#disregard the tile in the photo

[lightofthemagdalene]

Rose in the Bramble

✨A themed cocktail for the party sídhe✨

1 1/2 oz sloe gin

1/2 oz crème de violette

1/4 oz lemon juice

1/4 oz blackberry syrup or jelly

1/4 oz rosewater

Sprig of thyme

Ice

1 egg white or 3 TBSP egg whites

Plain seltzer to finish

Put all liquids other than egg whites into shaker with thyme and ice and just kinda jostle ‘em around for a second. Add the egg, cap and shake for a minute and a half. Strain into a highball glass/whatever you have/a normal goddamn glass with more ice. Top off with seltzer. Drink or offer it.

This is just a fancy gin fizz. Great for Bealtaine!

#devotional recipes #alcohol #devotional cocktail #Magnus #Dio #recipe #gin #Bealtaine #no I’m not posting from within a ritual bath #disregard the tile in the photo #how dare you make such baseless accusations #witchcraft #alcoholmancy #idk #I’m drunk #the sloe gin is to celebrate all the hard work the pollinizers have been doing on the blackthorns since Imbolc #getting those fruits ready for us come fall #flowers are obvious in a summer/spring drink #egg for fertilization #blackberry for summer fruits #seltzer because water is good #ice because it’s gonna be fucking hot out

[norrisreads]

you belong with me #OP81

PLOT : so what happens now, that you've confessed your long term crush towards your very own bestfriend. Will everything turn out great and smooth for you, or will there be someone else to replace that heartache of yours?

PAIRING : oscar piastri x reader! lando norris x reader!

WARNINGS : slight angst, fluff!

a/n : i’ve decided to disregard the inspiration from ag “we can’t be friends” & my english isn’t fluent so pardon the errors 🙏🏻

Was avoiding the oscar piastri, who happened to be your very own bestfriend who you’ve confessed to, possible? The answer to that question is no.

You’ve found yourself gotten closer to lando, with him aiding you and providing you with support you’ve never knew you needed. You currently just landed a job with Mclaren, focusing on social media marketing, which could’ve meant there’s a huge chance of you bumping to Oscar for work purposes.

Things have been so much worse for you eversince the confession, countless rumours were spread wildfire on the internet, comments on your social medias was all related to oscar’s and you friendship, it had gotten out of hand to the point you’ve decided to create a new instagram page and deactivating the previous instagram page.

Currently, you were out with your/bff/name to celebrate lando’s birthday in a big club located in Monaco. You aren’t really a huge club enthusiast but since it’s Lando’s special day, you’ve decided to go ahead with the plan and the future you should’ve stopped you.

Because, here you are currently emptying your guts out while sitting in the freezing tile restroom of the loud club you're now in. Eventhough the purpose of this club outing is celebrating Lando's birthday, but here he is holding your hair and wiping away your smudged liner tears, caressing your back smoothly.

With your best friend, guarding the restroom door while admiring both of you, and then you hear a click sound

"not to ruin the mood, but you guys should totally date" showing lando the photo she’d just took, “send me that”

"really, now? not the time”

Sobbing while still trying to empty more of what you have drank in the last few hours

"i am just saying, look who’s here being lovey dovey taking care of you, eventhough he has to be out there to entertain his own birthday party?”

rolling your eyes, “you shouldn’t have forced me to drink that many cups, lan”

glaring at lando, which he successfully avoid

“did he ever contact you?”

“he, as in oscar piastri” your/bestff/name added on to her previous question

shaking your head letting her know a “no”

“Dickhead” you could hear Lando’s muttered

“hey, don’t let this affect the friendship the both of you had”

lando sighs, “he’s not talking to me, i’m just doing the same”

lafilledhiver just posted a story

seen by oscarpiastri landonorris charles_leclerc

lafilledhiver happiest birthday my london boy landonorris luv you forever (do not take me out for the next 24/36 hours)

It has been a few months since lando’s birthday celebration, both lando and you were currently seated on the second floor of the mclaren’s hospitality.

Lando has successfully convinced you in accompanying him to the current season grand prix, and here you are currently in the suzuka circuit.

Though, following lando for the current season grand prix, has it’s pros and cons. Rumours regarding you started to grow, especially as the wag’s instagram page managed to let your instagram page get known to the whole world, and now your comment section has just been filled with either your situation with both of the McLaren boys.

And, the one rumour that has been rising up for the past few days, was regarding lando’s current relationship with you.

Yes, you are currently dating the mclaren driver, lando norris. Did you ever expected this to have happened? no.

Few months back, just a week after lando’s birthday, he had confessed to you drukenly.

You were taken aback, but you thought back on what your/bestff/name said when it was the night of lando’s birthday party and you agreed, on dating lando norris.

Dating lando norris, healed you. Everything you did with oscar, you’ve done it with lando, except it was 100% better because you finally knew that this is how love feels like.

while you were trying to engulf yourself to your current workload, lando has just been right beside you, going though with his team on strategies for qualifying. You’ve tried giving them the space the team needed, but lando refused to and pushed you back to your sear which was beside him.

Then you felt, a phone sliding between the space of lando’s and your’s computer. There was another article stated, “Mclaren drivers tension explained, and it was all because of y/n”

“explain, now. Both of you” there oscar was, standing there with rage

“there’s no explanation” shrugging your shoulders

then oscar faced lando, “you’re pathetic, going after own my best friend” punching lando to the ground

“what the fuck oscar?” trying your best to seperate the both of them, with max holding on to lando

“what the fuck is wrong with you, y/n. What is wrong with you. Why him? My own teammate?” oscar voice has gotten louder and louder, which you’re so glad that all of you were currently in the staff’s area and thankful that it’s soundproof

ignoring oscar, you told lando that you’ll be back and you just needed a talk with oscar, which Lando agreed on

“let’s go”, grabbing oscar’s hand and pulling him to his driver room, and slamming and locking the door behind you.

“talk” oscar could sense that you were angry with the sudden change of your demeanour , and when you’re angry he knew it’ll be tough for him to explain

“look, i don’t know what has gotten to me alright? Lily showed me that, and i guess anger just took over me?”

you shook your head, “not reasonable for you to punch my boyfriend, explain or i’m never giving you a second chance”

he sighed, “lily broke up with me”

and with that coming out of oscar’s lips, you couldn’t help but to be shocked

“what? how did that happened?”

“this”, oscar pointed to the space between us, “lily thinks i am in love with you”

“well, are you?” you asked him, while raising your brows

he nods, which made u automatically faced him

“oscar, what?” and before you could continue whatever you’ve wanted to say, oscar cut you off

“look, when you left, something in me died, it’s as if i don’t look forward to anything anymore. At first i thought, it’s because you were always right beside me and i had to get used to being alone but it’s not that.

way before i met lily, i really liked you, but i was just scared. Scared that it will ruin whatever friendship we had, and i treasure the friendship more than ever. Then, when you left lily and i had a talk, she’s the one who showed me the article of lando and you”

“keepings tabs on me, i have a fan” you scoffed

“she liked you, she was just jealous over you. She broke up with me, because she wanted our friendship to reconcile, and she pushed me to kinda have a talk with you. y/n, meeting you will always be my favourite memory but you being a memory will always break my heart ” oscar’s palms were now on your shoulders, which meant you were forced to face oscar’s face

“osc, i no longer have feelings for you. It’s true, i am dating lando, and i’m happy. He makes me feel seen. Whenever, i am around him, he makes me feel the happiest person in the whole world. I use to feel that way with you, but now it’s a different person”

you felt oscar’s palm slowly releasing from your shoulders, “i am happy for you y/n and I understand, i guess something just took over me when i realise i’ve lost you to lando. Something that was once could be mine”

“I should go, you should have a talk with lily. Fix the relationship between the both of you, you are each other soulmates”

lafilledhiver_ instagram page

lafilledhiver_ just posted

liked by oscarpiastri landonorris maxfewtrell and others

lafilledhiver_ receiving princess treatment from my very own london boy landonorris

↳ landonorris who is that fine babe??????????

↳ maxfewtrell that fine babe is your girlfriend

↳ oscarpiastri gross, ew

↳ lafilledhiver_ he’s lost plesee pick him up lilyzneimer

↳ lilyzneimer on it 🙏🏻

Eversince oscar and you had the talk, things between the both of you has gone exceptionally well. Oscar relationship with lily is getting better, and there were times that the both of them would join lando’s and you dates.

The four of you were currently on a double date, oscar and lando both at the supermarket getting some groceries while lily and you were both in your shared house with lando

“thanks for hearing out oscar by the way, he loves you alot lily, trust me” smiling towards lily

“i’m sorry about the way i act towards you back then, i was jealous on how kind and soft osc was towards you, and now i finally realise. You’re really too kind for the world, y/n”

And just a few minutes afterwards, you could hear the door lock getting unlocked which signalled that the boys were back.

Both lily and you stood up to help the boys with the groceries, “are you feeding for the whole village?” with the amount of snacks, instant food in at least 2/4 bags

“we got distracted” oscar laughed

“clearlyyyy” lily’s rolling her eyes sarcastically

then u felt lando’s arms around you, “ i got you those puffs that you loved, you are running out of them. Got you those frog chocolates too that you seem to love so much with the amount that i’ve seen you sneaked in my bag. There’s others, it could filled the fridge for at least while i am gone”

Facing towards lando’s face, and giving him a quick kiss on the lips, “you’re the best, this is why you are my boyfriend”

Lando had left you for the Azerbajian grand prix, you decided to take some time off and have time to yourself.

Did you miss Lando? Of course you did, but it helped with lando facetiming you every time he was given a short free period, with him explaining his day, the car, the strategy

You’ve also decided to stop working under Mclaren, and instead found something to do that you’ve always been wanting, opening up your very own small cafe in the neighbourhood that oscar and you grew up in

Lando was iffy about it at the start but slowly supported you, giving you advices on what he had learnt from his current company, going furniture and equipment shopping with you, following you to the store every time the renovation team called for you

You’ve never not once regret getting lando norris as the love of your life, and oscar piastri as your best friend because it is reallt the best of both worlds.

lafilledhiver_ just posted

liked by lewishamilton maxfewtrell lnfour and others

lafilledhiver_ i said yes

↳ y/bff/n i manifested this, congratulations luv!!!!!!

↳ maxfewtrell finally 👋, no refunds y/n

↳ lafilledhiver_ there’s a year warranty

↳ maxfewtrell not applicable for sale items sadly 😔

↳ landonorris guys??? really????????

↳ lilyzneimer i’m so happy for you 🥹

↳ lafilledhiver_ oscarpiastri you’re next

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author note ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

Thank you so much for waiting, originally there was another plot that i had in mind to publish, but i've realised that tumblr has deleted my newest draft which led to the plot to be changed! Do let me know if you would like an alternate ending, where reader will end up with oscar! Once again thank you so much for the support, i've never knew that people would actually enjoy reading what i've put out so far in my blog!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

@vicurious28 @epsiespace @hopefulcupcakerebel @randomgirlnumber13 @leclercdream @yourbane @hellof-1 @evie-119 @saachiep81 @invictusrey @cmleitora @icedoutmay @mimosa6 @d3kstar @daemyratwst

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fics #mclaren #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine

[violettduchess]

I am so in love with your Comte domestic au, I have read it so many times! What about a continuation for au week? It would have to be the "free space day," so if you have something in mind, obviously disregard this. But what about more domestic with Comte and his family spending time together? Or maybe for the soul mate au, it could take place before your other au fic, where Comte finds his soul mate? Oooh, or it could still be soul mates, but the kids are grown, and he's reflecting on big moments they've spent together?

Anyway... obviously, just delete this if you're not taking requests anymore or if you don't wanna use them. Sorry this got so long.

A/N: Hello anon! Here you go! This is a Soulmate au explaining how Comte met the mother of his children from this Domestic Bliss au from last years event! (and to the anon who asked for Comte and Bookstore au and the anon who asked for Comte and Coffee shop au....I combined them all 💜)

An entry for @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady 's Different Universe Same Love CCC

Comte x female reader

WC: 1349

Inked into the skin of your right shoulder, your black and white tree tattoo reaches towards the sky with its bare, spindly branches that echo the gangling shape of spider legs. You chose the image after going for a walk on a stark winter's morning. Something about it resonated with you, echoing the vacuity of your lonely heart.

You’re shelving the latest bloodsucking Young Adult novel, breathing in that delectable new paper smell, when a voice rich as caramel, interrupts, asking if you could please direct him towards the foreign literature. You turn to find yourself looking into arresting, honey-colored eyes set in a face that jerks your heart awake from its lonesome stasis. It begins beating a lively, almost frantic rhythm in your chest.

You give him directions even as you try to fit all the pieces of this beautiful man together in your mind: wavy dark blond hair, slanted cheekbones, lips that smile easily and with such warmth. He thanks you but doesn’t move. Neither do you. The moment your eyes met, something took its first breath, something cocooned deep in the chambers of your hearts and sparked to life by your connection, like the fertile meeting of sunlight and water. 

A few minutes later you have a date to meet for coffee.

It feels so much larger than it sounds. 

That night, as you lay in bed, dreams inhabited by a man with desert eyes, your tattoo changes. The branches are peppered with small, newborn leaves the color of limes. Fragile. Delicate. Hopeful.

The coffee shop is small, a hidden gem tucked into a side street you’ve never ventured down. You arrive too early, a habit you usually pride yourself on but now is causing waves of anxiety to rush through you. Will you look too eager? Who cares because it is truth. You are eager. You are so very eager to see Comte again.

And then, as if responding to the siren call of your longing, he appears in the doorway, gilded in sunlight. He looks damn near angelic as he enters the shop, a place that suddenly seems so mundane with its walls covered in glossy photos of coffee beans and faded tile floor. 

He joins you, ordering tea, so much more civilized than your giant cappuccino topped with cinnamon and chocolate dust. Your eyes meet his and you flush, looking away. What now? Panic rears its ugly head, trampling the excited beat of your heart into the ground.

“Is that the latest X. Sycamore novel?” He notices what you have laying casually on the table by your drink, the beautiful indigo cover and gold lettering. It may be old-fashioned but you are a lover of books you can wrap your hands around, covers you can touch. Someone who has a tactile love of words. You nod. “Do you like her work?” In answer he reaches behind him, into the pocket of his beautifully-tailored beige coat and pulls out the exact same book.

From there it’s easy. So easy. One cappuccino becomes two. One cup of tea multiples like flower buds in spring time. Conversation flows like a current between you, rife with warmth and crackling with soft electricity. You decide you can’t pinpoint the exact color of his eyes because they are always changing. The brightness of Goldenrod when he is happy, dark as pyrite when he’s contemplating, animated as the sun’s shimmering caress of the sea when excited. You learn all his facial expressions and soak in the sound of his voice, burying them deep inside your heart to recall at any time.

When he checks his wristwatch and sighs, you sense your time together nearing its end. You stand abruptly, a motion spurred by the wild desire to beg him to stay and the need to act as though you are perfectly fine with him leaving. Unfortunately you knock against the table, sending your half-full cappuccino toppling just as he’s gathering his coat. Your heart, so light and breezy, turns to stone like a gargoyle in sunlight, sinking down into the twisting pit of your stomach. The stain across the expensive wool looks garish, something out of a horror movie.

At first he refuses your offer to pay for the dry cleaning but you are insistent and he relents. You feel oddly giddy. If the price of seeing him again is a cleaning a soiled coat, then you are willing to pay it. Gladly.

That night, your tree changes yet again. The branches are fuller, anointed in thick, lustrous green. Leaves unfurl themselves towards an invisible sun, towards a welcoming sky.

