#the smell of food comes from a kitchen down the grand staircase and your stomach rumbles and aren't you just so hungry ?

[willowser]

hello. should be sleeping. instead thinking of vampire kirishima ( 。•_• 。)

[little-red-beret]

Hey gang I made a Promare fic if anyone has seen that! It’s my obsession atm so here ya go:

Galo Thymos woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs drifting through the loft and smiled. Today was a special day, and he was already being surprised. He wandered into the kitchen to find Lio in a loose shirt and boxers holding a frypan over a hand omitting a small blossom of pink flames. Lio glanced up from his cooking and a small smile spread across his face.

“Is our stove broken?” Galo asked.

“I haven’t been using my flames enough, they’re getting restless.” Lio explained.

They sat together at the dining table, eating at a leisurely pace with no job to be at all weekend. The only place they had to be was at an island resort much later in the day for a long awaited holiday.

“Have you finished packing?” Lio checked.

“Are you kidding, I finished that last night!” Galo answered as he passionately devoured Lio’s cooking.

“No, you haven’t, your swimsuit was still in the draw this morning.” Lio pointed out.

“Right!” Galo noted. “This is going to be so fun! We’ll go swimming! In the sea! And we’ll play volleyball on the beach! And we’ll eat so much food! There’s a couples’ dance class at the resort, too!”

“Can you even dance?”

“Wanna see?”

“No, you’ll hurt my eyes.”

Galo grabbed a pillow off a couch close behind him and threw it at Lio’s head.

They finished packing and set off after breakfast, Galo in a straw hat and colourful button up shirt, Lio in his usual all-black getup. The bus trip to the ferry terminal was sunny and Galo was buzzing with excitement. He and Lio rested their heads on each other’s shoulders, staring contently out the window. The ferry terminal was like another world. Lio squinted against the wind that blew his hair in his face. The waves were capped with foam, and clouds lined the horizon.

“Did you check the weather before you planned this trip?” Lio asked, staring apprehensively at the port.

“No, why would I?” Galo shrugged. Lio took out his phone and opened the weather app. Whatever he saw caused him to literally burst into flames. Travellers around them screamed and hurried to put space between them. Somewhere in the terminal a child started crying.

“It says there are storms all weekend, you idiot!” Lio cried, showing Galo the neat row of lightning symbols on his phone.

“Cool it, firebug!” Galo whispered, glancing around nervously. “It’s just a little surprise! Besides, weather reports are never accurate, anyway!”

“You really don’t think ahead, huh.” Lio muttered bitterly, taking a deep breath and vanishing the fire.

“It’ll be fun, I promise! You know I’ll always find a way to make things fun!”

Lio glared at his lover, but the longer he glared, the harder it got to suppress the smile breaking out across his face.

“Let’s get going, then.” He took Galo’s hand and they continued towards the ferry.

The ferry ride was terribly rough. Galo marvelled at the view from the railing the entire time, eyes glued to the sea.

“Look at that wave!” He exclaimed, just as he had for every other wave. “Ooh, that one is like ‘whoosh’!” He wiggled his hands about in imitation. Lio was resting his head on the railing beside him instead of actually looking. “Are you good, Lio?”

Lio uttered a tiny moan as a response.

“Are you getting seasick?” Galo fretted, lightly placing a hand on his back. Lio nodded against the railing.

“Honestly, I don’t do well with motion....” he muttered weakly.

“It’s okay, we’ll be there soon!” Galo assured him, watching the overcast island in the distance.

Lio didn’t speak a single word after Galo’s reassurances, nor did he move. The clouds only got darker and the waves taller as they neared the island. Galo put a hand over Lio’s and felt how tightly it gripped the railing. He kept his hand there to ground him and continued his ongoing ocean commentary on the view Lio was missing.

When the boat docked, Lio finally straightened, looking incredibly pale and delicate.

“You really don’t look like you’re hanging in there...” Galo worried, squeezing his lover’s hand tightly.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to lie down for a bit when we get to the hotel.” Lio insisted bravely.

The second they stepped off the ferry, it began to pour rain. Galo burst into laughter at their misfortune.

“Now you look stupid in your beach outfit.” Lio remarked wryly, and Galo laughed even harder. Lio smiled weakly and snuggled into Galo’s arm. They walked quickly to a taxi queue, eager to escape the rain as soon as possible.

Much to Galo’s horror, the taxi took them swerving through a windy mountain range where they could barely see through the heavy rain. He helplessly watched Lio’s complexion begin to match his hair as their journey progressed. Every few minutes he offered hushed reassurances that they were almost there, stroking Lio’s hand with his thumb. Lio’s hand began to tremble beneath his as they were pulling into the grand driveway of the resort.

They were dropped off and elegantly suited doormen took their suitcases for them. Galo stared at the luxurious decor in awe. The staircase leading into the hotel was marble topped with a red carpet. Gold accents lined the doors and windows. Then Lio tore away to the nearby gardens, collapsing next to a rose bush in the rain.

“Oh, no...” Galo muttered. Lio sat there rigidly with a hand pressed to his mouth. “I’ll get us checked in!” He called, figuring it would make Lio’s life easier and that he would still be there when he got back.

Sure enough, Lio was still kneeling by the rose bush every time Galo glanced out the panoramic reception window while he waited in the queue. Even after they were checked in and Galo had been handed the key card, Lio still hadn’t moved. Galo stood by the window and watched in concern as Lio sat there getting drenched by the rain. He noticed a woman in a white sundress a metre from him staring wistfully at the miserable weather. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe in reading weather reports.

“Great beach weather, huh!” Galo joked, always eager to lighten the mood.

“I have a boyfriend.” The woman responded flatly.

“Me too!” Galo beamed, pointing to the small man kneeling in the garden. “He’s about to throw up.” Right on cue, Lio’s back arched and he produced a vile torrent of sick. “Oop, that’s my cue to leave!”

Galo joined Lio in the rain, dashing over to make sure he was okay.

“Poor sweetie!” He cried, crouching in the wet grass beside his lover. Lio was shaking violently on all fours. Galo patted his back as he brought up another stream of sick, retching loudly. They were fortunate that the rain softened the awful process a bit, muffling the sounds and washing away the mess as it was made. “That’s the way, get it all up, Lio!”

Lio belched and heaved up the last of his breakfast. He convulsed and gagged helplessly as his stomach continued trying to rid itself of its perceived poison.

“Good job!” Galo encouraged. After endlessly gagging for a few more minutes, Lio finally sat back on his heels, letting the rain pour down his face for a moment. Then he slumped against Galo and buried his face in his shoulder. Galo took him into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re good.” Lio trembled in his arms. Whether it was from the vomiting or if he was crying, he wasn’t sure, but he held him all the same. “Poor baby!” he cooed.

Eventually, Galo convinced Lio to come inside. They dripped trails of water all the way to their hotel room, shivering and worn out from the cold in each other’s arms. They changed into dry clothes, and then Lio ignited pink flames in his palms.

“Lio, not here, you’ll set off the smoke alarms!” Galo scolded.

“It’s warm.” Lio defended.

Galo sat against the headboard of the queen sized bed and opened his arms. “You know what else is warm?” he prompted. Lio let the flames flare up for a moment, but ultimately chose to climb into Galo’s arms and snuggle against him.

“How are you feeling?” Galo asked, resting his chin on top of Lio’s damp hair.

“A lot better, but I need a nap.” he mumbled into Galo’s chest.

“We can take a nap together!” Galo declared.

“Sounds fun...”

Galo stroked his hair tenderly.

“Of all the people to be stuck indoors with, I’m glad it’s you... idiot...” Lio murmured, setting his heart ablaze once again. On second thought, everything Lio did made him glow inside several times per day.

“Me too.” Galo said, enjoying the rare moment of profoundness from his normally shy lover. They spent that afternoon nestled together and fell asleep to the sound of the rain.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Incandescent [3/3]

title Incandescent (3/3) summary Happy ending. pairing itasaku (of course)

Part 1 | Part 2

“I still can’t believe the audacity. Inviting us to his palace? Who does he think he is?” Sasuke grumbled under his breath. 

“Be quiet, Sasuke. You’re representing your father on your trip. Don’t forget that,” Mikoto scolded him. And she straightened his collar with a sharp tug before the gates opened in front of their carriage. 

In the carriage behind them was Marquis Hyuuga and his wife and children. They wouldn’t have sent the Queen alone on a trip into foreign lands after all. And the number of mounted guards that followed the carriages made it absolutely clear what would happen if harm came to the royal family. 

The imperial palace in Bermellon was.... not what anyone had expected. Of course, word had spread that the capital of the empire had suffered greatly from the civil war. A fire had consumed much of the palace- everyone knew that. But the gravity of that destruction didn’t hit them until they saw the building for themselves.

The grey stone walls were covered in ivy. The western wing was still blackened in places and missing windows. Some of them were even covered with planks of wood. Parts of the roof had collapsed, revealing the wooden skeleton of the beams within. Mikoto took Sasuke’s arm as she stepped out of the carriage.

“This is a palace?” they could hear Marquis Hyuuga mutter behind them.

The foyer was enormous. Wooden scaffolding filled one of the corners of the room and half of the staircase. The walls were worn and blackened by smoke. There was a lighter rectangle on the wall from a painting that had been removed. The other paintings were smudged black or covered by canvas. 

Sasuke wrinkled his nose. “Hold tight to me, Mother. This place is filthy.”

And if the steward walking in front of them heard, he didn’t say anything. He guided them to the left, away from the charred end of the structure. As they traveled the long hall, the smell of smoke dissipated. And at one point, the dingy windows became sparkling clean. The curtains flanking them were a tasteful shade of vibrant green, perfect for the spring season. It was almost like they had traveled from one building into a completely different one. One that was obviously well-cared for.

A gasp left Mikoto when they were shown into a sitting room. Vases of deep purple flowers adorned the side tables. A tray of still-steaming tea sat waiting for them. A servant waiting inside poured them cups as they took seats on the sofas. When Marquise Hyuuga ran her finger along a windowsill, not even a speck of dust came away on her white glove.

“His Majesty will be with you shortly,” the steward said. He bowed stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

“Ghastly manners. None of my servants would ever be so sloppy,” Marquise Hyuuga remarked. When she picked up the teacup, she paused to note the floral motifs on the handle. It was a very tasteful style. Whoever had chosen it was keeping up with the trends. 

The finger sandwiches and pastries set out for them were still soft- probably made not long ago. And after a weeks-long journey with nothing but greasy stews from inns, the food quickly disappeared into ravenous stomachs.

Through the crack in the door, they could hear hurried footsteps. The steward from before directed people, his voice sharp with impatience. “Put that there. Take those to the kitchens.” And all of this came to an abrupt halt when footsteps echoed down the hall. The sharp tap of heels against the tile.

“Oh no, Leal. I told you to show the guests in through the eastern entrance. The other side is a mess,” a woman’s voice sighed, drawing closer as she spoke.

“My apologies, My Lady. Workers are unloading lumber in the eastern courtyard. We had no choice but to redirect them this way,” the steward answered. His voice a little less crisp.

“Well, there’s no use in fretting now. But come find me next time. It’s better for people to wait than to think that His Majesty lives in a haunted mansion,” the woman said. The authority clear in her voice. 

“My sincere apologies, My Lady. I will not make the same mistake again.”

“Oh, raise your head, Leal. His Majesty should be arriving any moment now."

Mikoto and Marquise Hyuuga exchanged a look. For noble ladies such as themselves, it was easy to spot the lady of the house. Or, in this case, to hear the lady of the house.

“I thought the Emperor was still unmarried,” Marquise Hyuuga whispered. 

‘So did I,’ Mikoto mouthed in return. They jolted upright when there was a knock on the door. 

“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Itachi of Bermellon.” 

Leaning her cheek on her palm, Sakura stared at Itachi’s face. 

It had been almost two months since he had written to her, asking her to come stay at his palace in the capital of Bermellon. Ostensibly as a way to extend his thanks for her family’s trade with his nation. Which, on paper, wasn’t such an unlikely reason. And just to keep things proper, her mother and several of their servants had come with them. The remaining staff at the manor was instructed to feign ignorance. And the staff at the mansion in the capital wasn’t told anything at all, which minimized the likelihood of unnecessary rumors floating around.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” was all she said when he greeted her on the front steps. On the good side of the palace. The other side was a charred ruin that looked like it belonged in a history book.

Mebuki looked ready to faint when Itachi turned to her and bowed deeply. 

Itachi prepared rooms for them in the eastern wing of the palace, which, even in its dilapidated state, was beautiful. Although the structure was in tact, it didn’t gleam the way a palace should. Sakura knew her mother saw the same thing she did when she felt a touch on her elbow as they walked through the enormous place.

Mebuki excused herself right after dinner that first night. 

“Are you alright, Mama?” Sakura asked, grasping her mother’s forearm. She pressed the back of her hand to her mother’s cheek. There was no fever.

“I’m just tired from the traveling. Don’t stay up too late. You’ll ruin your skin,” Mebuki replied. She kissed Sakura’s forehead and bowed to Itachi before she slipped out of the room.

Sakura and Itachi finished their meal in silence, sitting at opposite ends of what was, in her opinion, a needlessly long table. It wasn’t until they stood on the balcony, finishing off their wine that they finally spoke.

“I’m facing an.... obstacle.... that I’d like your help with,” Itachi began. 

Sakura frowned at her wine. “Can I assume that the reason you couldn’t put it into writing was because you were worried about someone intercepting it?”

“Yes.”

Sakura puffed out a breath, eyes wide. “I do not envy you, Your Majesty.” Itachi snorted quietly at that as they clinked glasses together.

As it turned out, diplomacy was not Itachi’s strong suit. Part of his reason for locking himself in his palace, apparently, was that he had no idea how to deal with the other nobles. 

“Oh, that’s simple. I’d be happy to help,” Mebuki laughed over breakfast the following morning. It didn’t take long for Mebuki to ingratiate herself with the social circles of the Bermellon courts. At first, it had been odd that a foreign noble would serve as an ambassador for the mysterious emperor. But Duchess Haruno, who was the flower of Cian society soon became the flower of Bermellon society as well. Her wit and charm quickly won over the remaining noble houses.

And while Mebuki handled the nobles, Sakura dealt with the palace itself.

“Renovate it?” Itachi repeated. He sighed. “My Lady, I’m sure that ‘massive debt due to war’ is not a phrase lost on someone as intelligent as you.”

“First of all, your palace is a tool for diplomacy. It’s a way for you to show power and control. An emperor sitting in a ruin doesn’t do much for publicity,” Sakura pointed out.

She raised two fingers. “Secondly, hiring local craftsmen, builders, and lumberjacks will help stimulate the economy of the nearby cities. Money does nothing for the people sitting in your coffers.”

One more finger went up. “Lastly, I’m not a doctor, but living here can’t be good for your health. This place is a mess.”

“The fire-”

“Happened years ago. Your palace should have been at least halfway restored by now,” Sakura interrupted him, ignoring the way he laughed to himself, shaking his head. 

And then, Sakura added, “Let me do this. I’m apparently insufferable when I’m bored. At least this will keep me occupied.”

“Are you threatening me, Lady Sakura?” Itachi asked.

“That’s such an ugly word. Why don’t we say ‘persuading tenaciously’?” she suggested.

Which brought things back to why Sakura continued to stare at the emperor as he signed some documents. Itachi was doing a good job of ignoring her until he broke into an exasperated smile.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, finally meeting her gaze. 

“Are you King Fugaku’s bastard?” she wondered.

His pen didn’t even falter. “Yes. I’m surprised it took you so long to ask.”

“Well, I had a feeling. But I just wanted to get to know you first. You know- to make sure you weren’t the kind of emperor who would behead me for asking a question like that,” she replied in the same, lighthearted tone.

“When did you decide that I’m not?”

“Hm, around the time you let me pick out all the fabrics for the grand ballroom on my own,” she replied. Deep red damask, almost the color of roses. Golden tassels for the curtains. Beautiful, luscious shades that would make a statement.

Itachi finally set his pen and the signed papers down. Leaning back in his chair, he looked her in the eyes. 

“Can I hear the full story?” she requested.

Itachi crossed his arms across his chest. “It’s... well, like most bastards, I wasn’t planned. My mother was a cousin to the last emperor. But she was something absurd, like 20th in line for the throne. Not close enough to matter. And I was never formally acknowledged by my father growing up. I don’t think he imagined me ever becoming anyone significant.”

That wasn’t what she had expected. Sakura clasped her hands together, forehead wrinkling. “So what changed?”

“The plague. It wiped out half the royal family,” he stated. So matter-of-fact.

“Oh.”

“And then the civil war took care of the rest of them.”

“....Oh. I’m... I’m sorry,” she stuttered out. Hands fluttering, unsure of what to do with them anymore. She blinked when Itachi grasped her sleeve, pulling her hand back down.

