like this.” He pointed towards the house. Frustrated he grunted and he ran his hand through his hair, really, he didn’t expect this nudging to come this far.

Yoongi’s cup of rucke was sitting just out of reach next to him as his fingers pressed the keys of his lap piano. Jungkook and Taehyung had taken it upon themselves to freestyle a song with slurred lyrics that weren’t lingual. Alcohol being the influence had all seven of them giddy, giddy too after seeing eachother after a while. After the meeting they brushed away all the blueprints. They had gathered around the floor table that was filled with empty and partially filled bottles, glasses, and plates Jin had prepared. Jin only hosted gatherings because of his ability to cook and the other naturally decided on their own his home was the epicenter of their gatherings. Taehyung had brought new ink for Jin in his recent travels in the system. Namjoon had brought political gossip what was going on in the higher courts. Jin, along with everyone joked upon a cheer cutting Joon’s monologue short about the shortcomings of the government. He thought they had closed the meeting already. Jin held up his cup, “To the next King, Namjoon!” Simultaneously despite the others partially listening cheered along.

Namjoon blushed mouth gaping like a fish. “Guys-alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll stop! But don’t come complaining to me when you can’t fuckin’ keep up next meeting!” The man absolutely blushed nearly dropping his ceramic cup of alcohol from snorting and dismissing the cheer. Even Hoseok, who was calmly laying on the floor as the first few sips had already rendered him chill, suddenly sat up and clanged his glass along with everyone else. The cheer didn’t diminish just to taunt him. It enticed them to sip more. It had always been chaotic when all of them gathered.

The porch door was propped open letting in the breeze and aerate the room full of men alike. Over the music of Yoongi was playing there was a light under hum of music coming from the Inn. When the room quieted Jin smiled at the siren like call. His ears were red, skin had been crawling with patches of ink and from his chest a light glow emitted shining through his shirt, robe long ago discarded and Jungkook was wearing it. He had been partially shifting all night. “Butter~~fly”

Jimin rolled over, hearing the murmuring coming from Jin. As he listened closer, he could hear the name Jin was mumbling. The urge to tease overwhelming him as he propped on table next to him. Jin rarely drank, only when they came over, usually too busy to bother with it and the effects.

“Jin, where’s butterfly? Why isn’t she here?”

Jin blinked slowly as he huffed out an answer, “Cherry probably.”

Hoseok’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the name before he slumped back down onto the floor.

Scooching closer to Jin, he unnecessarily whispered. “Hey, hey Jin!”

“Hmmm?” Jin’s eyes had closed, his brain signaling slowing down as the alcohol flowed through his system.

“Did you tell her yet?”

A shout of howls around the room picked up as a betting game had picked up. The arguments of who and what were the rules always took up the most of the time before the game even started.

He hummed scrunching his face not hearing Jimin clearly. “What?”

Jimin spoke loudly, “Did you tell her about you—you know?”

Jin’s head shot up, eyes fiercely glared at Jimin, pupils turning ember and suddenly sober. “No!”

Jimin pouted, clearly tipsy as well, and senses not picking up on the change in Jin. He scoffed, annoyed. He had been watching Jin for the longest time. He had known him since they were young. It was painful watching the two of you run circles around one another. You were painfully obvious, but painfully oblivious to the obvious. Jimin was naturally whiny when he was sober, but alcohol tended to intensify it. “Why won’t you tell her, she’s going to find out soon enough?”

“No!” His fingers gripping hard and scratched the surface of the table. Anger bursted like a flame, but his focus was still fuzzy, as he racked his brain for the right response. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh come on Jin.” Like a candle sparked Jimin got up using the table as a stabilizer.  

He stumbling towards the porch, passing the others who were slapping down cards and calling out counts. Yoongi was still playing his piano, although the beat had slowed down significantly. The others payed him no mind. Jin kept his eyes on him. A coy smirk pulled at Jimin’s lips, a single brow arched in taunt. “If you won’t tell her because your too pussy to do it. I’ll do it. It’s easy. Watch.”

Jimin had pulled open the porch, “Butterfly, I hope you hear this, Jin’s a—.”

Jin was up within seconds as he dashed forward and spun Jimin around pinning him to the wall. The force was hard enough that the wall shook. Jin’s pupils were dilated and irises completely red. A black veined hand was wrapped around Jimin’s throat. “Don’t. You. Dare!” He seethed the command through his teeth.

The room had grown silent all of them staring before instantly sobering. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jungkook stood up, black veins and red eyes emerging in all three. All three gathered the strength to pull Jin off Jimin. Although Jimin never lost his smile through the ordeal, laughing. He had dangled the bait and Jin caught it willingly. Jungkook was the strongest of the group, but Jin’s strength rivaled his often. The other two supported by maneuvering them off Jimin safely. Barking but not biting immediately the alcohol his Jin’s system hard as he slumped into Jungkook’s arms mumbling like a child. Taehyung held onto Jimin as Namjoon ordered Jungkook to lay Jin down, “He’s had enough.”

Taehyung supported Jimin as he brought him back to the table checking on him. Jimin waved everyone off, he was fine, Jin would never actually hurt him. Jostle yes, but never hurt. Hoseok checked him over before rubbing a knuckle to his head, “Ai-gu, you know better than to tease him about Butterfly when he’s drunk.”

Jimin giggled drunkenly as he brought his liquor up to his lips. “Are you guys tired of it too?”

He looked around and all of them had the same hesitant expression. “I don’t like secrets.”

Yoongi grumbled as his playing picked up again. The tip of his fingers dark too, but they began receding into his usual pale skin color. “Children in men’s bodies, all of you.”

The lot of them laughed.

Jimin’s eyes shifted over to Jin who had been haphazardly laid on his mattress already fast asleep. An idea popped in his mind, the fun wasn’t over.

Jimin held up his shot glass, “Cheers!”

Glasses clanked, “Cheers.”

Your mind was racing, all the denial, all the fears came to life. ”J-Jimin?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Butterfly.” Jimin was uncharacteristically unkept and bent out of shape as he raced to explain.

The stake felt like it had dug deeper in your chest hearing that. Fourteen years…fourteen years and you never noticed he…wasn’t quite human? Guerra were human though, right? The eyes made you believe different. The images you had seen in your youth made you feel that you had just seen the surface. You had never imagined that he was…one of them. How….how had…you not known?

Who was Jin really? What…what was he?

Jimin had expected Jin to stop him the day he bought you, but Jin did nothing, as usual complacent when it came to you. He didn’t mean for it to come to this confession, just—a confession. He ran his hand through his hair a few more times before running his tongue over his lips. He held your shoulders, pleading with you, “Butterfly, I’ve made a mistake that I shouldn’t have. I just…I just didn’t want to see you in that Inn anymore either. You belong here. Here with him. Not with me, not at the Inn, here you belong here. I could see it, always have, the look you both give eachother. He’s scared right now, more than you are and he needs you. You’ve always wanted answers, now it’s here in front of you.”

He spun you around until you were facing home. Jimin pushed you forward again. “Go.”

You regained traction before you face planted and with a step forward you walked back towards home. With a hand on the doorframe you glanced back and Jimin nodded assuring you. You were trembling you didn’t know what to expect. A loud inhuman groan that sounded like a growl echoed from within. You turned around ready to run but Jimin stopped you turning you back, “Don’t be afraid! He won’t hurt you. He’ll never hurt you.” Holding onto that you took it to heart. Jin had never hurt you. You took a shaky step forward before you found your feet walking you inside. For Jin, you could do this for Jin.

The atmosphere felt different as you carefully walked forward hands trembling. You had seen that color in his eyes before but ignored it. The time Jin had pulled you down with him coming to mind as you saw specks of gold and red in his eyes. Maybe you did on purpose, the truth was heavy. The dark wooden floor echoed the sound of your footsteps in the near empty hall, the tall white walls felt endless. Deep shadows had settled in, but you knew exactly where to go. Standing at the sliding door of the main living room you could hear the sounds rumbling from within. Your hand reached for the ajar door. You needed answers, you wanted answers despite your churning stomach. You pushed open the rest of his main room door and stepped inside. He was heaving in the far corner of his room, nearly engulfed in the shadows.

“J-Jin?”

An unsettling growl erupted from his throat. “GET OUT!”

You swallowed the fear that coursed through you at the unfamiliar hostility, physically refraining from stepping back like you had wanted to. This was still Jin. He was still Jin. You weren’t going to run away now. You closed the door behind you. “Jin, please.”

He growled louder turning slightly exposing his face that was still partially obscured by the shadows. He began turning and exposing himself slowly from the shadows. His white shirt was soaked through in sweat despite the temperature dropping rapidly as he turned around. Black strands of hair were stuck to his exposed forehead as his head was tilted back exposing his neck, lips parted as he heaved. His eyes were feral, red and fully dilated, as his brows knitted, and you could assume from frustration. He didn’t want you to see him this way as it was difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

“Are you alright?” You struggled to keep your voice stable

“You need to go now!” He commanded. The room because of him felt smaller than you remember, despite being in here not long ago. It was as if his being was an extension of the shadows as it crept the whole width of the room. His jaw clenched trembling with restraint.

“No, I’m not leaving.” You stated with confidence you weren’t sure. “I can’t, I can’t keep turning away and taking no for an answer.” You swallowed the words almost stuck in your throat. “Who are you? Why…why didn’t you tell me? Is this…is this why you kept pushing me away?” Tears began pricking at the corner of your eye.

The coal in his eyes returned with a sense of vulnerability accompanied by a ring of gold before it dissolved. He was silent, but you weren’t going to allowed it. You were tired, tired of rejection and being left in the dark. You tried reaching for him, “Please, Jin.”

“STAY BACK! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” He tossed his head back with a vicious snarl. Moment by moment he began to look wilder and more deranged as he shivered backing further into the corner. “Leave!”

“Jin your scaring me.” You retracted your hand back holding it to chest as if it would protect yourself. Jimin said he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew Jin wouldn’t hurt you.

He heaved strenuous breathes, imploring you, “You should leave.”

He appeared to be in a lot of pain and it was concerning. Reason caught up to you. Should you get Jimin? Jimin would know what to do. But you didn’t want to leave, what if he collapsed. “No. Let me get Jimin, he can help.”

At that he faltered, and he let out a high-pitched whine. “NO! Don’t go near him!” He couldn’t control it anymore. It was taking over. He had been resisting it for so long, trying to hide this part of himself from the world—from you. But you-- were the trigger. His knees caved and buckled until he collapsed knees spread hands in front of him for support. “I can’t—I can’t control it any—!” He let out another high pitch whine that turned into another vicious snarl. His nails scratched at the floor scrapping and causing curls of wood to coil in its trail. He sat up with flinging his head back as his spine arched. His bones began cracking and snapping as they reformed and elongate. You watched in horror as his skin shifted and his physique grew and filled out. His shirt tore as his already wide shoulders and chest expanded; pieces were hanging by the thread. His pants ripped at the outer and inner seams but remained on in his kneeling position. The sound of cracking and snapping had stopped; his already tall height had increased by at least another foot. His muscles grew and shoulders were impossibly wider to accommodate for his shifting into a giant.

Moonlight illuminated his kneeling figure that poured in from the frosted panes as night finally settled in. His name sat on the tip of your tongue just when you thought it was over. Instantly his tan skin then erupted in dark spots like ink soaking into a canvas. This part seemed to not be painful as he made no sound of protest. It began at his fingertips until it simultaneously became one and replaced his skin color with a color akin to charcoal migrating up his hand and forearm; it paused at his elbow and through the tears and holes in his shirt you could see the dark color began to branch off like veins over his upper arm as it trailed up. It looked like armor but engrained in his flesh as it settled.

Hidden under his sleeves it reappeared, creeping up his neck like veins. The pigment crept up his neck and over his jaw and marked half his face in an uneven crawl of black pigmented veins. At the same time his chest glistened as his torn shirt billowed around him as the veins began to trail on his chest towards his heart. Over his heart under his skin a circular patch began to glow white hot as Jin let out a guttural groan. It morphed and looked like molten fire was underneath and the shadow veins began encasing around it connected the fire to the rest of his body. It pulsed alongside his heartbeat.

Jin’s jaw suddenly unhinged open in a silent scream. From the pulsing core in a single hard pulse the fire like molt spread the molten glow replacing main shadow veins that were adjacent to major veins. Large strips over his arms were filled until it ended at the tip of his middle finger on both arms. A similar fire vein began creeping up his neck next to his jugular, over his jaw and up over his eye until it stopped at his hairline. It appeared like a molten scar down his face.

He had fought off the shift so long, only allowing small episodes, but he hadn’t shifted fully in years. It was overcoming him in such a powerful wave he had never experienced before. His sweaty black hair hung in tendrils front of his eyes as he heaved. The shift was complete.

This…this was your answer. This…was what a Guerra truly is. This was Jin.

This whole time you thought you had imagined that, a child’s rendition of a Guerra, a monster. You had thought they were only human like, but in all truth you were unaware of what made them different. This being hiding under a sheep’s skin. It was simply an apartheid to you. A giant shadow with glowing red eyes. The fire, the heat, it all made sense. You had seen them before and it wasn’t your imagination. Jin was…the word slipped from your lips. “Guerra.”

His head lifted eerily slow until his eyes met yours. When he opened his eyes blearily one was glowing red and the other, the shadowed was gold like the vein.

“Are you afraid?” In a strained voice he asked. “Want to run now? Now that you see the monster that I am.”

You shook your head side to side hands clenched at your chest. In all truth you weren’t afraid, not like you were earlier. The imagination and unknown were more terrifying than the truth. You knew the history, what they had done to your family, but that…that wasn’t Jin. He was still Jin. “No.”

Parroting you, “No?”

You slowly walked towards him despite the soft growls he emitted with each breath. In this form his senses were heightened and he could hear your heart beating hard in your chest. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. His senses heightened in this new form. It smelled so sweet and enticing. He remained still fighting his baser self. You slumped down onto your knees in front of him. From this close up he looked even more formidable as if he had manifested from the cracks of Anise. Sweat began beading at your hairline from the heat he was radiating. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra. I just—you lied to me. You never told me about this. Why? Why did you hide this from me?”

He shook his head, growling under his breath in an attempt to scare and evade you.

Feeling bold you reached forward placing your hand over his.  The simple touch had him shivering as he attempted to control the feeling of power thrumming through him. The inky skin felt calloused at contact, but oddly smooth when your smaller hand twined over his hand. His growling ceased as your simple touch had him slumping slightly forward towards you and it eased the tension in his being; tamed in an instant by your simple touch. You had so much control over him and you didn’t even know it.

His voice was deeper than you were used to as he spoke. “I had to hide it from you Butterfly. I’m not the only one Tae, Kook and Namjoon are Guerra too. We all have to hide it because of me—because of my family.”

You controlled your expression regardless of how much that additional fact hurt as much. They had hid it from you too. You kept quiet waiting for him to continue. When he reopened his eyes after taking a moment of silence, they sought yours in an act of bravery; pain swirled with the burgundy and it gripped your heart.  

“The Guerra used to fight in wars against the Titans to protect the universe—even humans. We are peaceful people, it’s in our blood to be protectors. Papa had told me that we were until the new rule took over and our race became…murderers. Invading planets, colonizing and destroying isn’t how we were supposed to be.”

You sat back on your feet trying to take your hand back but he didn’t let you. He tightened his grip around your hand and you returned the feeling to assure him you weren’t going anywhere.

“My family were personal guards for the royals for generations, but when my father saw that humans were being killed senselessly he couldn’t support stand by the regime anymore. It wasn’t who we were, Guerra—we don’t hurt. We don’t hurt unless someone hurts us or our loved ones.” He voice shook hurrying his words and making them almost indescribable. His thumb was running over the back of your hand in an act of self-soothing. He licked his lips before he began, knowing what he was about to say would probably hurt you, “The war.”

Your hand squeezed his back at the mentioning like he expected. His hands itched pull you into him, protect you from the truth, but for now he had to be content holding you like this; because you may not want to much longer. His head tipped down and his long, black hair curtained over his face. “Our parents…started it.”

Your eyes widened impossibly. Panic settling within you as the painful grip his eyes wrapped around your heart squeezed. “Jin, what? What are you saying?”

He shook his head, strong voice pulling your attention back center, “Listen Butterfly, I know this is a lot, but I need you to listen. You wanted to hear it, and I’m telling the truth.”

“Tell me.”

“Kook’s dad was also a guard with my dad and they both worked together to gather evidence against the regime. His mom was a maid in the palace and would sneak letters to Joon’s dad who worked for the universal courts. They were building a case against the regime.”

“My father found out the regime had been planning a genocide. A full take over Anise to erase all the humans. My father had Kook’s human mother spread the word amongst other palace maids and it spread quickly outside the palace. Kook’s dad was a Guerrian guard too and called his friend, Joon’s dad, who was a member of the universal courts and told him of the conspiracy. They warned people, but it was too late, the war had started and they captured my father. They killed my father and Kook’s…my mother died sacrificing herself to save me and Papa. This house was my mom’s house before she was sold off to the palace to work. Tae’s family was upper Guerrian, an old friend of my parents, who were entrusted to help us escape the palace and come here.”

The face of your mother comes to mind. The face of your father you had lost to the red letter. Your siblings. The ones who came in for tattoos. So many people had been lost.

“After the war the courts made it illegal for Guerra to shift to protect the humans, but there was so much….destruction, so much pain left. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He slipped his hands from yours as he looked at his hands with detest. He clenched his fist and the core on his chest brightened. “The war may be over, but its not for me—for us. There’s another uprising soon and the regime plans to strike again. The regime still has plans and if they found out, that a Kim and the others involved in the coup had survived then they would come for me—and you if you were with me. I’d be killed on the spot.“

Tears flowed freely as you sobbed. It explained so much and filled so many gaps. Your heart ached immensely you had no idea he was holding in so much. There was so much you had no idea about, yet the underlying emotion of fear was present. You could lose him, there was another war on the horizon. You could lose him like you lost everyone else. You could only whimper his name.

He sighed and smiled as he wiped your tears. You were too kind with a heart that was too big. It was something he had always loved about you. His hot hands cupped the side of your face, they were so large it curled around the side of your head. “I did this to protect you. You are not safe with me, Butterfly.”

You leaned your head into his touch with your hand going over his and the other on his wrist to hold him to you. You hadn’t realized how much he was holding in and how painful it must’ve been. He had the others, but you know the loneliness he must’ve felt not having his parents and to suddenly carry such a heavy burden. You didn’t have words for how badly you felt for him, but you knew you felt so much. You felt brazen and nothing mattered anymore that everything was out now. “I love you Jin. I don’t want to be without you.”

Hearing the words he feared the most he pulled away from you. In the haste of his motions his torn shirt fell off him like scraps further exposing his shadowed body. Molten veins were pulsing faster along with his core mimicking his heartrate, but the most intense radiation came from the scar like vein that transverse his face. They were glowing at you as his expression scrunched. “You don’t get it! I can’t drag you into this. They’ll kill you too Butterfly. They’ll kill you!” He stood up and your face barely came up his knees. His torn pants were hanging loosely around his waist, and you could see more of the veins shadow and molten on his body through the rips. Shifting on his heels he began backing away from you. He felt the need to defend his one last secret he had been guarding carefully with his whole soul for years. His tone flat, “Leave. Leave and don’t come back.”