You hold the freshly cleaned jacket as if it is a child in your arms, tenderly so as not to wrinkle it. The garment bag is a soft blue, a stark contrast to the dark, rich colors of the mansion you find yourself walking through. If elegance were to fashion itself into a home, this would be it. Your heels click across the polished wood as the butler leads you to where Comte is waiting for you. His library.

The garment bag is removed from your arms and he is speaking in that sonorous voice as he greets you but you are not listening. Your mind is trying to soak in the sight of the shelves, rows and rows of shelves, towering above you to meet the breathtaking molded ceiling. Surely this is heaven. Surely he is its keeper.

His hand on your shoulder steadies you, brings you back down to earth, to his warm gaze and the scent of sandalwood. Would you like a tour? You nod and his hand slips down until it takes yours, gentle at first, questioning. You tighten your grip, wordlessly telling him yes, this is ok. Yes you want this. His exhale of relief is audible. 

“Let’s begin over here, with Molière.”

That night, your tree has added hundreds of tiny buds clustered throughout its green branches. Each flower bud a tiny pink universe waiting to be born.

He invites you to the cinema where you hold his hand, fingers interlaced as you lose yourselves in the story playing across the screen. The dream ends when the lights come on, scattering the wispy remnants of magic the movie spun around its audience.

You step out of the theater, hands still clasped together and stop as you notice the light haze of rain that has started falling. You glance at Comte. The bus stop you need to get to is several blocks down. He squeezes your hand. 

"It doesn't look so bad, chérie. Shall we?"

You agree and together step out into the cool rain. For the first minute it really isn't so bad. The rain dampens your clothing, kisses your skin gently. But after that, it's as if the clouds decided the warm-up is over. The storm gathers its thunderous drums and flashy lightning guitars and the real show begins.

You jump as his arm gathers you close against his side for protection, a bulwark in the sudden downpour. Together you search for shelter through the blur of rain. It only takes you a second to remember where you are. 

The oversized awning of the bookstore shields you from most of the heavy rain. You turn within the circle of Comte's protective embrace, your gaze slowly tracing a path up the pale column of his throat, the angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips where it stops, caught there like a thread on a nail. Something warm is unspooling within you, lifting you up to meet him as he leans down, both of you moving in unspoken tandem. Your eyes flutter closed and the world shrinks down to the feel of his lips on yours, cool with rainwater. 

The moment your lips touch, you glow with the warmth you have felt in his presence from the beginning. It plunges into the furthest corners of your heart, taking root. As he cradles your head in his gentle hand, his mouth moving over yours, seeking and finding, you know. 

You know. 

You know. 

He is yours, now and forever.

That night, you sleep in Comte’s strong arms. Your tattoo is in full bloom, a symphony of soft, pink cherry blossoms, a timeless concert of exquisite joy and breathtaking tenderness. A testament to the love of two souls, meant to be.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikemen vamp #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #comte de st germain #soulmate au #coffe shop au #bookstore au #different universe same love ccc #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

[zenruption]

Is It Time for a Bathroom Makeover? Recognizing the Signs

https://pixabay.com/photos/plumber-repair-tap-battery-2788329/

Is your washroom giving indications of wear and tear? Do you think it's time to update your bathroom? The restroom is perhaps the most often involved room in your home, and over the long haul, it can begin to give indications of maturing. Whether it's obsolete installations, plumbing issues, or just a longing for a new look, there are a few signs that demonstrate it could be an ideal opportunity to transform your washroom. In this article, we will investigate these signs exhaustively and give significant experiences to assist you with pursuing the ideal choice for your restroom remodel project.

Outdated Fixtures and Design

Perhaps the clearest sign that your bathroom needs a renovation is obsolete installations and plans. What was considered fashionable a decade ago may now appear dated and out of place due to the constant evolution of restroom design trends. Assuming your washroom highlights old tiles, a blurred backdrop, or better installations, it's the ideal opportunity for an update. Give your toilet a fresh look by adding chic accessories, modern fixtures, and a new color scheme. A makeover can work on the style of the space as well as upgrade its usefulness.

Inadequate Storage and Functionality

One more sign that now is the right time to re-try your washroom is deficient capacity and usefulness. It can look cluttered and unorganized if your bathroom does not have enough storage space for towels, toiletries, and other necessities. Also, if the design of your restroom doesn't enhance its usefulness, it can make everyday schedules seriously tested. A washroom redesign can resolve these issues by consolidating savvy capacity arrangements, like built-in cupboards, racks, and vanity units. Updating the design can likewise make the space more productive and easy to use, taking care of your particular requirements.

Serious Plumbing Problems

Plumbing issues are a typical problem that might require a washroom redesign. Water damage, clogged drains, and leaking faucets are all possible indications of piping issues that require immediate attention. In Australia, where water protection is critical because of its bone-dry environment, it's crucial to address any pipe problems expeditiously. A restroom remodel offers a phenomenal chance to redesign your pipes framework, introduce water-proficient installations, and fix any current breaks or waste issues. For occupants in Australia, it's prudent to look for the help of excellent Chiswick Plumbing services to guarantee that your bathroom's pipes are in first-class condition.

Mold and Mildew Growth

Mold and mildew growth in your bathroom is not only unsightly but also a health hazard. Washrooms are inclined to dampness, which can establish the ideal climate for mildew and mold to flourish. Assuming you notice persevering mold or buildup on the walls, roof, or in the grout between tiles, it's an obvious indicator that your toilet needs consideration. Disregarding this issue can prompt primary harm and medical conditions. During a restroom remodel, legitimate ventilation and waterproofing measures can be carried out to forestall future mildew and mold development, guaranteeing a spotless and solid climate.

Decreased Energy Efficiency

A dated bathroom can increase energy consumption, which is a growing concern for homeowners. More established installations and protection may not be as energy-proficient as present-day options. Assuming you notice that your washroom is reliably drafty or that your water warmer stays at work longer than required to give heated water, it very well might be an ideal opportunity to think about a remodel. Moving up to energy-effective installations, like Drove lighting, low-stream latrines, and protected windows, can essentially decrease your energy charges and reduce your ecological impression. A remodel is a chance to make your restroom more eco-accommodating while at the same time saving money on long-haul utility expenses.

In conclusion, there are several indications that it is time to renovate your bathroom. Whether it's obsolete installations, plumbing issues, lacking capacity, form and mold development, or diminished energy proficiency, these signs ought not to be disregarded. A restroom remodel can not just work on the feel and usefulness of your washroom but additionally upgrade its general worth and allure. Thus, if your washroom is giving any of these indications, now is the ideal time to think about a makeover and change your restroom into a delightful and utilitarian oasis.

[aroundtheneareststar]

September 30

loss of inventory

there is salt and there is butter

heat from the stove

the cracked tiles and the quiet sizzle

dirt beneath fingernails

you count all that’s left

hold it at arm's length

close enough to feel

far enough to not love

when everything left is precious

nothing is safe

and the number diminishes

right before your streaming eyes

is it the steam from the scratched pan

or the bittersweet edge of remnant

what has stuck around

what you could stop from slipping through your fingers

you can keep making your total

count your humming fridge

count your wrinkled clothes

but when you notice each a new stopwatch starts

the list grows and time shrinks

the list stops and time shrinks

the list is thrown away and time shrinks

the clock ticks regardless of inventory

it will all disappear

the smell of garlic scratches the peeling walls

you hesitate realizing you forgot to add yourself

but you cannot lose what you are

the list of loss is far greater

an entire past compared to the minute present

the fallen soldiers of broken dishware

and photos you forgot to make copies of

the have seems nothing compared to the haven’t

and that’s disregarding the things never had

the opportunities lost at a moment’s notice

so fleeting they never even made the list

you tell yourself things were better once

you had everything you wanted

but they were stripped from you in waves

layer upon layer husked by time

no rope strong enough to tie it all together

no safe secure enough to keep it truly kept

the golden sauce streams on the chipped plate

it was a fool’s effort to be okay forever

but it was never hoarding

you were too precise for that

you loved what you had

but you never had it all

and it all was never goal

it all was just the orchard

pick a basket’s worth

to hold in your arms

accumulation sure

but loss and gain made fair exchange

until loss grew more ravenous

and gain started to cough

the almost flickering lightbulb

bread crust on the counter

the fork in your fist

drops of sink water

loss grew outside your shell

and became the main quality of the world

an affliction of the living

a description of the dead

it infected you as much as anyone else

after years of already gnawing at your bones

more and more ducked past your intended watchfulness

a holey blanket and a book depaged

you were a being of destruction

little to do to mitigate that

the largest threat to any little realm

is its leader

so you accidentally broke

next to time’s purposed breaking

and with the state of the world

less was lesser was least

the list morphed from a game of appreciation

to a survival strategy

a necessity

a reason to think you still have a chance

rusted spatula

frayed broom

nice dinner

silence of near emptiness

you take a bite of your cooking

the meal you created from what little was left

a few things fall from the list

but satisfaction is added to another

loss is the mode of those who have

maybe the fortune of having should be enough

you stand in your small and count on your fingers

but the number itself never mattered

you thank the remains

what stuck around

you thank the loss

what made gaining precious

it all seems so silly

a child and their toys

you close your wet eyes

and lose

#poetry #poem #writeblr #writing #loss of inventory #September 30 #atns

[totallyglass]

Splashbacks by Designers: Transform Your Space

If you want to enhance the aesthetic appeal of your kitchen or bathroom, splashbacks in Auckland may drastically alter your space with their incredible design options. In addition to being practical installations, these splashbacks also serve as decorative embellishments that elevate any room's style and refinement. A vast range of materials, colors, designs, and finishes are among the many choices available to those looking for a distinctive statement item. With sleek glass designs in eye-catching geometric shapes and intricate mosaic tiles that evoke timeless beauty, our designer splashbacks cater to every taste and fashion preference. The talented artisans in Auckland combine their skills with state-of-the-art technology to create unique splashbacks that perfectly complement your current décor or serve as the focal point of a whole new design scheme. Whether you decide for traditional luxury or modern simplicity, splashbacks in Auckland provide countless alternatives for transforming your space into a work of art.

Create Your Own Splashbacks in New Zealand to Unleash Your Creativity

Customizable splashbacks in NZ are a game-changer when it comes to giving your kitchen or bathroom a little flair and style. Nowadays, you have the freedom to design a space that genuinely reflects who you are. Gone are the days of uninteresting tiles or plain walls.

The opportunities are infinite when using creative splashbacks. To suit your tastes and enhance your existing decor, you can pick from a variety of colors, patterns, and finishes. There is a splashback option to suit your particular taste, whether you choose sleek and contemporary designs or something more eclectic and daring.

These jewels may be customized, and one of the coolest things about them is how they can change any room. You can give your kitchen or bathroom an instant facelift by making a simple switch from plain tiles to colorful glass panels. For your entire house, it's like pressing the refresh button!

Why then limit yourself to simply colors? You may also include distinctive photographs or works of art that express your own personality when you use custom splashbacks in New Zealand. Your imagination is the only constraint on what you can do, from family photos to motivational messages.

Therefore, why are you still waiting? With designer splashbacks from NZ, you can ditch the boring decor and let your creativity run wild!

Creative Kitchen Splashback Design Ideas

Making the kitchen of your dreams requires consideration of every component. Another aspect that is frequently disregarded but has the ability to have a big impact is its splashback. Tiles that are boring and uninspiring are no longer acceptable; modern kitchens demand amazing, stunning decor.

Imagine a kitchen with an intricate mosaic covering the wall behind your stove. Each color combines well with the others, reflecting light and adding dimension to your space. Another option is to go for a sleek, modern look. Consider installing a glass splashback that features an eye-catching geometric pattern and a contemporary, elegant feel.

For those seeking unique textures, why not try using materials like pressed tin or repurposed wood? These bizarre choices instantly add charm and flair to any kitchen, creating a unique environment that oozes personality.

Do not fear color either! A ceramic tile splashback that has been hand-painted can bring vitality to even the most lifeless of areas. Choose mirrored panels as an option; they will make the area appear larger and reflect light throughout, making them ideal for tiny kitchens.

When it comes to designing an attractive kitchen splashback, the options are essentially endless. Let your imagination go wild as you consider all of these creative ideas since here is just another opportunity to showcase your sense of style and create an environment that truly expresses who you are.

Residential and commercial glass balustrades in New Zealand

The game-changer when it comes to adding a touch of modernity and sophistication to your New Zealand home or place of business is glass balustrades in NZ. Because of their minimalistic layout and transparent construction, these architectural marvels offer an unrivaled sense of openness and elegance.

For homeowners seeking to enhance the aesthetic appeal of their houses, glass balustrades allow perfect integration with any interior or exterior style. Imagine planning events in your living room while taking in breath-blowing views in every direction with no obstructions to your vision. Additionally, these adjustable solutions can be modified to accommodate various locations, such as stairways, balconies, terraces, and pool areas.

The importance of safety must also be taken into account in addition to beauty. While preserving visibility, glass balustrades ensure the security of children and pets. Strong tempered glass panels that have been expertly placed by professionals that strictly adhere to safety requirements may provide you piece of mind knowing that your loved ones are safe at all times.

Glass balustrades are a great addition to any building, and they have several benefits for businesses. Whether you own a fancy office building in Wellington's central business area or a smart café in the center of Auckland, these sophisticated upgrades create an ambiance that exudes knowledge and refinement. As they walk effortlessly through lovely surroundings, your clients will appreciate the attention to detail.

#Splashbacks

[architectnews]

Suspended Office, Maharashtra Mumbai

Suspended Office, Maharashtra, Mumbai Building Development, Indian Modern Real Estate Project, Architecture Photos

Suspended Office in Maharashtra

5 May 2022

Architecture: DIG Architects

Location: Maharashtra, Mumbai, India

Photos: PHXINDIA

Suspended Office, Mumbai

Mumbai and rains share a complicated love-hate relationship. On one hand, Mumbaites welcome the downpours as they bring respite from the searing summers that precede the monsoons. On the other, the rains also bring with them several woes — public transport gone awry, traffic snarls, flooded properties. The latter problem is especially ruinous, causing destruction of individual and collective resources — both tangible and intangible.

The 1200 sq.ft Suspended Office site, located in a low-lying precinct of suburban Mumbai, was one of those yearly victims of the rains; being usually submerged at least twice a year in upto two feet of water. These field conditions shaped the architects’ response to a call for refurbishment for a functional workspace for around 30/35 staff and a training room facility which could be accessed independently by in-house staff as well as guests. Attempting a present solution that was contextual and meaningful rather than being merely functional and aesthetic, the new flood-resilient design disregarded the floor for any sort of permanent placement of elements, and centred its strategy on suspension to ensure minimum damage to the property and data.

This central idea is impactfully articulated as an arm that tethers each legless workstations to the ceiling, giving the project its name — Suspended Office. Colour — a bright yellow — is used on the suspension members to draw attention to them, making them ever-present and assertive markers of their own raison d’être, as well as injecting brightness into dreary, rainy days. While the walls and floor of the workspace were seamlessly waterproofed and then cladded with vitrified tiles till the height 1 mt, the tiles of the training centre were replaced by water resilient carpet which also bettered the acoustic quality of the space.

Elements of design, woven into the central ‘suspension’ strategy, makes the visual narrative of the Suspended Office more interesting and complex. The action, so to speak, is concentrated off the floor, on the upper portion of the volume where the legless, levitating workstations occupy centrestage. The suspension members that connect them to the ceiling ‘bloom’ mid-way into three-armed LED lights, catering to the functional requirement of lighting in an effortless, aesthetic manner. Services and materiality contribute to the visual interest in an uncontrived way as well — the geometry of the electrical conduits and the blue AC vents, together with the brown of the marine ply, the grey flooring and the yellow of the suspension members and the floating staircase that leads to the upper level, lends a pleasant graphic flavour to the interior environment.