“That’s quite distracting, My Lady,” he told her. 

They both looked at their hands, which were almost touching. Sakura quickly pulled her hands back down into her lap. He looked away. Cleared his throat, fist pressed to his mouth.

“That’s why your palace is so quiet,” she realized.

“Yes.”

“Does he know that you’re his son?”

“I’m sure his spies have figured it out by now. Likely around the time that he laid down those harsh tariffs at the border. Maybe he doesn’t want my country to survive long enough for word to get out,” Itachi retorted, his words tinged with bitterness. 

Sakura studied his expression for a while before she asked, “Do you hate your father?”

He looked back at her. And perhaps it was the way the sun came in through the windows. Something strange flashed across his face. It wasn’t anger.

“Don’t all children grow up to resent their fathers?” he wondered.

“No,” she immediately answered. Itachi’s eyes widened. 

“I mean, sometimes my Papa annoys me, and I definitely annoy him, but I don’t resent him,” Sakura thought out loud. Then she tilted her head to one side as she considered. 

“Well, then again, I’d resent my Papa if he were anything like your father,” she concluded with a smile. 

“I should get back to business, Your Majesty. Don’t work too hard,” she called over her shoulder before she slipped out of his study. 

The guards, the steward, and even the scullery maids marveled that the atmosphere of the palace had changed since Lady Sakura had arrived. The reconstruction of the ruined place brought along with it a sense of hope. And while she was strict with the staff on keeping the palace sparkling clean, she was also very kind if they met her expectations. The vases in each room were filled with fresh flowers every other day, and the windows opened in good weather to let the fresh air circulate throughout the place. 

But the biggest change was, undoubtedly, the way His Majesty sometimes smiled when he thought no one was looking.

“I apologize for the wait. Thank you for your patience,” Itachi said as the doors swung open. Everyone stood to bow to him. Marquis Hyuuga shot the Queen a look when he saw that she was also standing. She gave him a bewildered look in response. She didn’t understand why she had gotten up either. 

It likely had to do with the aura of the Emperor. Like a simple touch from his skin could set something ablaze. Nervous eyes followed him as he took a seat. 

His gaze flickered to the empty tray of snacks and tea on the table. 

“It seems the refreshments were to your liking,” he noted. He gestured to the servant standing by the door who bowed and slipped out to get more.

Mikoto scrutinized the Emperor. It was true that the food had been to her liking. Oddly so. Not many were aware of her fondness for blueberry tarts. And the tea was a mild blend- not too strong- just the way she preferred. Those thoughts were pushed to the side when the Emperor’s eyes met hers. He was just a boy in comparison to her. But that look made a chill run down her spine. 

“Now, the business I’d like to discuss...” he said.

Sakura peered out past the curtain as she watched the procession of carriages and soldiers head down the road. 

“You could have made an appearance and greeted them.”

Sakura jumped. She whirled around to face Itachi, who just smiled at her. He knew by now that she was easily startled. Scowling, she gave a half-hearted swat in his direction.

“The timing wasn’t right. And you should have at least told them to stay for a few nights,” she scolded him. 

“I did offer. But they turned me down, so I provided lodging for them at one of my empty estates,” replied Itachi. He turned toward the window, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye as he added, “Besides, if they stayed, you’d have to continue skulking around with the servants. I can’t have that.”

“Your chivalry is touching. I’m about to burst into tears,” she retorted in a flat voice. 

Itachi threw his head back and laughed. In the quiet of his study, Sakura let herself laugh too. And in the hallway, the baffled servants froze to stare at each other as the unfamiliar sound of the Emperor’s laugh seeped out from under the door.

Sakura stayed for three more months, overseeing the reconstruction of the palace. Each day was a dizzy flurry of materials and workers flowing in and out of the place. There was a new problem each day with the fabrics or the pay. Sakura scarcely had a moment to sit still during the day. And more than once, as she and Itachi shared a nightcap on the balcony, Sakura dozed off, just for a moment against his shoulder. 

Itachi stood on the newly-constructed steps of the palace, his hands clasped behind his back. The servants, who had been busy to start with, suddenly moved even faster at the appearance of the dreaded Emperor. 

He watched Sakura directing people around as naturally as if she had lived there her whole life. She started when he sidled up beside her. 

“Please write to me once you arrive safely,” he requested. 

“Why? Won’t your spies run to tell you before my letter even arrives?” she responded. And she had gotten good at catching his smiles before he could stifle them.

“But since you asked so nicely, I will,” Sakura added. 

“Good.”

They stood together wordlessly for another minute. And then, it was so quiet and so rushed that Sakura wasn’t sure whether she’d really heard it or not. But she thought, as he turned away, Itachi said: “I’ll miss you.”

The trip back home to the Haruno manor was quick. As the southernmost territory of Cian, once they crossed the border, they were technically in their own lands. 

Sakura found herself staring out the carriage windows. At the lush forest that lined both sides of the road. 

“Should we have found an excuse to stay longer?” Mebuki asked. 

Sakura smiled as she turned to face her mother. Who had always read her like a book. 

“No. How can I wreck havoc if I’m so far from home?” answered Sakura. 

Havoc was a good word to describe the political situation at the end of that social season. Word arrived to the palace that Duchess Haruno and her daughter had been seen crossing the border from Bermellon to Cian. 

“I thought it was strange that the food they offered me was exactly what I liked. The Haruno’s would know that quite well,” Mikoto muttered.

And while the talks with the Emperor of Bermellon had been about peace and arranging a formal treaty, the Haruno family’s involvement complicated things. 

“Perhaps they’re arranging an alliance to unseat us,” Fugaku murmured, rubbing at his jaw as he thought. 

“Or it could be a show to unnerve us,” he then amended. He wavered back and forth. Both possibilities were equally dangerous, but he couldn’t really tell which it was. He had known that Duke and Duchess Haruno were seasoned players of the game, but he was unsure of how well-versed in subterfuge their daughter was. His eyes drifted over to his son, who sat glaring at a corner. He would have offered some valuable insight about the girl had he not spent the entire course of their engagement ignoring her.

“I’ll have people look into this. In the meantime, the girl is back in the country. You know what you have to do,” Fugaku decided. 

Sasuke glared, but he jerked his head up and down in a stiff nod.

As winter settled over the capital, the correspondences between Bermellon and the Haruno manor continued. And when the spring came and Sakura headed up to the capital, the letters continued to flow back and forth. 

It had been two years since Prince Sasuke’s slight against her. He had come to see her once a week during the colder months. Sometimes she had pretended to be out on business. Other times, she pretended to be ill, which her mother always drove home with the reminder: “She suffered such a huge shock, you see. Ever since then, she hasn’t been the same, the poor thing.”

The royal family sent dresses and jewels. Beautiful shoes adorned with gems. Rare gifts from distant lands. 

After consulting with her parents, Sakura decided to show her face in the capital for the social season this time around. She knew that at each event, the royal family and their little spies checked to see if she ever wore any of their gifts. And the answer was same each day: hell no.

In the meantime, peace talks with Bermellon continued. Now that Bermellon had a steady supply of food, their armies were back to the fearsome numbers that had made them a threat in the first place. Envoys sent to the imperial palace reported back that the Emperor also seemed to have many powerful allies among the nobles there. 

The only solution, it seemed, would be for the royal family to join hands with the Haruno’s. Only then would they stand a chance against such a mounting threat. 

At end of the summer season, invitations for the Queen’s annual ball went out. 

Sakura leaned her hip against her father’s desk as she read. 

“The Emperor says that he received an invite as well. Is this a trap?” she wondered. 

“I doubt it. His Majesty King Fugaku has been pestering me about you for the last few months,” Kizashi answered, lowering his spectacles. 

“And what have you said in return, Papa?”

“That you were still very hurt. And that what you wanted was an apology, not jewels.”

Mebuki nodded. “The Queen also had similar questions. I assured her that you were still very in love, just that your pride was wounded.” 

“Oh Mama, Papa, you know me so well,” Sakura sighed, hands clasping together. She beamed at her parents. Kizashi roared with laughter when Sakura leaned in to kiss his cheek.

On the night of the ball, Sakura found all eyes on her. She curtsied perfectly to the royal family, and blushed modestly when Sasuke asked her to dance. She chatted with Ino and Temari, tittering in all the right places. Halfway through the ball, she feigned shock when a herald announced the Emperor of Bermellon as a guest of honor. Their eyes met across the ballroom. It took every once of her self-control not to burst into giggles. 

As the party began to wind down, Sakura heard someone call her name. She turned to find Sasuke staring her down. Frenzied whispers hissed around them as Sasuke knelt in front of her. He took her hand in his. 

But Sakura could scarcely pay attention to this scene because at the other end of the ballroom, she saw the guest of honor rise from his seat. This wasn’t part of the plan.

“My Lady, I offer my most humble apologies. I allowed rumors to deceive me. My actions toward you were deplorable and shameful,” Sasuke ground out. 

The sounds of Itachi’s footsteps were muffled by all the murmurs rippling around the room. A set of gasps rose when he moved around the crowd, making a line straight for the focus of everyone’s attention.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I’d like to ask that you release that lovely hand.”

Sasuke’s head jerked up. He glowered at the man towering over him. And then his head whipped around when he felt Sakura jerk her hand free from his. Sakura pitied his neck.

“I was going to wait until the end of the night to cause a stir, but apparently I have to do this now. Although, one can hardly blame an insect for finding the most lovely flower in the room,” Itachi said. 

Sasuke’s face went bright red. “You were cast aside by the Crown Prince. And now you’ve been seducing a foreign monarch for your own gains?” he spat.

Sakura and Itachi exchanged a look. “Have I seduced you, Your Majesty?” she queried. He dipped his head, hand over his heart.

“I’m quite seduced, My Lady.”

She could see him trying his best not to laugh. After a moment, he spoke again.

“I’m well-aware that this started off as purely political, but I’ve been enchanted by your wit and your beauty. I’m convinced that if I had to live the rest of my days without you, it would be a dull and meaningless life.”

Because Itachi was an emperor, he didn’t bow to her. But, pushing Sasuke aside, he did take her hand. Lifting it to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

“And I’m also certain that you wouldn’t be against becoming an empress. Or am I wrong?” Itachi added. Sakura bit her lip to keep from smiling too hard. 

Then, just to add insult to injury, Sakura glanced over her shoulder at Sasuke. “Perhaps if your apology hadn’t taken two years, Your Highness, I might have been more inclined to accept it. But rest easy. It appears that while I may not be marrying you, I will be marrying an Uchiha,” she chirruped. 

As the Queen turned to the King to demand “What is she talking about?”, Sakura giggled. But as she opened her mouth to congratulate Itachi on his supreme acting, something in his eyes made the sound die halfway up her throat.

The Queen, who had worked herself up into a frenzy, suddenly fainted. As the nobles rushed forward to attend to her, Itachi’s hand tightened around Sakura’s. 

“Come with me,” he whispered before he pulled them through the crowd and out of the ballroom. They ran down the steps, their shoes clattering against the tile. And then they were hurrying along the halls, Sakura half-thrilled and half-baffled. When it became clear that Itachi had no idea where he was going, she took the lead instead. She guided them through a narrow passage and out through a side door usually meant for servants. 

They leaned against the cool castle walls, huffing and puffing. 

“Well.... that’s a mess. Good improvisation though, Your Majesty,” she remarked, her hands on her knees. Itachi stood with his back to her, his arm resting against the stone. 

“I wonder how we’ll fix this mess. We just made up a huge lie in front of the entire court,” Sakura sighed.

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“What?”

Itachi looked over his shoulder at her. And then he slowly turned to face her. 

“It wasn’t a lie. Either I marry you, or I marry no one,” Itachi declared. 

Sakura, for probably the first time in her life, found herself unable to come up with a good response for that. She opened her mouth. No sound came out. She shut it. Opened it again. All she could do was stare as Itachi reached out to take both her hands this time. 

“I.... we.... What if... The King will say no,” she finally managed to say. 

“Then I’ll wage war and annex your lands,” he responded.

She fumbled with words again. “H-how do you even know I want to marry you anyway, Your Majesty?”

“You do. Next question,” he responded. And the ease with which he answered made her laugh. She sagged against him, her forehead touching his shoulder. And she kept it pressed there, afraid to look at his face as she asked her final question.

“There has to be a catch? What do I need to do?”

“There’s an extensive list of demands, actually,” he responded. “I’ll need you to deal with all the nobles. You’ll have to boss around all the servants, and occasionally boss me around, which I already know that you’re good at.”

She laughed even harder. But that stopped when she felt his arms wrap around her waist, holding her close to his chest. His chin resting on top of her head. 

“But the most important thing is, I need you to stay by my side for the rest of our lives,” he added. 

There was a long pause. And then he heard a sniffle. “Are you crying?” he asked.

“No,” she replied in a voice thick with tears. 

The morning after the Queen’s ball that had ended in disaster, Sakura sat in the parlor of the Haruno mansion. Mebuki and Kizashi seemed quite content as they sipped their tea.

“Mama, Papa, I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think of what would happen to our House if I get married,” Sakura sighed, her hand on her cheek. Beside her, Itachi didn’t exactly look guilty. But he looked about as contrite as an emperor could.

Kizashi arched a grey eyebrow. “Is that what this meeting was about? That’s simple.” He turned around to look at the guards flanking the door.

“Sir Sai,” he called.

Sai stepped forward. “My Lord,” Sai responded, bowing his head. 

“I’d like to adopt you, Sir Sai,” Kizashi declared. Sai blinked slowly. And then he gave a long-suffering sigh, touching his gloved hand to his temple.

“I’m twenty, My Lord,” Sai reminded him.

“And?” Kizashi replied. 

Sai had been in service to the Duke for long enough to know that there was no point in arguing. “.....And nothing, My Lord. I would be honored.”

Kizashi turned back to his daughter with a grin. “There. Anything else?”

Itachi blinked slowly. And then he looked over at Sakura. “Ah. I see where you get that from,” he told her.

Cian threatened war against the Bermellon Empire for the insult against the royal family. Twice. 

The first time, the Bermellon Empire answered with diplomacy. The second time, troops flooded the border between the two countries and annexed the Haruno family’s lands. It was a largely bloodless conflict. Later, people reported that the soldiers of the Haruno family simply waved the Bermellon forces through as they swept through the land.

When all the negotiations had ended and borders were re-drawn, the Cian Kingdom found that it had lost a large portion of its arable lands. With not enough food stored for the coming winter, they were forced to arrange a trade negotiation with the Bermellon Empire. Which the empire agreed to. The only stipulation was the implementation of heavy tariffs at the border. 

The Emperor and Empress traveled up to the border to sign the peace treaty. The Uchiha family glowered from across the table as the Emperor and his advisors took their time reading over the treaty. When Sakura looked up and caught their glares, she beamed at them. 

“I guess you were right, Prince Sasuke. I really wasn’t meant to be a queen. Being an empress suits me so much better,” she declared. 

Itachi chuckled as he signed his name in large, swooping letters.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Oh, Blessed Child of Our Gods

Monsta X

Shin Hoseok [Wonho] /Reader

Genre: Demon AU, Violence, Romance, Smut

Words: 13k 

When Demons came to Earth, they had opened up a realm of impossibilities. The worlds were out of balance, with Demons running a muck from Hell and Earth, so the Heaven’s were sent to correct the issue, not sending Angels though.  Which each infant born, few are marked by the Gods.  The Gods created a temple, one that only Blessed Children may go through at any time of their life.  There are a total of 6 blessed children currently known, the strongest of them blessed by 8 gods.  However, what if a child walked through every gate of that temple, blessed by the entire Heavens.  And what if choose a Demon instead the life of a Blessed Child? 

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

The Temple of The Blessed.  It was a Temple with 20 gates, all leading up into the center where it’s rumored to be the gateway to the Heavens.  One’s been able to prove this though, as there has not yet been a single child who has made it that far.  The farthest a child has come to the center is gate 14, blessed by 8 Gods.  For every two gates passed, that’s one blessing from a single god, as 10 Gods had helped build this temple before disappearing back among the sky.  

Blessed Children are those who are touched by the gods when they are born, the sound of their cries attracting the gods; the highest on the social pyramid of the Earth.  Yet, these children are exceedingly rare to happen upon.  Once a Blessed Child is born and has passed through their gates, they can then have the option of marking one single person.  By marking a person, they are claiming protective rights as well as a sense of status over their name.  They would be by the Child’s side until the mark is lifted; they are known as the Marked Ones.  Each Blessed Child has a Marked One by their side.

It’s said that when that when one truly, Blessed Child comes into the world and passes through all 20 gates, they will banish the Demon’s back into Hell and seal off Heaven’s gates and destroy the temple for good.  Resorting Earth back to it’s original human populous.  But, even the oldest of prophesy's can be rewritten. 