His words were like a catalyst causing you to stand up. There was much to fear in life, but you were exhausted letting it be the ultimate hurdle. You were afraid of the future, but a future without him was terrifying. He backed up with every step you took forward to maintain that vital proximity. “I don’t care!” You shouted over his rambling. Tears streamed down your face again. “Don’t, don’t make me leave again. I can’t do it again. None of this scare me, nothing scares me more than not being with you. I don’t care that you’re a Guerra, or that I could be in danger by being with you. None of that compares to the pain of being without you! I was miserable at Jimin’s. I couldn’t—can’t stop thinking about you. Everyone, everyone threw me away, even my own family, and the only time I’ve felt like someone cared was when I was with you. Don’t… leave me too…please. I love you.”

Each declaration chipped away as him like he was taking bullets. You could see his face soften as his resolve was crumbling. It was minute but you caught it, you knew him like the back of your hand. It was the same one before he always caved and did whatever you asked. You moved forward going on your tippy toes as you grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him down to you forcefully. Your lips met skin, but it wasn’t his lips. You had missed his lips and had planted your lips against his chin. You pulled away sitting back on your heels but your hands were still on his shoulders. You head dropped as disappointment overwhelmed you. “Ha, I’m still a child after all.”

He tipped your chin back, his red eyes meeting yours with so many intense emotions love, sorrow, adoration, and fear. You were fearless, always doing whatever your heart desired. You were braver than he could ever be. He was afraid just as much as you were, but here you were jumping into his truth with no gripes. He held you there, held you in his eyes as if the world was within yours. With each second that passed, his feelings of guilt and remorse began to leave him. “No.”

He dipped down capturing your lips in a gentle press hoping to convey all his thoughts. All air left your lungs and it kicked your heart into overdrive. He gently moved his lips against yours and you could only describe his mouth against yours as a furnace. You were unsure of what do as you had never kissed before. Coming to your senses you began moving your lips against his plump lips softly and hesitantly. Skinship was casual between you too, but this level of intimacy was new to you. A low, drawn out groan that held a mix of relief, happiness escaped him as he felt you reciprocated. His hand that was under your chin shifted as he gently cupped your neck. Although you didn’t want to you pulled away for air overwhelmed and unprepared.

“Butterfly,” he whispered huskily against your lips. The air around you grew warmer if possible and heavier around you, and it felt familiar yet new with the desire that began to well within you.

He dipped down and picked you up as if you weighted nothing, his strong arms barely flexing in the motion. Earlier he had to strain and lean down and hunch over to meet your lips. You naturally wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. Jin’s body had always felt overheated to you, but it meant safe and security. It had your body heating up with arousal. He mumbled to himself almost, “You’re so small—so precious Butterfly.” You wanted to refute, you were quite average for a human, but he gave you no such chance.

“Jin—mpf!” He chased your lips this time with unrestrained desire and furiously that had you gasping and glad he was holding you securely to him. Your nails scratched unwittingly against his thick neck and tangling your fingers in his wet hair causing a long, low groan to rumble from deep in his throat. The vibrations sent desire thrumming through your veins. If this was what kissing was like you were upset, you hadn’t done this sooner. His tongue poked out and swept over your bottom lip before he took it between his teeth. It had you moaning tightening your grip in his hair that had him reciprocating the sound. He had greater lung capacity than you and it was evident in the way his voracious kissing never let up. Everything was happening so fast, but you were willingly falling in. You escaped his lips and when you pulled away there was a borderline animalistic growl he released. You couldn’t help the chuckle you released at his sound. You rested your forehead against his and holding his cheek. Teasing him back, “So precious.” He lightly tapped your thigh catching onto the gest. You pecked his lips as you giggled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathes mixed and he was staring at your puffy and bruised lips. Prideful that it was his doing. “Mine.” His hands tightened on your legs and slid up your tights trusting you to stay put. He gripped and kneaded your hips and you gasped at the possessive touch. A wave of heat went up your spine as you shivered, calling his name. A smirked pulled at his lips, he liked the way that sounded. His lips continued as he kissed the corner of your mouth moving to your jaw. His mouth trailed down until he pressed searing, sloppy kisses on your neck suckling and leaving marks behind. A needy whine that melted into a moan left your lips as he scrapped your hypersensitive flesh with his teeth.

He panted against your neck, unable to hold back his thoughts. “This is wrong.” Despite his protest his tongue poked out tasting your skin. He showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. Your hands squeezed his muscular shoulders holding onto him tighter. You felt small and vulnerable against this expansive figure. You whispered into his ear as you leaned forward. “If this is wrong then I don’t want what’s right.”

He pulled his face from your neck and met your eyes with a look you had seen customers give Anemonas—lust. You knew he saw the reciprocal want there. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me Butterfly. Do you know what you’re doing to me, what you do to me?” He rested his forehead against yours pecking your lips, all for himself so he wouldn’t succumb to the ravenous urges. He had surrendered fully to you. He adjusted you in his arms pulling you closer. In the action your chest brushed up against his and your crotch pressed against his member that had been forming. You mewled tucking your face into his neck at the arousal it sent through you. He chuckled at the cute reaction. He knew you were a virgin. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You shook your head, “I want this. I’ve waited for you long enough. I want all of you.”

He was back on you. He kissed you deeply weaving one of his calloused, inky hands on the back of your neck so he could deepen the kiss further. Night had settled in encasing everything in darkness with the lanterns unlit in the dark room, but you both hadn’t noticed the change. He was radiating a bright copper light from his being. It was enough to cast a mood light as if he was a lantern burning. You didn’t realize he was moving too lost in the feeling of him. The futon was still laid out from your session. Carefully he sat down with you straddling his lap, the whole time he was aware of your back. The skirt you wore had ridden up so far it was exposing nearly all your lower half. He chuckled when you whined as he broke the kiss, the irony. He teased nosing around your temples then neck taking in your scent that was getting sweeter. “You couldn’t stay away could you, Butterfly? You couldn’t listen to me huh?” You mewled as he squeezed your hips. His hands trailed up falling in the dips and curves of your body.

When his hands began to caress your sides, you felt as if your heart was beating outside of your body. It drummed manically, alive only to the sensation of his touch. How long had your body craved for this? Imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on you like this? Even his touch above the material of your robe was enough to suffice and have you feeling manic internally. You felt him everywhere, his palms burning their way to the skin. Over your robe his hands cupped your breast, thumbs rubbing over your nipples. They hardened under the motion. Your thighs squeezed around his muscular ones as you moaned. Your arousal was building as you felt your core stirring.

“I’ve thought about this before.”

Something in your stomach flipped. “R-really?” You stuttered as his warm hands kneaded harder. He kept his eyes on you while he kneaded and pinched at your nipples watching your reactions.

He chuckled lightly, “There’s so much I want to do you.”

“I want to touch, kiss every inch and hold all of you and feel you bare against me.” You had never heard lewd words coming from his mouth before.

You wanted that too. You reached up and undid the knot of your robe and let it fall from your shoulders. You held your hands over your chest, what if your chest wasn’t too his liking?

As if he could hear your thoughts, “Your beautiful my little human.”

You flushed at the nickname and pulled your hands away from your chest, trusting him. You allowed the sleeves to completely fall off you, robe forgotten. He went for your waist instead of grabbing at your breast like you expected. It was always what the men at the Inn did. They always groped at them as if they were drowning, but Jin held your waist still so gently. The looked mesmerized as if he had never seen a more beautiful sight and it had your heart skipping a few beats. “Beautiful, Butterfly.” Your eyes met, and you felt no shame, only love.

“Touch me.”

His hands caressed your abdomen with featherlight touches, although the slight callous to his hands were a welcoming friction. His fingers cupped your breast fully spilling into his welcoming hands. He massaged lightly and pinched at your nipples. Light pleasure traveled into your lower half filling the reservoir. His mouth accompanied his hands. His tongue delicately brushed against your right nipple. Your back arched into the feeling. His tongue felt hot as he teased it around the nipple before his lips encompassed it and he suckled. He took his time tasting you as he moved to your other breast when he felt the other had been marked enough and nibbled to tenderness. He looked up to you and his blazing, wild eyes had you moaning, he looked like he wanted to devour you.

It didn’t sound real to his ears the soft sounds of your moans and mewling. It had him wanting it more, and louder. He released your breast with a soft pop and his mouth was lightly glistening with his own saliva. While holding your unfocused gazed in his he trailed one hand down your navel finding your center over your skirt as he cupped you. You gasped, “I want to see all of you.” He had his hands dipping into the waist band of your skirt and tearing it along with your underwear. It ripped like wet paper as he tossed them somewhere in the room. “Jin!”

You whimpered instantly surprised by his strength again. In that moment you were reminded you were with a Guerra. You tried closing your legs but because of your position it didn’t allow you too.

“Don’t care, need you.” He didn’t want to afford having you moving off him. He inhaled taking in the scent of your arousal and his eye color deepened from red to a blood orange. “Gods, you smell divine.” He whined, suddenly pleading with you, “Please, butterfly, let me touch you. Please.”

You couldn’t resist, as much as you felt shy you wanted to feel him. You wanted it too. You nodded. He shook his head, “Say it. I need you to say it.”

“Touch me Jin.” You got out breathily. He groaned, enjoying the sound of it coming from you.

One finger dipped between your legs and ran up and down your slit. His touch was hot and it didn’t take him long to switch to two fingers coating both of his hands in your slick. “So wet for me little human.” You flinched every time he ran his fingers over your clit. He was so Intune with you as he quickly picked up on your reactions and what had you mewling as he swirled his fingers over your clit in a circular motion. His other hand had trialed back up and was groping at one of your breasts in time with his other hand. His mouth latched onto your neglected breast biting softly at the nipple before he suckled it to soothe the ache. You were drowning in euphoria at his simple touches. “So sensitive.” He commented out loud unaware he was even speaking. You moaned as he played with your body expertly.  You had a moment of wonder. How did he know how to touch you so well. How did he know the female body so well when you hadn’t seen or heard of him having any partners? You pushed against his shoulders as your breast made a resounding pop out of his mouth. You combed his hair with your fingers, “Did you?”

He looked up, breathing hot air over your nipple unwilling to part with your body. You resisted the urge to flinch at the tingling feeling. Gulping, embarrassed by your insecure feelings. “Did you…with her, that woman that night?”

He was lost in the furrows of lust it took him a moment to register what you were asking. He laughed sitting up straight finding your eyes level with him. You hated that he was laughing, but he placated you quickly. “No.”

He spoke honestly, “I’ve laid with women before, but I never enjoyed it, not like this. Nothing will ever compare to this, to you. I never loved them. It was to rid myself of my urges for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I only want you.”

Oddly, you didn’t care that he had others, because right now you were here—and going to be forever. You froze in his lap, did he, did he just say he loved you?

Tears pricked at your eyes again, “You love me?”

He smiled, “I do.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you were bubbling over with happiness as a stray tear fell. You pressed your lips to his and he returned the gesture eagerly laughing lightly at first at your excitement. Your bare chest pressed together and it felt so good feeling his bare skin. You felt like melting. His head tipped down exposing his thickened neck as he moaned. The veins on his neck looked like rivers of fire and deep canyons in where the shadow veins took place. You wanted to kiss it like he had yours. Your lips pressed gently over his and it had his eyes rolling back. The fire river like veins that trailed adjacent to his jugular were sensitive. His hips twitched rubbing against your bareness and it had you clutching at his shoulders tightly as you moaned louder than you had before. He made a similar nose under his breath. Egged on by the sound you kissed his neck generously until his skin was damp. You were surprised that despite the change his skin tasted like skin. Although there were hints of smokiness to him now along with his natural floral scent.

He allowed your hands to trail around his chest and large shoulders feeling his skin. His skin felt so soft until you reached the inked skin that felt slightly calloused. One thing that always had struck you odd was that Jin never had any tattoos, now you understood why. His bare torso was a sight to behold and the shadow and molt designs were predatorial. You let your hand trail down his chest and settle over his crotch. A strangled noise left him. He let you experiment and run your hands over the bulge. “Let me see you too. I want to see you Jin.” You were curious, you had seen human male client’s nude before on accident, you wondered if Guerrian anatomy were similar. You assumed as much since their non shifted form was human-like. Just from the outline you already had an idea he was large. “Please. I want to make you feel good too Jin.” You were too cute to resist.

From underneath you he used his hands and ripped his pants apart and tossed the flaps around. He wasn’t wearing undergarments. His length was standing erect against his navel. When you finally saw it you felt a mix of emotions thrill, anticipation and fear. The length and thickness was intimidating, but his large size must be normal for a Guerrian. Surely, he was much larger than the males you saw at the Inn, but that may have been down to your inexperience. His cock was just a bit darker than his natural skin color, but at the thick base the inky pigment ombred into his skin color. On the shaft smaller capillaries of fire ran up the shaft to the tip. Two, large, adjacent shadow and molten veins ran on the underside of his cock leading to the bulbous tip and disappearing into the slit. The tip was leaking thick fluid that was almost gelatinous.

Late at night when service was done sometimes the other servant girls would stay up and talk in your room. Some tips and trades were exchanged that weren’t recipes that they had gathered from Anemonas. Pulling from your bank you grabbed the base of his cock and your fingertips barely touched and it already felt heavy in your hands. It swelled slightly growing firmer in your touch.

“Ah-fuck, Butterfly!” You retracted your hand thinking you hurt him. His cock made a resounding slap against his stomach as you let go. He grasped your wrist, “No, don’t stop, it’s okay. It-it feels good.”

You nodded grasping him again and his expression scrunched. Your small hand felt great, even though your grip was loose. It was you touching him and that already had him on edge. He felt like he could cum any moment.  

“Is this good?”

He groaned, nodding, gods, you were so innocent and it made him wan to defile you even more.

You ran your hand up and down the shaft using the precum that had leaked over the tip to coat him in his own esscence. Out of curiosity, you brought up your fingers coated in his precum to your lips and wrapped your lips around his fingers. The salty, bitterness that greeted your taste buds was a harsh contrast to what you had imagined. The girls always in the throes of it had moaned how good they tasted. It wasn’t bad, just unexpected. You are swallowing every little drop of precum from your fingers.

He lost it as if awakening the feral Guerrian part within himself he had been controlling. He grabbed your hand as it reached for his cock again. He grunted, huffing through his teeth, “Next time.” You whined trying to reach for him again, his grip tightened on you. His eyes were blown out wide, “Butterfly. Next time.” He kissed your pouting lips. “Right now, I want to feel you.”  

You shifted over his crotch, but his hand found itself between your legs again. You looked at him questioning. “I need to prepare you to receive me.” You blushed at your eagerness then nodded in understanding. Switching back to one, his finger circling your entrance carefully. You could hear yourself, sticky as you coated the pad of his finger, and you fidgeted, wanting more but still feeling nervous. On cue, he slipped the digit inside you. Your velvet walls squeezed around the intrusion and you winced. His fingers were smaller than his cock, but way bigger than your own fingers. You whined, but he pressed kisses to your lips gently pulling you in a passionate make out. His finger began moving deeper within you and he swallowed each of your noises. “If you can’t take my fingers how are you supposed to take my cock, little human?” You panicked thinking he wasn’t going to put it in you. “No, Jin, I can take it. I can take you.”

He smirked, but underneath he was also a bit concnerned. You were so small compared to his current figure. If he was in his human form there was only a small difference, but he couldn’t shift back now. You grinded against his hand sending a wave of pleasure overriding the pain. The dulcet sound encouraged him, to continue prepping you. This time your walls accepted him sucking his finger in with a desperate need, locking him in placed. He explored you a little, dragging and rubbing inside you, trying to stretch you for what was to come.

“Let me add another finger.” You nodded as you felt him pull his digit out and press another finger up to your twitching entrance. He pressed in and the initial sting hurt as well as the push inside. He rubbed your hip with his other hand in soothing circles. Shifting his hand around he pressed at your clit with his thumb rubbing similar circles. You moaned into the touch as his fingers began to sink into your cunt. He began pumping his fingers into you and the reserve you had been building was soon becoming too much. You had no idea this could be so pleasurable. The woman at the Inn never bragged that sex was this great, always stating it was dull at most.

“Jin? Jin somethings happening, something’s coming.”

He captured your lips increasing the pumping of his fingers and circling around your clit. “Come for me Butterfly, come all over my fingers.”  

Your walls clenched around his fingers and suddenly you were bursting, creaming all over his fingers. He slowed his pace down a bit until you whined. Both of your eyes were blown out and unfocused already despite him still not having his cock in you. The pleasure was already so good. Your scent of arousal had flooded the room and it was making his brain hazy. He pulled his fingers out of you and popping them into his mouth. He groaned at the sweet taste of your essence. It was like junq and cream. It was just as sweet as the rest of you. “My fucking gods Butterfly you taste so good.”

You were panting body still twitching over him. Oddly you didn’t feel exhausted but you wanted more, you wanted more of him. As if he could sense it he captured your lips pressing you for a lasting kiss mixing your tongues. You could taste yourself on his tongue but you didn’t mind it. “Butterfly, I want to lay you down, kiss every inch of you. Taste every inch of you. But for right now, I want you to ride me.”

You nodded and with his help you hovered above his tip, letting him settle against your opening. He moved his cock against your slit collecting your previous cream. “Do you want my cock little human?” He asked still keeping a seductive tone, but he was worried, holding your hips in place.

“Yes, I want this.”

You took his cock from his hand and brought it up to your entrance. You were trembling slighty but you pressed down letting your hips fall. His fingers were definitely smaller than his cock, but you were glad he prepped you. He watched you letting you take him at your pace. The sting burned and you felt like you were going to rip as you kept taking in his tip. With the head in you paused chest heaving at the tight fit. You struggled, feeling a little foolish. He was strong as he was supporting your whole body weight with a single arm while he leaned back on the other to get a better look at you. He groaned at the way he watched your pussy suck in his cock and it disappeared in you. You paused with just the tip of him in. You were so tight holding him in a vice grip. He felt like a young Guerrian again, he felt like he could come at any second but he fought hard against it. With encouraging words to distract himself and to help you slowly you sunk fully onto him to the base. His cock was so hot, hotter than the rest of his body and it was throbbing within you. Unable to resist anymore he pressed his hips upwards sinking further into you until his whole cock was in you. You cried out loud back arching as you could feel him all the way in your stomach.

You felt heavenly. He pulled you closer to by the waist and encouraged you to wrap your arms around him. The slight motion had you whining but he hushed and assured you. His lips found yours, unable to resist, as his tongue and yours moved against one another.

“You don’t belong in anyone else’s arms but mine.”

You squeezed at his shoulders.

“Ready?”

You nodded and with the help of his hands on your hips he dragged you up to the tip of his cock. On the drag down moans tumbled forth from your parted lips, mouth dropped open at the intense pleasure. His grip on your hips tightened as he helped you repeat the action and soon you were riding him. You were fucking him  He moaned your name. Hearing him use it in this context set your body alight. He proved to you just how much he liked what you were doing, no matter how inexperienced you were by being vocal. You hadn’t expected that from him as he was normally quiet and introverted.

“Turn over for me.”