What were the key challenges? Mumbai and rains share a complicated love-hate relationship. On one hand, Mumbaites welcome the downpours as they bring respite from the searing summers that precede the monsoons. On the other, the rains also bring with them several woes — public transport gone awry, traffic snarls, flooded properties. The latter problem is especially ruinous, causing destruction of individual and collective resources — both tangible and intangible.

What were the solutions? This 1200 sq.ft office site, located in a low-lying precinct of suburban Mumbai, was one of those yearly victims of the rains; being usually submerged at least twice a year in upto two feet of water. These field conditions shaped the architects’ response to a call for refurbishment for a functional workspace for around 30/35 staff and a training room facility which could be accessed independently by in-house staff as well as guests. Attempting a present solution that was contextual and meaningful rather than being merely functional and aesthetic, the new flood-resilient design disregarded the floor for any sort of permanent placement of elements, and centred its strategy on suspension to ensure minimum damage to the property and data.

This central idea is impactfully articulated as an arm that tethers each legless workstations to the ceiling, giving the project its name — Suspended Office. Colour — a bright yellow — is used on the suspension members to draw attention to them, making them ever-present and assertive markers of their own raison d’être, as well as injecting brightness into dreary, rainy days. While the walls and floor of the workspace were seamlessly waterproofed and then cladded with vitrified tiles till the height 1 mt, the tiles of the training centre were replaced by water resilient carpet which also bettered the acoustic quality of the space.

How is the project unique? Elements of design, woven into the central ‘suspension’ strategy, makes the visual narrative of the Suspended Office more interesting complex and unique. The action, so to speak, is concentrated off the floor, on the upper portion of the volume where the legless, levitating workstations occupy centrestage. The suspension members that connect them to the ceiling ‘bloom’ mid-way into three-armed LED lights, catering to the functional requirement of lighting in an effortless, aesthetic manner. Services and materiality contribute to the visual interest in an uncontrived way as well — the geometry of the electrical conduits and the blue AC vents, together with the brown of the marine ply, the grey flooring and the yellow of the suspension members and the floating staircase that leads to the upper level, lends a pleasant graphic flavour to the interior environment.

Suspended Office in Maharashtra, India – Building Information

Architecture & Interior Designers: DIG Architects – https://www.digarch.net/home

Project size: 1200 ft2 Site size: 1200 ft2 Completion date: 2018 Building levels: 0

Photography: PHXINDIA

Suspended Office, Maharashtra Mumbai images / information received 040522

Location: Maharashtra, Mumbai, India, South Asia

Mumbai Building Designs

Mumbai Architecture News, chronological: Indian Architecture Designs – chronological list

Indian Architecture News

Buildings in Mumbai

Mumbai Railway Stations Renewal Design: JDAP Design-Architecture-Planning, Architects image courtesy of architects Mumbai Railway Stations Renewal

Film City Tower – Bollywood ReImagined – Winning design – First prize: image courtesy of architects Film City Tower Mumbai

Chhatrapti Shivaji International Airport Terminal 2 Building Architects: Skimore, Owings & Merrill LLP – SOM photograph © Robert Polidori Chhatrapti Shivaji Airport Building in Mumbai

Mumbai City Museum Competition photograph from organisers Mumbai City Museum Architecture Competition

Comments / photos for the Suspended Office, Maharashtra Mumbai design by DIG Architects page welcome

The post Suspended Office, Maharashtra Mumbai appeared first on e-architect.

#e-architect

[pastxlscorp]

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.1)

Chapter I: Inception

✿ Word Count: 2.1k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Y/N POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, Bully! Mitsuya headcanons from last post

He lifted his large palm, coated in silver and black rings to match his attire. He was wearing a black mock turtleneck that matched his jet black hair. In his youth, he had lilac-colored hair that was either in a buzz-cut or grown out to a mullet. Now, he sported his black hair in his college-years. He was studying to become a fashion designer, a dream he had since his youth after his love blossomed for sewing. It had begun as a chore in order to keep his sisters satisfied and happy, saving money from buying toys by simply creating them himself. As he practiced it more and more, he began to realize how intricate fabrics were. How beautiful colors could come together and form the prettiest structures and designs -- how even the ugliest colors would look elegant if you paired them properly with the right colors, or carefully took apart the threads to create something new. You on the other hand were not studying to become a fashion designer, but rather a photographer. In your youth, you were a free-lancer in art and a quiet overachiever. You had many different career options open to you, but nothing really opened you up in the way art did. You participated in many different types of art, you loved painting, sewing, embroidery, name it, you’ve probably dabbled in it. One day, your class was introduced to your photography unit and all the puzzle pieces fell into the designated places, the pieces being lost and untouched for years. Nothing brought you more joy than snapping someone’s photo on the street to surprise them with the way the sunlight beautifully encapsulated their figure. Nothing brought you more joy than taking an eerily aesthetic photo of the rain pouring on the people below your building as a lady frolocked in the rain below, eager to rejoice in mother nature’s beauty.

Truthfully, your relationship had not started out the way it was now. With his palm ever so elegantly shoving you to the floor, your photographs spilling out of your portfolio as you hit the cold tile floor, protecting your chest by landing on your elbow and knee. Snickers, chuckles, giggles-- they all filled the hallway after seeing you collapse. Only a select few actually took pity on you, including one of his loyal followers, Hakkai Shiba. Mitsuya was usually followed around by two close-friends, Yasuda-san and Hakkai. Yasuda-san was also a fashion major, while Hakkai was planning to become a model. Mitsuya was very well respected amongst the campus for many different reasons. Firstly, he was gifted with the intellect of sewing intrigue designs that made everyone sigh in awe. Secondly, pretty-privilege. You hated to admit it but Mitsuya was a very attractive-looking man, his hair was always fluffed to the right extent, he was well-dressed, and leading into the third reason, he was smart. Despite being a part of the Tokyo Manji Gang, otherwise known as Toman, as one of the second division captains, he was able to manage schoolwork as an overachiever and was known for his intellect. Not to mention, keeping his division in check along with his two younger sisters AND the sewing club that he managed at his school? It was no wonder he was seen as the perfect boyfriend, he had all of his together. This was the reason why his disregard of you was seen as acceptable, everyone assumed you must have done something wrong for him to treat you this way, right?

Incorrect assumption. You have never done anything wrong to Mitsuya-- in fact… you don’t really remember doing anything to him, period. You both met by chance in his home-economics club, which he decided to suggest to the college board upon seeing there was not a club that actively encouraged sewing. At the time, most participants on campus were graphic designers, artists, not really looking to take the fashion industry by storm as Mitsuya was. However, he was able to persuade the board and even got petition signatures to seal it all off. He was the president of the club and upon seeing the posters taped in the hallways, you instantly took the opportunity to get any extracurricular activities on your transcript. He welcomed you into the club but it wasn’t like you got that much of his attention-- after all, the club filled up quickly with Mitsuya’s admirers. Although, shortly before he began his cruel treatment and behavior towards you, it actually seemed like you two were becoming friends. He would begin to check on you a little more frequently than the rest, tapping your shoulder with a warm smile, asking you how your project was going. You would show him your small projects, nothing too big as it had nothing to do with your major, but projects that you enjoyed and had fun doing nonetheless. He seemed most amused by the sweater you created for your dog by letting out a soft chuckle. In return, he showed you the sweaters he made for his sisters, who were now teenagers. It became a routine for him to walk over to you after checking up on everyone else and talk until club hours were over. He’d find anything to talk about and it made your heart swell with how he actually took the time out of his day to make sure you didn’t feel alone. You were sure he had picked up on how you lacked friends in his club, he was clearly trying to make you feel welcome and you couldn’t help but begin to admire him even more than you once had.

One day, however, it suddenly changed. His demeanor was suddenly cold and unwelcoming to you. You noticed when you walked into his club as you normally did, taking your seat. He did not visit you within the 10 minutes it usually took him to check upon everyone else. It took much, much longer, so you simply assumed everyone needed more help than usual. However, when he came over to your table, his words startled you so much that you pricked yourself with your needle, rushing your eyes to meet his own at his sudden harshness.

┃ “Looks like someone isn’t paying attention.”

The venom in his words made your cheeks flush with a tint of red, noticing some of the club members staring at you, also in surprise of his harsh tone. You open your mouth, quickly questioning his behavior, all of your words coming out panicked, in fear you’ve done something wrong-- something to disappoint, or upset him.

┃ “What do you mean, Pres? My projects have never been an issue before.”

┃ “Nicknames are a privilege. Call me by my proper title.” He snapped, your peers widening their eyes, for he never required anyone to call him by his last name.

┃ “...President Mitsuya, I apologize. However, you can’t just--”

┃ “Look around,” he motions his arm towards the surrounding students working at their tables, sewing much larger projects and others measuring their models for their designs. Your right eyebrow began to raise in confusion, he had never minded your small projects. Yet, here he was, embarrassing, no-- humiliating you in front of your peers about how minuscule your projects were in comparison.

┃ “Your peers all have their mind set on a big project or several larger projects. Yet, here you are with your small little trinkets. They’re working hard, and you’re doing the bare minimum to have your work completed for this club.”

Tears began to prick your eyes, questioning what his true motive was here. Surely, the projects weren’t the issue. This… this was too strong of a switch-up. Something had triggered this outburst of his, but you weren’t sure what. He was always stressed, all the time actually-- had he perhaps overwhelmed himself and he was taking it out on you?

┃ “(Y/N).” Your name so violently came out of his mouth, as if it had just crashed on cement. It wasn’t the silky and softer voice you were accustomed to hearing when speaking with him. “Get your head out of the clouds. Are you listening?”

┃ “Sir… I mean, President Mitsuya, with all due respect, you seem to be… unfairly targeting me. Some of these students are creating something as simple as a sweater for their friends, why is something for my dog any different?”

The rest of the club began planning your funeral. While never seeing him this upset on school grounds, they have heard about how foul he could get with his division members. Questioning him was bound to make him explode. They all froze, eyes drifting to Mitsuya for an incoming scolding.

┃ With a harsh grab, his fingers glide under your chin as he lifts it up to meet his face directly. “'You questioning me?”

┃ “N-no sir! I mean no disrespect, I just-”

┃ “You’ll be staying after club hours.”

┃ “B-but sir I have-”

┃ “I was NOT asking.” He half-shouts, dropping your chin from his harsh grip as he makes it back to the front of the classroom where he continues to work on his own projects. Your fellow club members pitied you at first, but after seeing how harsh he got later on with you as the bullying continued, they assumed this was the result of an external conflict.

You don’t remember what he told you after club hours. He was yelling something about how you were stupid, a dumbass, and well, you get the rest. Cruel words were thrown at you as if the day before he wasn’t so fondly helping you with the sweater for your dog-- helping you perfect the stitch of his name. Any time you questioned him or flat-out denied his accusations and heinous words, he would yank your chain and pull you so you were right in front of him as he stared down at you. It was enough to scare you out of ever providing a rebuttal, and you soon learned that as the bullying continued.

Now, here you are, on the floor, calmly collecting your portfolio photographs, not even phased by his now-normal harassment. Usually, a shove would be enough to appease him, but today it seemed like one of those days where he wanted more. He walked over to your kneeling figure as you collected your portfolio, your head turned away from him to avoid giving him any form of satisfaction.

┃ “What do you say after you bump into someone?”

┃ “I didn’t bump into you, dickhead.”

With a swift motion, he forcefully grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, his lavender eyes piercing straight through you. He was clearly unsatisfied with your response.

┃ “What do you say after you bump into someone, skank?”

Every time you questioned him or talked back, you knew it simply made him angrier. You quickly learned that him acting out was his way of earning your attention, but for whatever reason it was, you couldn’t figure out why. What you did learn, however, from your many other incidents with him, is that he would praise you when you were obedient. Eager to get this over with and save yourself any more humiliation, you replied:

┃ “I’m sorry.”

┃ “I’m sorry…?”

┃ With a sigh, you continue, “I’m sorry, President Mitsuya.”

He smirks, now satisfied with your answer. He taps your cheek with his right index finger and replies:

┃ “Good girl.”

You swipe your face away from his grasp and continue collecting your photographs, along with your notebooks and planner that had slipped out. Mitsuya scoffs as you once more retract your attention away from him and walks away with Yasuda-sun snickering. Hakkai, however, stays behind and examines you for a few brief moments. He walks over to you and begins helping you organize your bookbag. You look up and smile-- despite his silence, his eyes offered every form of apology he could give you. You had learned Hakkai was afraid to speak up to Mitsuya because he was his best friend and was afraid any talkback from him would only result in a deeper hatred for you. You didn’t mind, however, you just appreciated how Hakkai kept you grounded. He helped you remember you didn’t do anything wrong, this was Mitsuya’s doing and his alone. Hakkai was always well-dressed as well, you noticed. He was wearing an incredibly long trench coat with beautiful shades of baby blue, ocean blues and a bright orange that made everything pop. It covered a black mock turtleneck that seemed to be matching the one Mitsuya was wearing and in fact, Hakkai also seemed to have an earring on one ear, similar to Mitsuya. It appeared that he deeply respected Mitsuya, his outfit seemed to be heavily inspired by his own. With everything settled in your bookbag once more, he offered you a pat on the head with a smile as you nodded and thanked him before running off to your first class of the day.

✿ a.n. // I finished this chapter while finishing my AP Psychology hw. I had started writing it and then idk why but I was re-reading the manga and went “wait, now what if we have Hakkai and Yasuda-san…” and ta-da, take my 2.1k words of pure a$$. If this chapter does well, I’ll be sure to upload it on my ao3, too. special tags for @the2ndl and @bren-heron because they both really wanted a fic out of this concept. I hope you enjoy loves <3

#tokyo revengers #tokyorevengersfanfic #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #takashi mitsuya x reader #tokyorev #tokrev #tokyo rev fanfic #tokrev fanfic #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n #tokyorev x yn #tokyo rev x you #mitsuya headcanons #takashi mitsuya headcanons #mitsuya hcs #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x y/n #tokyo revengers takashi mitsuya #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokrev headcanons #tokrev hcs #tokyorev hcs #tokyorev headcanons

[teacupfulofstarshine]

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP CHAPTER 10

PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS!!! this chapter features Evil Scientist Lady and her Fucked Up WorldView a LOT, and there are also some Major Plot Events that involve Violence. i will put a summary in the end notes if you decide at any point that this particular chapter is too much - that's super valid! i will also mention here that no main characters are going to die in this story and no one dies in this chapter either.

huge huge thanks to @flamingfawkes for beta’ing!

CW: extreme disregard for human life, mentioned human and animal cruelty, toxic workplace environment, violence (both imagined and actual, mildly graphic), gun mention, minor blood, death threats, extremely unethical character, unethical science, stalking

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // read it on ao3!

“This is the same result we’ve gotten the last twenty times -”

“I don’t care, Steven, run it again!”

Steven sighs, punching at the keyboard to run the statistical analysis sequence again. “This is ridiculous! I’ve run this sequence so many times it feels like my eyes are going to bleed. Why can’t we just turn in the results we have and -”

“Because she’ll behead us,” James snaps, “and then she’ll destroy our reputations and our families and they’ll get no severance. I have three young children at home, Steven, I need this money.” Steven softens a little, fingers running smoothly over the keys as he combs the data again. Next to him, James has a computer screen full of frame-by-frame stills of what little data they recovered from the probe before it was destroyed; Penny across the room is surrounded by ancient texts a mile high and at least three laptops.

“Why is she so interested in this, anyway?”

“It’s beyond me. Since when do we question the whims of what we’re told to do?”