You had been walking around the city, trying your best to ignore the ignorant shouting and preaching of the public Priests, trying to ‘peacefully protest’ against the populous of Demons. Trying to rid them away by shouting and praising their oh so mighty Gods in Heaven who will one day bless them with a Child to fix their unruly, tainted, ugly Earth.  

It was total garbage.  They could shove aluminum cans into their mouths and it’d make more sense as to why they were eating something like that than the stupid biblical words they keep yapping on and on again.  

You were human, not Demon by far, but you refused the ways of the Gods.  Demons had been among the human race for nearly 5 decades. it was 2031 for Christ sake! 50 years with them and only 6 Blessed Children with no leader among them didn’t seem like good odds for getting them back into Hell.  Not like you had anything against Demon’s to begin with.  If anything, you hated Humans.  

You hated that you were like other humans in ways.  Unable to breath underwater, being burned by fire, glass cutting your finger and bleeding until you covered it with a bandage.  Demons had impeccable healing abilities, could stand harsh conditions and had other means of survival than food.  Many Demons had adapted into a human-like life style, and you wondered how anyone could stomach that.  

So, it wasn’t unusual to you that your small group of friends were also Demons. Not a human among them. This of course made your life difficult.  Your parent’s shunning you, your classmates and scholars all shaming you, bulling you for siding with the ‘Evil’, but they were just naive.  

You were pulled from your annoyance that is your reeling about the sins of the world when the earpiece lodged into your ear began relentlessly beeping.  Wincing, you quickly flipped a small switch on it to open up a communication.  

X-43B, that was the model number printed on the side of yours. It was modeled after what the older generates of decades ago called a Bluetooth, but it was much more flamboyant.  Receiving calls, accessing the internet through a small projection that would be shown through a small private screen when activated, even video calls seemed more extravagant.  They can even be hooked up to game consoles or other peoples communicators for impossibly wide possibilities of entertainment. 

“Is there a reason why one of you little Demons changed my ringtone to a horrible sound that will surely make me go deaf?!”  You screamed into the line before even mustering a hello.  There was multiple laughter coming through the other end as you hissed. 

“Girl, if only you put that lock on it like I keep telling you, you’d learn your lesson.”  You rolled your eyes as you switched the setting to the call to stream a video feed.  A transparent image of your best friend popped up, a grin on his face as you saw 3 other figures behind him, still giggling away.  “You finally out of your stupid human classes?” 

“Listen Wonho,” it wasn’t his real name, but he had preferred this name over his birth name.  “College is important for me okay, I have to keep my academic grade up if I even want to think about a career nowadays.” 

“Why?  All they do is bully you. And I thought it wasn’t that hard to grab a job as a human?  Just sign out an application thing and boom, employment.”  You shook your head.  Your demon friends all went to school, but after too much stress, pressure and segregation from being Demon’s they all dropped out.  They weren’t taught the old and new ways of the human life style.  

“That was back in like the 20s, Wonho.  Now, you have to have sufficient academic studies, go through medical exams, a series of tests to prove that you’re not actually a Demon, a lot of stuff.”  

“That’s completely stupid,” he huffed.  “You should just forget that and come live with us!  We can keep you fed and housed and you won’t even been bullied anymore!” 

“As much as living in your giant, Demon infested dorm sounds just grand,” your voice dripped in sarcasm, “I know for a fact that I couldn’t handle living with all 7 of you at once at this point in time. I’d physically rip my hair out.” 

“But Y/N~!”  He whined.  He always did this when it came to you saying no.  But, you were well passed the point of waving his stupid pout off.  Or so you kept telling yourself.  You’d never admit that you had a soft spot for it, or him for that matter.  Besides, it’s unheard of for a human to fall for a Demon.  Never once has it happened, and you won’t let your stupid human emotions ruin anything else for you.  

“I’m heading over there now, and unless you don’t want me to stop and get you guys food, you’ll stop whining.”  You threatened as you hung your finger over the switch of your X-43B and flipped it, ending the call.  The transparent image of the handsome man was gone and you sighed.  You had your bag on your back, filled with heavy books and unfinished papers with your pen that you snatched from your desk neighbor.  

You wish that humanities technology had come further than it has.  But reading in text books and writing on electric circuited pads wasn’t much different than now.  All your professors gave you the same answer though.  Technology can be advanced, but they refuse to do it, afraid the demons would sink their claws into it and take over the humans.  Humans are so petty, weak, frightened.  A species that claims to be the top of the food chain sure is all bark and no bite.  Reason number a billion why you hated being associated with the main, planet born population. 

🌙🌙🌙 

It wasn’t too much time later that you were unlocking a door to a house just outside the city.  Big enough for a family of 10, but just your 7 friends living in it.  Honestly, you don’t even know if they paid for anything, but they’ve lived here for as long as you’ve known them.  

A brown, paper bag in your left hand full of bottles of various beverages and bags of random, salty and sweet snacks you took your key from the doorknob and shut it behind you with your right hand.  Stuffing your keys into your pocket, you heel off your shoes, and walk into the kitchen.  It was quiet, something that surely wouldn’t last long.  

You set the brown back bag, as well as dropping your school bag, on the counter, not ever bothering to unload everything from inside, you trotted into the living room and flopped yourself down on the couch.  Your back hit the plush cushions and your legs hung off the arm rest, as you shut your eyes.  Resting and laying down sure felt nice. It was probably 20 seconds of solace before you heard rushed foot steps from the second floor and soon bounding down the carpeted staircase. 

“Y/N!”  Before you lift yourself off the couch, your were tackled back onto it.  A large body crashing into you, well- larger than yours anyways.  His fuzzy, have dry hair tickling your chin as he tucked his head into your chest, laying on top of you.  You tapped on his back, feeling him groan at the silent plea for him to get off you. 

“You’re hair isn’t dry, your half naked and your heavy.  Please get off me Minhyuk.” The boy pouted and once again you found yourself really questioning if this boy was really a demon or not.  He had clearly bolted right out of the bathroom from getting dressed from his shower.  He normally had someone dry his hair for him though, liking the attention, so his caretaker didn’t do their job of keeping him in the room for very long.  

“You literally saw me yesterday.”

“A whole 24 hours passed since then!”

“Oh my,” you groaned.  Minhyuk reminded you, and most people he was familiar with, of a dog who would cry at the door if their master was going to their bathroom.  Not much of a Demon vibe came from him, but not a human one either.  He was a cheery presence, but acceptable, likable, comfortable. Minhyuk sniffed you as you slapped at his head. 

“You smell different.”  You rolled your eyes.  

“Is it the food I brought?”  He shook his head.  “The coffees, my laundry detergent, my-”

“Your shampoo!  You changed it! You smell like rain now!” True.  You use to always use this honeysuckle scent shampoo that you could pick up for cheap at the closet store, but recently they had an even cheaper shampoo take to the shelves and that’s more money in your pocket than handed over a counter.  It’s not like it smelled bad anyways. 

“Okay, so I smell like rain.  That a problem?”  He shook his head again, laughing. 

“Nope! I think it’s actu-AH!”  He was cut off by his shout of shock when he was pushed off you.  You heaved your chest, the heavy man now off you and looked at Wonho, leaning over the back of the couch and staring at Minhyuk, whom now lay on the floor after the older graciously shoved him off you.  He gaze then shifted to your form, still laying on the couch. 

“Feel better?” He asked as he leaned over the cushion and grabbed your bicep pressed against the back of the couch and pulled you to sit up.  You nodded as you rolled your neck and then looked back at Wonho.  He was staring at you. 

“What?  You going to say I smell different too?” He narrowed his eyes, just slightly, as he nodded. 

“You do. I just know it’s not your shampoo that’s making the difference.”  You rose your brow at him as he just huffed.  He walked around the couch to stand in front of your hanging legs that were over the arm of the plush seating choice and then seized your waist, lifting you up and hoisting you over his shoulder.  You put your hands on the small of his back to brace yourself, and make it so that your face didn’t smash into his shoulder blades.  

“What the hell was that for?!  Put me down!”  He laughed as he shook his head and started running upstairs, you protesting the entire time.  The third person, who still lay on the floor, remained on the floor until Jooheon came and took him back upstairs to finish getting dried up and dressed before he caught a chill.  

Wonho had finally set you back down on your feet, but quickly turned his back on you to shut and locked his door.  It wasn’t an unfamiliar room, it was his room.  You’d sit up in here and read, or throw his stuffed rabbits at his head while he fiddled with his computer most days.  

You were straightening out your shirt when he came back to you and he put his hand on your shoulder.  You looked at it, then up to him.  

“Let me see.”  You sighed.  Of course this is why he dragged you up here.  

“It’s really not that bad.”  

“I don’t care.  Let me see it.” You huffed once again as you let your arms drop from fixing your clothes and relaxed as he pulled slightly on the neck of your shirt.  He revealed your shoulder, collarbone, along with the long, risen, red cut that practically glowed against your skin.  He ran his thumb over the cut as he used his fingers to keep your shirt away from it. “What was it this time?” 

“A really well made plastic knife actually.” The fact that you preferred Demons to humans wasn’t welcomed, as it’s already known, so that would result in many fights. None of which you picked, they were always thrown at you.  You wouldn’t let someone beat you down, you had to defend yourself.  

“You should really stop getting into fights all the time.”  You rolled your eyes. How many times has he told you this, and how many more time is he going to have to tell you.  Nothing will change, even 5 years from now, nothing will ever change. “I know it’s partially our fault you fight, but honestly, can’t you just avoid it?” 

“It’s not your fault.  Just because I like you guys more than some snobby human girl named “Patricia”, doesn’t mean it’s any of your fault. Besides, you know I can’t avoid it, I’ve tried.” Wonho remembered the first day you got into a fight.  It was the first and only day you didn’t fight back.  You came back to this house, came back to him, with bruises, cuts and blood covering you.  He was furious that night.  

“I know, I just-” He sighed.  “I wish they wouldn’t hate you so much. I mean, how can someone possibly hate you of all people?” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s a human thing.  You wouldn’t understand.”  

“So it seems. Hold still.”  

“Wait, no it’s fine.”  You started to get jittery.  You knew that with each Demon, someone, somewhere has some sort of power.  It can be anywhere from teleportation to instantly have your nails painted.  Useful, or useless.  Wonho’s was something that was pretty useful to those around him, but not to himself.  His body was swimming with healing cells: Mitigation.  He could take away the pain and heal- to an extent- someone’s injuries.  Either be it by his blood or-

“It’s all red and risen.  It’s fine, just stand still a second.”  He gripped your arms and lowered his face to your shoulder.  Slipping his tongue out of his mouth, he ran the muscle up the entirety of the cut.  You shivered.  

-by saliva.  You hated when he did this. Hated?  Well, perhaps not hated.  It was a feeling that was pleasant, but you wished it not to be.  It was when he did this that you had to remind yourself that you, a human, shouldn’t fall for him, a demon. He had a heart of gold for someone who was suppose to be so dark, this being something he was so naive about.  

The psychical attention he gave you was far higher than he thought it was.  Demon’s don’t think about attention in physical or mental aspects the same way humans do.  We can get a small flutter in our chests when holding hands, yet for them if they want to feel anything it takes much more effort.  Shownu once described it as, ‘if they think they might feel something of attachment towards another, the easiest way to prove it is through thorough physical touch.’  

Or in laymen’s terms, through sex. 

So, the fact that this man, this demon is here licking your neck and not acting like anything else is bothering him, is both reassuring and stomach churning.  The logical and mortality parts of your stupid human brain were constantly at war with the idea of him. 

“There, see.  It’s already better.” He stepped away from, you but only just enough to watch your cut close and practically blend it with the rest of your skin.  You swatted his hand away and pulled your shirt back up your shoulder.  He knew you didn’t like it when he did that, but he didn’t know why.  He couldn’t comprehend why you could rather live with any pain when it was so much easier when he could just fix you. 

“Thanks, but you really didn’t have to drag me all the way up here just to lick me, you pervert.”  You remarked at him.  He faked a gasped, slapping a hand on his chest and posing a dramatic facial expression, as this was practically routine. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him as you stepped around him and left the room after unlocking the door, hearing the hustle and bustle that is your friends downstairs. He watched your back with a specific, hidden look and followed after you. 

He’d never tell you out loud that he only took you to his room to do that because he’d actually keel over in embarrassment if the others saw him lick you. Especially with all the information they know and keep held over his head.   

The afternoon progressed as it normally did.  It was a rinse and repeat life style, but you could live with it. You’d go to school, more than likely get into a fight, stop by some sort of coffee place for drinks and snacks and then you’d go to their home until it was late and you were forced back into your own.  That time had finally hit that night.  

11 PM.  You had sighed as you lifted yourself off the couch and stretched, all the boys shifting their eyes to look at you, watching your arms extend and lock above your head before dropping them with a huff.  

“Well, I’m off,” the same line as every night. It was almost all the same as every other night, but now you watched as Shownu gave a quick glance to Wonho who then stood up next to you, jabbing at your sides making you squeal and swat at him.  

“I’ll take you home.”  

“What? Why?” 

“Because I can, now move it or I’ll lock the front door so you’re stuck here for the night.”  You watched as he brushed past you to get to the door around the corner, slipping on his shoes. This was new.  He’d normally just whine about you going home, and make you call him on the way there until you got inside safe and sound.  He’d never personally taken you himself though, as you were afraid if someone were to see him out so late, they’d judge him just because he wasn’t human.  

You quickly trotted after him, tattered shoes bouncing off the ground as you followed him out the door.  He stuck his hands in his hoodie pouch and made sure you too keep you a slight step in front of him so he can keep an eye on you, or for anyone that you may regretfully know.  If you saw anyone, there was a chance of a fight and he was going to make sure that didn’t happen.  

Part of him wanted to see you fight. Wanted to see how it all starts, how it ends and everything in between.  He wanted to know why they always targeted you.  It wasn’t fair, someone living in such pacifist way shouldn’t be ganged up on for her beliefs and opinions.  So what if you didn’t like how tainted humans are?  Wonho couldn’t understand, even if he tried, he was a Demon after all.  

The walk was silent.  Only the sound of the shuffled footsteps of you both mixing in the night air.  It was chilly, but not uncomfortable. Wonho stood in front of your door of your apartment as you grabbed your key you keep around your neck, tucked under your shirt and unlocked it, opening the door just to crack it and took your key back out.  

“Thank you for walking me, I guess.”  He shrugged as he smiled down at you.  You stepped inside and turned around to see him off.  He waved a goodnight as he turned and before he was out of sight, you called to him.  “Why did you walk me home?” He stopped, and turned over his shoulder, shrugging once again. 

“I already told you.  Because I can.”  And then he jogged off, texting you 20 minutes later that he made it back without any trouble.  It was odd, having the roles reversed when he was the one texting you about his safety.  Yet, it made that flare in your chest rise again, the same flare you know you need to snuff out.  But, just once, you allowed yourself to feel pleased and smiled down at your phone screen as you two had your normal night time conversation. 

🌙🌙🌙

It continued in this new routine for the next week.  It would be normal and at the end of the day, Wonho would be there to walk you home late at night and then be the one to text you when he got back.  You never really worried too much, as he was a demon and more than capable of defending himself.  He’s stated many times that he has no problems with fucking up a human if they started something with him.  

It was the start of the second week after Wonho started do this that you got up and, as per usual, got dressed and ready to head off for another grueling day of classes.  

All day, Wonho was growing restless.  You hadn’t contacted him all day and it was already close to 1 in the afternoon now.  Normally, this shouldn’t be something to be concerned about, but for some reason it had the hairs on the back of his neck standing.  It was like there was so much static in the air, if someone clicked their fingers, a fire would start.  He was tense, and he didn’t know why.  The fact that you hadn’t sent him any replies to his numerous calls wasn’t helping. 

It was 3 when he finally was getting a call from you. He rushed in picking it up, immediately asking why you hadn’t contacted him all day.  Instead, you told him to meet you somewhere.  You had sent coordinates and a map with a location, but it was secluded.  

“What?  Where are you? Are you lost or something?” 

“No-no I just, I’m-”  Your breathing was rushed, and jagged.  Almost like you were scared, or had just finished running a marathon.  “Please, can you just get here? I don’t know what to do.  They keep looking for me, Wonho.”  He moved from laying in his bed to sitting up at your words.  

“Who? Who’s looking for you?” 

“Please, just hurry.” He was out of bed and slipping on his shoes in seconds as he rushed down the stairs.  

“Y/N, you need to tell me what’s going-” he stopped short when he was passing the TV screen that Shownu had put on, mainly for background noise as he worked on something in a book.  Scribbling down this and that.  The city was looking for a Wanted individual.  They were looking to arrest them for charges of violence towards humans and treason against their race.  The news anchor described the person before their picture popped up on the screen. 

It was you.  