Carefully you twisted in his lap and the noise his cock slipping out of you was sloppy enough with the mix of both of your juice it had a flush rising to your cheeks. You allowed him to move you so that your back was facing him. Gently his fingers moved over your freshly tattooed skin. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the center of your back, one for each butterfly. You were gorgeous in his eyes, nothing could compare to you. “My Butterfly.” He kept moving you until you were on all fours, ass up and bent just right for him. With his other hand he brought his cock back to your entrance and pressed inside you. It had you moaning at the new feeling and it felt he was going deeper inside you. Slowly he maneuvered so you could get used to it before he was pounding into you. You felt encompassed by his large being. Your elbows collapsed under you as your face was on the mattress. You turned around looking over your shoulder. He looked delirious as he pumped himself into you. It had your walls clamping down on his length. He grunted losing himself in the pleasure.

“Gonna cum Butterfly?” You nodded. He reached around your front fingers finding your clit. It had you mewling and squirming. He pressed down onto you nearly laying himself over you as he kissed your shoulder.

“My good little human. Mine. All mine.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore as you came. His cock swelled slightly, molten vein within you brightening as he neared his end. A high pitch whine escaped you as he increased his pace. “Jin! Oh my gods, Jin!” He thrusted harder and deeper inside you. He was lost in the pleasure. His pace was becoming sloppy as he came coating you walls in his thick cum. He twitched above you as he kept cumming, filling you fully with his seed.

You whined as you collapsed underneath him. His cock slipped out of you, but you both didn’t care about the mess. He fell next to you on the mattress, both of you were heaving. Turning you over carefully onto your side so you were face to face with him he brought you into his chest with his hand draped over your waist. You were beyond sweating and overheating, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be in his embrace. Your hands rested on his chest. He dipped his head down and your lips lazily worked against one another.

Pulling away, you blinked sleepily. His eyes were trained on you with a similar soft expression.

“I love you.” In a raspy voice that sounded heavy with sleep, he confessed.

You giggled pecking his lips. “I love you too.”  

You blinked as light shined in from the porch resting the urge to tuck yourself back into the comforter. You turned over onto your side sitting up, pushing the hair back from your face. Inhaling deeply fresh air. You look towards the source of light that ultimately woke you up coming in from the porch. You promised yourself it was only going to be a short nap, but the sky outside was already darkening.

Jin’s wide shoulders were hunched over as you could see one of his arms moving. You crawled over towards him. He had set up station on the porch as the weather had gotten much warmer. When you reached him you wrapped your arms his waist plopping your chin over his shoulder. You peeked his cheek, “Hello.”

He hummed twisting his head around to peck your lips quickly. “I didn’t want to wake you, you were sleeping so good.”

You groaned but it was endearing to him. You planted your chin back on his shoulder. He held your hands tightly still. His black inked hands with the fire veins exposed freely as he worked.

“Something came for you.”

You perked up at that. He let go of one of your hands and dug into his robe coat pulling out a letter. He held it between his fingers. “It’s for you.”

You lit up at the sight of the letter. Had Cherry written you? You wondered if her and Hoseok had finally tied the knot since they moved from the city. You crawled around front and sat yourself in his lap and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You flipped it over a few times, it had your name on it but it was addressed from a place you didn’t recognize. For sure this letter wasn’t from Cherry.

“Who’s it from? Are you sure this is the right Y/n?”

He propped his head on your shoulder like you had earlier. “It’s right.”

You pulled at the side seal and dug your finger in ripping it open. You pulled out a letter and quietly read it over. He tightened his grip around your waist as you were the quietest you’ve ever been. Your eyes grew bleary and tears began to slip down your cheek. You turned around in Jin’s lap, hand shaking, “How? How did you?”

He smiled wiping your tears from your eyes. “I had to do a lot of research, but I found her. I sent her a our wedding picture. She sent her blessings and this letter for you.”

You were ugly sobbing as you pressed your face into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. Your mother hadn’t forgotten about you and was very proud of you as she wrote in her letter. She was proud of all you had done for humans and Guerrian alike. In the letter she said she had tried looking for you but wasn’t allowed into the capital all those years ago. She never stopped thinking about you. With the liberation and breaking of the apartheid after the two-year war a few years ago, she was finally free to come to the capital and she wanted to meet you. Your siblings are doing well. There was nothing about your father. But this letter, that’s more than you could’ve ever asked for.

He held you tightly in his arms. When your tears dried you leaned back and pecked his lips. “I-you’re—I-I love you so much.”

He smiled and captured your lips with his, “I love you too.”

You smiled clutching the letter closer to you. Shyly you pulled back holding out your forearm. “Paint one for me?”

He took your arm and pecked the skin, “Anything for you Butterfly.”

The ink was always cold, but his warm hand was enough to counter it. With a last stroke he painted a butterfly on you. You held your arm up to the sky that was painted in an array of colors welcoming the sunset.

Everything was alright.

Copyright 2020 by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[jjyusmile]

muse on film | lee juyeon

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ meltingjukyu’s spooky season ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

pairing: filmstudent!juyeon x {gender neutral} reader!

words: 1,696

notes: this was requested by my writing inspo @juyeonzz​​ ♥

warning: slight jump scare for reader! 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

how did you end up here?

standing in juyeon’s bathroom with both hands attempting to open your eyelid wide enough to get the lens to catch in the mirror. with the make-up scattered across the surface by the sink, it was your fifth attempt to get your eyes to change from the original shade to a deep gold. the shadows that lined your eyes made the process much harder as you attempted not to smudge the masterpiece that juyeon had shaded moments before.

huffing, you placed the lens back into its pot and looked at yourself in the mirror with your palms gripping the edge of the sink. why did he choose you to be his muse? you weren’t photogenic by any means.

gazing at your reflection, you took in the black liner smudged under your eyes by juyeon’s handy work. he texted you after class if you could help him out with his photography project for the fall midterm. the concept was the alternate shadows that lurk behind us; you had already shot your mundane pictures, next came you as the shadows that juyeon would edit for his portfolio.

the knock at the door followed by a murmur of your name drew you out of your daydreaming. “hey- uh. are you okay?”

his soft voice echoed through the wood as he began to turn the handle to his bathroom to make a slight crack in the door to check you were okay. his palm wrapped around the door as his head peaked through, his blonde hair flopping over his eyes in an endearing way that made your heart swell.

the soft smile that settled on his lips made you feel more at ease. it had always been like that with him – the boy that conveniently sat beside you at lunch and introduced you to his friends during the first week at school. the one who made you feel welcome when you didn’t quite fit in with the others.

“um, yeah. I just can’t get the lens to stay in place…” you trailed off, hoping he would catch onto your subtle cry for help, a sheepish look on your face.

with that, he pushed his way further into the small bathroom and stood infront of you inspecting the lens that he had lifted from the surface. humming in thought, he shifted awkwardly on the spot at you stared at the lens case – would you find it weird? he pondered.

“wou-“

“could you help me put them in?” your eyes were more puppy-like than intended, completely juxtaposing the idea of turning you into a shadow. he exhaled in relaxation as you voiced the thoughts that whirled through his mind.

he smiled the juyeon smile and you hoped he wouldn’t hear your heart do a somersault in place as he stepped a little closer to you. as he breached 6 ft he made your height look mediocre. you titled your head upwards in instinct as he carefully placed one of the golden orbit contacts on his ring finger in preparation.

without thinking, he inched slightly closer so that his face was hovering just above your own. as you looked up, you noticed the way his eyes twinkled in the orange haze that emited from the bathroom light above you. but he was solely focused on the lens itself, he barely noticed that you hadn’t looked away.

he brought his left hand to your cheek with his thumb grazing your cheekbone, holding your head still for a swift placement of the lens. his breathing remained calm as he focused on trying not to hurt you, with a light exhaling that fanned over your forehead. you felt an odd sense of comfort as his thumb absentmindedly brushed against your cheekbone.

he pulled away all too quickly once he had fixed one lens to which you jumped away trying not to get caught red handed. the second lens went slightly smoother than the first; although in a similar position, he got the hang of it quickly speeding up the process.

“there you go,” he chuckled as you blinked rapidly as the orbs of gold settled in pleasantly. he found himself staring at you distractedly as his gaze brushed over your features; the make-up he had brushed against your delicate features had sharpened lines making you appear less human and more fae. the subtle glimmer that came naturally to the lenses had turned you into the mythical fairie he had imagined for his project. 

you were the perfect muse.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

you had followed juyeon out of his back garden and over the flattened wire fence that sat behind his apartment. trailing along the path that led into a wooded area, the sun had set long ago, leaving an eerie darkness in its wake. juyeon didn’t seem phased by your sudden rigidity as he set up his equipment by the willow tree. that told you he had been out here plenty of times before in preparation for this shoot.

you sat idle under the tree with your pleather coated legs sprawled out in front of you awkwardly. the wind blew in a light breeze, dragging small leaves from the tree toward the floor, surrounding the floor around you in a feathers coat of grey.

“perfect,” he muttered to himself as he finished setting up the tripod, so quietly that you almost missed it. the subtle click of the shutter told you he was taking a few practice shots to get the right frame.

as you waited instruction from your very handsomely awkward looking photographer, you blew air up toward your hair as the wind knocked a few strands out of place. you hadn’t noticed the thumping footsteps from juyeon’s boots as he wandered toward you, startling you as he bend down to brush the strands away with his finger.

“don’t move,” he whispered, his eyes locking with your own and his fingertips lingering against your temple. “you’re right where I want you.”

the pounding in your chest not quite differentiating the double-meaning.

almost an hour later, as your confidence shone more, juyeon was taking the final pictures for his portfolio. the night had fallen into a quiet. sifting through the display on his camera, juyeon smiled shyly to himself as he noticed the way the lenses accentuated each of your perfect features.

clearing away his equipment, wrapping up a wire for one of his studio lights, he turned to you and noticed how absentminded you had become staring up through the eerie branches of the trees and into the night sky. a cheeky plan came to mind and he snuck behind the tree without you looking.

as you began to focus more on your surroundings, you gazed at the open space around you, the forest floor scattered with wilting leaves and shrubs. you eyed the camera equipment that sat beside the tree and looked around to find its owner. a gust of wind flittered through your surroundings and over your spine in a chilling sensation. you wrapped your arms around yourself in a protect manner to protect you from the gruesome wind and the eerie darkness that encircled you. where is he?

a sharp snap of a branch forced you to whip round on the spot. what was more frightening was the hooded figure that stood unmoving in your line of sight. a shriek left your lips as you backed into the tree behind you to put some distance between you and the shadow standing in front of you. visibly shaking, you reached for your phone in your pocket in an attempt to call juyeon but the figure got to you first.

they reached out to latch onto your wrist swiftly before you got to your phone and brought it to their chest. “hey- hey! it’s just me!”

the soothing voice filled your ears as shock rushed over your features. your wide eyes accentuated by the glowing gold of the lenses – juyeon was mesmerised by many aspects of this situation. your doe eyes that glistened under the moonlight, your pounding heart that beat against your hands that clutched his large one between your chests, the proximity so close that he could see the delicate liner that flickered over your face.

“it’s just me,” he repeated in a whisper. your breathing began to even out as you stared into his eyes, the comfort overwhelming during such an eerie situation. his pointed nose becoming more recognisable under the shadow of his hood; his plump lips forming a pout at the realisation that he really did scare you.

you hummed in question, eyebrows furrowing together. his right hand dropped the wire to the ground and brought his palm to caress your cheek, murmuring softly- “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

his eyes trailed to your hands that clenched his in desperation for comfort. without realising, you nuzzled your faces against his palm, bringing his attention back to the golden hue of your irises as they widened in realisation. an overwhelming protection washed over juyeon in the moment he looked back into your eyes as he brought his lips to graze against your forehead; the movement alone charging enough warmth to spread throughout your body.

he pulled away reluctantly and removed his palm from your clasp, immediately intertwining his fingers with your own protectively. “let’s get you inside, I think that’s enough horror for the night.”

he packed up the rest of his equipment with great difficulty, not once letting go of your hand as you clutched to it for dear life – any sharp sound or movement around you had you inching closer to his side.

the two of you wandered inside his apartment building as a comfortable silence settled in. changing into a pair of his sweats and removing the night’s alter ego, you began to relax and settle into the sofa. despite the events of the last twenty minutes, as you inched closer to his side, you began to realise that being someone’s muse wasn’t so bad after all - especially if that man was standing right in front of you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand with a shy smile gracing his lips.

[lillia-leonhartfav]

Lost in the Pages, Birds of Paradis Chapter One

Previous Chapter Here.

847

"Man, I thought Shadis was gonna kill potato girl." Connie said with a sigh in his voice, closing his eyes as he leaned over the wooden beam before him. Standing up on the deck of one of the cabins designated for sleeping, right besides him remains none other than Marco Bodt.

Behind him? Mina Carolina, Eren Yeager, and Armin Arlert.

"I know, what a hell of a first day." Eren said from behind, making his way over to Marco and Connie. The two boys made space for the brunette, as he came between them. Armin's eyes didn't falter away from the sight of the brown ponytail running at a distance, feeling sympathy for Sasha in the moment as the sun pelted it's set above her head.

"It's almost funny, being told to run to the sunset didn't seem to bother her nearly as much as losing meal privileges for the next five days." Eren went on, as Mina walked out from behind Connie and Marco, standing next to Eren and leaning against the same beam of wood they'd all been gradually adding their weight to.

"She's from Dauper, if I remember right that's a small hunting village up in the mountains." Connie made it known what he knew about Sasha, the bare minimum given from her previous introduction before everyone. Eren's eyes shifted away from Sasha, and onto a wagon that was being pulled up the hill of the cadet grounds, towards the fences that should mean only one thing.

"What's that over there?" Pointing a dinger in the direction, Mina tweaked her eyes over for a good look. "Those are drop outs." She said in response to his question, "But it's only the first day." Armin tagged along in the conversation, walking across the boards of the porch to get over to Eren and Mina.

"That's how it is. You can't handle the pressure? You gotta leave." Everyone shifted their eyes towards Eren, Connie lulled his head over, and pushed more of his weight forwards into the railing before him. Marco loosened up his stance, and pulled himself away from the wood at the sight of Connie pushing in more. A soft smile on his lips as he allowed the shorter boy more space, not wanting to test this wood more than it's already been pushed.

"They'd rather pull plants than fight." As Eren finished, Marco found himself pulling away from Connie and towards Eren, lifting up his hand as he spoke. "I know about some of us, but you never mentioned where you were from, Eren." A simple question, returned with a light smile on Eren's lips as he reached out for Armin. Plopping a firm grasp on the shoulder of his friend, a firm shake as he looked back over to Marco.

"The same place he's from, from Shinganshina." Connie's eyes widened, and a lump in Marco's throat was swallowed. Mina gave Eren a double take, as Armin just stood there with his friends hand on his shoulder.

"Oh— well, that means-"

"You saw it!" Connie cut off Marco, who was the more uncomfortable of the two upon hearing that initial statement. More thrown off by Connie's outright state of immediate questioning, the assumptions that come along with saying he's from Shinganshina.

Titans.

"You were there that day!" Marco quickly turned on his heel, a bead of sweat making it past his cheekbone as he snagged an index finger towards Connie. "Hey, c'mon-"

"The colossal one— did you see it?!" Ignoring Marco's outright attempt at getting Connie to avoid digging up a strangers trauma, especially one with titans. Connie's eyes were wide with curiosity, as Eren's voice softly dropped before he got the chance to use it again.

"Yeah. Yeah I did." Eren replied softly, removing his hand from Armin's shoulder, and putting it next to his other hand on the beam of the wooden barrier before them. Mina exhaled with a nervous air, as everyone around them slowed their conversation to a a stop.

In that moment of uncomfortable silence, Mina Carolina's mind wandered back to the girl who she stood beside during the initial orientation for the cadets of the 104th training corps. Who knows if it was an attempt to lighten the mood, or to just say what most people had previously thought about. One way or another, Eren and Armin's attention went straight to her as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

"There's a girl here from Stohess." Marco's eyes moved over to Mina, a glimmer of thankfulness in them at the changing of the topic, regardless of the fact that he knows they'll be on it again just as quickly as it was dropped. But Marco didn't care, he joined in on Mina's conversation in the hopes it would be enough to keep Connie's interest at bay temporarily.

"I heard she's from a military family, think that she'll be any good?" Marco asked, as Eren brought his hands up above his head. Holding onto his elbows, and arching his back.

"Probably just trying to find an easy way into the Military Police, if you ask me." Armin brought his hand up to his friends shoulder, and gave it a subtle push. Not hard enough to knock Eren off his feet, but hard enough to get him to look over at his friend.

"What was that supposed to be for?" Pulling both his arms down off the top of his head, and crossing them over his chest. Armin gave a blank stare to Eren, and shook his head.

"You don't know her, none of us do. I bet we're not the only one's making assumptions about her based off of what little we know." Trying to get the point in to Eren that being so upfront about judgments and ideas about a person isn't the right thing to do.

"Not to mention, it might be uncomfortable to explain that thought to her yourself if she caught you." Armin added, pointing an index finger out behind Eren to get him to look. Turning around on his heels, the wood under his boot creaking into the weight of his turn. Eyes landing firm on two figures, as they walked towards the circle of cabins spread out among the training grounds.

"Right, sure." Eren said softly, removing his hands from over his chest, and rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to Connie, Mina, and Marco. Said something about heading inside to the mess hall, while Armin kept his eyes out and stared at you from the distance.

 You kept walking towards them all, unknowing of Armin's eyes unable to look away from you at the Cabin. Making his way closer to the beam, as everyone around him on the deck of the cabin gradually moved away. Heading towards the mess hall, Eren piped up and shouted something towards Armin as he only now became aware of his lack of presence along with him.

"Armin! You're gonna come, right?"

"In a minute, just give me a second." Waving off his friend, earning a shrug of the shoulders as Eren made off on his way, with Marco and the others with him the whole time. Clasping both his hands firmly over the wooden beam, fingers curled right over it.

Soft, e/c eyes would do anything but look right at him. Unaware of the blonde boy staring at you, trying to pick apart the pieces of who you just might be out of his own curiosity. Walking with a light smile on your face, holding up a casual conversation with a taller male next to you.

He's older than Eren and I, that's for sure. Maybe by two years, at the most.

Adorned in a green shirt and brown pants for his plain clothes, broad shoulders and short blonde hair. Parted in the middle, two little strands sticking out on his forehead that were just a touch longer than the rest of his length. He stood taller than you, laughing at something you said out of Armin's ear shot.

Even by the clothes you wore, it was obvious you came from a life that not many people here would be able to envision themselves having. Armin's weight shifted forwards, propping his arm up on the surface of the beam below him. Bending one of his knees, and dipping his face into one of his hands. Propping a chin up in his palm, as his eyes followed you.

A long, baby blue skirt that reached the length of your knees. You'd occasionally pull it up, but the skirt would drop back down to your hips and allow it's hem to kiss at your knees again. Like it was too big for you, as if the clothes were hand-me-downs.

It's texture looked like silk, and each pleat looked like it was set in permanently, like crisp folds on parchment. You wore a white blouse, top buttons undone. Nothing in the line of the collar, popped up against your neck. Hair tied back into a low bun, save for a couple stray strands of h/c that stuck out behind your ears, hairline and nape of the neck.