Steven squints at the screen, pushing his chair back and rubbing at his eyes. “If I have to stare at these numbers for one more second, my brain is going to explode. I feel like my eyeballs are going to melt out of my skull. I wanna scream.”

James pulls up another image, staring at the blurry image of the merman before him. Steven pushes away from his own screen and squints at James’s. The merman in the photo looks young, not much older than his kid brother, but they don’t know anything about the lifespan of these creatures. He looks confused, squinting at the camera. As James flicks through the stills, the merman transitions from confused to angry to enraged, and then he attacks.

“He’s not happy about the camera.”

“Would you be happy about someone spying on you and your family?” James says, switching to the next still.

“I wouldn’t be happy if I thought someone was doing anything we do in this lab to me or my family.” James elbows Steven, but luckily no one else seems to have heard.

“This lab isn’t the most ethical place I’ve ever worked, but it pays the bills,” James mutters. “And we’re not even in the experimentation lab. We just do data analysis. We’re removed from the situation.”

Are we? Steven wonders. He sees James reach out and touch the framed picture of his daughters, and keeps his mouth shut. He turns back to his computer, watching the little spinning color wheel of his mouse as the program calculates the same numbers again and again. The results come up identical to the previous ones, and Steven clicks “Run Program” again wordlessly.

They work in silence for a while, the three of them, broken only by James’s muttering and the occasional thud of one of Penny’s books and the clicks of keyboards and mice. If they weren’t so reliant on technology, Steven thinks, there would be an enormous corkboard spanning three of the four walls, covered in pushpins and handwriting and red string connecting images. He debates actually building one, if only to increase the levity in the room, but decides against it.

He’s seen people punished or fired or who-knows-what-else for far less, after all.

Instead, after his program tells him for the twenty-third time that his results are the same (and didn’t someone say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?), Steven scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and opens the data entry window. Maybe the problem with the results has to do with the entry of the data; did he input something wrong? It’s possible . . .

Here he goes again, he supposes. He stands up, stretches, and leans back to crack some vertebrae. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, take a short screen break, and go back to the beginning. Maybe there’s something in the input that I missed. You want anything?”

James groans, thunking his head against the desk. “I want something with enough caffeine to kill three elephants, please.” Steven nods, looking over at Penny. She shakes her head, and he heads for the shitty coffee machine a few doors down.

Several floors below, a young woman pulls her lab goggles up to rest on top of her head with her perfectly-pinned protocol-compliant bun. “The latest round of tests is completely done, ma’am. I think you’ll find the efficacy . . . striking.”

She takes the clipboard, glossy perfectly-painted nails pinching the sheets of thin paper and flicking between them. “I’m afraid I don’t do so well with the scientific side of things - Kathleen, was it? Explain this to me, would you?”

“Certainly, ma’am. As you know, the kill time for the most effective neurotoxin currently available, tetrodotoxin, varies from thirty minutes to four hours. Average time for symptoms to manifest is seventeen minutes, and from there the symptoms progress through tingling of the lips and tongue, headache, vomiting, muscle weakness, ataxia, et cetera. Death occurs as a result of respiratory or heart failure, and the poison is nearly undetectable if you do not specifically test for it.”

“The untraceability is a plus, but that is far too wide a range of times, and too slow a time even at its fastest.”

“Of course, ma’am, but as far as naturally-occurring marine poisons go - actually, as far as naturally-occurring poisons go, full stop - it is the most effective. Until now, that is.”

“Oh? What are your findings?”

“Which trials would you like to start with, ma’am?”

“The human trials, Kathleen. The only ones that matter. I hardly intend to go around killing mice and hoping that no one traces their deaths to a novel neurotoxin.” She laughs airily, and Kathleen nods along.

“Certainly, ma’am. The most recent data points indicate an average efficacy time of thirteen minutes for our compound neurotoxin, with a full range between nine and seventeen minutes passing before subject death. Subjects began to show symptoms around five minutes, give or take twenty-five seconds.”

“And those symptoms were?”

Kathleen flips through the document. “Seizures, vital organ failure, blindness, painful muscle spasms, suffocation from the inside out.”

She hums, tapping a manicured finger against the report. “Well, Kathleen, that is certainly impressive, especially for a preliminary human subject trial. These results . . . I must say, they are not nearly as disappointing as I anticipated when I came down here.”

“Ma’am?”

“How long have you worked for this company, Kathleen?”

“Almost five years, ma’am, but I’ve always been an assistant. This is my first time as lead researcher and biochemist on a project, ever since you . . . laid off the previous lead researcher.”

“Kathleen, let me be frank. These results are not what I hoped for. The efficacy time and symptom onset times are both far too long for my liking, and the range of efficacy time is too broad. By all accounts, I should consider this a failure.” Kathleen swallows, but remains poised. “However, you’ve managed to shave off a considerable amount of time from the tetrodotoxin readings. The range of symptom onset time is an acceptable breadth, and your results are far beyond anything your predecessor ever accomplished for me. This is truly impressive, all things considered.”

“Thank you, ma’am. How should I proceed?”

“I want the efficacy doubled - tripled - I want it upped by anywhere between four and five hundred percent. I want the pain increased, too. Feel free to increase your requests for test subjects, but get me the results I want. You said the original tetrodotoxin was untraceable?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“Can you keep that feature intact?”

“As of right now, it is intact, ma’am. I will endeavor to keep it so in future experiments.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Welcome to your new position as head of this research division. Don’t let me down.” She holds out a slender hand, and Kathleen takes it, trying not to seem too eager.

“I won’t, ma’am.”

“How soon can you start this experiment up again?”

“The cleaners should be finished by tomorrow morning, ma’am, and I can tweak chemical formulas until then.”

“Excellent.” Her watch beeps, and she lifts it, pursing her bright lips as she examines the message she’s just received. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to attend to. Someone will drop off your master access key for Lab Three within the hour.”

She steps into the elevator and lifts her watch up to her face, swiping through the messages from her secretary. One finger reaches out to press the button for the digital analysis labs floor, and the other taps away at her watch.

When she steps off the elevator, her secretary is waiting. “Ma’am.”

“What do they have for me?”

“Unclear. They said it was something they wanted to report directly to you and you alone, but it seems to be something big.”

“Hopefully it’s a big step in the right direction, or they’ll be taking a big step out of a job.” She relishes in the way the employees she passes all unfailingly flinch and then snap to perfect attention when they hear the sharp echo of her heels against the floor. She lifts her head and walks faster, striking the tiles with her heels like a gavel, sharp and precise against a judge’s desk.

The computer labs are disorganized when she enters, but there is a string of promising-looking numbers on the main display monitor. There is a woman surrounded by books and a man pulling up photos on his computer, and there is a third man standing in front of her like a toy soldier. She focuses on that one.

“I hear you have news for me? Make it swift, and make it good.”

He swallows, hard, and her eyes idly trace the line of his throat. If he disappoints her, perhaps she will drive her heel through it, to make an example of him. That would be far too messy; perhaps his dominant hand will do.

“I have narrowed down the location of the missing net, ma’am. I believe it to have washed up somewhere around these general GPS coordinates.” He fiddles with a remote in his hand, and the image on the screen changes. It shows an aerial satellite view of a secluded strip of beach, framed by rocky cliffs with larger rocks studded out into the open water. “It should have washed up somewhere in this one-point-three-seven-mile strip of beach. The whole area is property of one Doctor Thomas Sanders.”

She snarls. “That man. He won’t let us on that beach willingly until hell freezes over.”

The other man, the one scanning through photo stills and video footage, jumps up, knocking his chair backwards. “I found something!”

She turns towards him, and his excitement freezes and sputters into something much more controlled and terrified. “Show me.” He clicks something and pulls up video footage from one of their surveillance drones, zooming in on a particular patch of ocean along the stretch of Sanders’ beach. Her eyes widen when she sees what he’d noticed - a hump of red-and-white tail arcing above the waves before a pattern of ripples streaks off towards the cliff. He pauses the footage, rewinds it, uses a laser pointer to show an opening concealed in the cliff face.

“There’s some kind of grotto in there, hidden by the cliff. It’s on Sanders’ property, he has to know it’s there. And it looks like the merman from the destroyed drone knows it’s there too. Which means -”

“That must be where he’s keeping them.” Something burns in her chest, brilliant and terrifying and all-encapsulating, like wildfire. “We’ve found them, at long last.”

“What would you have me do?” her secretary asks. “I can arrange for a recovery squad at your earliest possible convenience, ma’am.”

“Assemble the squad, but do not have them move out. They will wait for my orders. When they go, you are to go with them.” Her secretary nods, once, sharp and sure. “Dispatch a crew to Lab One and clear it out. I want it prepped for containment, vivisection, chemical tests - the works. Get at least three tanks set up and one strap-down human table.”

“A human table, ma’am?”

“Yes. We have to deal with Sanders once and for all to ensure that he does not ruin any future experiments.”

“Will we be taking him as well?”

She hums thoughtfully. “No. Pull up the file we have on his known associate?”

A few swift clicks and flicks and a photo appears on the large screen: a young man with brown-and-purple hair, sleeves rolled up, carefully lowering a perfectly viable specimen into the ocean and letting it go, like some kind of fool. “His doctoral student, ma’am. The longest one he’s ever kept - this one has been with him a few years.”

“Excellent. When you raid the lab, take him.”

“Should we kill Sanders?”

“No. Rough him up a little, but leave him alive. Taking his protégé and leaving him alone, helpless to rescue him, will be the highest form of torture for such an insufferable person. The agony will eat him alive until his dying day.”

Her secretary nods, taking the notes down dutifully. The other employees look vaguely horrified, but she pays them no mind. No sacrifice is too great to be made in the name of progress, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a weakling who will never get anywhere in life.

She refuses to be one of those weaklings.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan wakes up confused.

He’s warm, warmer than he thinks he’s ever been in his whole life. When he stirs, he moves farther than he meant to - he must not be underwater. That’s enough to send a jolt of concern through his sleep-addled brain. Why isn’t he underwater? Why was he sleeping if he was above the surface? There’s no way his dad is here, and Roman hates surfacing, where are they? Where is he? But he’s so comfortable . . .

Someone shifts beside him, an arm draping across his waist, and Logan forces his eyes open. He shifts his lower half, confused when two things move instead of one, and there are layers upon layers of thin, flat, soft things wrapping around him. What is happening?

Slowly, slowly, his mind clears, and he remembers the events of last night. He grew legs - he was a human, once, before he was mer - he couldn’t sleep underwater with Dad and Roman - Virgil was teaching him to walk - Virgil put “clothes” on him - Virgil was embarrassed that he didn’t have those “clothes” on him - Virgil took him out of the lab to sleep - Virgil agreed to cuddle him since his pod couldn’t -

Logan feels the strange burning in his face again as he shifts. He can’t see well in this new human form, but when things are close enough to his face they’re relatively clear. And Virgil, still sleeping, is close enough that Logan can smell him - he smells like salt water mixed with something sharp and something sweet and something else that Logan can’t quite identify but finds addicting nonetheless. Sunlight streams in and pools around Virgil’s face, illuminating the tangled mess of hair spread around him and flopping into his face, the small puddle of water leaking out from his open mouth onto the soft thing he’s resting his head on, the way his chest moves slowly with every breath. His arm is wrapped around Logan, pulling him close. Logan thinks he might explode if he focuses on this any more, so he rolls from his side to his back as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake Virgil. Virgil tightens his arm around Logan and mutters something indecipherable in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.

Rather than focusing on his very confusing feelings for the very pretty man next to him, Logan focuses on what he can see of the room around him. He makes a list in his mind of things that he plans to ask Virgil about later today, including:

1: There are many draws attached to the small, smooth cliffs surrounding them. How do they stay there?

2: There are lots of “clothes” scattered all around the floor, and there were several on the bed, too. Is that normal for humans?

3: Last night, Virgil did something that made the room light up with trapped sunlight! How did he do that?

4: How did Virgil get ice to stay in those big frozen sheets in such a warm place to let the sunlight in?

5: How did Virgil make ice into that weird shape that he filled with water and drank last night?

6: How did Virgil get the water to come into this place?

7: Do all humans have a specific area set aside for sleeping? Logan and his pod usually just sleep wherever they can, but Virgil seems to have this soft slab set aside with all of these soft things to be comfortable and sleep in every night. Is this a Human Thing or strictly a Virgil Thing?

Logan looks out through the sheet of ice that protects Virgil’s area from the outside and gasps. He can’t see well, but there’s a glittering expanse of blue that shifts and moves and oh, is that the ocean?

He’s spent his whole life (well, his whole remembered life, anyways) in the ocean, and he’s seen some truly wondrous things. He travels around the world with his pod, he knows the ocean is big, but seeing it spread out like this is . . . awe-inspiring. Logan has never seen the ocean like this, and now that he has he doesn’t think he can ever not see it like this again. It’s like a perfect sheet of sea-glass, rippling and unbroken but dynamic in a way that he never really gets a sense of when he’s beneath it.

He knows that there are waves, of course. There are smaller swells out on the open ocean, and larger ones when the Second Goddess dips her fingers down from the Upper Ocean and swirls the storms to a thundering burst. There are waves along the shoreline, ones that he frolics in with Roman and batter him against the shoreline. There are waves created when he or his pod members surface. But watching the movement of the ocean from up here is . . .

Even with his imperfect vision, he is completely at a loss for words as he stares at the ocean.

Eventually, Virgil stirs next to him, and Logan turns away from the ocean to stare at him. Virgil is close to him, arms wrapped tightly around him, face pressed against him. Logan’s eyesight is not great, but Virgil is close enough that he can pick out little details of his face. There are brown face scales scattered all over him, but they seem to cluster on his nose and his cheeks. Logan has wanted to touch them for a substantial amount of time, and he can’t stop himself from gently settling the tips of his fingers over Virgil’s cheek.

His face doesn’t feel like Logan was expecting. The scales don’t give texture to his face the way that Logan’s do; the skin is smooth and flat. There are little bumps all over, but the brown scales aren’t raised off the skin like Logan expected. He lets his fingers trail along Virgil’s face. His bone structure seems to be exceedingly similar to Logan’s, at least in regards to his head. Logan’s finger rests gently on the curve of bone under Virgil’s eye, and Virgil exhales warm breath onto his palm.

Logan wonders what it would be like to have this for longer than just his recovery period. He wonders what it would be like to wake up next to Virgil all the time, to get to run his hands over Virgil’s face and arms and chest and examine the differences between their anatomy. He wonders what it would be like to learn to walk without falling over, and he feels a sharp, unexpected twinge in his chest as he realizes that getting better at walking means no more closeness to Virgil.

His chest feels strange, like there’s a school of small fish swarming around and tickling his insides and making him feel all foamy, like the froth churned up by a windswept sea. He feels like he does when he’s underwater - free, weightless, mobile, limited by nothing except his own imagination. He feels unstoppable.

Virgil makes a sudden, sharp inhale, blinking his eyes open slowly. Logan thinks that, perhaps, he might not appreciate being studied unknowingly - he hadn’t appreciated Virgil doing it, before he understood what was happening, when all he knew was the loss of his pod aching like a scraped-out seashell. As Virgil wakes up, Logan shifts, turning his gaze to the rest of the room.

Virgil makes a sleepy grumbling noise, opening one eye. Logan chances another quick glance at him, and when his eye slides open Logan is struck by its beauty. He doesn’t get much of a chance to admire it, however, before Virgil is jolting backwards like Logan’s struck him with lightning. Logan is confused, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder. “Virgil?”

“Wassat?! Wait . . . L’gan?”

“It is me,” Logan says softly. “Are - are you upset with me?”