You were Wanted by the police and the whole city was out for blood, our for you.  They were just going to arrest you, just like that?  No evidence, nothing?  You were only violent in self defense, the charges are entirely false! He was snapped out of his daze when he heard you curse under your breath and the call dropped.  

“Y/N? Y/N!” He pulled up a screen that showed your in-time location you sent and the blue dot that moved across the virtual map was you, and it was on the move.  You were taking back ally ways and moving in spastic directions.  “Send message to Y/N,” he spoke into his voice commands as he ran out of the house, Shownu calling after him, wanting to know what all of this was about.  “Go to the Temple.  Hide around there until I can come.”  

You received his message as you made your way to the Temple as best as you could.  Taking every back ally or hidden passage way you knew or found, you eventually managed to come to the front of the Temple.  A blessed place, and surprisingly not very populated.  You did as Wonho told you, hiding yourself between crates and covering them with a torn, fabric that was close to the Temple walls.  

You were never one to back down from a fight, but this was too much.  You had no chance if you were to go against the masses.  Person upon person, trained fighters, middle aged men and women equipped for combat.  You had no chance.  You had to hide. As much as it bruised your ego, running kept you alive for the time being. kept you free and safe.  

You soon heard shuffling of feet not too far from you.  Peeking out of one of the tattered holes in the fabric draped over you and the crates, you saw Wonho, looking around, out of breath.  You tore the fabric off and ran to him, the noise you made catching his attention.  

He ran to you, meeting you half way as you ran into his chest.  He held your head to him and sighed.  They hadn’t found you yet.  He wasn’t too late.  He looked up to the Temple as he held you and felt you shake.  Fear wasn’t a thing that was easy to coax out of you, but here you were, literally trembling in his arms.  He sneered up at the Temple, up at the Heavens. 

What kinds of Gods decide to bless such a tainted race. You didn’t deserve anything you were feeling.  Not the fear, the anger, the hate.  Nothing.  He loathed the heavens for deciding to fill your life with nothing but hardships. He cursed the Gods to the very core of his Demon heart.  

“Y/N, you need to come back with me.  We need to get back home so we can figure out how to keep you safe.” You shook you head. 

“No, no way.  I’m not gonna drag you all into this.  I shouldn’t have called you, but I just- I panicked and now-” He hushed you as he tightened his grip on you and turned his body, taking steps backwards.  “Wonho?” You looked up at his face, he was sneering.  Glare harsh and teeth bared, it was like he was threatening someone.  And threatening he was.  

Humans started gathering at the Temple, most likely to pray for the wicked soul of the treacherous human.  First one person, then three, then ten, the numbers stacking up relentlessly until a mob was at the Temple gates, watching as the face of the human girl on TV was in front of them, being held by a Demon.  Probably not the most insightful position they could’ve found you, a deemed traitor, in. 

“She’s there!” 

“Standing before the Gods with a Demon!” 

“Treacherous monster!  You’re no better than a Demon in the end!”

Wonho growled as he pulled you from his chest, only for you to stand behind him.  Wonho faced off with the crowd of people, backing up as much as he could.  It made him nauseous, being this close to the Temple.  He knew he couldn’t enter it, and the area was wide and open.  If he wanted an escape plan, he’d have to think fast.  

You stood behind him, watching as he glared at your race that were seeing you as enemy #1.  You watched his jaw move up and down, and his shoulders tense, he was clearly shouting at them, screaming at them, but you couldn’t hear him.  Your heartbeat thrumming to intensely into your ears. But, you did hear something.  

Someone was calling you.  It seemed to distract you, and it was calling you from behind your back.  The voice had made you forget where you were, why you were here in the first place.  All you heard was that pleading voice of your name, calling and calling for you.  And so, you did the most human thing and decided to chase the voice.  

Running straight into the Temple. 

Wonho had been so busy trying to keep the humans away from you that he didn’t feel the absence of your presence until some random man pointed out that you were gone.  Wonho whipped himself around, and indeed, you were gone.  Where had you gone?  You couldn’t have run around him and you obviously didn’t charge into the mob of threatening savages.  

“Did she...” his voice was a whisper as the Temple began to change.  Blinding, white bars closed off the entrance to the Temple, permitting no one’s entrance.  He had only seen this happen when there are Blessed Children inside, as it’s a rule that only one pure body be allowed trespass inside at a time.  

You had ran inside the Temple, and you were someone, some random human blessed by some random God.  You who loathed them, were blessed by them.  You who loved a Demon, would only come back out of that Temple as a child of a God.  

🌙🌙🌙

You ran blindly.  Chasing that voice that seemed so familiar to you, yet you hadn’t heard a day in your life.  It made you curious and it wasn’t until you felt a sudden wave of heavy fatigue fall on your shoulders that you stopped and nearly buckled to your knees.  

Your chest felt unbelievably heavy and it was like you were swallowing tar instead of air.  Your throat closed up and your eyes watered.  It felt like you hadn’t drank water in days. Your body shook and you felt sweat gather at the base of your neck.  

You kept hearing that voice though.  Calling and calling and calling.  You had to keep moving.  You had to find the owner of that voice.  You had to.  You ran once again for a bit longer before your knees actually buckled this time and you fell.  Knees hitting the marbled floor as you slid to a stop, skin raw from the impact and more than likely ready to bruise in an hour or so.  

Maybe it’s a good thing you fell, because with some sense knocked into you, you finally realized that you were in a building of some type.  You looked around, eyes hazy and blurred. Murals painted on the highest points of the ceilings, pillars of spec less satin white, marble floors that one could see their reflection in.  You thought you heard the sound of a fountain around you, but didn’t see one.  

Just where in the world had you mindlessly ran off to?  You tried to pick yourself off the floor, but it felt like your ankles had iron balls strapped onto them.  Heavy, you felt so heavy.  You pulled yourself on the floor, reaching a pillar to pry yourself up with and support your body before you pushed off it.  You crushed your eyes together as you bit your cheek and ran as far as you could before you ran into something. 

Bouncing off the hard object you fell onto your back as you groaned.  There was no way you were going to be able to get yourself up a third time.  You felt like the weight of an elephant was stepping on you as your thoughts grew foggy and a headache grew around your head, pounding into your temples. 

You turned onto your stomach and pried open your eyes only to jumped back at the sight of a single, bright pillar. It blazed brightly, almost like it was on fire, a pure white fire. It reached into a single point in the domed ceiling and flared around like it was alive.  You were once against startled when you felt something around you neck.  

Looking down, a chain began to form around your neck, and a pendant formed at the end of it before it solidified and rested against your chest.  You flipped onto your side, one arm supporting you up and the other tugging on the chain.  Where did this come from, and why is it on you? Why can’t you take it off? 

“Who would you like to see?”  The sudden voice of an older man scared you, making you jump and roll onto your back, both arms behind you to lift you up and look at him.  He was older, wearing clothing that didn’t seem right, almost like he was auditioning for a role in a play and he wanted to play the part of a God.  

...God.

“Who would you like to see?” He questioned again, voice calm.  He was the voice.  He was calling you in here the entire time. 

“Wh-what?” Your voice squeaked, the feeling of your closed throat making it feel parched.  

“Our 20 Gate Child has finally appeared.  Who would you like to see?”  

“Anyone?” 

“Anyone.”  

“Then....” You wanted to see him.  He was the first person to pop into your head, but that would be a lie.  Saying he was the first person you thought of implies you aren’t always thinking about him, and you always, always were.  Your hazy state makes you stupidly accept and realize all the things you’ve pushed down over and over again just because he was a Demon.  

But now, what happens.  You love him.  But now you’re someone he hates, something he hates.  You can’t possibly call for him, can you?  What right do you have to do so, but regardless of your mind, your mouth makes your decision. 

“Hoseok. I want to see.. Hoseok.” The weight of the world felt like it crashed into your skull as your eyes rolled back and you fell onto your back, your arms collapsing.  The old man simply sighed as he looked at the light of the pillar.  

The shouts and screams of the outside were silenced the moment that old man appeared outside the Temple gates out of nowhere, gates that were still very much closed and locked.  He looked around the masses before he looked to the Demon boy.  

“Hoseok, I pressume?”  Wonho stiffened.  Not everyone knew he real name. 

“Who’s asking?” 

“The young lady inside wanted to see you.”  He straightened out at the mention of you. 

“Y/N.  Is she alright?  Where is she, how many gates did she pass?” 

“The young lady made it to the center of the Temple.” He gasps lightly as he took a small step back.  The center?  You were.. “She requested for you.  It will be the first time a Demon is allowed passage into the Temple.  I can’t say I agree with her, but it is her wish, so it is my job to obey.” Wonho only nodded.  He wanted to get to you, get you out, make sure you’re okay.  

The man walked towards Wonho and touched his wrist, latching onto it and before he knew it, he was standing inside a domed over area with a blinding pillar of fiery light.  Then, he saw you, unconscious and exhausted on the floor in front of that pillar.  He scrambled to get to you, lifting your head and making sure you had no injuries he had to tend to.  You were fine, other than the red, raw skin of your knees.  

He lay your head back down and moved to examine your knees.  They weren’t horrible, and with two small pecs of his lips to your skin, they healed up in no time.  The old man watched the skin heal itself as Wonho moved back to cradle you, lifting you up to his chest to where if you were awake, you could clearly here his increased, panicked heartbeat. 

“So, you can heal others. Quite a unique trait for a Demon to possess.”  

“What did you do to her?”  He sneered. 

“I’ve done nothing, simply passing her gates proved to be rather exhausting for her.” Wonho noticed the necklace around your neck and examined the pendant. Not a moment after he touched it, he felt a warmth on his chest. It felt strange, like he had made a connection with something, someone.  He couldn’t put the sensation into words. 

He pulled at the few top buttons of his shirt as he looked to see what had happened, if anything happened, to his chest and something did.  A tattoo appeared on his chest, but it wasn’t painful and the shape of it resembled an identical copy of your necklace.  

“The first Demon to ever enter this sacred palace, and now our Prophet has chosen to Mark a demon as well.” Wonho looked at the old man, then to your unconscious face, scrunched up in unfamiliarity.  You didn’t seem like you were resting pleasantly.  

You marked him?  Why him? He had heard once that the possessor of a Blessing of the Gods can choose any one person as their Marked One, but it must be someone of close relation and strong bond.  Wonho was indeed your best friend, and he cared about you more than you probably realized, but is this really what you wanted? Or was it an unconscious action out of pure desperation and fear?

“She Marked me?” 

“You were the first person she called out for when she felt like she was on the verge of collapse.  It’s quite safe to say that the young ladies decision was not on a whim, but out of admiration. Fondness.” Wonho pushed your hair out of your face as he rubbed at the back of you neck, wanting that unconformable look on your face to go away.  

“I want to take her back home.”  He looked at the old man.  “The humans, will they try and take her from me if I take her out of the Temple?” The old man shook his head.  

“I will see to it that you may take her to rest in peace.” Wonho didn’t have grounds to believe his words, but that’s all he had in this moment.  With you needing desperate relocation for proper rest and all the questions he has in his head he wanted to talk to you about, he needed to get back home.  He moved and lifted you up, tucking you around his chest as he stood.  

At least your body was still warm. 

“Simply walk out,” the old man pointed in a direction.  “The gates will open and the humans will pay you no mind.” Wonho nodded. 

“Thank you.”  Then he started out.  As the old man said, the gates practically vanished as he approached them and the humans didn’t even seem to notice he was there.  A white sheet of mist clouded around the two of you, and he supposed it acted as a shield of sort, masking your presence as he took you back home.    

To his home, with him where you’ll be safe. 

🌙🌙🌙 

It was strange, passing out in a temple and then waking up here, in the room you’ve been in so many times before.  The room where you’d be dragged off and scolded for fighting.  Waking up in Wonho’s room, for the first time since you’ve known him, was strange.  You couldn’t remember too much right after opening your eyes.  Your head pounded with the world’s worst headache, but you did recognize the foreign feeling of something around your neck.  A necklace, a cold, gold chained necklace with a pendant of a symbol of an ancient star that rested just between your clavicles.  

You got this necklace when you saw that pillar of light and when that man spoke to you.  You remember feeling weak, exhausted and tired.  He asked you who you wanted to see, who you wanted to get you out of there.  The first person on your mind was Wonho, but you had no idea why he was asking you who you wanted to see.  The moment you answered him though, fatigue took every ounce of your strength and you fell to the ground.  Then, the next moment, you felt warmth before everything was cold and lost.  

Now, you were here, laying in Wonho’s bed.  Where was he?  Did he bring you back here? Who took you out of the Temple? And why, why did you have a necklace on that felt so warm and so heavy, yet at the same time, was cold and as light as a feather.  The chain had no clasp to remove it, and it was far too small to slip over your head.  You tried yanking on it, pulling so that it may snap, but it was solid.  The necklace was practically bound to you now.  You knew that one who entered the temple was suppose to be deemed a Blessed Child, but you?  

You who hated mankind, you who despised the segregation between humans and demons, you who were bullied and beaten for preferring the latter over your own birth race.  You.  Someone who fell in love with a Demon and who would prefer to give her humanity and life up to keep him safe was Blessed?  You’ve never heard a bigger joke, and you constantly thought it was a joke.  Someone must’ve planned this, right?

You were brought out of your thoughts when someone knocked at the door, and within a few seconds later without a response from you, someone came in.  You let out a breath when you saw Wonho’s black hair peek in the room.  You didn’t know why you were on edge, but for some reason, you thought someone else would come inside. You thought you were going to have to see that stupid old man from the temple again and he was gonna drag you away, or tell you you were part of some elaborate plan to degrade you even more than humanity has. 

It was unusual for Wonho to knock thinking about it.  I mean, it was his room.  Why would he have to knock, and his timing was spot on, coming in and looking at you like he knew you were awake.

“You’ve been sleeping for a while.”  He came and dragged his desk chair over to the side of the bed, opting to sit next to you like that.  

“How’d you know I was awake?”  

“I heard you chain rattling,” he pointed to your necklace with your pendant on it.  You touched it lightly, and Wonho could read the look in your eyes.  Your confusion was painted all over your face.  “You don’t remember anything that happened at the Temple, do you?” You shook your head.  

“It’s all spotty.  I can’t really rely on my memories right now, especially with this thing.”  You flicked the pendant.  “What is it anyways?”

“You were Blessed, you should remember that much. You entered the Temple, that should be proof enough, wouldn’t you think?”

“Oh, no no no.  I’m no Blessed Child.  I can’t stand my own race, how then can I be Blessed by any God.” You scoffed at yourself.  Wonho wouldn’t lie to you, but you didn’t want to believe it.  You would be forced to leave if you were Blessed.  Leave your friends, your home.  Leave him.  

“Y/N-”

“No.  I’m not Blessed.  I’m not, okay?”

“Y/N. You went through all 20 gates.  You made it to the fucking center.  You literally can’t deny it.”

“I’m not Blessed!  I’m not, because if I was then some stupid government goons will march in here, take me to some stupid rich kid territory and I’d never see any of you again!” He knew you weren’t handling this well, and he expected as much, but he needs to get a clear explanation across to you.  He needs to tell you what you are, and the power you have over the people.  And the power you now hold over him.

“If that were the case, you’d be gone already! They wouldn’t have let me take you back here, back to my home, if they wanted to drag you anywhere else.”  That was true.  They would’ve pried you out of his hands if they wanted to relocate you.  But, how did he even get you here? He couldn’t get to you in the Temple.  Did that old man carry you out, because that seemed unlikely.

“How did.. just how did you get me here?”

“I carried you out of the Temple.”

“Okay, now I know your lying.  Demon’s can’t enter the Temple, you know that.  The holiness of the place physically makes you sick.  You can’t even stand being near it!” You stopped to catch your heavy breath before you kept going, more ideas and concerns coming into your head.  “Besides, suppose you did carry me out like you said, there’s no way they would listen to you!  They’d just refuse anything you had to say and wave you off because you’re not human!”  

“They had no choice. They didn’t know I was there to begin with.”  

“What does that even mean-” Wonho cut you off by starting to unbutton the top buttons of his black shirt.  Why the hell was this asshole starting to strip when you were in a constant state of confusion and peril?!  You were about to chew him out, yell at him for being inconsiderate when he pulled open his shirt just enough to show you a mark on the left side of his chest.  A tattoo, no larger than your palm, all in black.  And it looked exactly like your pendant that hung around your neck.

“Do you remember calling me? Y/N, you Marked me. Since your word as the Blessed Child who passed through all the gates of that stupid Temple is absolute without question, so is mine.”  You.. you Marked him? That doesn’t make sense. No, you couldn’t have.  He’s a Demon.  Surely a Demon with a mark of a Blessed being would die, or at least be in some sort of pain. Was he okay, was he in pain from that Mark? Oh God, did you… were you really?