Then your form became much more visible, and the faint glimmer of your voice could be heard as you got close enough to interact with. Armin's eyes widened at the realization, darting away from you and the boy by your side as soon as he'd understood he didn't want to get caught staring at you.

He doesn't even quite fully understand why he stayed back in the first place, but his feet just didn't give him the option to leave as soon as you stepped in his eyesight for the very first time. Placing his palm on the side of his face, hearing you laugh at something the person besides you said this time. More clear, not a single ring on the water of your voice.

Smooth.

"Alright, Reiner, I appreciate you showing me the way here." You said so politely, naming the boy next to you on your way to the mess hall. Armin's feet felt like they were glued in place, as Reiner spoke back up again in response to you while passing Armin himself.

"No problem at all, don't even mention it. I don't mind saving a spot for you either—"

"That's fine actually, thank you but I've already got a seat." Armin held his breath, and waited for the two of you to completely pass him. Letting go of the beam, and holding onto his chest. He picked his head up and put it back in the direction of you, and watched as you went up the steps to the mess hall one by one.

But you didn't go in when the other one did. You stayed on the raised deck of the building, and made your way over to the wooden beam railing. Placing your hands around it, and loosening up your shoulders. Staring out for a few moments, your eyes latching onto various different faces.

"Is she looking for someone?" Armin mumbled to himself, feeling like he's in too deep to just leave now.

After all, this is the girl who's name was at the forefront of everyone's mind earlier.

Even he's curious, and he's not quite so sure about what to make of himself for that, and how he's stood here this whole time.

Your shoulders sunk down, and your eyes drooped down into a disappointed gaze. A soft frown took over your lips, as you shook your head and turned around. Hand dragging along the railing, right before shoving it back down by your side. Walking into the doors of the mess hall, leaving Armin to wonder what that was about.

And it wasn't even any of his business.

But watching you walk into the mess hall was his sign that it was time to go in. He'd kept Eren and the other's waiting long enough.

[damianosismyking]

PART X - [FINAL]

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX 

Sitting on the edge of the fence, with his feet kicking against the white wood, Laurent didn’t know what he was feeling.  

He knew, but he didn’t know.  

He was no longer the stable boy for the deAkielos family. He no longer lived at the ranch. He was still an orphan and there was nothing he could do about this, but somewhere between the main house and the garage and the stables, his brother awaited to take him home to his family that wasn’t his. He would no longer race around the vineyards in warm afternoons or climb trees (much less kiss under them).  

There was something in the bittersweetness that made Laurent’s chest ache.  

Egeria would become even more of a memory, a more distant one, stored away along with his parents and his old house, his old school, and the books he loved dearly in childhood, long forgotten. The open greenness, the soft breeze, the buzz of the summer… they’d be in the past too. Laurent was going home, though home felt much like here and the place he was supposed to miss – and he did – was foreign.  

He always knew anyway; he was never meant to fit anywhere and nowhere was made for him. What difference it made where he lived. There would always be something to miss and something to leave behind.  

Like his mother and father. Like Auguste. Damen and Egeria. The ranch, and Pinocchio, his mare. His room with all his toys, his room with all its smells. Arles and Dice.  

...

Four days ago, in a charming, luxurious conference room downtown in Dice, at the law firm Damianos works for, Laurent’s uncle signed a settlement.

The alternative would be going to court and risk time in jail, which he was not willing to do.  

He signed the agreement that gave back all the family money and properties he appropriated (the word the counselor used), an agreement to confess he did intervene with the hearings about Laurent’s custody, an agreement to make sure he would issue an apology, an agreement to compensate for the defamation of Auguste, something Laurent had no knowledge about prior to the moment it was mentioned.  

Auguste sat still through all of it blank-faced. He said nothing for an hour and so Laurent did the same. He did not answer to their uncle’s provocative statements, not even when they were directed at him, and soon they died down.  

The glares he risked to Auguste were never responded and he stopped trying to give them; the glares risked to Damianos were always responded with a curt nod, a twist of the lips or the averting of the eyes and so Laurent looked often.

In that same luxurious conference room that had to be the fanciest place Laurent has ever been to, he kissed Damianos.

It was after his uncle and his attorneys left, and the documents were signed, and Auguste excused himself to go to the restroom for a moment. They were close and Laurent asked what else was there for them to do after this, to which Damianos responded, ‘nothing.’  

Damianos told him they won and he had been smiling then, so Laurent forgot, for the flick of a second, that he couldn’t – he shouldn’t – and he kissed Damianos on the lips, the way he thought of doing every day. The way he hadn’t done in weeks.  

At first, Laurent argued it to himself it was a mindless, giddy reaction to the good news – which he knew was not the truth. Mindless, giddy reactions had nothing to deal with the way he half-ran his way around the big oak table and launched himself in Damianos’ arms.  

At second, he argued that he did it because now he could afford to have a crush on Damianos, with the money of the settlement. He was not wealthy – or at least not as wealthy as Damianos – but he could afford to have more than old clothes, hand-me-down books and second-hand electronics.  

At third he remembered that Damen was still, in spite of riches, too much for him, so Laurent left before any of them could say anything.

And they didn’t talk about it.  

Laurent didn’t know what he was feeling. Or he did, but there was no way he could put a name to it.  

...

Laurent said goodbye to the view on his way down to the stables where part of his baggage waited.  

He said goodbye to the vineyards, to the stone path that led to the main house, the dirt path he took to go up the hill with his horse, among thick ivy brushes and wide trees. He whispered goodbye to his favorite hiding spots, to the tire swing that had been there ever since Egeria was little girl. The white fence.  

He would have given his farewell to Theomedes, Kastor and Jokaste as well, but they left to go spend a season in Ios, the housekeeper told him.

The sun was setting. Laurent delayed enough to be able watch it one final time. By this time tomorrow, he would watch the sunset from his room in Auguste’s home.  

His home. With Auguste and his wife, whose name Laurent kept forgetting. And the kid whose name Laurent could not forget if he tried.  

He crossed the fence that delimited the stable area dreading to get to his things and hold conversation with Auguste, who was more excited than Laurent was able to stomach right now. He thought nothing of the relief that bloomed in his chest when he saw there was no one there. Only the horses and a pile of boxes bigger than Laurent expected it to be.

Laurent said goodbye to the horses one by one, and lingered when it was Pinocchio’s turn, his forehead glued to her nose, scratching the back of her ear, urging her to understand he was not leaving her on purpose or because he loved her any less than always.

Had Laurent been more attentive or had his continuous mumble been less intense or sniffs less audible, he perhaps would have noticed that someone approached the stables and witnessed his passionate goodbye to the horse.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Damianos said to his back and Laurent startled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – She’ll be in good hands, I promise.”

Laurent runs a mindless hand over the front of his shirt and his jeans to compose. “I know. All of the stable staff is very attentive.”

Damen smiled meekly, shaking his head in a nearly imperceptible motion. “I will tend to her personally.”

Damen was just standing there, one shoulder propped to the wooden post in the middle of the stable. His hair was wet and tousled, disheveled by the wind on his way down. He wore sweatpants low on his hips and Laurent was not looking at the way it fit him, cling to him and shaped him everywhere. His t-shirt was tight around his torso and biceps. His lips were red, the way they usually were after he took long, steaming showers, so hot Laurent himself was never able to stay through, or his skin would burn.

He committed this vision of Damianos to memory. The careless, domestic, natural view of him that Laurent had not appreciated enough in the past.

“Where is Auguste?” Damen asked.  

Laurent shrugged. “I think he is down in the garage.”

“Do you need help taking your things to the car?”

Laurent shook his head. His throat felt too tight to speak, his mind too clouded to think of words, his heart to heavy to bear say what he had been avoiding – the goodbye he was not able to give.

They simply stood where they were, boring their eyes on each other, lulled by neighs and huffs and hooves.  

“I like what you did with your hair by the way,” Damen said, pointing awkwardly. “It looks nice. Short.”

“Thank you,” Laurent said, an involuntary hand picking at the short strands that tickled his nape.

More nothing. Laurent knows what he is avoiding and knows better yet that it is unavoidable, and still he can’t make himself say it.  

Damen is still there if he doesn’t say it. If he stall just a little longer, he is still part of the stable staff, he still lives in the room a few feet down in this same building, he will still see Damen tomorrow.  

He can’t stall.

“I’m very thankful for all that you…” he was saying.  

Damen picked the same exact moment to say, “Is there no way for…”

They stopped. Both of them. Eyes on each other, intently. Is there no way for what, Laurent was about to say, when Damen said, “You go first.”

Laurent drew in a sharp breath. “I’m very thankful for all that you and your family have done for me.”

Damen’s face fell along his shoulders. For a moment before he caught himself, Damen seemed utterly disappointed by the words that came out Laurent’s mouth and Laurent wanted to tell him it was not the first time something like that happened.  

“You keep saying that” Damen said.

“It’s the truth.”

Damen nodded, shifting on his feet. He assumed a more guarded posture, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were no longer on Laurent too, but on his feet with flip flops.  

Laurent’s mind took him back to the fancy conference room, four days ago, to the way Damen cradled his head, his soft, soft sigh when he melted into the kiss barely a moment before Laurent came back to his senses and pulled away. Laurent had not spent a second to watch the way Damen’s features changed before he was out the door, punching the elevator bottom.  

“You were saying something as well,” Laurent said.  

Once more, Damen nodded. “Is there,” he looked back at Laurent, “No way forward for us?”

“You mean if I’m going back to your bed?” Laurent said. It is not as cold as he intended it to be, almost playful instead. If he let himself think of it, he sounded hurt, but it was unlikely it was obvious to anyone else.

Damen took a step forward, unsure what to do with his hands without the post to lean against. For good measure, he took another one, still too far to reach. “I wish,” he started and spared a moment to recalibrate the words, “I wish I had done things differently. That I made it clear how much you mean to me.”

It was Laurent’s turn to look down at dusty boots, dirt and lost hay. “Damen.” Stop.

“You were never… to me, you were never just a hook up. I should have told you that.”

You should have. I wish you did. But would that have made any difference? “It wasn’t really… about that.” Wasn’t it? What would have changed for Laurent if Damen told Laurent he meant more than the fuck of the month?  

“Not exclusively, at least,” he finally added.

Damen was still walking towards him and if Laurent was a braver man, he would meet him halfway. Laurent was never brave.

“What was it about then?” Damen said. He paused and his feet vacillated with him. He was more unsure. “Do you… not care? Did you not want to get involved?”

Laurent’s heart dropped. It’s not that, he wanted to say, how could you ever think that? When Laurent took too long, Damen said, “I just want to understand,” and it sounded nearly as a plead.

“You were my boss, Damen,” Laurent said. “We were never the same. There was no way it – we could make it work.”

Auguste came to mind then. Was he coming back? Where was he? Laurent should be looking for him, taking his boxes down to the garage, loading the truck Damianos was kind enough to rent to make the move easier, getting in the car, listening to Auguste talk about his family and how Laurent was going to love the new town they are living in.  

Laurent should be thinking about that. About going to college, getting to know his brother again; about the bookstore Auguste was sure Laurent was going to love, he huge public library just two blocks down in their neighborhood. About going back to the real world and becoming a citizen of it again, about how it would feel not to be sheltered and hiding any longer.  

But Damen was there with huge, hopeful eyes and Laurent.  

He wanted him. He wanted. He basked in how much Damen still seemed to want him too.  

He wanted Damen to ask him to stay, and to tell him he was stupid for going away.

“And now?” Damen said.  

“Now what?” Laurent needed him to say it. He did not dare to hope.  

“I know you have a lot on your plate. I don’t want to steal you from your brother, but,” he was finally there, where Laurent could reach him, “We could start over. Fresh,” he said.

It felt like Laurent had been holding his breath for weeks, and now he could finally breath.  

Yes, he meant to say, but the words stayed inside.  

“You will always be welcome in here,” Damen continued, his thumb caressing Laurent’s cheekbone, his breath brushing softly, tenderly against Laurent’s face, “This ranch is… it can be home, to you. If you want.”

Laurent gulped through his dry throat and smiled, letting go of pretense. Even if he could, he would not have kept his guard up. Damen’s eyes on him were expectant, eager for Laurent’s reply.  

There was a lot to consider then. What it meant, to start over, what it was that they were together – properly together – and what changed. What remained the same. Where to start when what they had was not new and yet a complete novelty.

What would Egeria think? What will Theomedes say?  

“I’d like that,” Laurent said instead, excitement burning his chest. “I’d like that very much.”

Leaning in, Damen kissed him and for the first time, Laurent considered that it could work.  

And Laurent knew exactly how to feel about that.

-- 

The end uwu

Read it on AO3

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Three

Link to Masterpost

Prince Dorian arrived in Orynth four days later, three days before her birthday, and Aelin greeted him with a smile. She had donned a simple gown of Terrasen green for the occasion, and a circlet of twisted golden strands kept her loose hair from falling into her face. “Prince Dorian, it’s an honor to meet again after so long,” she said in welcome. “I thank you for taking the journey from Adarlan to celebrate with us.”

Dorian answered her smile with an easy grin of his own, sapphire eyes sparkling against dark curls. “The journey was easy enough, and the pleasure is mine,” he said. “And it is good to meet you again, after… what, almost eleven years, now?”

“A long time, indeed,” Aelin replied. “I do hope your visit will give us time to become reacquainted with one another.”

“As do I,” he smiled. “Perhaps you could reacquaint me with the castle grounds, if you have the time?”

Aelin glanced to her right, where Regent Darrow stood, and he nodded his approval. “I certainly have the time,” she replied. “Are you tired from your journey? Should we meet at a later time?”

“If I’m being honest, your company would likely be far more relaxing than unpacking my things,” the prince grinned, offering her his arm.

Aelin laughed softly and stepped up to him, gracefully slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and leading him away from the throne room. “Were you hoping for a tour of the grounds, or the common areas of the castle?” she asked.

Dorian laughed, the sound a rich baritone that filled the hallway in which they stood. “You’ve caught me, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’ve heard tales of the Library of Orynth, and now that we’ve slipped away from your regent and he doesn’t expect to see me until the evening I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in literature,” Aelin blurted out before she could stop herself. “Pardon me, I know as Crown Prince of Adarlan you would have to be well-read, but…”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you thought I was a warrior,” he replied, eyes wide in feigned terror. “I can wield a sword well enough, my guard made sure of that, but I’ll admit I would rather be reading.”

Aelin smiled and began leading him toward the library. “I’m afraid my lessons in magic take up most of my days now, but before that I loved sneaking off to the library myself,” she confessed. “Truly, I believe you could find a book or a scroll about any topic you imagined in our collection. I’ll admit that I miss it, so I’ll take you there myself, on one condition.”

Dorian gave her a conspiratorial grin. “And what might that condition be?”

“You must allow me to accompany you. After all, my regent likely thinks I’m showing you the rose garden, or perhaps the stables. It would seem odd if I simply abandoned you now.”

“That seems fair enough,” he allowed. “Perhaps you could direct me to some of your favorites.”

“Oh, I’m not sure your visit is long enough for that list,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll have to discuss a few of them, though, as well as some of yours.”

As they turned a corner and she opened a door, Aelin smiled at one of her favorite sights in the world.

The library encompassed an entire floor on its own, and she suspected there was even more to it than what she had explored. Each wall was filled floor to ceiling with books and scrolls, and each room was packed with as many shelves as it could reasonably hold. It was more than enough for a person to get lost in, and Aelin had herself, on many occasions. The shelves were loosely categorized by topic, with the newer books toward the entrance and the older ones in harder to reach areas. The oldest scrolls, Aelin knew, were kept shielded by a layer of glass, with only the most experienced of their historians allowed to move them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked as she glanced over at her companion.

Dorian simply stared around himself, eyes wide as he took in the vast array of texts that made up this section of the library. “I hardly know where to begin,” he breathed.

“I felt the same way myself,” Aelin admitted, “the first time I came here. It’s easy to get lost if you’re not careful. And what you’re seeing is only one chamber, the library takes up at least this entire floor.”

“Truly?”

“And that’s only the parts I’ve explored myself,” she grinned. “Is there a particular topic that holds your interest? Philosophy? History? The arts?”

And as Dorian began to tell her of his most recent finds in the Adarlan library, Aelin led him toward her favorite corner. A window on each wall gave the area light during most hours of the day, and a small desk sat tucked against the southern wall. In front of the desk was a chair, worn but still comfortable, and writing supplies were neatly laid out on the desk’s surface. It was just enough space for a few pieces of paper in addition to a single book, and she had spent countless hours in this very space as she learned about the kingdom she was to inherit.

A small corner of the desk was scorched, and Aelin ran her fingertips across the burned wood fondly. “I did this when I was eight,” she said. “I had slipped away from my parents, and I was hiding among the shelves when I found this little desk. One of the guardsmen found me, but I was so lost in the tale I was reading that I didn’t hear him approach until his hand was on my shoulder. It was the first time my magic truly manifested, and I was banned from the library for almost a year.”

“What made them change their minds?” Dorian asked as he inspected the scorch marks himself.

Aelin laughed softly. “Mostly the fact that they couldn’t keep me out,” she admitted. “I kept sneaking in whenever I could. Even now, when I could ask for whatever books I wish to be delivered to my rooms…”

Dorian nodded. “I agree. It’s not quite the same, is it? I’ve always preferred what I found myself.”

As they continued to talk, Aelin allowed her mind to wander. This meeting had already gone better than she could have possibly dreamed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to be married to him, she mused.

If only her magic lessons were proceeding as smoothly as this arrangement was beginning to.

~*~*~

The next morning, Aelin grunted as her back hit the dirt of the training grounds for the third time. With a frustrated growl, she rolled onto her front and lifted herself onto her hands and knees, only allowing herself a single breath before springing back to her feet and whirling around to once more face her attacker.

Aedion laughed where he stood above her, one hand still extended in an offer to help her to her feet. “You realize you don’t actually have to do this, right?” he asked. “No one expects you to be a master of hand-to-hand combat, especially given your magic and your skills with a knife.”

“I don’t always have a knife, and I can’t rely on my magic,” Aelin replied, tucking a strand of stray hair back into her braid. “I have to be able to take on someone bigger and stronger than me, or at least not lose terribly.”

Aedion looked unimpressed, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against a fence post. “And this has nothing whatsoever to do with how your magic training is going,” he drawled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said haughtily. “My training is—”

He cut her off with a laugh. “Cousin, for that to work I would’ve needed to not witness your training myself. You two really started off on the wrong foot, didn’t you?”

That didn’t begin to describe it, really, but Aelin knew there was a limit to what she could tell him. “You could say that. He’s so…”

As she grasped for words, Aedion lifted a single golden eyebrow. “I’ve never known you to lack an opinion,” he remarked. “Don’t tell me you’re uncertain now.”

“Infuriating,” she finally snarled. “He’s absolutely infuriating. Condescending. Smug. Patronizing. Maddening.” With each word she spat, she threw another punch at Aedion.

Of course, he neatly blocked each attack she launched at him. “Don’t you think in this subject he might know best? I think a few centuries of honing your magic for offensive tactics as much as he has would allow someone to be a little confident in their own knowledge.”

“I’d feel better about it if he wasn’t so… him,” she growled. “It’s like nothing I do is even close to good enough, or even enough to merit any kind of reaction at all!”

Aedion laughed then. “He’s got good insight, certainly. He can’t have just guessed that the easiest way to get under your skin is to act like you’re not getting under his.”