Virgil yawns, jaw dropping to his chest, revealing a flash of teeth and a soft pink tongue. (Logan wants to lick it. Why does Logan want to lick it? Why is Logan thinking about Virgil’s tongue licking his tongue - why is Logan thinking about Virgil - what in the Seven Oceans is happening to him.) “Wh - no, no, ‘m okay, I just - woke up, forgot I had you with me, got confused about another person in my bed.” Before Logan can start to feel bad, Virgil adds, “S’okay if it’s you, though,” and the foamy, floaty feeling is back.

“Did you sleep well?”

Virgil laughs, low and rumbling, and Logan can feel it in his fingers where he touches Virgil’s skin. “I never sleep well.” He sits up, and the fabric of his pajamas shifts to let Logan see stretches of soft, supple skin that he usually doesn’t. Logan wants to touch it. He very determinedly keeps his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Gotta admit, though, last night was . . . better than usual.”

This appears to be the point where Virgil first notices their position - pressed together, arm slung over Logan, basically cuddling the way that Logan normally would with his pod. (No tangle with his pod has ever felt this . . . electric, this charged, this important to Logan before.) His face flares a brilliant red, and he shifts like he wants to move away but -

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Logan blurts out. Virgil blinks at him a little, and maybe he was a little overly enthusiastic, but - “I sleep in a tangle with Dad and Roman all the time. I have extreme difficulty sleeping without contact with someone else. It . . . helped me greatly.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, face turning redder still, smiling shyly. “That - makes me feel better. Thanks, Lo.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil smiles too, reaching up to gently move a piece of hair away from his face. Logan thinks that, as far as deaths go, his chest exploding (which seems to be getting more and more likely every fifteen seconds he spends in Virgil’s presence, only accelerated by all this skin-on-skin contact they’re having right now) seems to be the most pleasurable.

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was is interrupted by a Ping! noise from across the room. “What is that?” Logan asks. Virgil, sadly, untangles himself from Logan and the blankets, sliding out of bed and heading over to one of the other structures in the room (what did he call it last night? Dex?) and picking up a flat glowing rectangle.

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I - Thomas sent me a text, it’s a little weird.”

“What is a text?”

“It’s a kind of human messaging system, it allows us to communicate when we’re far away from each other.”

“Like a pod call?” “Kind of? I’ll explain more later, I promise, I just - I gotta go down to the lab real quick.”

“I’ll come with -”

“No!” Virgil snaps. Logan flinches, and Virgil softens, crossing the room and gently touching his shoulder. “Hey, no, Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just - this message, there’s something off. I think something might be wrong, and I don’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Just - wait here, okay? Wait in my room, where it’s safe. It’s probably nothing, he’s probably fine, but on the off chance that he’s not, I want you to stay hidden safely up here.”

Logan isn’t sure why this makes his face heat up slightly, but it does. “Okay. I accept your apology, and I . . . trust you.”

Virgil smiles, soft and heartwarming, and Logan is beginning to give more credence to his “chest explosion is fine, actually” theory. “Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him, and the foamy feeling in Logan’s chest dissipates a little. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something . . . off. If Logan didn’t know better, he’d think that he was sensing a predator approaching.

But that can’t be right, he isn’t underwater. His danger senses are likely just overreacting to his disappointment at Virgil’s absence.

. . . Right?

*~*~*~*~*

Thomas is beginning to regret letting Roman and Patton (specifically, Roman) out of the large tank before finishing his first coffee of the morning.

“I want some!” Roman complains.

“Do you even know what it is?” Thomas says. Roman pouts sulkily at him.

“. . . No,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Thomas gives him the deadpan, no-nonsense, I-am-your-direct-superior-take-the-damn-samples-Virgil stare that he has perfected over the past few years. Roman wilts a little more, and Thomas feels slightly bad.

“It’s called coffee,” he says. “It’s a hot drink that lots of people have in the morning. Some people drink it plain, and some people add things to it to change the way it tastes. It helps me wake up more and get focused to start my day, and sometimes I drink it late at night to help keep me awake.”

Roman looks less like a kicked puppy and more like Logan, eyes wide and curious. “I want some!”

Thomas, taking a sip of his own two-seconds-of-cream-five-cubes-of-sugar coffee, nearly spits it out. He looks at Roman, eyes the very sharp, very detachable, very toxic spines covering his body, and says, “No.”

Roman’s demeanor changes entirely, switching from “curious toddler” to “toddler about to throw a temper tantrum” in a heartbeat. “Why not?!”

“Because when people drink coffee without being used to it, sometimes it makes them a little crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Do I need to recount to you how many times you’ve threatened me and my assistant since we met you?” Thomas says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not giving you coffee until I know I can trust you not to stab me with your poisonous spines that cover your entire body and can be fired at people.”

Roman pouts more, dropping under the water and letting out a gratingly harmonious string of mer that Thomas is pretty sure translates to Roman bitching about the coffee situation to his dad. Based on the pattern of Patton’s response, he’s pretty sure Patton is laughing at Roman.

More sulky chalkboard-violin music, and then Roman resurfaces grumpily. “Dad agrees with you and says no consuming strange human foods.”

“Did he laugh at you?”

Roman squints suspiciously at him. “You can’t speak our language.”

“Yeah, but I know what it sounds like when a dad laughs at his kid.” Roman, continuing to pout, sinks back into the tank, presumably to sulk some more. Thomas takes another very long sip of coffee that is definitely too hot for his mouth and turns back to his desk.

Virgil should definitely be awake and in the lab at this point. The samples he’s supposed to be analyzing are sitting in their little tubes, each neatly labelled with locations and dates and times and what, specifically, Virgil is supposed to be looking for. Thomas considers going upstairs and waking up Virgil, who’s almost never been late for work in this way, but he decides against it. Virgil is upstairs with Logan, and Thomas knows that there’s something building between them. He’s not sure how advisable that something is, but he trusts Virgil to make his own decisions.

Besides, he could probably use some practice. His water sample analysis skills are pretty rusty, he’s had Virgil doing them for years. “Virgil, you owe me big time for what I’m doing for you.” He carefully shifts the samples over to his own desk, slides his earbuds in, picks up a pipette, and gets to work analyzing the bacterial and algal concentrations for any abnormalities.

Thomas accomplishes about forty-five minutes’ worth of work before Roman interrupts him by flicking water at him and soaking the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“I tried your name, but your little ear bug things were keeping you from hearing me,” Roman says smugly. Thomas, not for the first time, considers retreating to the closet and throwing beakers until he feels better.

“Can I help you?”

“Dad wants to go hunting and bring back breakfast, but we can’t leave without you.”

“Are you not going hunting?”

“I’m going to stay here and observe you,” Roman says.

Thomas blinks. “Do I . . . need observing?”

“How do I know you won’t sell us out to your little human friends the second you get a chance? If I’m here, I can stop you. Plus, what if you do something to Logan while we’re not here to protect him? No, no, I’m staying right where I am and you can’t make me leave.” His spines ripple; Thomas steps closer to a whiteboard in case he needs to duck.

“I’m not going to do that, and I don’t want you to stab me.”

“Still! I’m staying here! Also, Dad’s bigger than me, and he’s a better hunter cause he’s faster and he’s been hunting longer.

“Does he need something to help him carry all those fish?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth like he’s going to say something snarky, pauses, and stops.

“I . . . usually we just eat what we catch when we catch it. We make a pile of prey and take turns guarding it while the other two hunt. Then we make a sacrifice to the Seven Mother Goddesses and eat what’s left.”

After some debate, Thomas is able to fashion a sling of sorts from some waterproof tarps and leftover anchor rope to tie around Patton’s body. “You can put the fish in this pouch and carry them back here. Will you be able to navigate your way back to the grotto?”

“He will,” Roman says. “Dad knows more about the ocean than any human possibly could.” Another discordant song from the tank, chastising, and Roman huffs. “Dad wants me to reassure you that he’ll be fine.”

Patton settles into the mobile tank easily, and Thomas gets him down to the grotto leading towards the sea. “When you come back, let out one of your pod calls and Virgil or I will come and collect you and your catch. Take as much time as you need, okay?”

Patton reaches up and gently pats Thomas’s arm with one large, damp hand, and Thomas takes that to mean an agreement. “Alright, off you go.” There’s a whoosh and a rush of water as it flows from the tank into the grotto in a clean arc, carrying Patton with it. Thomas waits for a moment, letting Patton disappear into the open ocean, before returning to the laboratory.

Roman, for the most part, ignores Thomas. He asks the occasional question, which Thomas tries to answer in a way that he’ll understand, and leans over the edge of his touch tank, eyes guarded. Every time Thomas sneaks a glance, when he thinks Roman isn’t looking, his expression is wide-eyed and wondrous, like Logan’s usually are, but the moment he realizes Thomas is watching him his entire face closes up like a clamshell.

Thomas wonders what it’ll take to get Roman to trust him, trust Virgil, trust any human. Granted, he doesn’t know Roman’s history with humans, but he and Patton are both fairly scarred, and Thomas might not know the whole story but he’d bet a not-insignificant amount of his monthly income that the giant starburst scar taking up the majority of Patton’s chest isn’t the result of a clash with a marine creature.

He works quietly, fielding the occasional question, keeping one ear on the grotto tunnel for Patton’s return. He’s not sure how long he expected Patton to be gone, but he hears movement in the grotto tunnel far sooner than he’d expected.

“Thomas, what’s -”

“Shhhh,” Thomas says. He stands up, pushing away from his desk, but before he can say anything else, there’s a flood of movement coming from the tunnel. Bodies pour into the lab, swift and strong and carrying weapons that they immediately train on Thomas and Roman.

“What is this?” Roman snaps, bristling. He sounds betrayed, like he thinks Thomas is behind this. Thomas picks up a heavy glass beaker, fully prepared to shatter it upside someone’s skull if necessary, but something heavy and hard strikes the back of his skull and he feels his knees crumple. Roman cries out, and Thomas struggles to push himself up. A hand fists itself in his hair and yanks him upright, sharply. Thomas exhales sharply through his teeth, but before he can start struggling, something cool and round rests against the back of his neck, shutting him up and shutting his brain down.

Roman is puffed up like a hedgehog, apparently fully prepared to defend Thomas despite his strong and inherent mistrust. Before he can begin to attack, Thomas hears the click-click-click of shoes on the hard stone floor. Whoever’s holding his head yanks him back again, and he is forced to watch as a woman walks into his laboratory.

(It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke - a sick, horrible, twisted joke.)

She has black heels, black tights, a black pencil skirt, a black blazer, and a blood-red blouse. Her hair is scraped back into a tight bun, pulled so taut it must hurt, and is held in place with a pitch black stick. She carries a - clipboard? tablet? Unclear - held against her chest, and there’s a sleek silver weapon in her right hand.

“The one from the video?” she asks.

“Affirmative, ma’am,” says the person holding Thomas’s head. The woman nods, lifting her weapon, and fires at Roman. Thomas tries to scream a warning, earning himself another painful yank from his captor, but the projectile lodges itself in Roman’s shoulder anyway.

It isn’t a bullet, but something that looks like a small syringe. Roman swats it out of his shoulder, swaying a little, but it doesn’t stop him from swiping at the - mercenary, they must be - who tries to grab him with his elbow spines. The woman frowns, lifts the weapon - some kind of tranquilizer gun? - and fires again.

Roman screams, inhuman and animal, and tears the newest dart from his arm, throwing himself out of his tank and clinging to the nearest mercenary. His teeth tear into the man’s shoulder, spines piercing through his camouflage clothing and flooding him with neurotoxin. The man collapses against the concrete, alive but unconscious, and Roman snarls at the next man as though daring him to approach. He sways, weakened but awake, and bares his teeth.

“Of course,” the woman says, tapping something on her tablet. “His naturally produced neurotoxin must be providing him with some level of natural resistance. Unexpected, but not a limitation.”

It takes three more tranquilizer darts before Roman finally slumps down into his tank, unconscious. The mercenaries look hesitant to approach him, but the woman reaches for her tablet and they scramble to action at once.

“No - no, stop, let him go, he’s not an animal for you to cart off to your lab -” Thomas starts. The man holding him knees him sharply in the back and he cries out, coughing.

They wrap Roman in thick leather bands, roughly shoving his spines flat and binding them against his skin so that he can’t attack them again. The woman nods, once, short and sharp, and they drag Roman away, letting his head bang mercilessly on the ground. Thomas catches a glimpse of a logo - emblazoned on the back of the jackets, on the back of the woman’s tablet, on the side of her tranquilizer gun - and commits it to memory. He’s going to need it, if he gets out of here alive.

“- your phone,” the woman says, and oh, when did she get in front of him.

“My what?”

His mouth runs dry as she places the tranquilizer gun under his chin, barrel pressing against his throat, and tips his chin up. “I said, give me your phone.”

Thomas blinks. “My - the desk. It’s on the desk.”

She sets her tablet down, picks up his phone, and shoves it in his face. “Open it.”

“I - wh -”

“Unlock your phone, Dr. Sanders. Must I repeat myself a third time?” She rolls her eyes. “Doctorates are wasted on people like you.”

Thomas numbly punches in his passcode, and she swipes through to his messages app, frowning before turning the screen towards his face to reveal a message thread with Virgil. “Is this your assistant?”

Thomas glares at her, he’s not going to give her what she wants, he’s not going to just give her Virgil but then the - gun, it must be a gun, what else would they be holding against his neck like this - pushes into him harder, and it’s probably bruising, and he can’t get himself killed here because then he definitely won’t be able to take care of Virgil and -

“Yes,” Thomas says, hating himself for giving in so easily. “What do you -”

She turns away from him, nails clicking against his phone screen as she sends a text message - to Virgil, presumably, and that makes his heart sink like a stone - before dropping it on the floor and stepping on it to shatter it. “I have a message for you.”

“A - what?”

“Did they really hit you that hard, or were you this stupid before we came here?” she says coldly, picking up the tablet again and tapping at the screen. Thomas groans as the man yanks him to his feet, shoving him onto his chair and pulling a roll of duct tape out of one of his multiple pants pockets. He tapes Thomas’s wrists and ankles to the chair, keeping his weapon trained on Thomas’s temple at all times, before pressing it roughly against his head and gripping his hair again.

The woman sets the tablet on his lab table, and the screen flickers to life, and then there’s a woman in front of a dark black backdrop, smiling at him like a cat who’s caught a canary. “Thomas Sanders. How long I’ve waited for this day.”

Thomas recognizes her. He knows he recognizes her. She used to be his classmate, before . . .

His head hurts, so badly that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the memory slips away. “You . . . why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I am a real scientist, unlike you. You refuse to do what is necessary, what must be done for the progression of the species. The sacrifice of some worthless animals is necessary for humanity to reach its zenith. You would really hinder the entire human race for the preservation of lower life forms?”

“Wh - I -”

“You think that ‘preserving the ecosystem’ and ‘keeping animals alive’ makes you a good scientist, but it makes you weak. You are weak, Thomas Sanders, and if the world was left in the hands of people like you, the human race as we know it would die out in a few centuries. Fortunately, there are people like me, who understand what must be done.”

“Caring about other people and things - it doesn’t - it doesn’t make you weak,” Thomas says, chest heaving, and the woman just laughs.

“One of many logical fallacies to which you subscribe, Thomas. They really gave you a doctorate? Of course caring makes you weak. All emotions make you weak. They corrupt your data and make your experiments worthless. You must be ruthless. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to pursue your goals and achieve the height of success. But no.” She rolls her eyes, face hardening, twirling a pen in her fingers. “You insist on ethics and principles and letting emotions cloud your judgement, and that makes you a failure as a scientist. It makes you weak. Your attachments will be your downfall.”

Thomas’s eyes slide shut, head pounding, and the man behind him yanks at his hair so sharply that he knows some has been ripped out. He forces his eyes open in time to see a smile slide across the woman’s face like a knife, teeth gleaming white as sun-bleached bone.