“I,” you just looked at his marking.  It was really there. “I really am.. Blessed?” He nodded.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know how you got Marked, I guess it’s because I said your name.”  He looked at you.  He didn’t know how this  completely happened either.  That old man barely explained anything.  “When I first got to the pillar, I was tired.  Someone, an old man, asked me who the person I wanted to see the most was.  And I just said your name and then-”  You couldn’t remember after that.  

You realize he must be angry with you.  Sure, he’s talking to you, but his approach was off.  He was rigid, almost like he was being forced into something and he sat in a chair next to you, not plopped on the bed with you like he normally would be.  He was distancing himself.  He must be angry, frustrated that he was next to a child of God, on top of which being Mark but that child.  There must be a way to change it.  If you could take your Mark away from him and maybe put it on someone else, someone willing to be a Marked One of you, maybe he’d go back to the way he was before.  

“I’m sorry, I’ll remove it.”  Wonho looked at your lowered gaze, still staring at his chest.  

“Remove what?”

“The Mark.  I’m sure there’s a way to remove it and change it from you to someone else.  If I'm as powerful as they say, then I should have that power, right?”  He quickly started to cover the Mark up from you as soon as you reached forward to touch it, hoping that maybe it would smear right off him if you wished hard enough.  “What are you doing?  Let me see it.”

“No. I want to keep it there.”  You were flabbergasted.  What is he going on about?

“What?  No you don’t.  You hate Blessed Children, just like I do, or did I guess? Wonho, if you don’t let me take that off, you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of my life.  Until I rot away and keel over, you’ll be dragged around wherever I go.  I’m not gonna keep you on a leash just because I want you.” His breath hitched at your words as well as your tone of solid voice.  It was the tone when you meant something, and were 100% truthful.  “Now, let me see it.”  He shook his head again as you tried to pull his shirt and look at the mark.

“Stop it!”  He grabbed your wrist and held it away from him.  “I don’t want you to get rid of it!  Leave it there!” He felt you still fighting against him, pushing against his grip, still trying to grab a hold of his shirt.  Still trying to fight him.  Still trying to erase that mark you unconsciously made on him.  He acted without thinking and before he or you could process it, he had both of your wrists in his grasp and was suddenly hovering over you, pinning you into the mattress.  

His palms held your wrists on either side of your head, one of his knees braced on the edge of the mattress while his other leg was still straightened out, foot on the ground.  Your knees had risen up, feet flat against the mattress as they slightly leaned against his hovering waist.  This was strange of him, he never acted on impulse like this before.  He had always, always held himself back.  Always making himself think rationally and putting your well being in the forefront of his mind, pushing his selfish actions aside.  

But now, with your hair fanned out under you, your stress heavy eyes, the guilt that swirled in them and the confusion. All of the cloudy, heavy confusion that blocked the vivid color of your bright eyes changed something in him.  The mark you put on his chest made him feel something.  Feel you.  He could feel your suffering, your pain, your past and if he really concentrated he was sure he could feel your future.  It was all running in his veins; you were running in his veins.  So rampant, so wild, so unstoppable.

“Wonho, what are you doing.  Get off me.”  Your voice was stern.  He watched as your eyes shook, dilating back and forth in pure, thick emotion.  He looked at your wrists trapped in his steel like grip, and he focused every ounce of energy to feel how your pulse quickened under him.  He could hear you try and steady your breath and he could practically hear your heartbeat with each unsteady breath that left your lips.  

Lips.  Your lips were dry, chapped from the lack of moisture you would supply them.  You were sleeping so long, so heavily and so exhausted that your body couldn’t swipe your tongue over them to keep them shining and wet.  He’d never taken the time to notice without being discreet, but now he could stare at them all he wanted.  And he wanted nothing more than to kiss them right now.

You watched him, trying to analyse him and what he was doing.  He never acted rash with you, never said anything too bluntly and always tried to find some filter with you.  He’d only touch you when you would deem it okay and it’d always be playful.  Something like this wasn’t something you’d see him do, let alone to you.  It sent you into overdrive, making you hyper aware of everything around you.  Maybe it was the stupid blessing kicking into your brain, maybe it was the ‘Will of the Gods’ making you see things you’d normally overlook.  

His eyes scanning your face, then bounced over your body.  From wrists, to neck to lips and then back to the eyes.  You would feel him loosen his grip on you ever so slightly, just to tighten up again, almost like he was fighting with himself over something.  You felt the bed dip more when he put more pressure onto his braced knee beside you.  You’d watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat each time he closed his mouth to swallow air, just to reopen it.  Just what was running through his head?

“Wonho?”  Stern obviously wasn’t working, but maybe questioning him would do something.  His gaze snapped up to you, the tone of your voice doing the complete opposite effect you planned.  You wanted to gain his attention, that you did, but you wanted to calm him.  Get answers.  Instead, he was becoming more and more irrational.  Then, with the worried look in your eyes and the slight crease in your brows, something in him broke.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.  You expected him to heave himself off you, but he didn’t.  He got lower to you, closer. You pushed yourself back into the mattress by instinct as his nose brushed yours.  Speechless is what you were.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated as he took one more look into your eyes before he kissed you.  It left you shocked and frozen before he pulled away from you. He didn’t move far, just enough to detach his lips from yours.  

You felt his breath hit your face as he stared into your eyes, just like earlier.  They were glazed over, darkened with a spec of light that seemed to be diminishing by the second.  He wasted no time in lowering himself to kiss you a second time before you could open your mouth.  He was scared, scared you’d push him away, reject him if his mouth wasn’t covering yours.  But, fear wasn’t the only thing driving him.  He was desperate.  His desperation to be with you, to stay with you and to make sure you don’t wipe him away kept him here, hovered over you.

You were the long awaited savior of the humans.  The new Messiah.  Their Blessed Child of the Gods who was suppose to banish all Demons, fix the humans and rebuild the world.  He knew you, he knew you didn’t want to, but what if you did anyways? What if you pushed him away?  What if you decided to lock him and his race back down into the cold world beneath the Earth that is Hell?  What would he do then?  He’d sooner rip out his stomach, then see you turn him away just because of some stupid prophet’s words decades ago.

No God will keep him from you.  Not even you yourself.  Not anymore.  

He pulled away from you once again, but didn’t hover above your face like last time and instead traveled down your neck.  Brushing his nose against your jaw and dragging his lips over your skin, drying them out only for him to swipe his tongue over them.  He felt your body unconsciously arch towards him, felt your hands ball into fists as your wrists tensed in his grip.  He listened to your breath hitch and heard your small whines you tried to bite back.  

Perhaps this was wrong, doing what he was doing.  No, he knew this was wrong.  He hadn’t said anything to you, and this was surely shocking to you, maybe even beyond so, but he couldn’t stop.  You were an addiction, one he didn’t want to stop.  He wanted to hear you whine, and moan and he wanted to feel even more of you.

“Tell me to stop,” he bit at your neck, making you wince.  He spoke to you, but he didn’t stop anything as he did so.  “Tell me to stop, push me away, scream at me, I don’t care.  Unless you do something, anything, I won’t stop.”  He looked at the red teeth markings on your neck, swiped his tongue over it and watched as his healing effect lifted and made them disappear, only for him to bite down again.  “I won’t stop, Y/N.” He looked up to you, meeting your gaze one final time.  “Please… please don’t make me stop.”

“How-how long have you-?” That was all you could whisper out.  He was acting like he’d dreamt of doing this.  Having you pinned under him as he licked at your skin, and not to just heal your wounds from fighting.  

“So long. You have no idea.  Please.”  He pushed his forehead against your chest and bit at his lip before looking back at you.  It was torture keeping eye contact with you, let alone like this.  He needed an answer, something to tie him down.  Then you opened your mouth and gave him one after what seemed to be a time span of years.

“I won’t stop you,” your voice barely a whisper. He wanted to make sure you meant it, make sure you truly weren’t going to push him away and run, but the only thing his mouth could do is latch back onto your skin. He let go of your wrists to pull his shirt off his shoulders, trusting you enough to not bring your hands back to his chest.  He meant it every time he said that he hated the humans, hated the Blessed Children and their followers, but it wasn’t because as a demon he was pushed away.  It was because you, a human among other humans, was hurt because of your choice.  He hated them for their actions towards you, not towards him.

But, now you were suddenly forced into a position you didn’t want, and had no choice in the matter, he wanted to be with you.  He was scared when you entered the temple.  He thought he’d never see you again, just like you thought you wouldn’t see him.  You both thought you’d be dragged off in uncross-able paths, but instead you called for him.  Out of everyone, anyone, you called for him- wanted him.  And he wanted you too.  

Once his shirt slid off his shoulders, he quickly placed his large hands on you waist, slithering them under your shirt to rub circles into your skin with his thumbs.  You sighed at the pleasant pressure as he slid his hands up your torso to removed your shirt entirely, tossing it away from you onto the floor.  With more skin being revealed to him, he could see small scars from your particularly nasty fights in the past.  He growled at the sight of them.

The only thing good he could think of right now about your sudden possession of power is that now should anyone dare to raise a hand to you, they’d have to answer to the masses, most notably to him.  He buried his face in your chest, biting at you, making your back arch just enough to where he could slip your shorts down past your hips.

He chuckled as he listened to the rapid beat your heart produced in your chest.  He only dreamt of being this close to you.  He almost didn’t believe it was happening.  He reached behind you to hook his arms under your back and sit you up.  He lifted you to where you sat, straddling his waist in nothing but your undergarments.

He chuckled again at your flushed cheeks and darting gaze, a gaze that was unfocused and not sure where to keep their sights.  You’d seen Wonho shirtless countless times before, he was comfortable with his body after all.  But, the situation at hand made it seem like the first true time you’ve ever seen him bareback.  He massaged your hips, rolling you against himself as he tucked his lower lips between his teeth.

He felt your hands fumbled with his jeans button and zip before you were trying to remove them. He licked at your neck and moved his hands behind your upper back to unhook your bra, making it fall to his lap between the two of you.  

“You are beautiful,” he all but whispered as he ran his lips from your throat to your chest, kissing your breasts with as much ease as he could, making you mewl. You pushed your covered center against his, making his teeth trap a stiff nipple and roll his tongue over it, making your arch further into him.  Just a little more an it’ll be all he’s ever wanted for as long as he can remember. 

One of his hands slid down between both of your bodies and began pushing a pleasant amount of pressure against your sex.  He watched you bite your lip and whine as he pushed aside your panties and teased your wet folds.  He thought your lip would bleed between your teeth and part of him wished it would, just so he could lick your lips and make the injury disappear.

“You’re teasing…” You sighed as he smirked.

“I want to take my time.”

“That’s a first,” he smiled to you as you joked with him.  Even in this intimate moment you were still comfortable with him.

“Don’t stop yourself,” he said.  Before you could ask him what he meant, you were gasping, reeling and clutching at his shoulders as you braced yourself, for he had pushed a finger into your slick cunt.  You pushed your hips down against him, his palm cupping around your clit almost too perfectly.  Wonho kept his gaze down, watching his finger disappear ever so slowly in and out of you.  You curled your own hand around his wrist and he panicked, thinking you wanted him to stop.

“More.” The tension in his shoulders slackened as he obeyed.  Perhaps he should save all the teasing for another day.  The grinding of your hips faltered as a second one of his fingers joined the first to abuse you.  Sighs, whines and low moans let him know that you wouldn’t last much longer with his fingers.  He quickly pulled them from you, hearing you whine and watched as your body slacked at the lack of anything filling you.

“Are you going to make a woman wait all night?” You questioned, breathless, as you tugged on his unbuttons jeans.  He chuckled at your impatience and kissed you, lifted you off his lap to lay you on your back against the mattress in front of him.  

“I would never.”  He shimmied your panties off you, leaving you completely bare and shameless for his lust blown eyes.  He ran his hand over your sides, chest, neck, stomach and thighs, taking in how soft you were. How warm. In the dim room lighting, Wonho could see the glisten of your arousal between your thighs.

He snickered when you tried pushing his loose pants off his waist with your feet. He aided your sad excuse of trying to strip him, and along with the removal of his jeans, his boxers disappeared also.  Tossing them aside, he took no time in crawling over your body.  He kissed at your forehead, nose and cheeks before he captured your lips again.  

“Ready?” He asked as you sighed from feeling him slick his cock with your fluids that had already leaked out of your core.  You nodded, desperate at this point.  Part of him was suddenly nervous because he knew you’ve never done anything like this before.  It was really no surprised you were a virgin.  What if he hurt you too much?

“Hoseok,” his attention was immediately yours at the use of his real name coming from you.  “I’ll be fine, I promise.” That was all the confirmation he needed before he began to ease himself inch by inch into you.  

It hurt.

That was a dead giveaway.  Once he was pushed in, he held his heavy breath.  He kissed at your face, wanting your pain to stop so you can experience the same pleasure he was.  You were so warm, so tight, he thought he was losing his mind just sitting rock hard, inside you.

He didn’t know how much time passed with him buried and motionless inside you, but the feeling of you rolling your hips up against his gave him the green light to move.  Slowly, he left the deep warmth of you, just to roll right back in.  He had half a mind to fuck you into the mattress, but he had to control himself.  That last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain, he wanted to make a good impression for your first time, not act like an animal.

It wasn’t long before you were urging him to move faster.  Your hands tangling in his hair as he braced his arms on either side of your head.  Hips snapping against your as your mouth hung open, sounds from groans, to moans and whines pouring out of them like a broke water faucet that was running non-stop. 

The unfamiliar feeling of something twisting and building up more and more with pressure in your gut grew stronger with each strengthening thrust of Wonho’s cock.  He could feel when the strings in your lower body were ready to snap and he only urged you towards complete destruction.  His thrusts were ruthless as you were whip-lashed over the edge of your orgasm, body shaking and it wasn’t long before Wonho was pulling out of you, onlyto  jerk himself to the point he came to his high, painting your stomach white.  

He was quick to hop up and grab a towel that he had thrown in his hamper to clean off your stomach, still slightly damp from the last time he showered and dried his hair, making it easier to clean you. You lay completely still as he cleaned you and soon he was sliding one of his shirts over your exhausted body as he slipped on sweats and tucked you both under his covers.  Though you had just woken up, you had a pretty vigorous work-out, so it wasn’t a surprise you were tired all over again.

It was when you were finally able to catch your breath that you saw the mark on his chest again.  You had completely overlooked it until now.  Wonho noticed you looking at it and narrowed his eyes, ready to fight back against you again if you still wanted to take it off him.  He didn’t want you to, he wouldn’t let you.  No matter what, he was going to keep that mark on him.

“Keep me.”  His sudden declaration took you by surprise.  Keep him?

“What?”

“Keep me as your Marked One.  Please.  I don’t want to leave you.”  He looped his finger around the chain that was going to be around your neck for the rest of your life and untucked the pendant from under the shirt you wore.  He moved the metal in his palm before he moved to kiss the pendant and rest his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your stomach.  “I love you, okay? So, just keep me.”

Your fingers carded through his messy hair as you nodded.  

“Alright.  I’ll let you stay.  But, don’t you go thinking you’re on a leash.  If ever the day comes you want to leave me, you tell me and I’ll let you go without fuss.”  He lifted his head and quickly placed a kiss on your lips, wanting you to stop talking about him leaving you one day.  What utter nonsense.  Him leaving? That was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“I’m never going to leave.  So, you’ll never have to let me go.”  You smiled at him as he placed his head back on your chest.  He wanted to listen to your heartbeat. He felt you kiss the top of his head, smiling as you rubbed the back of his neck, played with his hair and rubbed his back.  This was all he wanted.  This intimacy with you, and no one else but you.  For so long, he waited and waited and finally he got it.  

“I love you too,” you whispered against his scalp as you kissed it once again.  He smiled, you could feel his cheeks pushing upwards against your chest as you both started to drift off.  For the first time, Wonho was finally able to fall asleep with the sound of your heartbeat under his ear as his lullaby.

🌙🌙🌙 

After that day, everything was so much different. 

The morning you woke up with Wonho on your chest was the same day that officials of the government came to take you back, finally tracking you down.  You had refused to separate from Wonho, or any of the other boys for that matter.  You had explained everything to the others, about you, about Wonho, and about the Temple.  

With enough argument, it was decided that you finally wanted better for your friends, for your lover and for yourself.  You had agreed to move wherever the government decided best for you, but with the exception that all 7 of the boys come with you.  You would not let them go, not when they’ve been with you for as long as you could remember. 

After a week of moving, adjustment of power and finally not being enemy #1, it was getting easier.  You had made a public announcement arranged by the largest viewed broadcasting station.  You explained that you had passed all the gates of the Temple and had your necklace as proof.  Further, you explained that you did have a Marked One chosen, and unless you decided against it, his word would be absolute.  You were the only other person capable of overruling his decisions. 