With a shout, Aelin darted in again. This time, she finally managed to land a glancing blow that slid along his ribs. With a knife it would have been devastating, but as it was he just grinned at her. “Better,” he said. “You have to remember your targets are different when you don’t have a blade, though.”

She growled in response and admitted, “I got lucky. You were distracted.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he replied. “Distraction is a valid tactic, used correctly. It may be your best advantage in this kind of situation. Believe it or not, you’re not always going to be the biggest or strongest person in the room. You have to use other strengths.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she sighed.

Aedion shrugged. “Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. But I don’t think it’s wrong to do what it takes to make sure you can fight another day. Now. Is this really about learning hand-to-hand combat, or do you honestly think you need an excuse to talk to your own cousin about what’s on your mind?”

Aelin laughed and carefully untwisted the knot she had tied her braided hair into. “Please,” she said breezily. “You know I have no problem with interrupting anything unimportant. Besides, training with you was the only way I could get out of training with… him.”

“Oh, so we’re not even saying his name now?” Aedion grinned.

“Is there a reason we should be?” she asked. “I’ve heard that saying someone’s name while they’re absent can attract… unwanted attention. Especially from someone whose hearing is naturally heightened because he’s not human.”

Her cousin sighed, running a hand through his own golden locks. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t trust him,” Aelin replied. “The first full-blooded Fae to visit our court in years, not to mention blood-sworn to their queen, who I also don’t trust. I’m surprised you seem to be getting along with him as well as you are, if I’m being honest.”

Aedion shrugged in response. “He’s a warrior, through and through. Very practical. I can respect that. Besides, his training with the Bane has been enlightening.”

“You let him train with you, knowing that he could be made to report on every detail he happens to see at his queen’s will?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he grinned. “I see everything that he sees. Let him report that we train hard. Let him tell her our strength as a company. And if she presses further, let him admit that he helped us become stronger. I’m certain he’ll find a way around mentioning that fact for as long as possible.”

Aelin grinned back at him. “You let him in to limit how much he would feel comfortable reporting. How devious.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, but I do try sometimes,” he replied.

Aelin took a step back and stretched, arms over her head, before relaxing once more. “Well. Keep up the good work. I’m sure I’m going to want to try this again soon.”

“Is it really necessary?” Aedion asked. “You could just—”

But before she could hear his suggestions on how to deal with her training she was already walking away from the field. She knew that Rowan would find her for training in the afternoon regardless of where she hid, but she was hoping she could spend just a little more time in the library before he dragged her out. Perhaps it would be merely delaying the inevitable, but the last thing she wanted at this point was to sit around and wait for him.

~*~*~

Predictably, Aelin had only just found what appeared to be a promising book when Rowan found her. Knowing her time was up and it was pointless to fight it, Aelin quietly handed her find to a librarian and asked for it to be delivered to her rooms before following him back down the stairs and out to the training grounds.

Despite having known that it was inevitable that he would find her, Aelin found herself scowling at his broad shoulders as they walked. “I hope you enjoyed your morning,” she offered as they left the castle and began walking to the grounds. “After all, you so frequently mention what you could do if you weren’t so busy with me, it must have been delightful.”

“Some of us actually work,” he replied shortly. “Not everyone has the luxury of whiling away their days indoors among friends, regardless of whether or not you’re gracing them with your presence.”

Aelin took a deep breath in an effort to maintain her calm. Perhaps her best recourse would be to do as he did and act as though she was unbothered by anything. “I hardly think you would consider a day indoors a luxury,” she said lightly. “As a matter of fact, if I didn’t know you were assigned your own rooms when you arrived I would wonder if perhaps you spent your nights nesting in a tree.”

Rowan paused at the entrance to the training grounds, just long enough to open the gate and let both of them in. “Perhaps if you spent less time wondering about my sleeping arrangements and more time focusing on your training, you’d have already mastered your shift and possibly even your magic.”

Aelin felt her fingers curl into fists at her side, and it was an effort to relax them again. Calm, she reminded herself. She would keep her calm. She wouldn’t fall victim to his condescension, not today. Instead, she reached up to her braided hair and carefully wound it around itself until it was knotted out of her way. “I think you overestimate the amount of time I spend wondering about your sleeping arrangements,” she mused. “Believe me when I say I try to spend as little time outside of our delightful little sessions thinking about you as I can get away with.”

Rather than show any outward reaction to her comments, Rowan simply sat in the center of the training ground. “You could be rid of that burden even sooner, you know. All you have to do is shift.”

Aelin scowled as she joined him on the ground, carefully crossing her legs and tucking her feet underneath herself. “What does it matter to you, anyway?” she asked. “What’s stopping you from telling Regent Darrow that we’re through and leaving?”

“I presume you haven’t forgotten about the oath I swore to my queen,” came his reply. “I am under orders to help you gain control over your abilities, and cannot leave until my task is complete.”

“That certainly hasn’t stopped you before,” Aelin snapped as heat began coursing through her veins.

Faintly, as if through a thick blanket, she felt the air around them grow cold and still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowan snarled, fangs exposed and pine-green eyes sharp and frigid.

Aelin laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “Your precious oath to your precious queen,” she mocked as he growled. “It hasn’t stopped you from leaving before.”

The wind picked up suddenly, blasting her onto her back in a frigid whirlwind—or was it the male himself and not his magic that had knocked her back? It had happened so quickly, she couldn’t be certain. His fingers encircled her wrists as he pinned her to the dirt, and as Aelin looked on his eyes grew cold and dark. “Do not speak in that tone about that which you do not understand,” he said sharply.

Gods, what had she said that had provoked such rage in his face but such deadness in his eyes? Despite a small voice in the back of her head shrieking about caution, she pressed on. “I fail to see what there is to understand or not understand,” she continued. “You’ve left me before. You do it every gods-damned rutting day. You’ve left me completely alone, with nothing but my own thoughts to remind myself of what a failure I am.” All of it was true, and suddenly Aelin realized just how much it had been bothering her all this time.

For all that she gave the outward appearance of being surrounded by friends, Aelin knew there were precious few people she could trust with every part of herself lest they abandon her. Her cousin, for all she knew he loved her, put the security of her kingdom above herself—as he should, and as she had asked of him. Lysandra was more likely to be understanding, but less likely to fully grasp the complexity of the messes she had put herself into through her own actions. She couldn’t even be certain she could trust her dearest friends, for they had kingdoms of their own to maintain and would quite possibly take advantage of any weakness she let them see.

Worse still, most of those people who had known all of her were lost to her. Her parents had passed long ago, and the one person who had taken the time to learn all of her, the person she would’ve left everything behind for if she had to—he was gone, too, taken beyond her reach. Moreover, anyone who she could tell about him would immediately realize what she had come to know in the years since his passing. Her first and only love had been her greatest weakness and her biggest failure of them all, in more ways than one, and nothing she could do now could possibly make up for it.

While she had been lost in her thoughts, Rowan had only grown more irate. “Well, perhaps if you could master something as basic as shifting you wouldn’t think of yourself as such a failure,” he retorted as his grip on her wrists tightened.

Suddenly, a deadly calm washed over Aelin as she realized she had had enough of this. “If you’re trying to provoke me into shifting, you’d be better off hitting me again,” she snapped. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, and I certainly don’t need help remembering my own failings. Or you could just leave me again, you know, like you’re so good at doing.”

A growl filled the air and then there was a sharp pain piercing the junction of her neck and her shoulder. It took her a moment to grasp what had happened, but as Rowan spat a mouthful of blood—her blood—onto the ground, she realized he had bitten her.

Through her sudden rage at such a possessive and claiming act from someone who hated her as much as Rowan did, she heard a shriek and dimly recognized it as her own voice. The ground appeared before her, silver hair splayed across the dirt—had she flipped them? She couldn’t recall—and her hands clawed at his chest as a brief moment of agony surged through her.

Then she bared her own fangs at him, and there was nothing but fire.

~*~*~

Later that evening, Aelin paced in the hallway outside of the healers’ wing, hands clutching at a small jar of salve she had taken while no one was paying attention. It had been an impulsive decision to take it, and one she didn’t regret, but following through with the next phase of her plan was significantly more daunting. Even as nerves threatened to overtake her, though, she knew she had to carry on. It was her own fault she was in this mess, anyhow.

It would be easy to blame Rowan, and to say he had brought it on himself through his own actions. It would be easy to stew in self-righteous anger threaded through with self-pity. But it would be wrong to ignore her own role in the fight they’d had, and the consequences of her own loss of control were seared into her mind’s eye.

After he had bitten her, Aelin had finally, finally shifted—and then promptly lost control of her magic. Flames had swirled around them both, singeing the ends of her own hair as well as his. Before long, though, she was left gasping for breath, collapsed against his unfairly broad chest as the flames around them extinguished. He had pulled the air away from her, she realized now, and in so doing had deprived the fire of the fuel it required. Her aunt truly had sent a well-suited trainer, as angry as it still made her that it had been deemed necessary. Not someone with similar powers, but someone who could contain her as she learned to control the fires that burned within her.

That is, assuming he wanted anything to do with her now. Which he probably didn’t.

When she had shifted her weight to pull away from him, he had done his best to hide his reaction, but her enhanced eyesight had caught the tiniest flinch. She had looked down and gasped, scrambling away from him.

There were two holes in the fabric of his shirt from where she had burned through it, and underneath those holes bright red welts had just been beginning to blister.

Before she had gathered the nerve to say anything to him at all he had already stood, stalking away with some snarled remark about her lack of control and leaving her to stare after him. She had then looked down at her trembling hands, curling them into fists as she realized that of course her own flesh was unharmed. Aside from occasional scorched hair, she had never once harmed herself with her own power. She had only harmed those around her, and this lapse in control had been no exception.

Aelin shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her mind. She’d gone out of her way to stay in her rooms for the evening meal, doing her best to read and not worry about what was passing without her. It wasn’t until Aedion had returned from the evening meal that she learned that Rowan had been absent as well.

She had then gone to check with the palace healers, but it was apparent that he hadn’t stopped by to have his burns—the burns she had given him—examined. And so she had stolen a small jar of healing salve, which led her to her current predicament.

The ideal situation would be for her to find his rooms empty and simply leave the jar somewhere he could find it. Even as she thought it, though, she realized both that it was unlikely to work and that it wouldn’t be enough. No, she needed to own up to her shortcomings and apologize properly.

Aelin growled softly and tugged at the ends of her newly-trimmed hair, which now fell just below her shoulders. It was ridiculous to be this concerned over him when he was so clearly unconcerned with her, but she couldn’t stop reliving the moment she realized just how badly she had burned him. Even though most people would say he had certainly provoked it, the memory still turned her stomach.

She took a deep breath and strode purposefully to the rooms Rowan had been assigned before she could talk herself out of it. Luckily, she ran into no one else along the way. It was confusing enough to her that she was doing this to begin with; she couldn’t imagine trying to explain it to anyone else.

Steeling her nerves, she knocked on his door and received only a wordless grunt in reply. Taking that as permission, Aelin carefully opened the door and froze at the sight that greeted her.

She had obviously interrupted Rowan in the middle of cutting his own singed hair; a pile of silver strands laid on his desk beside a knife. His shirt was off, and before she could stop herself her eyes traced along the swirling lines of his tattoo. Without clothing to cover the marks she could see that it flowed unbroken along the entire left side of his body, across his shoulder and down his arm all the way to his fingertips. He turned to face her, pine-green eyes narrowing in irritation, and she thrust the jar of salve in his direction before he could say a word. “For the burns,” she managed.

He delicately took the jar from her grasp and inspected it before setting it aside. “I deserved it,” he admitted, and Aelin knew without asking that this was as close to an apology for his own actions as she was likely to receive.

Aelin shrugged in reply, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear that was once more rounded rather than pointed like his own. “That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad about it, or that I don’t.”

Rowan frowned, studying her as though she was a particularly stubborn puzzle. “We need to work on your control,” he finally said. “I told you to shift, not to throw a magical tantrum.”

Just like that Aelin forgot she had ever felt bad for her part in it, the feeling replaced by the sparks of irritation that constantly burned through her whenever they spoke. “You didn’t tell me to do anything,” she snapped. “You bit me. What the rutting hell was that, anyway, some sort of domineering Fae male horseshit?”

He shrugged, and sympathy warred with vindictive delight as the motion pulled his burned chest taut. “It worked, didn’t it? You shifted. Now you just need to learn to do it on command instead of reacting like a sheltered princess who didn’t get her way.”

Aelin crossed her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “I fail to see what my title has to do with any of this,” she said.

“I’ve spent a great deal of time observing how you act these past few weeks,” he replied. “The only thing holding you back is your own fear.”

“I think it’s reasonable to be afraid of hurting the people around me,” she snarled.

“Which is why you need to learn,” Rowan snapped back as he finally stood. “If you can’t manage to set your fears aside and learn some godsdamned control, you’ll truly become the worthless figurehead you fear you are. I have neither the time nor the patience to coach you through whatever trifling fears you’ve experienced in your terribly short life, nor do I care. I am here to teach you to control your magic, not to assuage your sense of self-pity, and certainly not to be your friend. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can both be rid of each other. Hate me if you must. I do not care.”

Before Aelin could reach through the sudden wave of tingling numbness that rushed through her and find the words to respond to such obvious animosity, Rowan crossed the room in four quick strides. “Now get out,” he snarled as he slammed the door in her face.

Aelin stared at the wood scant inches away from her face, jaw slack in surprise, before collecting herself enough to walk away. She didn’t make it far, though, slipping into an abandoned room nearby rather than attempt to maintain her composure all the way back to her own rooms.

She hadn’t expected Rowan to be particularly interested in listening to her, she reminded herself. She had injured him mere hours beforehand, after all. Not to mention that, as he had so rudely reminded her, he was only to stay until she had mastered her own power and then they would never see each other again.

It wasn’t even as if she particularly liked him. He was domineering and stubborn, and his temper ran as hot as her own for all that he had mastered his own control over ice and wind rather than fire. But perhaps in spite of the similarities she saw in them, or perhaps because of them, she couldn’t help but feel that it might’ve been nice to talk with him just once. To understand, and to be understood in turn rather than hated.

Aelin shook her head. It was a foolish notion, for a foolish girl. She should have known better.

Despite that knowledge, though, she couldn’t help but feel as if a small part of her had curled up and died along with that foolish hope. It shouldn’t have mattered that he thought so little of her. He barely knew her, and their time as master and student was limited in scope. It shouldn’t have mattered at all.

But it did, and she couldn’t for the life of her begin to figure out why.

[notasiren21]

#40 from the prompt list please and thank you!!!

I’m so sorry this took so long!!!

Someone You Loved

Rating: Mature for some themes

Pairing: fuckin’ Lukanette boi

Word count: 4,665

Prompt: (40) “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

Description:

Well, Luka sings a song and I pissed @macaknight off with this when I asked her to beta read the start of it. It helps if you listen to the song in the story, Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. Enjoy lmao

She was around by his side long enough to engrave the little things into his mind.

He knew how it felt to have the soft strands of midnight blues through his fingers as he tangled them in her hair. To have her legs settle on either side of his as he trailed his hand up her small back and waist under her soft cotton shirts. The cheeky grin he grew to love baring up at him when his arms bracketed with her in between he picked her up at home.

How he didn't care for sweets but loved the way blueberry muffins tasted on her tongue and the taste of her mixed with raspberry jelly when it leaked from the corner of her pouty lips.

How the Liberty swayed under his feet against the small currents the wind brought on as they danced in the rain. The feel of his converse bracing both their weights as her drenched skirt blew in harsh waves between them. The first lightning strike reflecting off an anchor necklace he gave her on their first date.

When she kissed his cheek when he started humming absently with frustration as he tried to figure out the melody he wrote. Her small fingers pulling the pencil out of his death grip as she lent her forehead against his to calm him and decipher the jumbled notes he had in his head.

The way her face lit up when he played it back to her.

The way her face fell when she told him she loved him but they couldn't be together.

How her arms stiffly pulled away from his hug and the red of her eyes she showed up with.

How the airy taste of salt from the water didn't compare to the salt of his tears that trailed to his lips as he grounded the palm of his hands to his eyes roughy as sobs racked through his body when he collapsed to the wood of the ship.

The way it left him numb with hurt and he became too compliant with his happenings, too accepting.

Defeated.

Music was harder to hear and enjoy, he couldn't compose anything more than a haunting melody that brought any stranger to tears.

He wasn't sure he even felt the burn to his tongue when he drank his hot coffee as soon as it was handed to him. Or the rough jerk of his shoulder to turn him around as his guitar bounced off his back.

"Hey man, you look worse for wear." Théo, a former classmate of his that now ran the coffee shop, spoke as he eyed him critically. Luka shifted his thick blacks squared rimmed sunglasses up higher to cover his dark circles better. "I'd say it's great to see you, but..."

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He offered the excuse at the ready, hating how well lying came with sadness.

“Ah, life of a famous rockstar.” Théo teased with a smirk. “No wondering you’re wearing a hat like that backwards to cover your hair and shades for those ‘oh so sexy’ blue eyes of yours.”

“Not famous,” Luka cringed at Théo’s words. “Just well known on the internet I guess.”

“Sorry for overplaying your popular cover videos man.” His old school mate laughed.

"It's fine. What's up?" He forced a smile that came across as genuine despite what he felt.

Théo crossed his arms and made a jerk with his head in the direction of the shop across the street, "New place has been stealing some of our loyal customers." Luka scratched under the brim of his black baseball cap he had on backwards as he followed the movement. "Lunch hour is about to hit and you know much we moved to stop by this part of town for break."

"Yeah, your aunt made good scones." He supplied.

He grunted in response, "Yeah. Well, girls frequent here more from school, and they keep going there," he roughly jerked his chin to the place again, "Just because there's an older guy who takes their order who is attractive, I guess. Or so I'm told."

Luka blinked at the shop before turning to his old friend, "What do you need from me then?"

"Observant as always, Couffaine." He snorted with a shake of his head. "I wanted to see if you -an attractive older guy- would give a small performance just as the girls come."

"What? Why?"

"Are you dense? With your face and body, and that 'sinful voice' of yours the girls cooed about back then and from your YouTube covers, I'm guaranteed to bring in more customers for today."

Luka tossed his half full coffee cup to the trash next to him. His own arms crossing as he wished he was in his cabin instead, laying on his bed while he stared up at the ceiling and trying to not feel the clench of his arm when he smelled Marinette's hibiscus shampoo and berry scented perfume on his pillows.

"I don't know."

His friend clasped onto his shoulder again, "Please man, you can keep 40% of the money you help bring in, I don't care. That shop is a dick and acting like we're not its competition."

“Man, you really don’t have to, I’ll just take a free coffee if you really need this.” Anything seemed better than just wallowing at home at this point, despite the incredible want to do so that swelled within him as he stood on the block he and Ladybug often frequented to patrol. “I mean it.”

Théo smiled, guiding him to a spot that he started clearing out near the cafe’s short fence that caged the outdoor tables and chairs.

“That’s okay, I feel bad to make you work without pay.” He straightened his back that had been bent forwards as he pushed tables, “Consider it repayment for that time you paid for my lunch.”

Luka stopped, “Lunch? When did I-,” he grunted. “Théo, that was four years ago.”