“You won’t - get away with this,” Thomas manages. He grinds his teeth together and curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to keep himself awake. “If you leave me alive -” Thomas, stop talking, why are you reminding her that she has the option to fucking kill you “- I will not rest until I find you. I’ll - you can’t -”

“You’ll what, Thomas? If you call the police, you’ll expose those creatures you’re so intent on protecting to the world. Are you really willing to take that chance?” Before Thomas can even begin formulating a response, she steamrolls him. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you were, I’m going to take some . . . insurance, shall we say.”

“Why not just kill me?” Thomas spits. Excellent idea, Doc, poke the murderous lady with a stick like a god damn hornet’s nest, the tiny Virgil in his brain hisses. Her smile, somehow, only widens, and that’s . . . that can’t be good, can it? Smiles are supposed to be good! They’re supposed to make you happy, but all Thomas feels is creeping dread and pain, so much pain, and -

Yeah. He’s . . . pretty sure he has a concussion.

“Because if I kill you, you get to take the easy way out. Your suffering will end. But unlike you, I don’t put limits on my science. I know how to cause you the maximum amount of pain.”

Thomas eyes the toxin gun, but the on-screen woman just laughs. “Not yet, Thomas. We need something from you, first.”

“You already took Roman,” Thomas says. “What more can you possibly take from me?”

“You named it? You’re even weaker than I thought.”

“He told me his name, he’s not an it, he’s not a thing for you to play with and - and I -”

There’s a strange sinking feeling in Thomas’s chest as the woman onscreen laughs. “I knew you were emotional, Thomas, but I can’t believe this! It looks like I’ll have more hanging over your head than you thought.”

“You -”

“Say, Tommy-boy, have you heard from your precious little assistant recently?”

Thomas’s entire body flushes ice-cold and then white-hot, immediately struggling against his duct tape bindings despite the man tearing at his hair and shoving the gun into his neck and snapping at him to shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up before I do something we’re both gonna regret -

“Don’t you touch him!” Thomas snaps. “If you hurt him, I swear to God -”

“You’re not in a position to be making demands, and if you don’t calm down, I’ll paint your boring little lab bright red.” Thomas freezes, holding his entire body tensed like electricity is running through his blood.

There are footsteps on the stairs. “Doc? I got your text, what’s -”

“Virgil, run!” Thomas chokes. Virgil comes around the corner, holding his phone, staring at the screen in confusion. He looks up, eyes widening in horror as he takes in the scene.

“You know what to do,” the woman onscreen says. The other woman lifts her tranquilizer gun, and Thomas is sure that he’s screaming, his mouth is open and sound is coming out but his blood is rushing through his ears and his heart is pounding like waves against a boat in rough sea and he can’t - he can’t -

Virgil turns to run, but the tranquilizer dart hits in him the back of the neck and he collapses like a sack of bricks. The woman lowers her gun and jerks her head at the two remaining conscious, unoccupied mercenaries, who step forward and grab Virgil.

“Let him go!” Thomas screams, and his throat feels raw and his chest feels raw and his wrists are rubbed raw and his soul feels hollow and raw, like he’s been scraped out with a jagged piece of metal and only an empty shell remains. Virgil’s head lolls against his chest as they drag him down the grotto tunnel, and Thomas struggles and screams and stares after them until Virgil is out of sight.

His face is damp, and his eyes are burning, and he isn’t sure if it’s blood from his head wound or tears or some strange, morbid mixture of both.

“The greatest torture of which I can conceive,” the woman onscreen says, and it takes him a moment to realize that oh, she’s talking to me, “is to leave you alive, knowing that your precious little protégé is with me, and that there is nothing you can do about it.” She leans forward, and any trace of a smile is gone. “If you try to come after me, I will kill him. If you call the authorities, I will kill him. I already found you, Thomas. Don’t think I’m not watching. If I catch so much as a whiff of you planning something, his blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

Thomas, numb and shocked, can’t even respond. “Knock him out and bring the specimens back to me,” the woman onscreen says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t even feel the tranquilizer dart hit his neck, but he welcomes the sweeping darkness.

(Summary: Evil Scientist Lady has been spying on Thomas and she finds the entrance to the grotto where our mer friends have been hiding. She sends her assistant and several armed thugs to invade the lab, they drug Roman with tranquilizers and kidnap him. Thomas gets knocked around a lot and is mocked for being an ethical scientist and caring about people by Evil Scientist Lady and she gloats at him through Evil Facetime before kidnapping Virgil in the same way they did Roman, knocking Thomas unconscious, and leaving him tied to his lab chair. During this whole scene, Patton is out in the open ocean hunting and Logan is safely hidden in Virgil's room.)

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #romantic analogical #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP

[lilallama]

hello! i reaaaaally really reaaalllllyyyy love your writing! I'd like to know how both clubs would react to their beloved texting them? it could be anything you want! I trust your creative mind:D i hope you're doing well~(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

[Thank you so much, cinnamon bun ❤ that makes me really happy ^^. I'm doing very good, I hope you do too. Hobis picture didn't fit on here (TT), so I will post it by itself. 💕🍑]

Hoseok

The young boy layed on his silk sheets, on his four thousand dollar mahogany bed, while drowning in the sounds of his best friend. On his phone he kept repeatedly playing the recordings of their calls. Hearing their voice felt like heaven to him, if he could he'd make them talk forever just so he could dwell in the sound of their voice. Suddenly his euphoria was interrupted by a notification.

Y/n 💕

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He sat up and put on his glasses. Yes, it really was Y/n. Although they consider him a best friend, Hoseok still cannot stop his heart from racing in his chest. He quickly typed an answer and jumped up to send them a picture of his finnished work.

Seokjin

With his soft black hair pulled back my a fluffy, pink headband and him wearing an evenly fluffy but white bathrobe, he sat in his private bathroom and applied his expensive skincare products. He hummed and sang a bit [I love you, Y/n~] before being interrupted by his phone notifying him that he got a message.

Prince/ss 👑

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He immediately threw his fifty dollar "protection and hydration, for a longer lasting youthful look" cream away and hurried to type back. Why should his love have to do homework, when he'll have one of his butlers do it for them. Silly Y/n.

Yoongi

The newest Rap music blasting in his ears, Yoongi hugged a photo of Y/n, his gorgeous [not yet] lover, to his chest. He dispises most of the new music. It's all money, sex and parties, none of which has anything to do with him. He's an anti social virgin, who has to work two part time jobs to be able to provide for himself and his alcoholic mother. But in that moment he didn't care. The sobs escaping his mouth got interrupted by a notification, no one ever texts him.

Angel 🎶

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His red, watery eyes widen. They actually wrote him. They noticed little, boring him. Without thinking he typed a response and made his way to give them what they asked for.

Namjoon

The sound of a pen scraping against paper, leavibg behing dark blue, inky lines that are formed into neat writings. As student council president, Namjoon made sure to set an example to everyone. Diligent, devoted, intelligent, responsible Namjoon. Just as the last sentence was brought to an end, a notification popped up on his phone. He was going to ignore the message, but then spotted the name of the sender.

Darling ❤

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His pen rolled out of his hand and hit the polished floor of his room. His love just texted him. They asked for his help! Is he dreaming? He must be. Oh, how he longed for such a moment. He can finally be useful to his darling.

Jimin

The music came to a stop and so did Jimin. He pushed his pink hair out of his sweaty face, while whiping some of the sweat away with his already soaked shirt. The white fabric sticking uncomfortably to his body as he tried to catch his breath. After all there's no time for breaks, he has to impress his baby with his skills! But before he could start the music again, his phone buzzed in his backpack. He walked across the practice room with an annoyed look on his face.

Baby 🥰

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Jimins vision went hazy for a second and he lost balance. Now on the floor, he still stared at the message. His face flushed even more than before while thinking about their cute face, distraught at having forgotten the homework. He smiled and took a picture of him winking, making sure to take it so they could see his sweaty shirt, stuck to his back in the mirror. He'll send you it once he gets home, until then how about you talk for a bit?

Taehyung

The artistic boy kept his eyes on the canvas before him. His apron had multiple dried up colour stains, while fresh paint coated his fingertips. Some of the paint got smushed on his face as he brushed his bangs aside, while sone of the paint also got stuck in his locks as he tied them into a small bun. He stepped back, the painted face of his love smiling back at him made him break out into a lovestruck boxy grin. But then his phone buzzed and his smile immediately disappeared.

God/dess 🌹

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

With his mouth slightly agape, his almond eyes stared at the slightly stained screen. Was he imagining things, was his god/goddess really giving him the chance to serve them. After a few seconds he snapped out of it and hurried to grab his homework.

Jeongguk

In the dark of the night, Jeongguk slouched through the streets. He just got in a fight, boxed the guy so hard that he broke his nose, arm and maybe a rib, just to leave that pathetic, shaking pile of shit whimpering on the ground. As the streetlights softly shone down on him, illuminating his face, he received a message.

Spouse 💍

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He stopped in his tracks. A cold wind surrounded him, messing up his hair even more. A bright smile appeared on his face, revealing his bunny like teeth. After jumping around and twirling once or twice he stopped to reply. He couldn't repress the laugh that escaped his dry throat. Now he only has to hurry home!

Jennie

She was feasting with her parents at the gisnt dinner table, but they completely disregarded her existence, only having eyes for each other. She chuckled and cleared her throat, catching her parents attention who bashfully laughed along with her. Jennies parents are exactly how she wishes her future marriage to be. They started talking when her phone notified her of a message.

Y/nie 😘

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Before her mother could scold her on her lack of etiquette, she squealed in a high pitched note, that her Y/n just texted her. Of course, her parents knew about you as well as her feelings for you, they were the exact same when they were younger. They sighed lovingly and huddled together while their daughter excitedly texted her love.

Jisoo

Just a few minutes ago, she was busy going through all her Y/n pictures that have she took these past months [5732, not counting her digital copies]. She was just brushing her silky black hair when her phone let out that obnoxious tone. Jisoo snapped around to her phone on her bed, her 20th one this month [her phone keeps running out of storage room from all her photos, yet she refuses to delete any. So she just gets a new one once her current runs out if storage]. She looked at the screen.

My Muse

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

As soon as she read these messages, her expression brightened. He brush was thrown into a corner of her big room, making a clack sound as it hit the tiles. In a matter of seconds she typed her answer and send you the homework, as you requested.

Chaeyoung

Soft, gentle fingers stoked the strings on a wooden guitar, filling the room with a sweet melody. An angelic voice joined the guitar play, creating a fairytale like song. As it slowly came to an end, the girl to whom that angelic voice belongs, leans over to her nightstand, grabbing her phone. With longing eyes she stared at the screen while muttering please under her breath. Just then, she received a text message.

My Lovely Y/n 😊

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

She jumped up, placing the guitar on her bed while dancing around. Her eyes, filled with love and adoration, focused on the text. She took a screenshot and replied while singing out of happiness.

Lisa

After she had finished her last pirouette for the day, she scated off the ice to remove her scates. The young girl sat on the cold bench, letting her hair out of her bun, to flow over her shoulders in smooth waves. While removing her skates, she received a notification on her phone.

Sweetheart 🌸

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Lisa smiled as she exchanged her ice skates for a pair of warm boots and placed them back to where they belong. While texting her love, she walked out with poise and flipped her hair back. Of course her love would rely on her. She is the most trustworthy person after all.

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere blackpink #newspaper club

[tell-tale-taeil]

A customer (Chapter 1 out of 2)

Protagonists: Jeno Lee, original character, NCT Dream members mentioned Genre: mystery, noir, self-knowledge “Jeno wanders to a mysterious bookstore where he encounters even more mysterious individual, but somewhere deep down Jeno knows that this story is actually only about him.” TW: none 

See other members’ stories here:

TBA

Author’s note: When I saw this particular moodboard, an idea sparked inside my mind. With a constant support from my friends, I finally finished the first half of the story that I am presenting to you now. Thank you for your love and kindness, this is for you, I hope you’ll like it :) Special thanks to Woo and Volpe for proofreading <3

Any feedback, reactions, comments, recommendations or ideas for other members’ stories are welcomed, I wouldn’t mind turning this into a series.

Tagging: @neocluefor , @your-local--trashcan​  Let me know if you want to be added!

A dark, dim evening, the sun had just set, bits of the dusky orange sky shone through the maze of power lines, chimneys, rooftops and posts. As Jeno was walking down an empty tucked away backstreet, he felt like he set foot on a hidden crossroad between two worlds. The feeling of the unknown and the unexplored sent shivers down his spine and he quickened his pace, as he did not wish to get held up at here any longer than necessary. He told his manager he just wanted to grab something warm to eat and stretch his legs a little, but the truth was… He wanted to be alone.

Not so long ago Jeno realised he has a very rare gift – a gift of invisibility. Wherever he’d go, no matter how many people surrounded him, he felt unseen and unnoticed. Jeno, we need you to voice over this ad. Jeno, we need you to shoot a dance video. Jeno, we need you to smile for the photos. No, no, do the thing with your eyes, yes. Oh, you’re still here? We don’t need anything now. Sorry, were you saying something? Listen I gotta go, talk to you later maybe? Everyone knows Jeno the idol, but how many people have heard of Jeno the person? How many people remember Jeno the friend from school, Jeno the boy next door? What’s the point of rushing back into dorms, if he’s going to feel all the same? At least at here I can hear my own thoughts for a change. Without having to fight to get a word in. Noone’s interested in what you have to say anyway, so be a man, Jeno, and go sulk somewhere where people don’t have to look at your sorry face. Hmm, jjamppong sounds nice.

He walked where his feet led him, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes staring blankly on the passing pavement tiles, red tiles, black tiles, grey tiles, shapes and figures, forms and contours. His mind unfocused, his thoughts scattered. Stop. Wait. Like in a dream, he saw himself standing in front of a narrow door, black paint flaking away, a few variously shaped and randomly placed yellow window panes, a big brass handle waiting to be pulled. He noticed a little oval plaque in his field of vision and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a bookshop. A minute passed, maybe ten, maybe an hour. Jeno glanced around, scratching his head. „Uh… good evening!“ He bowed his head a little, even though he didn’t see anyone at the counter. Nevertheless, he felt like he’s being watched, scrutinized, evaluated. Something was staring at him and Jeno suddenly wished that he was invisible again. He turned his head to where he felt the uncomfortable feeling coming from and there it was - behind the desk, on the left side of the wall, squished between large overflowing bookcases, right next to a tall wooden coat-stand shaped like an old tree - a red door with a big round opened eye painted on it. The door was opened, just a few centimetres, and a faint piano music was coming from inside. Come in, if you dare.

Jeno cleared his throat. Might as well look around properly, before they come back out. It’s no use of shouting or trying to make myself heard while that song is still playing. Listening to the melancholic but somewhat promising tune, Jeno inspected the surroundings. The shop looked messy and untidy. Chaos was the king of this castle, carelessness the lady of this household and together they ruled over their tiny land made of heaps of books, magazines and papers haphazardly placed on each other, shelves full of postcards and pictures, walls covered with ornaments and embellishments. Without a single tag or label in sight, Jeno wondered how could anyone find anything in here. He imagined the miscellaneous objects flowing into the shop and never leaving again. His gaze landed on a flashy pink paper packet filled with chewing gums in a no less showy wrapper on one of the shelves. Cool, a freebie! He reached for the gum, unpacked it and threw it into his mouth only to immediately pull a disgusted face as he chewed into the candy. It was like biting into a tasteless rubber. He spit it back out into the crumpled wrapper, put it next to the rest of the unused gums and set out to look for a trash can. He tripped on the thick dusty carpet and nearly stepped on something that looked rather expensive. This must be a bookshop with super rare prints and antiquities of some kind, this isn’t a place for me, I don’t fit in here, I should leave. And so, he stayed, bound in the place by a force of increasing curiosity he did not quite understand.