Furthermore, you had explained that the so called Prophecy of the Gods would be rewritten by you.  You wouldn’t cast away with the Demons, but offer them a choice.  You would close the gates of Hell, just as it said, but you would offer every Demon a chance to stay on Earth until they die.  They could stay and life as a Demon on Earth until the Demons all went extinct, or they could travel back to Hell before you shut it’s doors for good.  As for the Temple, you decided to keep it up.  

You planned to opening the Temple to the public, rearranging it’s foretold components and making it a sacred place of prayer of those who seek help.  It was a lot of work, but you were tired of seeing so much hate and profanities painted on the walls of the Earth.  

Wonho had chosen whole heartily to stay by your side, living as a Demon until his life snuffs out, as did the other 7 boys.  More Demons came to you wishing to stay on Earth, more than you expected with the harsh rulings over them for decades.  You created ‘safe places’ for Demons to traverse among Humans without worry of fear of an attack or a brawl breaking out.  

Many months passed, and you had been finally settled into a larger home on the outskirts of the city.  It was woodland area, quiet and open.  Just what you wanted for you and the boys.  They had practically clung to your arms and legs to let them life with you, you couldn’t exactly say no to them.  You were sitting on the bay window of your attic, staring outside and watching at the rain fell in the mid-afternoon. 

With all your plans in action, being a working progress, and the gates of Hell officially sealed and the Temple allowing more than just Blessed Children inside, you had time to think.  

Once all the Demons died on Earth, then it would be a completely human populous again, so maybe some future generations would learn not to meddle in thing they don’t understand, or not to attack each other.  But, then what?  

You hear the creaking of the trap door in the floor slid open as Wonho popped his head into the attic, seeing you in your bay window.  You had a habit of coming up here to think.  He pulled himself into the attic as he slid the trap door shut again and walked to your side, leaned down to kiss your cheek and rubbed at your shoulders, standing beside you. 

“What are you thinking about today, love?” You sighed as you leaned your head back against his chest.  He looped his hand from your shoulder to your chest to fiddle with your necklace, a habit he’s developed from somewhere recently. 

“Do you know what happens to Demons that die?” Wonho sighed in thought as he looked outside, watching the sky’s tears hit the glass and dribble down to the wooden window pane outside. 

“Many say they are reincarnated as the species they die among.” 

“So, when all the Demons on Earth die?” 

“I suppose they’d reincarnate as humans somewhere along the line.”  You sighed as you leaned further into him.  

“Do you believe you’ll be reincarnated?”  He shrugged.  Who knew. 

“If I am, I hope I can find you again.” 

“Who said I will be?” 

“The soul never truly dies, it just get’s recycled and tossed around as it shifts from body to body over time.  I’m sure that a soul of the Gods isn’t one they’ll let go of so easily.  You’ll be back, even if you die.” 

You chuckled.  He made a point, the Gods wouldn’t put the Blessed Children here on the ground just to life a short life and then dissipate into the galaxy.  But, that raised so many more questions.  Would you remember your past, would you always be pulled towards the same love over and over again like a genetic magnet in your DNA? Nothing was made clear. 

Wonho chuckled as he pinched as your neck, making you yelp and slap his arm.  He lifted you up as he moved to sit on the bay window, you on his lap as he held you and watched the rain.  

“Don’t worry about the future.  We’ll find each other again, it’s a soul thing.”  You chuckled and finally let the conversation die until another time. 

🌙🌙🌙

The year 2067 was the year you died, your body growing frail with sickness and landing you a very early death.  Another 5 years later, Wonho followed you, finally succumbing to his heartache of your cold absence.  Years passed by and soon the Demons all died off one by one, and by the year 2084, humans ruled the Earth as one unit again.  

2084 seemed like such a bright future, but honestly it was very ordinary.  technology had advanced, yes, but the people as a whole had remained the same as all those years ago. They had learned that if they wanted change to occur, it should never be immediate and needs to be monitored and a collective progress of the people. 

2084 was the year that Earth once again was prosperous.  Travel was still busy as ever and many people had more opportunities to go wherever they wished. Many came to your city in hopes of seeing and praying at the sacred Temple you created for the people. 

2084 was the year a young, 25 year old man from Korea had decided to take a trip to anywhere, but home.  He had a goal, a goal of finding an older styled tattoo shop and getting a tattoo of a symbol he mindlessly doodled on a piece of paper, kept in his wallet.  

He had heard of a tattoo shop that was a small little hole in the wall, but was still in business thanks to it’s older style of the 2020s.  Not decked out in TVs, or radios, or machines.  Just a walk in shop with a bell on the door.  He had found it fairly easily with the help of his phone and soon he was stepping inside. 

The little bell signaled a walk in, and an older man greeted the younger one at the desk. The shop was covered in sketches hanging from the walls, and a divider was set up between the waiting area and the bench for the actual work to start. Even the air inside the place felt rustic and clean, as opposed to heavy and loitered in ink. 

“What can I do for you today?” The old man spoke over the counter to the young man.  He pulled out his wallet, and then the small scrap of folded paper before he slid it onto the desk top.

“I wanted to get this done today, if I could.”  The old man took it, and smiled at it fondly, almost like he had seen the completely random doodle the younger had drawn before. He nodded though. 

“Of course.  My granddaughter is in the back, I’ll have her make you a stencil and she’ll ink you.” He took the small scrap of paper and moved to a small door behind the desk.  “Make a stencil for the young man outside, you have something to do today.”  

20 minutes later, the old man was ushering the man behind the divider and into a chair.  He had pulled off his shirt, wanting the tattoo on his chest and sat, waiting for his granddaughter.  And soon, she showed up around the divider.  

“Hey!  I’m your artist for the day!”  The girl sat down in her own chair across front he young man as she then got up and jabbed at his chest.  “So a chest tat, huh?” He nodded. 

“Just felt like it shouldn’t go anywhere else, you know?” She nodded.  She had tattoos on her arms and he even saw one peeking out from under her shirt collar to her neck.  Her hair was pulled back out of her face, and she looked fairly comfortable, and happy.  It was a small shop, so maybe business was slow most of the time. 

“I hear yah, some times they just need to go in one place, or else it’s all wrong.  What’s your name by the way?” She started marking his chest with where it was going to do, transferring the stencil to his skin before the actual process. 

“Wonho, or that’s what I want to be called.”  She nodded.  Interesting name, interesting design, he must be a very interesting man. He looked at her sewn in name on her shirt. 

Y/N.  That was your name.  

“Well, Wonho, got any other tats you wanna share with the class?” He spoke to you the entire time you worked on his chest.  Inking, wiping, re-inking and wiping again.  He told you about the tattoos on his foot, thigh and even the risque one on his rear.  You explained some of yours, and how you wanted to be a tattoo artist ever since you watched your grandfather do it as a child. 

By the time the process was done, and he was admiring your finished work. He had sheepishly asked if he could get your number, not feeling like it would be right to leave without keeping in contact with you.  With a successful number swap and even a possible date with you, the pretty tattoos artist, Wonho walked out of the shop with a feeling in his chest that made him feel like he’s been reunited with someone he lost long ago, someone he use to know. That, and a new tattoo on his chest.

A tattoo of an ancient star.

[storytimefromthecreed]

Vigilante AU: Sonny Carisi

(2)

"Detective Tutuola."

"Oh hell nah." Fin wheeled his gun toward her and lowered it when he realized who had scared him. "What are you trying to do? Get shot?" He resumed securing the perimeter, and she trailed him. "Stop following me. I don't get in trouble.”

“Is there a detective around here that does wanna get in trouble?” She pressed and Fin nodded towards the door.

“Just a simple investigation. The perimeter is clear, but Rollins might need some help securing the scene.”

Rollins it was then.

(Y/N) slipped past the yellow tape and into the house.

Saying the house was grand would an understatement. A winding staircase lead to a second story, but she followed the flashlight of who she believed to be Detective Rollins searching the living area. It was dark, but the light illuminated the art decorating the walls. The beam moved from the living area, the center of the house, towards the nook of the kitchen. It was when The Vigilante grew closer that she realized the shape was too large to be Amanda. 

She ducked against the wall and lowered her breathing. Calming herself down, she pushed her hearing out and concentrated on what the man was muttering. The sound of heels on tile caught her ear, and she watched in horror was Amanda walked into the kitchen. 

Before she could pull her gun, (Y/N) heard the unmistakeable click of the man readying his. From her hiding place, she could see Amanda raise her arms. “Lower you weapon, or I shoot your brains out right now.”

“You don’t wanna do that. My partner is right outside and he’s probably called back up by now.” Amanda spoke calmly, her blue eyes watching the man.

Damn it! From her position, she could only see Amanda. She was facing her attacker. He was probably right on the opposite side of the wall (Y/N) was hiding behind. Amanda was backing up.

“Slide your gun to me. Right now.”

“You don’t want to do this. Your wife has no case. This! Doing this? It gives her one.” The man began to weep.

“I’m not playing around! I will kill you!”

 “Ok. Ok.” Amanda was backed up into the livingroom, and her eyes flashed to (Y/N). (Y/N) placed her finger over her lips, and Amanda looked back to the man. 

“NOW!” The man’s scream echoed. Amanda placed her gun on the ground, and slid it to him. 

“You got what you wanted. Now let’s talk. Just put your gun on that table on your left. Watch your head for the open cabinet door on your right. Everything is going to be ok. We’re going to get through this. Together.” Amanda’s voice was soft, and the man began to cry louder.

“There’s nothing left for me. No one can help me.” The man raised the gun again. “Not even you.”

(Y/N) ducked her head under the cabinet door and weaved under the man’s arm. She swiftly grabbed his arm and sat on the table on his left, twisted her right around his neck, and him bend backwards. The uncomfortable postiton caused him to loosen his hold on the gun. They struggled over it, and she made sure to keep it pointed away from Amanda. Once it began evident that he was not releasing it, (Y/N) made it an objective to unclip the weapon instead. Bullets fell on her face like cold rain, and she emptied the chamber. 

“NYPD! Put your hands up!”  Amanda held her gun to them, and (Y/N) released the man from her grip. The man fell back with a groan, collapsing into the backbend. (Y/N) rolled off the table and rolled her wrists. Everything seemed to be working properly. “Thanks. I got this.” Amanda flipped the man over and began to cuff him.

“I look forward to working beside you again, Detective.”

....

“You think your friend is joining us tonight?” Amanda asked as they strode into the building. “Or does she only show up when there’s action? Does one of us have to be in danger? How does this all work, you know? Does The Vigilante have us under their watchful gaze? Should we get a signal?”

“Rollins, you’re asking way too many questions.” Sonny followed her into the elevator.

Amanda paused a moment, adjusting her vest. “Does she ever talk to you? When she comes to the rescue?”

“Rollins.” Carisi gave her a look, but she ignored him. 

“What? She talks to me!”

“Oh really?” Sonny tried not to look interested, but the events that took place with his girlfriend while she was in hero mode were comical. The things she would say to people who viewed her as this suspernatural creature. Fin said she complimented his cologue, his shoes, and said she was a fan of his work. Barba didn’t like her, but said she made him laugh once when she told him he had to stop eating in his office because she would pass by and get hungry. Jokingly, he ordered extra chinese food one night and they ended up having dinner. 

“Never mind, Carisi. You’re just...” She gestured to his whole body, and Sonny rolled his eyes. “Besides, we’re late. You know Fin is gonna have something to say about that.”

When the doors opened, Fin was the first thing they saw. “Welcome back, you two. You’re late.”

“Sorry Fin, traffic.” Amanda undid her vest as she spoke. 

“Was Carisi driving?” Fin chuckled.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Sonny undid his as well and left it on his desk. “Rollins was telling me we need to get a signal so we can call her best friend and have deep conversations.”

“Shut up, Carisi.” Amanda made a face at him, and he threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I just think it’s cool.” Amanda whispered. Fin, and Sonny leaned in. “I mean, a badass runs around the city, kicking ass and taking names in the name of justice? Come on, they’re real life super hero, and I’m here for it.”

“But that allows other idiots to run around and get hurt.” Fin added. “I think what The Vigilante is doing is cool and all, in theory, but,” he shrugged.

“Come on now, Fin.��� Sonny came in with the defense. “It’s not their fault that people are dumb. My mom has a saying-”

“I hope we’re not talking about who I think we are?” Olivia’s voice cut their conversation short, and the detectives pulled away from one another. Amanda went to her laptop, Fin scribbled in his notepad, and Sonny grabbed his coat. Dodds had tailed her, and watched with an bemused expression. “Guys! It’s our job to protect the citizens. Legally. This vigilante can’t keep making us look bad. We don’t work with him and he doesn’t work for us, understand?” Olivia used her mom voice paired with her “stern” look, and everyone nodded. “Good.”

“Besides, the law is there for a reason.” Dodds stepped in. “If everyone who can throw a decent punch decided they knew what was best for everyone else, then we would be in chaos.” Pause as his words settled in with the detectives. “Unless we have another case, we’re done for the day. Everyone rest up. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Fin asked, leaning back in his chair.

“My father has a saying, ‘Tomorrow could the biggest day of your life.” Mike said proudly.

“That’s a goofy saying.” Fin’s response made Sonny and Amanda conceal their laughter.

....

Sonny laid on her stomach as the pair watched TV. Wrapped in each other’s arms, she planted a kiss in his soft brown hair. 

"Did you have a good day?” She stroked his hair, and he faceplanted into her chest. “That bad?”

“I dawanna talk about it.” Sonny mumbled against her skin. His hot breath went through her shirt and warmed her. She laughed at the sensation, and Sonny kissed her there. “Just a long one.” He returned laying his head on his chest and watched the show.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Sonny pulled her closer. Taking in her smell, her warmth, her essence; it relaxed him. Made her seem more real.

(Y/N) knew what he was doing, but chose not to comment on it. Since Sonny had discovered that she was The Vigilante, he had been doing this. He was always in need of her touch, but whole body contact whenever they were home was becoming a norm. Keeping her close to him like this was his way of calming himself down. Of reminding himeslf that she was safe in his arms, and to not let his mind run wild with whatifs.

“You ok, Sonny bunny?” Sonny popped up. His eyes were dark with indecision. “You know we can talk about anything, right?” Sonny nodded, and seemed to be preparing himself. Silence rang for minutes.

“You wrestled with a loaded gun.” Sonny said, his voice faltering. He couldn’t do this. Looking at her face, the person he could lose. It was too real. Sonny pushed off her, kissing her nose quickly when he did so. Throwing an arm over the back of the couch, Sonny got comfortable. “That’s dangerous. Rollins told me you protected her, I get that I swear I do, but it makes me nervous hearing stories like that. Thinking that’s you, wrestling a gun away from a man twice ya size.” As he spoke, his hand rubbed her leg. His eyes watched the movement, unable to look at her. “It makes me feel bad, like I’m not there to protect you. That I’m not doing my job right if ya have to go out there and deal with thugs like that. But," Sonny took a deep breathe, "it mostly scares me.” The rubbing was getting hard, almost painful, so she took his hand. “It scares me not knowing what you’re doing out there. It’s one thing when you’re following me, but when you’re out there? Alone?” He held her fingers apart, and massaged her palms as he spoke. “The whole superhero thing is too new for me, but I swear I can do it. I promise.” His eyes flashed to her as if making sure she was still there before jolting back down to their hands. “I’m scared that something’s gonna happen to you out there, and I won’t know. I won’t be there when you need me to be." His voice was a small whisper as he spoke. Blue eyes drilled into her hands.

Letting his words sink in. (Y/N) felt them. They weighed on her heart. Her throat resticted and she watched the man she loved idly place her hand on his cheek to cup his face. Sonny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself. They had both known the dangers going into a relationship, but they hadn’t considered the emotion trauma.

“I’m sorry for making you worry, Dominick.” He nodded and kissed her palm at the sound of his name. “This line of work is dangerous, and you’re right to say I’ve been doing it a long time.” Sonny nodded along, just listening. Her throat choked her, and tears were on the cusp of her eyes. “But I don’t need it. Sonny. Not anymore. What we have. Here. Together.” The tears spilled over and she withdrew her hand from his to wipe them away. She chuckled at herself. “I’m not going to put myself in a position where I’d lose this. If there every comes a time where I have to pick between the two, I’m picking you within a second. This isn’t worth having you worry. I love you too much to put you through this.”

“That’s not what I want.” Sonny wiped his eyes. “This is something you’ve worked your whole life for. I don’t want to take that away for me. To have you end up resenting me. Some boyfriend.” She sniffed, and Sonny grabbed a tissue box from the table. Steady hands wiped her tears, and she pulled him close. Hot tears fell on her shoulder while she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. They sat there releasing their pent up emotions for a few minutes.