“Well, last Saturday had me thinking about all my debts and regrets when I thought I was gonna die. You came up.”

He flinched at mention of Saturday.

Saturday, the final fight against Hawkmoth who showed up in person with a struggling Mayura and an akumatized sentimonster of Lila. The combination of their powers as well as the wickedness that resided in the girl proving to be a difficult fight for them all when Ladybug and Chat pulled the entire team in.

Including a Chloé Bourgeois who was more than ready to help.

He could’ve sworn he heard Marinette screaming his name in worry when Hawkmoth closed in on him and hit into his side with his cane full force. But that was ridiculous. Because Marinette was Ladybug and Ladybug was Marinette. And Marinette wanted nothing to do with Luka since they had broken up without reason beyond her excuse of not being able to be with him.

He was a bit bitter about the whole ordeal.

Okay, he was more so lovesick and depressed, but his negative energy still stood.

“Yeah,” he flinched again when he heard his voice crack and he thumbed his bracelet -once silver, now a metallic black to hide better, “At least they finally caught Hawkmoth for good.”

“No kidding, now we can just focus on the heroes and the gossip your little girlfriend’s bestie posts.”

A knife. Through his heart. Twisting and gutting.

“Gossip?” He chose the safer option of the sentence, ignoring the onslaught of pitying questions and half-assed supportive promises that correcting Théo would bring.

“Yeah, like how that Ryuuko dragon girl and Chat are definitely dating and that Viperion and Ladybug totally have the hots for one another and the soft looks they give during patrols.”

A chainsaw. Just shredding his heart to pieces.

Luka Couffaine once thought he was a smart kid who made the right decisions.

How wrong he had been.

“Right.” He bit out, gripping the strap of his guitar case and scratching his baseball cap.

Théo shot up and loudly clapped with a whoop, “There we go! Now, I should grab the mic stand from open mic nights and just plug that in and some speakers, then we’ll be good to go.” Maybe Luka should’ve just left. “I’ll get ‘er done in five minutes, tops.”

Luka only nodded, watching as he ran around and set things up, then proudly presented Luka with the lone table he left set up to sit on.

He eyed his skeptically behind his sunglasses before hopping up, testing his weight on the surface before he crossed one ankle across his thigh and took his guitar from Théo who unzipped it for him. Théo pushed the mic stand closer to Luka and adjusted when he peered up at him.

“What do you want me to sing?”

His old friend shrugged with an easy smile, “Anything that comes to mind and draws that big crowd of hungry girls over.” Luka bobbed his head in response and tuned his acoustic guitar as Théo began backing up to inside the store and cheered, “Show off that sinful voice of yours, man! Woo!”

He let out a short chuckle and emptied his mind completely as he shut down, letting his fingers strum a few notes to a song that he began to resonate deeply with.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,” he closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being so open with his feelings as they poured out of him through a popular song. “This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.”

He could see Théo looking at him carefully when he opened before squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He hated that look of pity, but he already started singing this song and he knew he would have to see it through given that the customers at the shop had already turned their attention to him.

“I need somebody to heal

Somebody to know

Somebody to have

Somebody to hold,”

Did he growl at the end of that last line? He wasn’t sure but the audience seemed moved by it and how he didn’t go weak on the verbs. Maybe he could please someone for once by just following with what worked for him.

“It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.”

He thought he saw the familiar flash of black with red accents that everyone knew as Ladybug’s new suit for a second up on the rooftops. The rooftops that she danced with Viperion on and let her laugh rang over the quiet town under the stars. He wasn’t sure if he was just hopelessly imagining her or if she was there, but he felt the pain bite all at once and his voice became wobbly in a way that the crowd seemed touched by. You’re kidding me.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Weak. He felt weak and it wasn’t the kind where he felt weak at the knees like when Marinette smiled up at him or her nose scrunched in thought.

He always thought he could be emotionally strong to handle whatever came his way. He was so sure of it.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to,” Guess he was weak for Marinette in every way possible after all, “This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you.

“Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

It's easy to say but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape.”

There was no blame to place, he knew that. It didn’t make it better or let him throw his anger at her to get it out, but he couldn’t keep punishing himself either.

He felt his eyes sting, shutting them as one tear slipped through and feeling grateful for both his dark shades and the sun beating down on his face past the patio table umbrella, hiding the evidence of his heartbreak.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down,”

Who was he kidding? The heartbreak was the clearest part about him as he let the rough notes chip away at his throat and the growls making his voice artistically raw that he would have to worry about later.

His heart stopped painfully when he remembered the way Marinette’s face flushed all smitten like with a wondering look when Luka growled while singing and shot her winks, knowing how flustered it made her to see her calm and collective boyfriend with a soft and careful voice sounding so tortured for certain songs.

“And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.

How that came back to bite him in the ass.

He glanced up to blink away the tears and avoid the view of the large growing audience he couldn’t see from the sun.

He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of black and flecks of red again.

Fingers strummed harder and with more purpose and he let his soft voice fall back as the pain ripped through him and out in his voice.

“And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around.”

Fuck. He missed her. He missed her a fuck ton and wanted to hold her again and hear her whisper his nicknames of “Love”, “baby”, “handsome”, “Vipey”, whatever the hell she wanted to call him.

Even his damn name would be enough to sedate him for a year.

“For now the day bleeds

Into nightfall”

Dancing with her into the beginnings of a bad storm on the deck of the Liberty as they belted Cheap Thrills amist her giggles and his laughs he choked down to keep her beautiful voice going with his.

“And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Being curled up on her living room couch the next day with her cuddled into his side. Both sick with the cold, but unable to wipe the weak grins from their faces as Sabine amusingly disapproved of their actions the night before.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug”

Their first kiss when she got flustered at their first date and told him she wouldn’t read too much into it despite wanting to, and him effectively shutting her up for the first time ever with the crash of his lips to hers and hands tilting her head up to meet him in reassurance.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

The first time she called him her boyfriend and the pleased giggle she let out when he gave a startled and flustered noise, his snack flying out of the package he ripped open before he blinked and asked her to repeat what she said as a toothy grin broke his shocked face.

“But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Did a camera just flash at him? Hard to tell with the sun in his eyes and the dark lenses of his shades. He couldn’t find himself to care either.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

He tried not to think about the fact that he forced himself to change his phone backgrounds to black, tried not to think if she deleted her phone screens of them napping together or the wallpaper of them dancing in the rain Juleka got of them as Luka dipped her over the edge of the stage they always practiced on.

The complete trust in her eyes and smile always made him melt in that picture. Her hands loosely holding her arms as her head titled back in a deep bellied laugh while he held onto her waist tightly with one arm and had the other behind him, the biggest smile that was only found on his face when Marinette was around.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Luka still fucking loved her more than anything.

His drive, his inspiration, his happiness and safe space. His melody that always rang loudly in his ears.

Now it sounded just as it did when they were younger.

The numbness took over as he looked up, face contorted into a forced happy expression as he dipped his head in gratitude to see the very big crowd that gathered and was clapping with tears in their eyes. He excused himself to find Théo who ignored how exposed the song made his old friend, conversing with him briefly as he counted the amount of customers before Luka left and promised to give him the 40% the next visit he came and a free coffee.

He put up his guitar, tugging the case back over his shoulder as he headed back to the Liberty and tossed the faux leather casing to the bed, tossing his sunglasses to the the bed as well before heading to the deck and off to take a lap to clear his break up riddled mind.

The third block was a close achievement, before he felt the petite body rush into him and the all too familiar wrap of small and strong legs wrap about his waist with a black latex suit arm winding around his neck. He subconsciously fell back into habit as one of his own dropped to hold under her thighs and one around her own waist as black fielded his vision.

He barely got a curse out before the all too telling sound of a spiritually powered string to the famous yo-yo pinned against restraint and shot them upwards, his unmasked face burying itself in the crook of her neck from the force rush of air to his eyes.

His chest tightened to the smell of hibiscus flowers and berries, clutching her tighter for the first time in a long while. Half aware he shifted her higher against him to have her bring them closer.

Well fuck if he wasn’t the most touch starved and needy ex ever.

The familiar sound of a specific metal railing being bounded by the yo-yo was the only warning he got before the touched surface with his feet and she loosened her grip.

He barely heard the words of her detransformation before he could see the flash of pink through black and pulled back from her neck.

Terror shook through him, and his hands and body trembled against her as he couldn’t force himself to look up. Staring intently at the silver anchor necklace he gave her, bounded in a rope of small teal jewels.

Luka couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t look away from the necklace she still wore. He couldn’t let her go or put her down either.

“Breathe love,” her quiet voice spoke, soft and hesitant, breaking Luka as he dropped them to his knees and brought her closer than before.

An audible sob he hadn’t heard since she walked away from him escaped his lips and heaved for air as his chin rested over her head and he looked frantically in front of him. At her balcony, the plants that littered the space and the wood paneling they rested on, the little ladybug statue he bought her as a cute joke.

Seeing none of it through blurry eyes, forcing himself to drop his head to her shoulder as she quaked with tears and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He couldn’t get words out as he just grounded his face into her. “I thought I was protecting you, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.”

She pulled his face up, ceruleans magnified as his pupils dilated to the sight of her in front of him once again and the tips of his ears flaring just by her touch for the first time in forever. She caught a steam of tears with her thumb, giving him a tight smile.

“My miraculous gave me the intuition that Hawkmoth would make his final move.” She paused for a second, closing her eyes and she breathed deeply. “I thought for sure I would die when he did. Either by his winning, or ours but I would end up a casualty or sacrifice. You guys weren’t even supposed to be there, but Adrien insisted for backup and I just...”

“You left me because you thought you were going to be killed?” Voice gravelly and sore from the coffee shop, he pressed on, fingers twitching at her back. “Why didn’t you tell me? Even if you had to strap me down just to bench me from the fight, you should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” she rushed. “Absolutely right, and it was pure hell to leave to that day or say what I did. I’ve never been more miserable with my life than I’ve been since we’ve broke up. I hate it, I hate being away from you so much, Luka.”

“Be mine again.”

“What?” She blinked, choking on air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch when she held his face. “I don’t, I don’t fucking care if I’m being selfish anymore. It’s so hard not to be when it comes to you, Marinette. All these small details engraved to my mind, committed to memory and nothing to do with it.

“I keep leaving hoodies I casually wear on my amp for you to take, I keep putting that soft blanket you’re obsessed with folded on the edge of my bed for you to yank off and curl into as soon as you step into my room.” He forced his eyes not to open as he kept going, following the rhythm she provided and he struggled to find words for. “The minute I wake up, before I even open my eyes to see for the first time of the day, my phone is already in my hand with your contact open and a good morning text at the ready for you. Even good night texts when I reset my alarms. I keep leaving your spot open on my bed in case you visit while I’m asleep. Your favorite part on the couch for you. The last cherry popsicle of the package, and the cookie dough ice cream I bought out of habit are still in the freezer waiting for you to find them.

“I’m fucking broken without you.” He rasped, ceruleans meeting baby blues, “I’m missing you emotionally, figuratively, mentally, physically. How the hell am I supposed to be okay when you’ve become such a big part of me? When you’re my literal other half?”

She nudged his button nose with her small one, “I,” she gave a dark laugh that he felt in his core. “I keep airing out my room whenever my sewing machine leaves behind that electrical smell your nose scrunches at so much.” She giggled when she felt him do it at the mention of the scent. “I let the popcorn cook for half a minute longer to get it a little burnt like how you like. I sleep in your hoodies to leave behind the smell of my perfume and shampoo the way you said you like your hoodies to smell when I give them back. I play with my necklace when I grow nervous and can’t talk to you. I can’t go more than five hours without hovering over your contact name or looking at our pictures.”

He sat back on his knees, letting her adjust herself out of habit and moving her hair away from her face. The smile he gave was tight but reassuring.

“I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, Luka.” She paused for a second, “Hey,” she started cautiously.

“Hm,”

“Luka, you know I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you, right?”

The glint that quickly came to his eyes didn’t waver like his abused voice did, “I kinda figured from all the times you’ve blushed and stuttered. The times you tripped when I caught you off guard with a flirtatious comment or wink. And the times you kissed me like it was the end of the world.”

He looked up to see her set a false murderous glare above him as he ran his thumb over the teal gems in the rope around the anchor of her necklace, a smirk he hadn’t felt making way to his face as one of his naturally slightly pointer canines became visible to express his pure happiness.

“I forgot how much of a jerk you could be,” she huffed, looking away and sniffing.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He made her look at him, eyes still shining with unshed tears as the stared into hers. His grin was pure radiance, “I love you.”

She let him pull her down to a kiss, feeling those soft pouty lips he loved so much back on his again. “I know,” she replied between kisses, causing him to huff and pull away with his own pout. She held alone his jawline, “I’m kidding, kinda. But, I love you too.”

Her giggle when he let out a happy and short hum was pure music to his ears as her melody finally fell back into the correct time signature and key. Even as he parted with a pant and hugged her close, stroking her hair.

“Just, don’t leave me in the dark again.” He started, seeing her phone that fell out of her back pocket light up with a text from Alya.

Alya: So did you kiss and makeup, or not? I have Nino on the edge of his seat.

Alya: no really, he keeps asking and refuses to do ANYTHING until he finds out.

Alya: for fuck’s sake, answer and let me get laid

He hid his smile in her shoulder from the texts and the fact that she never changed her screens from them. Letting him see her cheek smushed up against his chest and her arm lazily thrown around his waist while his held her close.

“Never, not again. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice like I once was.” He snorted at the reference to her old crush on Adrien years ago. “But we do have something to talk about.”

He pulled back, eyeing her cautiously. “Did I do something?”

“Yes,” his heart fell and he was ready to beg for her forgiveness. “You know how many girls have your picture now? Videos of you singing a song in such a beautifully tortured way with those growls, and the rough notes and the, stop laughing Couffaine!”

“I’m sorry,” he muffled his laughs behind his hand. “I forgot how much fun I had just by talking with you and your small bouts of jealousy.”

“Oh, I’m bad? Says the boy who sang a song that people keep covering for heartbreak.”

“I’m getting paid for doing it.”

“How much?”

“40% of the customers I brought in by drawing a crowd and a coffee on the house,” he let a smile spread across his face. “You know, I might be able to change it. Can I treat you to a free mint hot chocolate, a date as well maybe?”

She considered him for a second.

“With whipped cream,” he added for extra measure to his small sweet’s addict. He dimpled up at her with a scrunch when she kissed his button nose.

“God, I love you, Luka.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her slowly, “Mari, just don’t let me sing like that again, my voice is killing me.”

“Got it, never leave you again.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hey, you look cute with your baseball cap backwards like this.” She winked, pulling his black hat from the balcony floor where it fell off and back on his head.

“I’d respond with a witty comment, but it hurts to talk now.”

She grinned, “Hm, I love you.”

Luka still smiled despite flinching from the rawness of his throat, “I love you.”

[thelastspeecher]

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures, Pt. 2

Electric Boogaloo

I actually have two more scenes planned to tie up this little story arc in my D&D AU where Stan is half-orc and half-elf.  I originally was going to include those scenes in this post, but then these two scenes on their own were much longer than I expected.  So, uh, here’s some awkward stuff, some angst, some “aww” moments, and most importantly, a whole mess of Stan being head over heels for Angie.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan couldn’t decide whether the expectation he did chores was the worst part or the best part of staying at the McGucket farmstead. On the one hand, he had to get up when Ole Tinbeak – the earliest rising rooster – crowed.  On the other hand, the praise from Mr. McGucket never seemed to end.

              “Excellent!” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully, watching Stan lug a bale of hay twice his size.  “I must say, Stanaximus, yer the strongest elf I’ve ever seen, and yer only a child right now!”  Stan grinned despite the straws of hay poking his face.  “Would ya consider employment as a farmhand?”

              “Thanks,” Stan said, slipping into the manners that Mrs. McGucket had insisted on drilling into him.  “But I like being a ranger with Angie and Lute.”

              “Fair enough,” Mr. McGucket said.  Stan set down the bale of hay.  His vision now unobscured, he spotted Lute standing a few feet away.  Lute had never seemed that intimidating to Stan before, and his new age (and matching immature wardrobe with many pairs of shorts) only served to hinder his continued attempts.  He was in his thirties, according to Mrs. McGucket, which made him like a human five-year-old.

              “He’s only bein’ nice to you ‘cause yer a guest,” Lute hissed.  Stan snorted.

              “If you could see through all that hair, you’d know that’s not true,” he replied.  Lute lifted the dark bangs that covered his eyes to glare at Stan.

              “I can see just fine,” Lute snapped.  Stan grinned.

              “Aw, is someone grumpy ‘cause he’s overdue for a nap?” Stan teased.  Lute blushed fiercely.  The McGucket parents had insisted Lute have at least one nap a day at this age.  Something about the extra rest being particularly important for growing elves.  “Maybe you should go sleep.”

              “You-” Lute started.  Mr. McGucket came over.  He took his youngest son’s hand.

              “He’s right, Lute.  Stan, think ya can finish the chores if Angie helps?”

              “Uh, sure.  But I don’t know where she is,” Stan said slowly.  Someone jumped down from the barn’s loft, landing lightly in front of Stan.  Angie beamed at him.  “…How long were you up there?”  Angie shrugged.

              “It’s startin’ to get a bit dark, so ya best check the fence fer breaks first, ‘fore night falls,” Mr. McGucket said, leading Lute out of the barn.  Stan and Angie nodded.  Once Mr. McGucket was gone, Stan turned to Angie.

              “We’re supposed to check the fence?” he asked.

              “Yep!  Follow me.” Angie walked out of the barn. Stan followed.  They went to the enclosed cattle pasture and began to follow the fencing.  “Luckily, breaks ‘re pretty easy to spot,” Angie said cheerfully.  “And easy to fix, too.  Just a quick Mending.”  Stan nodded silently, trying to ignore how the setting sun made her golden hair turn a fiery orange.  They continued to walk in silence for a few moments.  “Don’t let Lute get ya down,” Angie said in a low tone.

              “Huh?  Oh, I’m not.” Stan shrugged.  “I actually kinda like being a kid again.”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah.  I’m-” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly.  “I’m not in that big of a rush to get this curse removed, to be honest.”  Angie came to a stop, leaning against the fencing. Stan did the same.  His hands gripped the wooden slats.  Angie turned her head to face him.  A few long golden strands of hair loose from her braid bounced with the movement.  The sun cast her form in a brilliant halo.

              “Why’s that?” she asked.  Distracted by how she looked in the fading light, Stan didn’t hear her question.

              “Huh?” he mumbled.  Angie rolled her silver eyes.  As dusk encroached, they began to glow with a faint foxfire.

              “Why are ya not in a hurry to be back to normal?” she asked.  “I thought ya missed yer tusks.”  Stan sighed.

              “I mean, I do.”

              “Then what’s goin’ on?”

              “I…”  Stan trailed off.  Angie scooted closer to him.  Her hand rested next to his, their skin touching.  Stan’s heartrate picked up.  Unable to stop himself, he blurted out the truth.  “I forgot how much better people used to treat me.”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “…Pardon?” she asked.

              Shit.  Way to go, Stan.  This is what you get for being so easily distracted by pretty girls.