The piano stopped playing. Perfect, now’s my chance. „Hello? You, uh, have a customer! Heh…“ he stuttered awkwardly. Jeno wasn’t the type of a person who would enjoy excessive attention. If he ever tried to voice his opinion and was met with disregard or unconcern, he would simply think it was because his opinion on that matter was stupid and pointless. That’s why he was fairly used to this, not being heard. The only difference was that usually the rest of the members would fill the room with their chatter, so his lack of involvement in the group activities would normally go unnoticed. Unlike here, where the only sound was a deathly silence and Jeno’s thoughts humming in his head. He already spoke twice, what more does he need to do to be heard? Raise his voice? I just want to buy a book and get out of here. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak and right at that moment, the piano started playing again.

„Wha-, are you kidding me?“ he mumbled quietly under his breath. He looked around, confused, as if he was looking for understanding and sympathy from the other angry customers waiting for their turn to be served. He was the only one here and yet they’re making him wait. What is this, a private concert? Did they possibly saw him coming? Did they think that they’ll impress him with playing lowkey creepy piano melodies? This better not be a prank. He really wasn’t in the mood for fans and he didn’t think he could fake a smile at this hour. But he didn’t notice any hidden cameras, or any security cameras at all for that matter. He paced around the room nervously, scratching his neck. That’s it, I’m leaving. I don’t need that book anyway. I don’t need anything. If they don’t want me here, that’s okay, I’ll do just fine on my own.

He made a few strides towards the front door and then turned around again. „Hellooo! I came here to ask about books! Books that you happen to be selling!“ he raised his voice to the most pleading yet still polite level. The piano stopped again and Jeno gazed hopefully at the red door. He started walking back to the counter, slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare off the possibility of finally being served. He leaned on the desk, ready to place his order, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden surface. And just like that, as if it wanted to laugh directly into Jeno’s face, the piano started playing yet another tune, as impatient as Jeno himself. He pursed his lips and bent his head down. What the heck is this place, huh? A bookstore or a concert venue? At least serve some coffee and cake next time! He could just leave, never come back and forget about this place. But he really needed that book, he’s been looking for it so long, and he knew, he just knew, that this is the right place to look for it.

„Alright!“ Jeno raised his head and pointed his index finger to the door, from which the music was coming. „I’m going in there! And I’m going to knock real loud, so you better not be scared or surprised or angry!“ I doubt they can hear me, he thought, as the music only grew louder and louder. Okay, here we go… He approached the door behind the counter, cautiously, and with his finger still pointing forwards he tapped on the red wood with his nail a few times, gingerly, like he was expecting the door to bite his hand, after a while he shook his head and finally made a few feeble knocks. He put his head inside with a quiet: „Excuse me…“ and peeped into the backroom. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the music stopped playing and Jeno opened the door wide. The room was small and empty, safe for the piano by the wall. No other door, windows, cabinets, electrical appliances, boxes, merchandise, not even trash. Just four bare walls and the damn piano that he swore was playing just a mere second ago.

Jeno gulped, his hand on the doorknob, his feet midstep, his whole body ready to run in the even that something would go wrong. Now now, be brave. „Hello?“ his voice was dry, hoarse and small. Goosebumps covered his nape. „Oh! A customer!“ said a voice behind him. „JESUS CHRIST!“ Jeno nearly fell back onto the ground, as he made several hurried steps backwards, tripping over boxes, books and papers, knocking over the tree coat-stand which embraced him in its patulous grip, making him feel trapped. „Can I help you?“ said the voice and as Jeno’s ragged breath started to decelerate again and as the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, only now he saw a pale face hovering in the shadows of the dimly lit place. The initial shock was over and, gradually, the face grew hair, and connected with a torso, arms and legs. „I…“ Jeno stuttered as he finally untangled himself from the clasp of the coat-stand and stood straight, „came here to buy a book.“ He clutched his hand near his heart and blinked hard for a few times. Get a grip, man, get a grip. „Then you’re in the right place! After all, this is a bookstore and we store all kinds of books,“ smiled the face that no longer resembled a ghost, but a person. „I’ve been… waiting here for 15 minutes… at least.“ He tried to sound angry, but the truth was he wasn’t really sure of how much time he actually spent here. Oh my god. A thought just crossed his mind. What if they’re already closed and I didn’t notice and just practically barged in here demanding to be served?!?! He wiped his forehead and opened his mouth to apologize for his intrusion, but before he could say anything, the figure in front of him spoke again. „Gosh, but I didn’t hear or see you at all!“ said the person, covering their red coloured lips with their hand. Typical. „I… tried to…“ Jeno sighed. If they didn’t hear me, I should have made more effort I guess. „I apologize, I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.“ He bowed his head slightly. The person, dressed in a silky black dress that rustled with every step, fixed their dark eyes on Jeno’s apologetic face and shook their head disappointedly. They passed Jeno, who hurriedly backed out of their way, bumping into the red door, oh, I could have sworn the eye was open. huh, weird, and started to rummage through the bookshelves and bookcases, opening drawers and cabinets, dancing around all the clutter with their feet bare, without knocking over a single thing.

„So?“ asked the bookstore owner, combing through a particularly overflowing drawer. „Sorry?“ „Which book are you looking for?“ Jeno resisted the urge to facepalm himself and laughed nervously instead. „Ah, the book…“ Wait, the book? What book? „Umm… the book,“ he frowned. Why is he here again? He finished his schedule, yes, and then got out of the car sooner than the rest, because…? Because I wanted to buy a book? Uhh… I guess? „Um, yeah, I was hoping to get a book about the history of-“ „Hey!“ the character was now standing in the middle of the room, their arms crossed in an irritated manner, the long red painted nails tapping angrily. „Did you eat my chewing gum?“ You IDIOT! And you even left the wrapper and the actual gum right there on the shelf, ugh! „I’m really sorry,“ Jeno started apologizing at the double, „it was just sitting there, I thought-“ „How did it taste?“ asked the owner. „Um…“ Jeno blinked a few times and frowned. „Weird,“ he answered, looking down at his feet, like he was feeling guilty and disappointed at the same time. „I remember really liking this brand and it surprised me that is tasted so… stale,“ he answered truthfully. The woman sighed. „No wonder. It’s a special edition, a collectible. It’s been sitting here for five years. And now it’s ruined.“ She took the whole package in her hands and shook her head, discontented. Who the hell stores a pack of freaking chewing gums? „I guess I should have treated it better, maybe all the exposure made it tasteless and bland.“ She clicked her tongue. „What a shame. But at least the wrapping is still colourful and pretty to look at.“ „Uh… yeah. Sorry about that.“ She put the gums back in place and resumed with the thorough scouring of the area. „What book did you say you wanted?“ Oh, yeah, the book. The damn book again. „Ah, yeah, um… I was interested in the techniques of-“ „How about this one?“ The woman, currently kneeling down by one of the huge bookcases, proposed. Jeno stared at her, eyes wide. She reached under the furniture, scrabbled and felt around a bit, until she triumphantly retrieved a blue hardback tome. Just what is going on in here?  

Jeno watched the woman get up again, dust down her knees with a sigh, and then walk back behind the counter. She put the book on the desk and Jeno finally got a good look. The jacket was dusty, creased and torn in a few places. There were no pictures or details, it was just… blue. „Sound…” he read out loud. „Sound?“ Jeno raised an eyebrow. „That’s the title, yes.“ „It looks like a… heavy reading.“ He took the book in his hands to weigh it, it must be at least 500 pages long. „And pretty expensive.“ „It’s a poetry book, if you’re worried about the pages. And you don’t have to pay me for it.“ „Ah, I-… Wait, what? You don’t want me to pay you for it?“ „No, because I am not selling it to you. I’ll only let you borrow it. I‘ve always wanted to read it, because I am curious about the story, but… Do you sometimes get the feeling, be it a book, a movie, a photograph, or even a new pair of shoes, that it’s calling out to you? And when you finally get it, it’s like it’s your missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you need and it makes you complete?“ „I… guess, yeah.“ But not really, no. I can’t remember the last time I had this feeling. „Well, turns out, this book doesn’t complete me.“ She packed it in a plain paper bag and sealed it with a decorative tape. „But it might complete you,“ the owner said expectantly, sliding the wrapped book towards Jeno. He touched the paper and for a while, the room drowned in complete silence and time stopped, like a movie that froze and only showed a single frame. A frame with a book wrapped in a plain paper bag in the center, a woman’s hand with red fingernails touching it on the right, a man’s veined hand touching it on the left. Jeno’s hand.

He moved his fingers the tiniest bit and with them, the book. His body was immediately hit with a wave of electricity, the time unfroze and Jeno sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, like he just ran a hurdle race. „Will that be all?“ asked the owner with a kind smile. „I… can’t just take it.“ „You already did.“ She pointed towards the book Jeno was hugging anxiously, like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. He looked down, sighed again and finally stood up straight again. „I can’t take it for free. Even though I’m just borrowing it. How do you know I won’t run off with it?“ „Are you a thief?“ „No, but… I could be!“ „Well, in that case… How about you leave something behind then, like a pledge? I quite like the ring of yours,“ she pointed on Jeno’s hand, which he quickly pulled away. „That’s… it’s not anything fancy, and it’s bent, twisted… it’s worthless.“ „I’ll lend you a thing that’s worthless to me and you’ll lend me a thing that’s worthless to you. That’s a fair deal I’d say.“ She held out her hand. Jeno hesitated. What will the others think when he comes back without his friendship ring? They probably won’t even notice. „Alright…“ he took off the ring and rolled it around for a bit in his hand. Then, with a guilty feeling, he placed it in the owner’s hand, immediately regretting his decision. „Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day and see you whenever!“ he heard the woman say with a smile, pocketing the ring quickly. Then the door behind him shut with a loud bang and he was staying outside, with a book he didn’t know he needed and without a ring he didn’t remember wearing.

#Lee Jeno #Jeno #NCT Jeno #NCT #NCT Dream #NCT fanfic #Jeno fanfic #NCT scenarios #NCT Dream scenarios #my writing

[magicalsalamander]

Flowers that Speak Poetry

Pairing: BTS Seokjin  ⇆ Reader

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

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

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

Words: 25.6K

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

masterlist | moodboard

*UNEDITED*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” Short and sharp.

You chuckled under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For sure he had caught you staring.

“They’re calling you.”

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

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

Your shoulders sunk.  

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

You shot up from your spot!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The customer whimpered burying his face further into their elbow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jin, I’m home!” You teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The usual?” You nodded.

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

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

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

Butterfly…it all started with a butterfly.

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

Just being by his side…you were happy.

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

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

“Thank you Jin.”

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

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

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

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

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“JIN!”

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

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

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

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

You really needed a better method.

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

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

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

“J-J-Jin.”

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here Jimin?”

“I have an appointment.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you buy her then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hummed louder to yourself.  

Snowflakes fall down

And get farther away little by little

I miss you (I miss you)

I miss you (I miss you)

How long do I have to wait

And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend

To see you (to see you)

To meet you (to meet you)

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t she know her place?”

“You think he uses her?”

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

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

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

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

Passing by the edge of the cold winter

Until the days of spring

Until the days of flower blossoms

Please stay, please stay there a little longer

----Later

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

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

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

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

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

“You shall serve tonight.”

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

Her nostrils flared, “Silence.”

You sealed your mouth.

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

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

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

You nodded once.

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

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

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

You wanted to argue, but what could you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another asked, “Did you scare him away?”

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

You felt like the walls were closing in.

“Butterfly, answer me! Talk to me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ji~~n.”

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

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

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

It changed nothing though.

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

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

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

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

Without looking up from his paper, “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused, “Goodbye Jin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

You had been gone for weeks.

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

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

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

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

He had painted a butterfly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

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

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

“Are you happy Butterfly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” He grunted, rolling over.

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you changing your mind?”

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

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

“Lay down.”

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

You nodded resting your face on your forearm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tree outside shivered as the wind passed by.

Night was coming soon.

His footsteps continued.

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

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

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

“Yes, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you tell her yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lot of them laughed.

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

Jimin held up his shot glass, “Cheers!”

Glasses clanked, “Cheers.”

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

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

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

Who was Jin really? What…what was he?

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

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

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

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

“J-Jin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parroting you, “No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve thought about this before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled, “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I want this.”

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

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

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

You squeezed at his shoulders.

“Ready?”

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

“Turn over for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something came for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was alright.

Copyright 2020 by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts alien au #bts supernatural au #bts fantasy au #bts shifter au #bts hybrid au #bts scenarios #jin scenarios #jin smut #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #kpop #bts fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bts dystopia #bts f2l

[glitterge1pen]

Duke Thomas Rings The Bells

Ch.1 , synopsis ; Moving to an elite boarding school Duke struggles to find his footing. But he clumsily stumbles his way into some friends, and soon his friends turn into comrades and allies. Duke knows his friends won't fall, and he doesn't plan on falling either. How long can people keep secrets? And what secrets are worth anything at all? Maybe Jason is right, and this is all just some really dramatic Dead Poets Society shit. But Duke liked that movie.

Duke's locker was articulate in it's decoration. There was the usual magazine cut outs, the stray polaroid, and the magnets he had made from postage labels. The organization of said locker was lacking a bit.

He didn't mean to just throw things into the metal cabinet but he was still adjusting to the ways of his new home. The locker also reeked of marker ink and the alcohol of his hand sanitizer. Duke learned early on in his young artists career that hand sanitizer killed ink.

Duke switched out his math textbook for the book they were currently reading in English, On The Road by Jack Kerouac. The cover was new, no finger printers or stray penned obscenities. Duke hadn't gotten a chance to read most of it yet but he got an extension from Mr.Farlane.

Transferring a week into school meant that Duke had missed most of the "Welcome Back To School" activities, part of him chided himself for being relieved about having avoided such crowds, but the other half dreaded his lack of basic information about the school. He didn't know the whole layout by heart yet, the schedule felt awkward and clunky, and of course he knew no one.

Despite the school's prestige the extra curricular art courses and clubs were lacking. On top of that most kids Duke had deemed assholes were in said clubs. Duke's current list of assholes was growing. In his throw up book, which was what he called his sketchbook, there were doodles of people he thought were noteworthy.

In his classes he tried to match names to makeshift seating charts on his pages. Not wanting to be caught in some embarrassing slip up of not knowing someone's name. Next to these names were things to pin them to a person. Ones who had bumped into him without apologizing, ones who said weird things in class, had been late or walked funny.

In his second period bio med class was a boy named Tim. Next to his name was a brash doodle Duke had done of the boy along with the phrase 'This is bullshit, the woman obviously died because of her diabetes! Look at the blood splatter you absolute fool! ’ which is what he had said to his lab partner.

Tim had been scolded for disturbing the class and Duke was surprised when his own lab partner also scolded Tim instead of finding the situation funny or amusing at least.

Even though they hadn't officially met yet, Tim so far was the only boy on the 'not asshole' list Duke had formulated. Duke wished there were girls around. They were always so much nicer, and they made guys less defensive.

Blue River Academy For Boys was an all boys boarding school that Duke would compare to a hell on a trust funds budget. Not to mention that so far Duke was the only black kid in sight. Beyond that he was the only not white person on campus he had seen so far.

With nothing but rich white boys surrounding him Duke was already feeling out of his element. Top that off with a new school, a new home, and his general positive attitude was taking a beating.