 “Dominick this is my job, and I do love it. But, I do wanna retire one day. I’ve seen enough, done enough. At the end, I want to settle down. Get married.” Shakey, “Have your kids.” Sonny pulled back to see her face.

"You mean that?" His voice was husky."You'd really give it up. For me? I mean, I'm not asking but, you would?"

"Trust me. I’m not running into danger blindly. I have too much to lose now. Trust me, Dominick, you mean more to me than I could put into words. When I’m out there, you are with me."

“I love you.” His eyes teared up again, and he wiped them with the back of his hand. “I love you so much it hurts."

“I love you, Dominick Carisi. I will never let you down.” She had said many things in her life, but these words were a vow. If he wanted her to stop, she would. He had complete hold of her heart. As she did his.

....

He was going to kill her. The Vigilante leapt over a bench and headed for an alley she knew would lead her to a roof. Who the hell was this guy and what did he have against superheroes? The sound of running grew closer behind her. Jesus! Did this guy ever get tired? (Y/N) raced up the fire escape, but heard him right behind her. Once her feet hit the flat of the roof, she was off again. The man was right behind her. The end of the roof neared, and (Y/N) pushed her burning muscles. Just a little farther. Each breathe burned. Air felt like poison.

(Y/N) leapt off the rooftop, rolling when her feet hit the neighboring roof. There was no time to rest her burning muscles and tired lungs. The sound of huffing, the sound of gravel under bodyweight, and groaning sounded behind her. Good lord! Did this guy not know how to slow down? The city accepted her! The people knew she was out there! Why was this guy after her?!

With no time to think, (Y/N) rolled to her side and faced her attacker. A dark haired man, red in the face, put his fists up and faced her in a similar stance.

“Freeze!”

“What the hell is your problem?” The Vigilante growled. “I’m one of the good guys!”

The man retorted. “You don’t work for NYPD. You’re breaking the law.”

“What’s your plan?” (Y/N) scoffed. “Beat me into submission?” He began walking towards her and she mirrored his moments. He was different than her other run ins while in the city. This man moved like a fighter. “Try to catch me first.”

The man jabbed first. Quickly. Testing her range.

(Y/N) didn’t flinch. The man jabbed again, and she sidestepped him. But he was smart. He grabbed her arm, twisted her around, and pinned her arm behind her back. The pain made her whince.

“I just want to talk.” He whispered in her ear.

“This is talking?” Untwisting her arm, she kicked at his ribs. He grabbed her foot and held her. She jumped up and twisted her body so that her freed foot caught the man’s jaw. Sprawled on the ground, (Y/N) crawled a space distance away before rolling to her feet and readying herself for a second round. Trembling from exhaustion, sweat burned her eyes. Blackness edged her vision.

Sonny yelled from the opposing rooftop, aiming his gun between the pair. “Hey! Freeze!” The man was distracted, and (Y/N) used this to leap off the building.

.....

“Are you ok?” Sonny asked when he came home and found her icing her wrist. Gingerly examining it, Sonny found it was red thankfully not swollen. He clutched her tight. Exhaling his pent up breath, he buried his face in her hair. Worry burdened his heart the whole time in the squadroom, even on the drive home, and hiding it was exhausting. 

“Sonny, you’re going to suffocate me.” She mumbled against his chest, and he begrudgingly freed her. (Y/N) locked her wrists around his neck. “I asked you to trust me and I almost got caught. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Sonny pressed his lips to hers and just held himself there. "I've got your back. Promise."

"Your new friend plays rougher than I’m used to." (Y/N) tested the waters with a joke. After all this talk about taking care of herself and him having not a reason to worry, this friggin' guy had to ruin her week! He'd been after her since NYPD threw up the opinion to establish a manhunt against her. It didn't take, but still.

Sonny slowed his breathing, his heart was hammering in his chest. Sonny shook his head of doubt. "I know you’re trained." He chuckled, trying to play off the nerves. “You’ve kicked my ass plently before I knew who you were.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he was trying. For her.

 “Out there," (Y/N) jut her chin towards the window on the other side of the living room. "I might be a superhero. With you, I’m just me." Her fingers tangled at the button of his shirt. "I could use some help taking care of my wrist.”

“I’ll open the Advil with my perfectly strong and secure hands, damsel.” Sonny kissing her softly. The tension in the room subsided. 

“Get those strong hands to also get me some ice cream?”

Sonny grabbed the bottle from on top of the fridge and gave her a mock annoyed look as he slowly opened the freezer. “Chocolate Mint or Strawberry?”

“Ew.” 

“Just cause of that, you’re getting Chocolate Mint.” He threatened, knowing her distain for his favorite flavor. “I’m the only one with working hands around here.”

“Sonny!”

"(Y/N)." Sonny whined back and he pulled out the Strawberry. “Fine. Just cause you're broken.” He handed her the pill which she quickly popped in her mouth.

“Who the 'ell was that guy anyway?" She sipped the water he gave her and handed back the glass. "A friend of yours?”

“That is,” Sonny grabbed bowls and silverware. “Chief Dodds son. Our new Sargeant."

"Dodds? As in the guy-"

"With the manhunt idea? Yea. That would be him." Sonny took their bowls to the living room and she tailing him with her hands at his waist.

"Is that gonna be a problem?" They fell on the couch and Sonny gave her his smirk.

"Nothing we can't handle, right?"

[lilhemmo]

blessings

anonymous request: Hello !! Would you mind doing a 1940s!Bucky where he is your husband and you lie to him that you're going to a family reunion but in reality you're going to have dinner with your successful boss (as a friendly gesture not out of romance). Bucky finds out and there's angst

a/n: i loved this prompt and i hated it because i had to be devious!!!  word count: 2,597 (couldn’t help myself) rated: T+ (language and sexual references/innuendos)

Request from THIS prompt list in MY ASK. Thank you! Also, here’s my MASTERLIST. 

The diamond ring sitting on your finger weighs heavy as you look at your boss across the table. He’s always been interested in you in a peculiar way you can’t quite place, but you’ve always wanted to think that he knows you’re a hard worker with great talent and he appreciates it.

“I want to discuss a raise,” Mr. Donavan tells you, smirking slightly. He picks up his briefcase, readjusting his tie, “We can’t do it here, I don’t want to risk anyone else discovering how much you make.”

“Yeah,” you agree halfheartedly, smiling up at him from your seated position, “wouldn’t want to ruffle any of the guys’ feathers.”

His face sours slightly, but you overlook it as you stand to your feet. You swallow, “So where exactly are we going?”

“Grand Central,” he smiles over his shoulder. “That oyster bar down town. Is that okay?”

You shrug, “That’s fine. Should be a quick conversation, shouldn’t it?”

“Wow,” he breathes out the word. You walk out of his office and he turns the key in the lock. There are still people bustling around in the building, some of them jealous you have such a special spot in the boss’s heart.

Mr. Donavan chuckles, “You’re confident, aren’t you?’

You find yourself shrugging your shoulders again as you follow close behind him to the staircase, “Well, when you’re a military wife you don’t have much other choice.”

He nods, “And we do thank you for your husband’s service.”

The two of you hail a cab and make small talk on the way to the oyster bar. You honestly aren’t sure why you couldn’t have this conversation after hours at the office, but Mr. Donavan does like being able to use the company’s cash to fill his belly.

Turns out he’d already reserved two spots for you, fancy name cards sitting on the bar in front of your seats.

“Two Manhattan’s please,” Mr. Donavan raises his fingers to the bartender. The man nods his head and gets to work on your drinks.

“Mr. Donavan, I-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Clive, darling?” he chuckles at you, grabbing a cigar out of his pocket. He merely puts it in his mouth, doesn’t light it, and waits on your drinks. “And don’t worry about the drinks, it’ll be on me tonight.”

“Okay,” you give up, watching as the bartender approaches with two small glasses, amber liquid sloshing around in them.

The bar is loud but quiet at the same time. There are a lot of various conversations going on around you but you can’t quite make out any of them. People are pressed together as they try to get around the bar and order their drinks and food, so you be careful not to let your drink get too close to the edge of the bar.

“Clive,” you grit through your teeth, “why don’t we talk about that raise?”

He smiles and you see his drink has already vanished. You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as you sip on the alcohol. The goal of the night is to get a decent raise that recognizes your hard work, not to get plonked with your boss of seven years.

The discussion is a long one, had over appetizers and a meal and eventually, dessert. Drinks are had and your head is starting to throb at the expansive amount of conversation you’re having.

You sigh and spoon the last of the chocolate cake into your mouth, “If you can’t appreciate my hard work, and you can’t give me the raise I’m due and worth, I’m going to go to Sanders Sons or Filbert’s and put in my resume there. I did not climb my way out of the operator room to land myself in a secretary’s seat.”

You shake your head and push the empty plate away from your person, “That’s just not what I want, Mr. Donavan.”

“I know,” his voice is low, soothing. Your head is pounding and you want nothing more than to leave and go home to Bucky.

“I’m ready to leave,” you tell him. “If you’re not willing to make me an offer, I’m not going to be coming in to work in the morning.”

“Fine, fine,” he huffs, gulping down the remainder of his drink. “I was hoping to drag this out, but we’re prepared…”

He gives you an offer you really can’t refuse. You try to hide the smile on your face, which is not easy given the amount of alcohol swimming around in your bloodstream.

You accept the offer and Clive pays for the tab. You smile and mock-curtsey, giggling at the thought of how much that money will help you and Bucky’s situation.

“I’ll ride home with you,” Clive offers, his words slurring in your ears. You shake your head, “No, no, I’ll be fine. I’m goin’ home to Buck anyhow.”

He presses you but you push back, ready to go home and see your husband of three years. You grin at the thought of him laying up on the couch waiting for you.

“G’night, Clive!” you shout over your shoulder as a cab pulls up on the curb for you. “See ya in the mornin’!”

-

The cab ride is jostling, which does no favors to your tossing tummy. You groan as you tip the man, stumbling out of the car and onto you and Bucky’s driveway.

You grin, your smile inescapable as you hear the music flowing from the living room just outside the front door. Bucky’s truck is under the carport, the garage light on so you can see your way up the steps and to the front door.

Instead of announcing yourself to him, you sneak in with the slightest of noises from your keys jangling in the lock. You’re surprised to see him on his feet in the kitchen, up to the elbows in bubbles and water. You chuckle at the sight of your husband busy with the dishes you left last night.

He’s humming along to Moonlight Serenade, his head down and his back muscles broad and out in the open as his shirt clings tight to his body.

You smile, biting your lower lip as you approach him from behind. Your arms slip under his arms, your palms against his chest as you push your cheek into his shoulder.

“Ev’nin’,” he chuckles, tilting his head back. You kiss between his shoulder blades and he pulls his hands from the dish water to wipe them on the rag that’s hung over the sink. “I-uh, I talked to my CO and I asked about the extra tours and -”

“You don’t need it!” you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck as he turns to face you. You can’t help the bright smile that overtakes your face, knowing that this raise will do nothing but alleviate the stress the two of you feel. “I squeezed a good raise out of Clive and -”

“Why do you smell like whiskey?” Bucky asks, his fingertips trailing over your lips. His eyes connect with yours and he must see the disconnect between you and the world because he mutters, “You’re drunk.”

“No, no I am not,” you laugh, putting a finger to his lips. “Bucky, I got us more money!”

“I thought you were going out with Carol,” he whispers, the blue in his eyes turning dull as he takes a step back from you. “You were out with Donavan?”

“His name is Clive, Bucky,” you roll your eyes and go to the bar to sit on a stool, the countertop separating your bodies. “And he gave me the raise I’ve been talking to you about. We’re gonna be okay now!”

“No,” he says immediately, gesturing with his hands. “W-We are not gonna just be okay. You told me you were going out with Carol. Carol is not Clive.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is, Bucky. I just, I know how,” you fumble for your words between the annoyance at his attitude and the whiskey rushing through your blood.

“You know how I feel ‘bout Clive, don’t ya sweetheart,” he nags at you, pointing his finger in your direction. He slams the towel back down onto the kitchen sink, wringing his hands together. “You lied to me about being with Clive because you know that I don’t like him.”

“I know we needed this opportunity, Buck,” you try and reason with him. You feel your stomach lurch at the betrayal flashing in his irises. “I-I didn’t want your jealousy getting in the way of that.”

If he wasn’t shocked before, his widened eyes and slack jaw do little to hide his emotions. You groan, dropping your head to the bar, “Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I-I’m sorry, okay?”

“I get it,” Bucky puts his hands up, his voice low and angry. He bites his lower lip and if you weren’t drunk and angry it would look sinful. “I’m going to bed.”

“W-Wait, Buck,” you call, trying to reach out for him as he passes you to walk to the bedroom. You wince as the door slams behind him.

You refuse to cry. You’re too angry. You groan, ripping your hands through your hair. The sudden jolt of pain causes your stomach to turn over again and you find yourself in the spare bathroom with your head hanging over the porcelain bowl for the next few hours.

The cold tile brings clarity as you upchuck everything you ate for dinner. You sigh, dropping your head back to rest it against the wall. Your heart feels sick, the ring on your finger weighing almost as heavy as your guilt. You bite your lip, chewing on the skin to force yourself to think of a way to fix this.

Your feet find the soft carpet of your bedroom around three in the morning. You’ve washed the taste of vomit out of your mouth and your hair sits in a bun on top of your head. Your stomach is still turning, but now it’s because you’re afraid that your good intentions have ruined your marriage.

Your voice is stuck in your throat as you pass the bed to go to your bathroom to remove your makeup and wash off your face. You slip into one of Bucky’s big t-shirts and find yourself hovering beside the bed trying to force yourself to get in.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pull the covers back and find your way into the familiar spot. You chew on your lip and words start spilling out of your mouth.

“I-I know how hard you work,” you stutter, your voice thick, “and I know that you put your life on the line every day of your life. I don’t want to ask you to do anything more for us. I-I can’t.”

His shoulders don’t move and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was asleep. You see his toes move under the blanket and you take it as him listening. You take a deep breath and keep going, looking at the ceiling instead of his shoulders.

“I wanted to pull my own weight. I know I deserve a raise and I knew I could get Clive to give me one. I-I didn’t plan on going out with him, but he said he didn’t want to talk about a raise at the office in front of the other employees,” you explain, using your hands even though he’s not looking at you. You find tears welling up in the backs of your eyes and you lean your head back to try and keep them at bay.

“I let myself be roped into that because I thought I was doing what was best for us.” You sniffle and wipe your face, trying your hardest to hold it together. “I-I thought that if I made more money we could rest a little easier at night and you could work less. I…”

You shake your head and the tears overtake you now as you press your hand to your flat stomach, “I-I thought that with the extra money we could afford to finally have a baby.”

At that, Bucky turns around and looks you in the eyes. His blue irises are red-rimmed, wetness soaking his face. He reaches up and touches your face with his calloused hands. The gentleness of his touch brings out the waterworks in you and you can’t stop the tears from leaking and the sobs from shaking your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” you bellow, dropping your head into your hands so you can hide the shame in your eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips against the crown of your head. Bucky’s arms wrap around your shoulders and you let yourself climb into his lap and be held.

His voice is quiet in your ear, the tone broken and desolate. He sniffles and you feel your heart shatter in your chest. “I felt like you couldn’t count on me to provide for you,” he admits, his voice faltering. He buries his head into your neck. “I felt like you thought you could rely on Donavan more than you could on me.”

“Baby, no,” you defend him immediately, your hands gripping him by the shoulders to pull him backward to look him in the eye. “There was never and will never be a doubt in my mind that you are the glue that holds us together, that keeps us going. You do so much for me, for us, all the time and I could never ask you to sacrifice anything more.”

He bites his lip and you feel yourself falling in love with this man all over again, as if it were high school and he was that guy that you weren’t allowed to touch. There is a surge in your chest and your lips find his like there were magnets pulling you together.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your lips, his thumbs finding your hips and digging in to the band of your underwear. You see stars as his mouth travels to your neck, “I love you so damn much. You’re my whole world.”

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to focus with his maddening lips searching your skin. “I love you too.”

He smirks up at you, feeling the catch in your breath as his palms flatten against your back, “So, you got a raise, hmm? What kind of raise are we talking here, madame? Couple ‘o bucks?”

You bite your lip, forcing your eyes to widen in that innocent way Bucky finds so attractive. You giggle and trail your index finger down his chest, leaning over with your chest brushing his chin and your lips ghosting the shell of his ear as you whisper the number for the first time since the offer.

His eyes widen as you pull back, a smirking mess. Bucky’s head tilts, “Well, such a time calls for a celebration.”

You squeal as you’re spun in midair, your back now pressed to the mattress. You laugh again, throwing your head back into the pillows. Bucky finds the time to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin of your neck, murmuring in your ear, “I’m gonna’ celebrate you, darling. All night long.”