              “I grew up in a mostly human settlement,” Stan said quietly.  “The only elf who lived in town was my mom.  Looking like her, I got attention.  But it was good attention, ‘cause a lotta humans are obsessed with elves. Even travelers passing through would sometimes stop and talk to me and my twin brother.  I think…”  Stan furrowed his brow.  “I think my mom said that, if we had grown up in a proper elf environment, we wouldn’t be allowed to interact with visitors.  I guess elf kids are considered really important, so they get kept away from outsiders.  At least, that’s how it was where my mom grew up.”

              “Ma says things were the same way where she came from,” Angie said.  “She ‘n Pa had some disagreements ‘bout it when we were little.  So it’s probably a high elf thing, not a specific place thing.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan took a breath.  “I liked getting all that positive attention.  But then my tusks started growing in, and my hair got darker, and I got bigger in a way that elves just aren’t.”  Stan looked down at the dirt.  He nudged a clump with the toe of his borrowed boot.  “I stopped looking like my mom and started looking like my pops. And I don’t have a lick of human in me, so I don’t look like a proper half-orc.  By the time I was sixteen, I looked full orc.”  Angie made a strangled sound.  Stan looked at her.

              “Sixteen?” she choked out, shocked.

              “Orcs don’t live that long.  Until I became an adult, I aged close to the same rate humans do. I think I was about twenty when my elf side kicked in to slow it down.”

              “Oh.  Right.” Angie nodded.  “You told me ‘fore that you were in yer sixties.”

              “Yep.  Haven’t aged a day in the last forty years, thanks to Mom.”

              “Yes.  Okay, continue yer story.”

              “Well, I dunno how much there is left to tell. I looked like an orc, and you know how people treat orcs.  Visitors stopped giving me treats and started putting their hands on their weapons when they saw me.  Since that’s how it’s been for the last few decades, I forgot that people didn’t always look at me like I was about to kill them.”

              “Even if you don’t get the curse reversed, you’ll start agin’ on yer own,” Angie pointed out.  Stan’s stomach twisted into a knot.  “Sooner rather than later, you’ll look like yer father again.”

              “Yeah.  I know.” Stan’s head drooped.  “It’s just-”

              “No need to explain.  I understand,” Angie said firmly.  She placed her hand over Stan’s.  Stan’s heart skipped a beat.  “It’s easier to be an elf than an orc.”  She quirked a half-grin.  “Though, just so’s ya know, I prefer yer orcish self to yer elvish self.”

              “R-really?” Stan stammered.  Angie nodded.

              “Tusks ‘n all.”

----- 

              Stan had just finished his breakfast when Mr. McGucket entered the kitchen.

              “Stanaximus?” he said.  Stan looked over.

              “Yeah?”              

              “Walk with me, son.”

              “Um.  Okay.” Stan deposited his plate in the sink and followed Mr. McGucket outside.  “Did you need me for something?”

              “I just need to have a lil chat with ya,” Mr. McGucket said airily.  “But I think you’d prefer the chat happen where there aren’t ears to listen.” Dread began to build in Stan’s gut. The two walked off the main, cleared area that constituted the farmstead, and into the surrounding woods.  Mr. McGucket moved through the trees like he was one with his surroundings, effortlessly silent and graceful.  It was actually almost difficult for Stan to keep track of the man, as he blended in so well.

              I mean, he is a wood elf.  Makes sense.

              “What did you wanna talk about?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket smiled.

              “You courtin’ my youngest child,” he said simply. Stan stumbled over a root.  Mr. McGucket caught him.  “You all right?”

              “Yeah, I’m- I’m-”  Stan swallowed.  “What makes you think I wanna court Angie?”

              “I see the way ya look at her.  Like she’s the sun, moon, ‘n stars.  There’s no mistakin’ what that means.”  Mr. McGucket looked at Stan.  “You can deny all ya want after this conversation, but I want ya to be truthful durin’ it, okay?”

              “…Fine,” Stan mumbled.  He clenched his hands into fists and ground them into his eyes.  “I…I really like Angie, and being a kid again has made it a lot worse.”

              “Makes sense.  Children have lesser control over their emotions, after all.  Thank you fer bein’ willin’ to talk blunt with me.”

              “Yeah, whatever.”

              “Now, I encourage ya to court Angie, once you’ve all been returned to yer proper ages.  But I needed to warn ya that a courtship with her won’t go without difficulties.”

              “What- what do you mean?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket sighed.

              “Politics.  Yer a noble, and my wife, she…she was somethin’ sim’lar ‘fore she left her home to be with me.  I don’t know whether she still has her title or not, and our children certainly don’t have any titles, but they do technically belong to a very powerful sun elf house.  If you were a wood elf, or even just a reg’lar sun elf, I doubt it would be a problem. As it is, it might not be.  But it could be.  So I figured I’d warn ya.”

              “But I’m not noble,” Stan said.  Mr. McGucket frowned at him.  “You guys keep insisting I am, but I’m not!  Maybe my mom is, or was, but my pops, he was about as far from noble as you can get.”

              “Was?”

              “…Pops passed away a few decades ago,” Stan said quietly.

              “My condolences.”

              “I don’t need ‘em.  He was a kinda shit father.”

              “Hmm.”  At Mr. McGucket’s thoughtful, though noncommittal, sound, Stan looked up.  There was a troubled look on the man’s face.  “Would that be related to the scars on yer back and arms?”

              “How- how do you-”

              “Harper saw when he took ya to the lake to swim last week,” Mr. McGucket explained.  Stan stifled a curse.  The oldest McGucket son, Harper, had showed up unexpectedly with his adopted children, then insisted on them all doing activities during his visit.  Harper was an incredibly odd person, but Stan thought he was at least tolerable.

              At least, I used to think that.  Now that I know he’s a snitch?  Nah.

              “I want to revisit this at a later time,” Mr. McGucket said after a moment. “Right now, we need to talk about you courtin’ my daughter.”

              Do we?

              “There’s no doubt you have noble blood, Stan.  Just yer full name is one that’s indicative of high status.  Even if ya don’t have a noble title or upbringing, ya have it in yer heritage.”  Mr. McGucket cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Though not havin’ a title will prob’ly make it so Angie’s own royal blood ain’t a factor.”

              “Did you say ‘royal’?” Stan croaked.  A twinkle entered Mr. McGucket’s eye.

              “Yes.”  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Now, I will say- wait.”

              “What?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket now looked at him with visible concern.

              “Open yer mouth, son.”  Before Stan could comply or refuse, Mr. McGucket carefully pried his jaws open, looking at his teeth like he was determining a horse’s age.  “Oh, no.  Are these…fangs?”  Instantly, Stan broke into a cold sweat.

              Fuck!  My tusks! They started coming in!  Mr. McGucket released his hold and took a step back, worry etched on his face.  Stan closed his mouth.

              “It’s okay,” Stan said quickly.

              “Son, you have two teeth what shouldn’t be there, and what look awful dif’rent from yer other teeth.”

              “It’s, um…”  Stan’s mind raced.  “My pops, he got cursed when he was younger, and it got passed down to me somehow.”

              “Really.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s not a problem.”

              “Maybe.  But when we get this main curse off ya, we’ll take a look at this one that made ya grow fangs.”

              “Maybe…”

              Gods, no, there’s no way in any of the planes that I’d let some elf take my tusks away.  Stan and Mr. McGucket entered a large clearing.  Stan blinked at the farmhouse before them.  Without him realizing, they’d walked back to the McGucket farmstead. Mr. McGucket put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Yer a very interestin’ young man,” he said.

              Damn, and he doesn’t even know I’m half-orc.

              “I’d like to have many more conversations with ya.  But since yer likely to woo my daughter, I have no doubt I’ll have plenty of opportunities to chat.”

              “I might not court her,” Stan said quietly.  The second he spoke, he knew it was a lie.  There was no chance he wouldn’t shoot his shot.

              “It’d be a shame if ya didn’t, since ya have not just my blessin’, but that of my wife, too.”  Mr. McGucket squeezed Stan’s shoulder.  “And not to mention, we wouldn’t push ya to court if we didn’t think it would go well.” Stan swallowed.  “All right, ya can go back to denyin’ now.  I have to go run a few errands, and you have some chores.”

              Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Stan headed for the barn. As he approached, Angie emerged from it. She caught sight of him and waved. Stan’s heart did yet another backflip upon seeing her.  She came over to him.

              “Were ya in the woods with my pa?” she asked.

              “Yeah.  Don’t worry, he didn’t try to hunt me or anything.  He just wanted to talk.”

              “What were you talkin’ ‘bout?”

              “How you’re actually a long-lost elven princess,” Stan said casually. Angie gasped and punched his shoulder. “Nah, it was just weird stuff where he called me ‘son’ a lot and wanted to know about my family.”

              “He called ya ‘son’, huh?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Sounds to me like he was askin’ ‘bout yer fam’ly ‘cause he considers ya part of ours.”  Angie winked. “Good luck with that.”  Stan grinned confidently.

              “I think I can handle your family.  I mean, I handle you all right,” he said.  Angie threw her head back and laughed.

              “I’ll let ya continue to think that.”

[liebegott]

It would really butter my crumpets if you could please write something with Webster where he talks to you about literature cos I think that would be S E X Y thank you ~ twin

Thank Tolstoy. | David Webster

(click here to read on wattpad)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

pairing: webster x reader

wc: 1.2k

a/n: i love how webster’s main personality trait to me is that he reads so everything i write related to him involves books 😂 also, i am literally INCAPABLE of writing anything without putting liebgott in it even for a cameo i’m so sorry.

thank you all for still reading, i hope you like this one! 💓

tagging: @floydtab @alienoresimagines @order-of-river-phoenix @julianneday1701 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @wexhappyxfew @rarmiitage @mavysnavy @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @georgeluzwarmhugs @ray--person @wecomrades @jussipogideonlaufeyson @happyveday @snafus-peckuh 

feel free to message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

***

Jumping down from the truck, your boots crunched on the gravel. The sky was a vibrant blue, the sun beating down on you. You brought a hand across your forehead, and wiped away your sweat. 

For a year, you helped the army deliver supplies wherever it was needed, and for a year, you came across all different kinds of people. The young men always had a goofy smirk on their face in your presence. In return, you always ignored them, their ogling making you more annoyed than uncomfortable.

“Whatcha readin’, Web?” a skinny man said a few meters from you. He had a cigarette between his fingers, his hair all tousled and messy. The man he was speaking to was on the ground, his knee up and a book in his hands. 

Eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, the man clenched his strong jaw in mild annoyance and looked up at his friend. “War and Peace. Tolstoy,” he sighed patiently, turning quickly back to his book in hopes his friend would get the memo.

His friend nodded again, bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. “Cool,” he replied, trying to take a peek at the book in the man’s hands, “Does it have any pictures?” He crouched down beside his friend who turned away slightly.

“No, it does not,” the man replied matter-of-factly, bringing a finger to his lips and licking it prior to flipping a page.

The skinny man shrugged, standing upright once more and flicking away his now finished cigarette. “Still cool,” he nodded, catching your eye and winking before walking away. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, spinning on your feet and returning to work.

As you unloaded the supplies, you realised the man was still seated there, his head now completely buried in the book, chewing on his bottom lip. You hated to admit it was kind of cute. Half the truck of supplies now unloaded, you made your way towards him, your boots against the ground not breaking his concentration. 

Even standing in front of him, he failed to notice you, still entranced with the words on the page. “War and Peace, huh?” you said to him kindly, the sound of your voice making his head snap upwards. You finally got a good look at his face, his eyes a stunning bright blue that completely mirrored the sky. He squinted at you, the sun blocking his vision, and brought a hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, lifting the book slightly to show you the words on the cover. He scooted on the ground, making space for you, and you gladly took his offer and plopped down beside him. Leaning against the fence, you crossed your legs, fiddling with your fingers on your lap. “Have you read it?”

You glanced at the page he was on, unfamiliar with the words written and shook your head honestly. You had heard of Tolstoy’s writing, some were even taught in school. But back at home, you never had time to read, busy helping out your parents, then eventually putting all your efforts towards helping the men in the frontlines. “Nope, just thought it was an interesting title, seeing as to where we are right now,” you grinned, sticking your chin up smugly.

The man smiled at you, dimples forming on his cheeks. For a moment, there was no war, and it was the two of you, seated against a fence.

“Can you tell me what it's about?” you asked him earnestly, leaning your head on the wood behind you and closing your eyes. The man looked at you for a moment, before turning back to the book, thumbing through the pages.

He hummed for a moment, the sound of him thinking drowning out the rumble of the truck just a few meters away. “Well,” he began, flipping the book around a couple of times to look at the cover, “It’s about three different people during Napoleon’s invasion of Russia.”

“No,” you quickly interrupted him, grinning at him when the man looked at you with wide eyes, “I mean what it means to you? Surely, you aren’t reading it to read about war.” You looked around you, the town being the first time in months you delivered supplies to actual houses, with doors that locked and windows that closed. Not rubble, not cold forests, not makeshift tents. “You’ve had enough of that, haven’t you?”

The smile on his face faded, replaced with an unreadable expression, and you were worried you had crossed a line. No, you definitely did, and you internally cursed yourself for even saying anything. You were about to mumble an apology when the man started speaking, his voice absent of any ill feelings. 

“To me,” he began, now quieter, and you couldn’t help but glance around to see if anyone else was listening, “It’s about contradictions.” You tilted your head at him, and once again caught his eyes- the blue almost making you breathless.  

“War brings out the worst in people,” he said, closing his eyes, the blue disappearing. You stared at his lips as he spoke, supple and pink despite the circumstances, “And yet, such good men are formed through it. That’s what makes it beautiful.”

Unsure of what to say, you held your hand back, resisting the urge to touch his cheek. “You can look back at everything you’ve seen, and still say it’s beautiful?” your voice was quiet, apprehensive, but genuine.

The man, with his eyes closed still, nodded, a smile forming against his face once more. Opening his eyes, he looked at you, and for a brief moment, you could almost imagine everything he had seen. But, you would never know even half of what he has experienced.

“Well,” he grinned, taking your hand in his, his palm calloused and dry against your own rough hands, “It brought me here with you, didn’t it?” His tone was flirtatious, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from reddening despite how much you hated it whenever the men would flirt with you.

“Private Webster,” you curled a strand of hair behind your ear, “I suspected you had a way with words, but I didn’t think you’d use Tolstoy to flirt with me.” 

Webster smiled, his dimples showing once more. “I’m not flirting with you,” his eyes twinkled, “I don’t even know your name.” You pulled your hand away, standing up, much to his surprise. As you brushed the dust from your pants, you shook your head.

“You don’t need to know,” you grinned, walking backwards back to the truck, “But I’ll find you.”

Despite the sadness in his face, he forced a smile, “You promise?” Winking at him, you climbed onto the back of the truck, his figure seated on the ground watching as you slowly disappeared from his view.

As you drove off, back to headquarters where you’d load up the truck with more supplies and deliver it to another company, you thought you’d leave behind Private Webster and all thoughts of Tolstoy back on the ground against that fence. 

You would never expect to be beside David, listening to him read War and Peace to you out loud, in bed, years after the war has ended, thanking it, despite everything, for bringing the two of you together.

[neerasrealm]

bRO jason or LJ would be great with the record scratch one imo HSHSH

WHEN I SAW JASON AS AN OPTION I LOST IT FHGSDHF. Anyway hi this story is basically Jason getting bullied by Kate the Chaser for 2000+ words. Enjoy.

*record scratch* 

*freeze frame* 

Yep, that’s me. No, not the vague figure you’re imagining now from the zero amount of information I’ve given you, and no, I’m not the heroic yet relatable main-character you’d expect either. I’m the one that’s currently, and quite poetically, hiding in the corner of a chicken coop. Yeah, that’s the one.

Hi, I'm Jason. I'm a toymaker. And also half- or maybe three quarters demon because I work for an immortal god of chaos and destruction. And for a little more context, I'm in a chicken coop because things went horribly, horribly wrong. 

I was given one simple task. Spy on a woman named Kate. Okay, no problem. She's human, average height and weight. Nothing to be concerned about. The only foreseeable threat was the fact that she works for my boss's biggest rival. A man named Slender. I would say creature, but from what I've heard he's rather good at acting civilised, though I've also heard that it's all just an act to lower guards. Regardless, I had no fear of her.

No fear that is, until she happened to catch me watching her via my pet surveillance mouse, Licorice. She smacked the poor thing with a rake! A rake! My poor innocent little surveillance drone...Licorice wouldn't harm a fly…

Eh-hem. Anyway- after she found and assaulted Licorice I tried to make my escape- but she caught me. So I hid in the only place I could. 

The chicken coop. 

And that's where I am now. Curled up amongst feathers, grain and very upset birds. If I wasn't trying to be quiet, I would've killed them by now. Especially the one that’s pecking my leg. Rude bitch. I have half a mind to strangle you, you know that, chicken?

Wait.

Oh no.

I hear footsteps.

The door to the chicken coop is yanked open and suddenly I’m being glared at by an angry asian lady wearing black and white flannel. 

‘’Get outta my coop, bitch boy.’’

Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, RUDE. third of all,

‘’No.’’

She glares at me.

‘’Alright, that’s it.’’

She climbs into the fucking chicken coop, grabs me by my EXPENSIVE knee high boots and YANKS me out of the coop with strength I didn’t expect from her. I scream and thrash about and kick at her until she lets me go. She stands over me, glaring. I glare right back. She puts her hands on her hips, channeling the energy of an angry texan grandma. If I wasn’t British I’d probably be terrified right now. 

‘’Who gave you permission to go snoopin’ around my property?’’

‘’I don’t need permission to snoop anywhere,’’ I growl back. ‘’I do as I please.’’

"So you admit you WERE snoopin'!" She points an accusing finger at me. 

"No, I was just saying I don't need permission to snoop." I cross my arms and give her a smug look. The word snoop sounds really weird now that we keep saying i- "AH!" 

She yanks me by the collar of my rather EXPENSIVE shirt. Blue eyes glare into mine between strands of dark hair. ‘’Jason,’’ she growls. ‘’Tell me what the fuck you’re doing here before I crack your skull open like an over-ripe cantaloupe.’’

I glare at her. ‘’...Fine.’’ I sigh. ‘’I was asked to look into you since you’ve changed location. It was suspected that you were doing something, or perhaps Slender had changed his base of operat-’’ I’m interrupted by her letting go of my collar and rudely placing her muddy boot on my nice clean clothes. ‘’HEY!’’

‘’I fucking moved out, Jason. Jesus. Can Zalgo just calm his tits? Do I have to live in fear of the bastard for the rest of my life just because of Slender?’’

‘’Yes, you do.’’ I glare at her. ‘’Maybe you should have considered that before becoming his proxy.’’ She rolls her eyes and lifts her foot off of me. I brush dirt off myself but- that mud isn’t going to come off easily...these were expensive clothes too…

‘’Get up.’’

‘’I’m not taking orders from you!’’

‘’Then maybe I should tell Slender I found a creepy redhead sitting up a tree watching me!’’

"Hey! I am not creepy!" 

Kate glares down at me, her hands on her hips again. After a few moments of stubborn silence, I stand up and brush dirt off myself. She folds her arms.

"I won't tell Slender about this if you do somethin' for me." She says. I squint.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" I murmur. She nods.

"Yep. I have a fence that needs fixin', along with some stuff in the house and fields. If ya help me I won't tell Slenderman I found ya creepin' around my property."