The evidence presents itself thirty-nine weeks, six days later in the form of a healthy baby girl.

a/n: i tried to end this on a sweet note!!!! i hope you guys like it :) thank you for such good reception as i’m attempting to return to writing. let me know how you’re feeling or if you want anything specific!! also try not to think about what happens to buck buck after the 40s okay let him have his baby in peace

Request from THIS prompt list in MY ASK. Thank you! Also, here’s my MASTERLIST. 

[areswriting]

a x e : xi

Elise fights against my arms, but I only hold on tighter—thinking, hoping, that if I hold her tight enough I can push her broken pieces back together. When the fighting stops, and she’s nothing more than a pile of tears, shaking on my lap—I realize. Some people aren’t meant to be made whole again. I know I’m not. Some people need their broken pieces—it’s what they use to fight. They need someone who doesn’t back away from shattered glass, someone who looks at the mess and doesn’t see a mess. Someone who stares in wander at how beautiful broken can be—even if it can hurt them.

“You didn’t leave me when I needed you,” I whisper. I rock her trembling body, my hand stroking her coarse hair. “So I’m not going to leave you, Elise.”

This only makes her cry harder, her arms slipping around me until she’s holding onto to me just as tight. We stay just like that as minutes turn into hours and her sobs turn into a light snore. I ignore the numbness in my arm by staring down at her, and I try not to laugh when I notice the collection of drool on my shirt, and how she sleeps with her mouth wide open.

I hear a shift on the floorboards and I look up to see Anais lean against the doorframe. She smiles at Elise, still asleep on my lap, then her brown eyes find mine.

“I like you, Abram,” she says, and I can’t help but notice how much her accent sounds like my mother’s. “I was just speaking to Genevieve about you.” She straightens up and walks toward us, heels softly clicking against the hardwood. “Cerise would never approve, which makes me like you even more.”

“Oh—we’re not.” I shake my head. “Elise is my best friend.”

Anais smiles sweetly. “Is that what it’s called these days? You’re making me feel old, Mr. Rose.”

I open my mouth to correct her—I am not a Rose—but she leans down and gently rubs Elise’s shoulder before I can. “Lever et briller, Elise.”

I watch her eyelids flutter open, then close, and open again. It takes her three seconds to take in her surroundings, and another five to realize that she’s on my lap. She jumps from my lap and stumbles to her feet.  

Anais laughs and grabs her shoulders to steady her. “Pourquoi cours-tu? La mâchoire de ce garçon pourrait être votre trône.” She glances at me, smirking, then looks back to Elise. “Je parie qu'il a une langue magique.”

My face burns red—and so does Elise’s.

“Anais!” Elise says. “Il peut te comprendre!”

Anais looks at me, impressed. “Tu parle Francais?”

“Oui,” I reply, pushing myself to my feet. While Anais looks unfazed, Elise looks mortified. “Je vais vous laisser deux pour parler.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

Navigating the Allaire estate isn’t easy. It takes me almost fifteen minutes to find the grand staircase that leads to the kitchen and dining room—which is where I find Gigi, Malachi and Cerise sitting with glasses of red wine. While Gigi beams at my presence, Malachi rolls his eyes and Cerise looks away.

“Come, Abram,” says Gigi, patting the empty seat beside hers. “Before I die of boredom and the smell of Chanel number 5.”

When I sit, Gigi pours a second glass of wine and slides it to me.

“Mother,” Malachi says, “I don’t want him drinking.”

“Oh, darling, stop trying to play the role you deserted seventeen years ago,” Gigi says.

I wince at her words, half expecting a blow to the face, or ribs, or a wine glass to fly toward me. I bite my tongue, holding back things like, stop, please, you have no idea what he’ll do to me.

“Don’t act like a saint,” he replies coolly, taking a generous gulp of wine. “You wanted rid of Emilia just as much as Dad did.”

Cerise loudly clears her throat. “Have you seen Elise?”

I’m shocked that she’s speaking directly to me and terrified of what my father might do if I don’t answer pleasantly. “I think she’s with Anais.”

“Excuse me,” she says. She pushes herself back from the table and stomps by—the sound of her heels slamming onto the steps echoes long after she disappears.

“I wanted nothing but good for that girl,” Gigi says. “Why do you think I didn’t want her with you, Kai?”

I sink into myself and look at my father, who is looking back at me, and for the first time it isn’t with resentment or malice. But with hurt.

“You are as self-serving as they come, mother,” he says, his eyes burning through Gigi. “You don’t care who you hurt—as long as it helps your agenda.”

“You were ten years older and married,” Gigi says. She leans against the table, finger pointed. “Don’t act like you actually cared about Emilia, much less loved her.”

Malachi slams his wineglass against the table and it breaks in his hand.

“Don’t you dare tell me how I felt about her!” he screams. “You know nothing.”

“I know everything,” she seethes. I reach for her arm, wanting nothing more than to stop her from speaking, but she jerks away from my touch. “You don’t know what love is!”

“Gigi,” I say over my father. I grab her arm a second time. “Please—leave it alone.”

“You!” my father shouts and stands from the table. “This is your fault!”

I’m on my feet, too, scrambling around the chairs—half of me screaming to run, the other half begging to stay—to fight. I square my shoulders.

“Because I look like my mother?” I say, heart pounding.

Malachi laughs. “No, you idiot. Because you killed her.”

I lunge forward, fist drawing back, but Gigi throws herself in front of me, her hands pressing desperately into my chest to push me away.

“Don’t stop him,” Malachi says. “If he wants to try to hit me. Let him.”

“Oh, I could kill you, old man,” I say.

“Do you want to be an orphan?” he laughs. “Or just known for killing both of your parents?”

My only desire is destruction, but Gigi stands in the way of it and I will myself to turn around. Three Allaires stand together, watching the war of the Roses. I walk by them and hurry to the front door. I hear their voices rise in my presence but I can’t understand what they say—I don’t care to. I’m halfway outside before I turn back, retracing my footsteps. Elise still stands beside her aunt when I grab her wrist, urging her away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hear Cerise shout, but she makes no effort to go after us. I make sure to slam the door shut behind Elise before I pull her down the stairs.

“Abram,” she says, “What are you doing?”

“Going for a walk,” I spit. “I need to clear my head.”

“And you’re literally dragging me along because?”

I stop at the sidewalk and sigh. “Would you rather stay?”

She considers my question before shaking her head.

“Besides,” I say, “I don’t know where I’m going. Take me somewhere.”

“Okay,” she says, prying her hand away from mine to hail a taxi.

“No!” I grab her hand. “We’re walking. I need to walk.”

“I’m not dressed for a walk in the snow, Abram!” she says. “I don’t even have my coat, and it’s freezing out here.”

“Fine,” I snap and I pull my hoodie over my head and offer it to her. “Wear this.”

“That doesn’t match—”

Her words fall short as I force the fabric into her arms. She looks at it, then at me and sighs loudly before putting it on over her dress. “You’re lucky that I love you.”

I pause and look at her. Her mouth hangs agape before she laughs. “You know what I mean. What happened, anyways? We leave you three alone for five minutes and things get broken.”

“I’d rather not relive it, Elise,” I say, glancing down at her. “I just want to go somewhere, preferably with food.”

Elise produces her phone and links her arm through mine. “Then we’ll go somewhere with food.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

I feel too big for the tiny café she picks. Thankfully it isn’t crowded and we’re able to get a table next to the window. She tells me how she and her aunt would always come here when she was a kid—how she would get chocolate milk and pretend it was a latte, how they would sit exactly where we are sitting and people watch.

I don’t say that when I said food, I meant steak—or that my stomach is profoundly disappointed in her. Instead, I listen, to her, to the French music that plays, to the sound of traffic outside; until I no longer see red.

“I thought you were going to take me to the Eiffel tower,” I tell her between tiny bite of my croissant, doing my best to make it last, so I don’t look like a hungry heathen. “Try to trick me into kissing you.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes. “You never go to the Eiffel tower on the weekend. Too many tourists. And why do you think I have any interest in kissing you?”

“We are tourists.” I say loud enough to draw attention. “You found this place and Groupon and I know you want to kiss me—or maybe you just want me to kiss you between the knees again!”

Someone seated nearby laughs and Elise’s face turns pink.

“Do I need to remind you of your girlfriend?” she says then takes a bite of her croissant. “I’m sure there are texts you need to be sending.”

I shrug as I chew. “I wouldn’t know. I blocked her number.

The pastry falls out of her hand and hits her plate. “Why?”

“That’s another thing I don’t want to talk about, Elise,” I respond.

“Don’t you care that you’re hurting her?”

“Oh, you don’t know,” I say, laughing but it lacks enough enthusiasm to be real. “She’s left me for months before. She could have been dead, for all I knew. So, yeah, I care but at the same time.” I shrug. “She’s done it to me.”

Elise nods. “So this is revenge?”

“No,” I say. “It’s me being tired of being messed with. Between school, what happened with my mom, and my new family—I just don’t have the energy to keep playing these games with her. That’s all it’s been, for four years. Games.”

[felvillalobos]

The Shadow It was a sunny Saturday morning. I woke up at 5:30 am as always to take Blair on her daily sunrise stroll. The sun was pouring in through the glass doors to my balcony. I threw back the covers and walked towards my dresser. Pulling on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, I made my way down the stairs. Blair was sitting next to the door with her leash in her mouth. For years this had been our routine, and nothing would make her change it now. The cool morning breeze was sending chills up my spine. I held Blair's leash in one hand, and a water bottle in the other. Early morning walks always seemed to bring out the eeriness of Twin Lakes Drive. With sun peering through the many clouds of gray that polluted the sky, some houses were illuminated with beautiful patterns of sunlight, and others with oddly shaped shadows that seemed to engulf each home. As I walked down the drive I could hear Shawn saying “There is an evil in that house Shae. Can’t you feel it?” Shawn is my wonderful husband who has dedicated his life to catching and chasing all things supernatural. For weeks he would go on ‘business trips’, and clear houses and other cursed or possessed objects from evil. Being a private investigator I stuck to focusing on evidence I could physically see and touch before me. Whenever Shawn tried to pull me into one of his trips, I would simply state “No face? No case.” I am running with half of a leash in my hand. The cold morning air sending chills up my spine. Where did Blair go? In the 8 years that I have had her, she's never taken off on me the way she just did. I followed the sound of her bark all the way to that one vacant house that never failed to have an eerie shadow fall upon the large front door. The Evans’ house was the darkest house located in a corner at the end of the drive. I stood paralyzed in the narrow twisting driveway before the house. The ancient architecture of the house made it look like a home straight out of a horror movie. Dead trees, rotting and bowed shutters, and two broken statues of angels. My stomach tightened in fear as I wondered if Shawn’s work really was true. For the first time in my life I doubted my teachings and wondered if there was a world beyond the living. “A shadow that’s cast upon a door, holds evil inside its very core.” I shook Shawn’s favorite line from my head and took three small steps towards the slanted staircase that led to the grand brown door. The shadow seemed to shift and grow as I made my way slowly towards it. I wanted to turn around and run straight back to the comfort of my warm bed, but I had to find Blair. I told myself I was being ridiculous. Seven years on the job and I had never encountered anything close to supernatural. But then again, I had never allowed myself to look into the topic of ghosts, demons, or any of the monsters that I saw pile up on our table amongst my scattered case files. My training taught me to avoid what could not be explained using human evidence and I had always done just that. My case files were human evidence. Shawn’s were not. Snapping back to reality, I made my way up the winding path. As I stepped on the stairs, pieces of cement cracked and crumbled under that soles of my shoes. I grabbed hold of the rusted iron railing beside me and looked back up at the house. The windows were boarded up and the grass was long and yellow. Mrs. Evans, the woman who used to live here, moved out after her husband passed away about a year ago, and the house has been vacant ever since. A terrified bark pierced the silence, and without thinking I threw myself at the door. Thinking the door would be locked, I did not prepare for a fall and flew head first into the wall facing the door. Inside, the house smelled of wet socks and rotting food. All the furniture was in place, and paintings and picture frames decorated the floral wallpaper on the walls. These weren’t your average happy family portraits. These were dark. Bare trees lost in the mist, a vacant swingset in a deserted schoolyard, pale children in long black robes, and the most disturbing- the living room as it was with indistinguishable silhouettes sitting in the chairs, and a dead dog on an altar in the center. I had to find Blair. There was something bad in this house. I could see the evidence, and I could feel its presence. Floor boards creaked above my head and I darted towards the kitchen where I hid in the pantry. Inside, shelves were stocked with cans of tomato soup, and lots of quakers oats. Knowing food meant signs of life, I checked the expiration dates. Each expiration date was set between 1890-1910. I could not believe what I was seeing. Mrs. Evans, the woman who had lived here just a year ago would not have survived off of food that had expired a century ago. Something was wrong. Very wrong. All of a sudden, footsteps raced down the stairs and I heard something fall and shatter in the living room. With my face pressed up to the door and both eyes to the mail slot, I looked for any sign of movement. Both the kitchen and the living room were still. I could see the fallen picture frame in pieces on the living room floor. There must have been a draft coming from a crack in one of the windows. There has to be a rational explanation for all of this. As I began to open the pantry door, something black flashed by and threw the door wide open. I sprang back in terror knocking over a perfect stack of oats and fell into the wall. I sunk into the dark corner between two shelves of tomatoes. This had to be a trick. Someone or something was behind all of this. But what did they want? Where was Blair? With both eyes fixed on the hallway outside of the door, a note fell to the floor. My curiosity overpowered my terror, and I made my way to the piece of paper. Stepping out into the open, I looked around for any signs of who had dropped the note. Seeing no one, I knelt down and inspected the old stained piece of parchment. Realizing this could potentially be a crime scene, I took out my phone and snapped a quick picture. After taking a few more pictures of the expired cans, boxes, and paintings, I sent the lot to Shawn and returned my attention to the note. “You will leave the hound. Get out of our home.” If it could write, it could think, and if it could think it must be alive. Right? The dark figure could have been the light reflecting off of one of the many mirrors at every corner of the house. The note was something else. Someone knew I was here. Someone had Blair. She was my partner, and she was in trouble. Out of nowhere started a high pitched ringing. It grew so loud my knees gave out and I fell to the floor with both hands clasped to my ears to try and drown out the sound. There was no use. My brain was pounding and my consciousness was fading fast. The sound was unbearable. Everything was blurry. Then everything went red. My lungs burned from screaming, and when I looked up something dark stood before me. The ringing had clouded my vision to the point where I could not make out where I was or what I was looking at. The dark figure approached me and everything went black. I woke up in my bed. I shot up when I remembered what had happened. Had it happened? Maybe it had been a dream. I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs in search of Blair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Fearfully I checked my phone. It was 9 pm. Where had those 15 hours gone? There were 3 messages and 6 missed calls from Shawn. The messages consisted of, “Shae get the hell out of there!” “Honey answer me!” “I’m coming home now. Please answer me.” Shawn had been in Des Moines, Iowa performing a home purification on a house that had been built on a Native American battleground. He said there were multiple spirits haunting the grounds where a family had recently decided to build their forever home. He was not supposed to return for another two days, and nothing pulls Shawn away from the job. I knew something was very wrong. I looked back at the messages I had sent him. They were delivered and read at 7:07 am. It was a 14 hour drive from Des Moines to Harrisburg Pennsylvania, so he’d be home any minute. While looking at the photos I had sent him, I realized why he was so worried. In one, a dark shadow appeared on the wall. In another, there were long scratches all the way down the wall by the shelves of tomatoes. The last picture was that of the paintings. When I zoomed in on the picture of the living room, each silhouette seemed to be staring at me. As I zoomed out I noticed the mirror in the corner of the room. Looking closer at my body, I noticed a claw-like hand on my shoulder. Terrified, I yanked on the collar of my T-shirt. There was thin but long hand shaped burn left behind. I was screaming when Shawn entered the house. I heard him slam the door shut and sprint up the steps to our room. He saw the hand print and carefully removed my shirt. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. I sat still and looked straight ahead. This could not be happening. I had factual evidence that something evil had happened in that house. Something that could not be explained with human evidence. Shawn got up and frantically dug through his drawers. I wanted to assure him that I was okay, but I could not move. I was in shock. I watched him take out a cup made of silver and fill it with holy water. He then poured some of the same holy water and some salt on to a rag. He walked both the rag and the cup over to me. He sat in front of me, looked me in the eyes and said “Christo”. To his horror, my face jerked upward. I did not understand why my body had reacted the way it had to the word. I took the cup from him and drank the water. It burned. I screamed and threw the glass across the room. My body went into a fit and I looked at Shawn desperately for an explanation and way to ease my pain. I could see tears falling down his face as he reached for a book in his bag. When I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror, I had turned a ghostly shade of pale gray. My lips were scabbed over, and my once bright blue eyes were now a dark black. I stared in terror at the face looking at me. It smiled and let out a low gargling laugh.