What the hell does this woman take me for? I'm not going to let her blackmail me! I glare at her and cross my arms. "Absolutely not." I say before turning and walking away. Hah! That'll show her! I'm simply going to walk away from my problems!

"Aren't ya forgettin’ somethin'?" I turn and look at her and stare in horror. She's holding my beloved mouse from her tail, swinging her from side to side like she's a toy rather than a beloved pet!

"LICORICE!" I yelp and run towards her to grab back my poor pet. Kate moves out of the way with surprising speed. I suppose that's why her nickname is 'The Chaser'. 

"Ah ah ah." She wags a finger at me, teasing me. "Not until you help me."

"What?!" Licorice is being held ransom now?! I stare at Kate in horror. She smirks. "...fine! Fine, I'll do it! Just- don't hurt licorice...please…"

"That's the spirit, jacey-boy!" She chirps. Dear god I hope she never calls me that again. She stuffs licorice back into her pocket and smiles smugly. "Now c'mon."

Begrudgingly, I follow her to her home. It’s a large country house, with a spacious wooden deck. Inside is just as cozy as you’d expect. This is actually a nice place- I wouldn’t mind living here myself if it wasn’t on a farm. I don’t like farms. They smell bad.

‘’Alright, here we go.’’ She leads me into the kitchen. There’s a toolbag on the kitchen table. She picks it up and holds it out to me. ‘’There’s some broken bannisters on the stairs. Think you can fix them up?’’

‘’I guess if there’s replacement bannisters.’’ I grunt. 

‘’In the shed out back. And after you’re done that, you can fix some holes I found in the walls upstairs,’’ she shrugs at me. ‘’I think the past owner had a teenage son. Punched the shit outta the place.’’

‘’Of course he did…’’ I take the toolbag and sigh. ‘’Fine.’’ 

 I march out the backdoor and find her shed. Walking inside, the bannisters I need are laying on a table. It smells of fresh paint in here- I actually quite like that smell...I grab the bannisters and march back inside. The bitch is making coffee instead of- you know, working like I am. I glare at her as I walk back into the hallway. Her stairs are completely missing several bannisters- six to be exact. With a sigh, I put down the bannisters and rummage through the bag for a drill. Why does she think I’m qualified to fix stairs anyway? Because I’m a toymaker?? I mean- yeah I know how to fix things like this- but still! My skills are more in carving and painting and sewing...ugh…

I pull out the drill I need and get to work. It’s a simple process. Drill a nail into the stairs, drill a matching hole into the bannister, then screw it on. Nothing too difficult- the only bad part is the sawdust that gets everywhere. Not my problem though- at least I hope it isn’t. If she makes me clean it up I’ll be mad.

‘’I finished.’’ I growl to Kate as I walk back into the kitchen. ‘’What next?’’

She’s eating fucking banana bread. Taunting me with the fact that I’m doing all of her work for her. Fuck you, Kate. Fuck you. If I was in a room with Slenderman and you and I had one bullet, I’d shoot Slender and beat you to death myself. Fuck you AND YOUR BANANA BRE-

‘’There’s plaster and newspaper upstairs. You can stuff the holes up and plaster over ‘em.’’ she smiles at me. Ah. I didn’t need to come in here at all. I could have avoided seeing the accursed banana bread…

I go upstairs like a good slave laborer. The bucket of plaster and stack of newspapers is sitting right next to the top of the stairs. How did I miss it? Ugh. Whatever- ripping up the papers to stuff up the holes in the walls is actually kind of fun. I haven't made anything with paper mache in a while...it’s kind of time consuming to make but still fun! 

Thinking about paper mache makes the time go by much much faster. By the time I’ve patched up every single hole in the wall I’ve almost completely forgotten why I’m so angry! It’s nice- being productive always helps me calm down and forget why I’m so stressed…

‘’Hey, Jason!’’

Ah. I remember now. I look down the stairs at Kate. She smirks a bit. ‘’Ya done?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Good! Ya can help me with the fence then!’’

Ugh. With a huff I walk downstairs and follow her outside. She leads me to a wooden fence that’s broken down and barely standing. Next to it is a shovel, some timber and more tools. She picks the shovel up and starts digging around the fencepost. Together, the two of us remove the rotten wood from the bottom of the post, fill up the hole, and replace the rest of the rotten and broken wood. By the time we’re done I’m covered in dirt, and sweaty. I huff and take off my jacket, holding it under my arm. Kate does something similar, tying her flannel shirt around her waist. She stretches, cracking her back and grunting. 

‘’Are we done yet?’’ I growl. Kate smirks. 

‘’Almost. Just need ta water some crops.’’ she strides past me. ‘’C’mon Jacey. It won’t take long.’’ 

‘’Don’t call me Jacey.’’ 

She laughs and leads me over to the field I was watching her in. There's a short pipe with a hose attached to it just by the gate leading into it. She picks up the hose and hands it to me. ‘’Just sprinkle some water over ‘em, got it?’’

‘’I know how to water plants. I’m not dense.’’

Her lips curl up into a smile. ‘’Good. I’m gonna go check on Marigold.’’ she says before wandering away. I frown.

‘’Who’s Marigold?’’ I call after her.

‘’My cow!’’ she yells back. ‘’Now get to work before I feed your mouse to her!’’

Cows don’t even eat mice...stupid bitch. Hmph. begrudgingly, I walk along the small paths in between each line of crops, sprinkling each one with water. She has all sorts of things growing according to the small wooden signs stuck into the dirt. Carrots, potatoes, tomatoes...being a farmer sounds like a hellish lifestyle, but having your own fresh ingredients for cooking does sound appealing...

‘’Jason!’’ 

Just as I’m watering the last of her plants she calls me. I glance over at her. She waves at me from the other end of the field. With a sigh, I walk all the way over to the gate where she’s standing.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Ya wanna feed the chickens?’’

‘’No.’’ 

‘’Great!’’ she grins at me. Great, now I have to feed the bloody things. As if hiding amongst them earlier wasn’t degrading enough. I put the hose back where I found it and turn to her. She holds out a bucket filled with seeds, grain and berries. I take it and frown.

‘’What is this?’’

‘’Chicken feed. Duh.’’ she rolls her eyes. ‘’C’mon. This is the last thing, promise.’’ I follow her back to the accursed chicken coop. The chickens, there’s seven of them, are just wandering around, pecking aimlessly at the ground. Kate claps her hands and the demon birds all look up. Kate looks at me and gestures to the chickens. ‘’Well c’mon. They’re waitin’.’’

With a sigh I reach into the bucket, grab a handful of feed, and toss it to the ground. Immediately it’s swarmed by bloodthirsty- er- bloodhungry chickens who peck the ground aggressively. Out of fear for my safety I continue tossing feed at the birds. Admittedly it is fun seeing chickens rapidly look around in confusion when they’re hit on the head with their own food. This isn’t actually too bad. These chickens aren’t all that ba-

‘’Ow!’’

I TAKE IT BACK ONE OF THE FUCKERS JUST PECKED MY FOOT. I kick at the aggressive bird. It flutters back and I give it my best sneer. Kate clicks her tongue and I look up at her. 

‘’Bad idea, Jacey.’’

Huh? Wha- ‘’OW-’’ I stumble back and away from the flock of chickens pecking at my good nice boots. I drop the bucket of feed, stumble on a rock, and fall straight into the muddy ground. I stare at the sky, eyes wide. What- what the fuck...since when are chickens so- aggressive?? I sit up slowly and stare at the demon hens in fear, then at Kate who is aggressively laughing. I glare at her, regain my lost dignity out of spite, and stand up.

‘’Can I go now?’’

‘’Mmm…’’ she rocks on her heels, smirking and considering it for a moment. ‘’Sure. I think ya’ve done everything I need.’’ she pulls her hands out from behind her back and holds out a tupperware container as I walk over to her. What- why is she-

Oh.

Oh if she put licorice in there-

‘’Licorice!’’ yep she did. Bitch. I pick up my beloved mouse and cradle her in my hands, dropping the container in the process. ‘’Oh there you are sweetie...I’m sorry- did the mean lady trap you in there? You poor thing.’’ Licorice squeaks in distress as I pet her gently and kiss the top of her little head. ‘’I know, I know- don’t worry Jason’s here, she isn’t going to hurt you anymore my sweet.’’ 

Licorice rolls up onto my shoulder and snuggles up against my collar. I pat her again and glare at Kate. She smiles sweetly at me.

‘’Get off my property.’’

‘’Gladly.’’

[voidendron]

Home

Star Wars: The Old Republic Words: 984

And he smiled. It was small, and tired, and anyone else would have missed it. Home. They were finally home, weren’t they?

Warnings: None Characters: Varrich Tophrik (Meteor), Melina Tophrik (Jedi Consular)

The days were long. They were warm, and sunny, and clear, when he was in the fields.

It hadn’t been long; there weren’t even sprouts in the hundreds of rows that had been planted. Wouldn’t be any for some time, yet.

There were others, milling about. Botanists, farmers, some troopers and Force-sensitives to protect them from the Odessen wildlife. What little machinery they had was parked under collapsible shelters, while a group of engineers checked the new irrigation system. In the distance, on the other side of the fence, two young Sleen wrestled in the river, splashing about and dunking each other under the surface.

Varrich took a slow breath. Another was accompanied by the closing of his eye as he leaned back against a fence post—the fence that he’d help build only yesterday. It was crooked and some of the posts leaned where inexperienced volunteers had helped. Other parts stood in perfect lines, strong and sturdy, where experienced farmers had finally been able to offer their skills to the Alliance. Some, placed by hand, and others with machinery and even the occasional droid.

Some of the posts were wood, cut from trees that had been destroyed in Zakuul’s invasion all those months ago. Others, made of metal—scraped together from old unwanted parts, or spares some of the smugglers had laying around their ships, and a few even proper fencing others happened to have available.

The fences surrounding the fields were a mess of colors and shapes and textures. The nets hanging haphazardly from where they were tied to the posts all that kept some of the wildlife from getting in.

But it was a start. Damn, if it wasn’t a start.

Arms crossed, his eye drifted open and gaze flitted about. One hand scratched absentmindedly at a chip in the paint of his prosthetic, thumb rubbing over the shapes painted onto the hand to copy the tattoos on the one opposite.

He was tired, and sore, but damn if it wasn’t rewarding.

“Is that fondness I see on your face?”

Glancing to the side revealed Lina trotting from where a collection of speeders were parked. She had something slung across her shoulder, one hand hiking up the bottom of her dress so it wouldn’t get grass stains, and she was grinning, bright as ever.

“Your hair’s a frizzy mess,” she teased, reaching over the fence to tuck a loose, grayed strand behind his ear. Then, she tossed what she’d been carrying at him—it was a canteen, full of cool water, that he caught against his chest. “You’ve all been hard at work,” she added. “Commander’s looking forward to your first report.”

“I…still can’t believe she put me in charge of all this.”

She nudged his shoulder with a laugh. “It was your idea to start growing crops! And you’re the one who scouted this spot out and helped figure out what we can even try growing here in the first place.”

Maybe it was his expression that showed his doubt, but she was already rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh long before he could even open his mouth. “I became a soldier—not a farmer. Commander could have picked anyone else for this.”

“Vee. We grew up on a farm and I know you—you probably kept up your agriculture studies ‘just in case’ regardless of military ranks or whatever.” She waved her hand toward the field—toward the others working in it. “Besides. It’s not like you’re the only farmer here. You’ve got plenty of help.”

Varrich leaned his head back against the fence post; the unevenly cut wood snagged at his ponytail, but he didn’t pay it any mind as he turned slightly toward his sister. She had her arms crossed over the fence, being careful not to nudge at the net with her feet so it wouldn’t shock her. She was still smiling, gesticulating toward the sky and the field, the farmers and the volunteers, as she chattered away.

She clicked her tongue, and Varrich’s shoulders loosened from their usual, stiff posture. Such a simple little sound. But such a familiar one, too. He hadn’t heard it in so, so long when they’d been apart. When he left home, when he was recruited by Havoc, in the…at Breaktown.

He’d missed her, when they couldn’t talk. When they were separated for one reason or another. She may have been the Force-sensitive one, but she was still his twin; there was still a connection there.

“Are you happy here?” he asked after a while. Usually, he was content just to let her be the one talking, but…

Her grin brightened, all the way up to her eyes, at the question. “This is home, now!” She cocked her head, tsked thoughtfully. “…Are you happy here?”

He turned away from her. Watched a teenager listen with genuine interest as one of the farmers explained how the tiny plow—one they’d managed to get planetside on short notice, but was currently their only one—worked. He watched a trio of engineers argue over how to fix something with the irrigation without damaging anything else or causing risk to the wildlife. Watched one of the scientists take a bite of their lunch, only for the vegetables to fall out the over side and land on the ground at their feet.

His gaze shifted, farther out. To a tiny Makrin following its parent on unsteady legs. To the eyes of Shade Stalkers deep in the shadows of the trees. To where he knew the base was, hidden away in its mountainside, unseen from where they’d placed the fields.

And he smiled. It was small, and tired, and anyone else would have missed it.

But Lina grinned ever-wider when she noticed it, leaned over the fence to wrap her arms around his neck in an awkward hug.

Home.

They were finally home, weren’t they?

[starstruckmyths]

STILL NOT OVER YOUR NEIGHBORS AU 😭😭💖💖

IS IT THE ONE WHERE STEVE RIPS A LOG IN HALF??? BECAUSE SAME. 

Just kinda wrote a little thing for it, boo, don’t mind me...

---Okay I started in my usual style with just the cute description of Bucky arriving and checking out Steve, but then I tried to summarize what would happen after and it got SO HORNY. Like I went from “Oh nature, what a beautiful man this is” to “Bucky wants to grind endlessly on Steve’s lap”. 

I mean, what can I say? Bucky is just horny for Steve and so am I. 

Okay, so: Bucky driving out to a quiet village to be around nature more, to reinvent himself, to relax and get his mind straight. The last couple of months had really send him over the edge, and he could no longer stand to be in the city that never sleeps.  After a lot of manipulation and mind games of people he thought were his friends, he made up his mind and packed his stuff. He wanted to break out of that, get far away to somewhere the life would agree with him more. 

When his car pulled up on the other side of the pebble-filled road, the small stones scrunching beneath the tires, he could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and when he stepped out, the rustling noises of nothing but nature surrounded him at once. He almost felt guilty for obscuring the sound of birds tweeter, crickets chirping and the wind blowing through the canopy of trees with the roaring of his car. 

He got his stuff from the trunk; two suitcases and a stuffed backpack. The house came with furniture included, so there was no need for a moving van or all that mess. He could move in immediately. It was a small house, but he liked it already; though he supposed the mosquitoes that had attacked him already would be of great annoyance to him. Truth be told, Bucky wasn’t much of an outdoors person. But his mother had told him it would be good to get out for once. To just try something new. 

Walking up to his house, he stopped in his tracks once he caught sight of a moving blur. He looked at his side, over the low fence to the other garden. There was a man there, walking out of his own house leisurely. Bucky cocked his head to the side, frowning a little as he watched the man grab something from his porch, before he strolled towards the pile of wood that was lying in the center of his garden. The man raised his hands and the ax, and then took a swing at the wood, huge biceps flexing and showing with a glimmer of golden skin. 

He must have been doing it for a while, because Bucky could see the tight shirt he was wearing stick to his skin, adjusting to every bump and... and every curve of that man’s body. The man had thick strands of blonde hair, and a body that could make a Greek god jealous. 

What Bucky could see were impossibly long legs that the man used to strut around so carelessly. The proportion of the blond’s broad shoulders to his narrow, tapered waist were drool-worthy, to say the least, and the way he swayed his hips when he moved should be illegal. The man was wearing a short-sleeved, blue shirt that showed the contours of muscular arms that worked to swing the ax, and Bucky wanted to run his hands across it, slipping beneath the shirt that should not be there. The blond was wearing a pair of jeans that reached to his ankles, showing off all the curves, the outlines of his thighs, and a peachy-firm ass that Bucky would not mind grabbing whenever he’d bend over like that, to grab a piece of wood. 

Just as Bucky thought of calling out, walking closer to make himself known, the man took the piece of wood in hand and ripped the thing in two with his bare hands. Like that, Bucky started to imagine what other things those strong hands could do. 

Licking his lips, Bucky’s hand tightened around the handle of his suitcase, thumb rubbing across the grip a little, and he shifted on his feet, pressing his thighs together just slightly as he kept staring at the blond hunk that was chopping wood like it was a porn movie, and he was going for an Oscar. If it’d been up to Bucky, he would get one. Like right now. 

Oh, if only this man had a co-star to finish that movie with. 

---

Or basically, Steve is the big strong neighbor chopping wood and doing all the super manly stuff, and then Bucky comes along and suddenly it’s not just wood anymore that Steve wants to split in half. 

I’m thinking they’re both very interested, but in different ways. Like it’s Bucky who comes over and grabs Steve’s ass, whines for more attention, gets into the dirty stuff really quickly, and wants his kisses, but it’s Steve who uses those big hands of his to just grab every part of Bucky that he wants, lifting him up against his chest so Bucky can curl those legs of his around Steve’s waist so Steve can just shamelessly have his hands on Bucky’s ass, hips and back. Or Steve sets Bucky on the kitchen counter, on a log, on a table, anything that reaches high enough for them so Bucky can run his hands through Steve’s hair, on his neck, throat, shoulders, pecks (mostly his pecks, probably). 

Like Bucky would have a thing for Steve’s big hands that can rip a log in half, but Steve has a thing for Bucky’s hips and waist (and everything between ;), and he just loves how Bucky can curl his legs around Steve’s waist. Bucky would be taking every excuse to just straddle Steve’s lap, and though Steve had been unsure what to do at first, it would come to him very naturally after that. It started with Steve just murmuring praise and soft things, saying how Bucky’s such a pretty boy, which turned to heavy make-out sessions, and eventually Steve pulling his baby close so that Bucky could grind on him, get closer and closer, and Steve would bite softly at Bucky’s lips, then mark up the soft skin of Bucky’s neck, and really, feeling Bucky get needier and needier against him was just undefeated.

Like Steve’s not very familiar with this kind of relationships, and it’s very new to him to just have a pretty boy in his lap, grinding his thigh and telling him where to kiss and what to grab, but Steve’s a real natural. Once he gets on track it goes from nervously just massaging Bucky’s hips and skimming along his thighs, kissing him softly and gentle, and asking, “Is that okay? A-am I doing it right? Are you supposed to make that noise?!”

To something more like: Steve making Bucky grind on his thigh, working himself up to the climax, just so that Steve can grab him and hold him still, denying him that what Bucky wants, relishing in watching Bucky whine and squirm and trying to buck his hips to get that friction back, and all Steve says is, “Such a sweet mess, aren’t you, darling’? Wan’ me to kiss those lips all red? Huh? Tell me what you want, baby. Want to grind against my thigh until you cum, moaning and begging like the sweet little slut you always are for me? Is that what you want? Tell me baby, wan’ me to grab that cute lil’ waist of yours and just hold you down until I say you can cum? Hm? Is that what you want?” 

And yeah, that’s exactly what Bucky wants. 

---

Ok I am so sorry if this isn’t what you meant, but it’s really all I could think of.