Duke sighed a heavy breath as he prepared to enter his AP English class. Only four days into Mr.Farlane’s dry, boring lectures were enough to have Duke dreading the class, he still had the whole semester ahead of him.

Fortunately Duke had managed to snag a window seat in the back, as it was the only desk left when he had arrived. Outside was the main courtyard, where most boys went during their study period. There was a stone fountain, several garden benches, and rose bushes that littered the grassy yard below.

Duke couldn't decide if it was cliche, pretentious, or both. All the architecture of the place was overly grand like this. Gray stone walls, silver railings, blue and white mosaic tile floor. None of it felt real. It made Duke miss his neighborhood, his home.

"Today we will be covering chapters ten through fifteen,"

Mr.Farlane’s voice was robotic and empty as he spoke to the class. Mr.Farlane had several conversations with himself about the themes of the book, the overarching plot, and how Jack Kerouac was an exemplary writer.

This was when the boy in front of Duke raised his hand. Mr.Farlane didn't notice him at first but the boy slammed his other hand onto the wooden desk to grab the teachers attention.

Mr.Farlane only let out an annoyed huff of air, Duke noticed the other boys in class had perked up as well. It felt like the moments before a great battle in a movie, like two unstoppable armies had come to face each other on a hill.

"Yes Jason,"

Mr.Farlane’s voice at least wasn't terribly dull anymore, Duke thought.

"Kerouac was not a good writer, he drones on and on, he deals in drivel-"

Mr.Farlane cut Jason off with the palm of his hand.

"That's subjective Jason-"

Jason cut him off in return.

"It's not subjective, he was high as shit when he wrote On The Road , and apparently even being intoxicated wasn't enough to get his ass to write anything good"

"Mr.Todd-"

"I'm Mr.Todd now?"

Jason asked, raising his voice with a snarl.

"Mr.Todd," Mr.Farlane said slowly repeating himself, "Please go to the office if you're going to act like this"

Jason, who was a tall boy with dark hair and icy blue eyes, a streak of white running down his bangs, didn't look handsome as he stormed out of the room, he looked pissed off. The other boys in class also stared at Jason as he moved through the room, knocking or bumping into desks not seeming to care who or what he intruded on.

Mr.Farlane continued speaking once Jason had left like nothing had transpired at all. Duke then deduced that Jason must be one of those moody brooding types who was prone to getting in trouble. A person who sat quietly until they exploded with rage. Which in this case was induced by bad literary opinion.

While Mr.Farlane’s hollow lesson went on, Duke drew. He drew Jason in a loose cartoon style. Putting emphasis on the boy's odd hair color, his angry scrunched up face which Duke only got a few glimpses of because he had been sitting behind him. Duke in scratchy bubble letters drew the words Jason had spoken as well. When it came time to put Jason's name on the asshole list Duke couldn't bring himself to do it.

Because yeah, yelling at the teacher, throwing around curse words, having tantrums in class, that definitely wasn't cool. It made Duke wonder if Jason was putting on some sort of bad boy act. But even this seemed pretty dramatic for something that was just an act. Regardless of the right or wrong of the situation Duke hesitated, because Jason was right. Jack Kerouac couldn't write for shit.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

That night Duke looked at the two boxes that he still had left to unpack. The school had confiscated their phones, so Duke had the radio on low. The radio had been his mothers, and it used to sit on their kitchen window sill, but it hasn't had any CD’s fed to it for years. It had been a long time since he had used the radio at all, and the stations were different out here. Eventually he settled on the ‘Rockin 80’s’ station that was playing that Easy Lover song.

Duke’s room was the same as all the other rooms in the dorms. One bed, one desk, a chair, a closet, and one small window that overlooked the empty fields beyond the school grounds. Duke had almost skipped dinner today like he had yesterday but had forced himself to go to the cafeteria. He didn't want himself to get stuck moping here. Even if he did very badly want to mope about.

His casual clothes were tucked into the back of the closet, while the pieces of his uniform took up most of the closet. The two sweaters vests, one blue with white stripes running along the bottom, the other an inverted version of the first. His black slacks, the gray ones, and the two pairs of khakis. Of course the variety of collared button ups and polos, then the singular school jacket. The crest was embroidered and intricate. The silver string shone even the dim light of his room.

Duke took the jacket off and hung it with the rest of his clothes. He used the key to his dorm to cut the tape off the last boxes. In the first box were posters, photos, pieces of paper he had tacked up on his walls at home, the halloween lights he strung around his room back home and his lava lamp. It took Duke longer than he thought it would to hang all the contents of the box on the walls. But when he was finished and flicked the lava lamp on, he did feel better. Like some sort of normalcy was placed back into his palms.

The second box was one he had been careful to keep from his mother, and one he had made sure to label school supplies. Because Blue River had rules about everything. The length of your pants, scented candles, music, and even books. But more hated than the list of curated books that had been banned from the school curriculum and hence the school grounds, was an even simpler rule and instruction that Duke had not only broken, but disregarded entirely.

In the school handbook, on page ten, was a list of contraband. Underneath the incredibly long list of banned books, was rule 15. No comic books. Duke appreciated his mothers sentiments of good education, he appreciated the scholarship that the school had offered. But Duke, like always, had his own plans.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: These chapters are also up on ao3 if that is your preferred reading space, and of course The Duke Thomas Playlist 

LINK TO NEXT CHAPTER 

#duke thomas #jaime reyes #tim drake #jason todd #the signal #blue beetle #robin #batfam #Duke Thomas Rings The Bells

[remedialpotions]

all these people think love’s for show

This was written for the 2020 Incognito Elf exchange on the Harry and Ginny Discord for the amazing @katie-with-the-tea. Katie, I hope you have a fantastic holiday! ❤️💚 Special thanks to @thedistantdusk for organizing the event, which is no small feat! 

Title taken from "peace" by Taylor Swift, because I am forever basic and proud of it.

ao3

Harry’s not unaccustomed to seeing his face splashed over the front page of the Daily Prophet. It’s a weekly, if not near-daily occurrence, and it has been since the end of the war. They are obsessed with him. They snap photos when he’s out for a pint with Ron or visiting Madam Malkin’s for a new set of robes (because as it turns out, it’s possible to go on the run for nine months at the age of seventeen, live off mushrooms, and still go through a grow spurt). They print speculative editorials every time he has to go to the Ministry - which is frequent, since he works there, though they prefer to disregard that. They run interviews with people he only tangentially knows - the Eyelops employee who once sold him Owl Treats, perhaps, or the Hufflepuff who was Head Boy when Harry was in his first year - who share embellished tales of their interactions with The Chosen One.

At this point, it’s almost weird when they aren’t talking about him.

Mostly, though, he’s managed to shield Ginny from taking the full brunt of it. She’s a hero in her own right, and he knows that a sighting of the two of them together is guaranteed to sell more papers than the Prophet can print in a day. He spent the summer hiding out with her at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place, which proved effective, and so far, they haven’t missed out on too much. Of course it would be nice to take her out for dinner or even just walk through London holding her hand, but the reality of his life means that isn’t exactly an option. After everything, he’s just happy to be with her at all.

But today, it’s different. Today, when the post owl flies in through the fireplace and drops a fat bundle of newsprint directly onto Harry’s mug of tea, it’s not just his bespectacled face blinking back at him. In fact, the sight before him makes his stomach sink into his shoes.

“Nice,” mutters Ron from across the kitchen table as he uses his wand to siphon up the mess. “All they do is deliver papers all day, you’d think they’d have better aim.” He pauses and narrows his eyes at Harry. “You all right?”

Harry wants to respond, really he does - he knows Ron is prone to assuming the worst when he goes all quiet like this - but maybe Ron should assume the worst, because that’s how it feels. Words are failing him.

The photo, which moves in a terrible, taunting loop upon the page, is from yesterday, when he had been foolish enough to think that he could sneak up to Hogsmeade to see Ginny without being spotted. He followed all of his own unwritten rules, too. They didn’t go to the Three Broomsticks or to Honeydukes, but instead stole away to a secluded grassy knoll just behind the Shrieking Shack, where he believed that its macabre reputation would shield them from prying eyes.

And it had, but he made the mistake of kissing her hello in the middle of High Street (having not seen her in weeks, he hadn’t really been able to help it), and now, taking up the entire front page of the Sunday Prophet, is a long-lens closeup photo of their lips locking together. Over and over and over again.

Harry tosses the paper down onto the table and leans back in his chair. At this very moment, that same paper is surely arriving in the Great Hall, landing on the long wooden tables and making a spectacle of the most precious relationship in his life.

“Fuck’s sake,” laughs Ron, blinking in surprise at the photo. “Not exactly subtle, are they?”

“I should have used the cloak,” Harry mutters, mostly to himself, as Ron picks up the empty mug and carries it over to the stove. “And I should have met up with her somewhere different, I don’t know why I thought I could Apparate to the middle of town on a Saturday afternoon and not get caught - or I should have just stayed home. I should have known better.”

“They’d have got you some other way,” reasons Ron as he refills the mug with boiling-hot tea. “It’s unavoidable at this point, really, innit?”

The fact Ron’s right doesn’t make the truth sting any less. Where Harry goes, photographers follow, and if it was only his life it affected, he could live with it. But Ginny deserves better. Most of the horror Ginny has been through has been his fault, and now that it’s over, she deserves calm and happiness and peace.

If only he could offer that to her.

“How come this never happens to you and Hermione?” Harry asks irritably as Ron plunks the mug down in front of him. “Oh, cheers.”

Ron shrugs and picks up a slice of toast. “It does, occasionally,” he replies around a bite, “if it’s a slow news day. But the difference is that they’re not usually looking for us. They’re always looking for you.”

“And now they’ll be looking for Ginny too.”

Ron nods, morose. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Like he always does, Harry writes to Ginny that afternoon, but today the parchment is filled with apologies, promises to do better, ideas on how they can meet up without being seen. He doesn’t try to reassure her, because there’s nothing to reassure her about: this is his life. There is no sense sugarcoating it; she needs to know what she’s got herself into by being with him.

By the time he’s finished his letter, the sky has gone dark, and he ambles down to the basement kitchen with the intention of sending his letter off with Pigwidgeon. But just as he reaches the staircase, he pauses. He might just be imagining things - it wouldn’t be the first time - but he’s almost positive he’s heard his name just now, coming from the general direction of the fireplace.

“Harry?”

There it is again, louder, more insistent, and alarmingly familiar. His stomach just about leaps into his throat as he thunders down the stairs and darts across the kitchen to the fireplace.

“Ginny!” Indeed, her bright, beautiful face is hovering there above the grate, and the sight of her squeezes his heart with fear. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Well, hello to you too,” she quips, good-naturedly shaking her head.

“How are you doing this?”

“I’m in McGonagall’s office,” she says as though this is something she does every day. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

His stomach turns over. She’s here to chuck him, he’s sure of it. She’s seen the paper and she’s decided that the hassle isn’t worth whatever benefit there is to dating him (if one even exists).

“Oh,” replies Harry, resigned as he drops down to the floor in front of the fireplace. “All right.”

Ginny tilts her head curiously to the side. “You look like someone’s just died,” she observes. “Is everything okay?”

“Well - I - erm - you go first,” he stammers out. “What’d you want to talk about?”

She squints at him, perplexed, then says, “Apparition lessons are starting tomorrow. The thing is, there’s so many people signed up this year - y’know, since we didn’t have them last year at all, it’s sixth and seventh years - that there isn’t room in the Great Hall so we’re doing them in Hogsmeade instead.”

Harry nods, unsure how to respond. If she’s chucking him, this is an odd way to begin the conversation. And if she’s not, then he’s not entirely why it’s so urgent to inform him about her Apparition lessons.

“So since the lessons are in the morning, McGonagall said we could stay in the village for lunch if we wanted to, so you can visit again.” The excitement on her face is painful to behold. “I just didn’t think a letter would make it to you in time, and I really want you there.”

Relief rushes through him - she is definitely not breaking up with him - but it is quickly replaced by guilt, because she looks so happy and so hopeful, and he loves her so much, and he doesn’t want to have to say what he’s about to say.

First, though, he leans forward and kisses her softly on her soot-tinged lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ginny blinks. “Oh.”

“Just, with what was in the paper today-”

“Oh, that,” interjects Ginny. “Yeah, I thought it was ridiculous too-”

Guilt grips tighter at Harry’s chest. “I know, I’m so sorry. I had no idea they were even there, but I should have known to expect it by now-”

“But I still want to really see you tomorrow,” she says, looking earnestly up at him.

“I do too, but…” He lets out a long, slow breath. “It just isn’t a good idea.”

Ginny looks up at him again, an intensity in her eyes this time, and then nods decisively. “Right. I’m coming in there, can you pull me through?”

“Gin - you can’t just leave school-”

“What’re they going to do, expel me? Come on, pull me through.”

Her hand rises up from the grate. Harry grasps it and tugs until she materializes fully in front of him. As she steps out of the fireplace, she brushes off her robes and then drops down onto the cold tile floor beside him. Her right hand slips over his left and pulls it onto her lap, and their fingers entwine together automatically.

“I’ll be honest,” says Ginny, the tip of her thumb rubbing along the back of his. “I didn’t love the picture in the paper.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.” Her quiet voice carries immense patience; affection for her bubbles up inside of him. “I didn’t love the picture, and the article was…” She casts her eyes up to the ceiling in search of the right words. “Creative at best. But I also wasn’t surprised by any of it. I’m mostly amazed it hasn’t already happened.”

“That’s because we never used to go anywhere together,” Harry points out, and she nods her agreement. “But Ginny, it’s only going to get worse. There’s always going to be pictures and articles that make things up, it’s just part of my life. I just, I never wanted it to be part of yours.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” says Ginny, “but that’s completely stupid.”

Harry lets out a sputter of startled laughter. “Oh, is it?”

“Of course it’s going to be part of my life,” she tells him, eyes fixed on his, “because I chose to make you a part of my life. I didn’t have to get back together with you, you know.”

Despite himself, Harry laughs again. Somehow Ginny manages to make everything better, easier, lighter. He expected an awful, painful conversation, and instead they’re holding hands and laughing.

“I’ve always known what I was getting myself into,” she goes on. “People talked when we were together last year, too.”

“A little gossip from Romilda Vane is completely different from the Prophet printing things every day - which they’ll do, by the way, now they’ve got pictures of us together.”

Ginny shrugs. “So let them. I mean, if they’re going to do it regardless, then we shouldn’t stop living our lives.”

This is difficult to argue with, but there is still one nagging fear at the back of Harry’s mind, because now he has further proof that Ginny really is in this for the long haul with him. The wizarding world has been watching him since he was eleven, and he doesn’t expect that all of this public attention isn’t going away anytime soon.

“So, what about…” He looks down at their interlocked fingers, studying the way they fit together as though designed that way. “I mean, what if we - erm - got married, and - and had kids?”

Harry forces himself to meet her eyes and finds that same intensity burning there, the thing that kept him going on long, cold, hopeless nights in the tent, the very last thing he saw as he faced his own death.

That, and maybe just the slightest hint of a smile.

“If we have kids?” she repeats softly.

“Yeah, well - you can’t pick who your parents are, can you?”

“Maybe everyone’ll be bored of you by then,” Ginny offers up, inching closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. “And if not, we’ll deal with it.”

“All right.” Harry angles his face towards hers so that their lips brush. “Just know that I wouldn’t blame you if you decided you’d like a quiet life.”

Ginny’s nose crinkles. “Sounds boring,” she says. “I’d rather have you.”

Their lips meet again, lingering together in soft, gentle kisses, and when Ginny pulls back to catch her breath, Harry realizes he has one last question.

“What’d the article say, anyway? I never even read it.”

Ginny sits up straight. “You haven’t read it?!”

“I was too angry!”

“It was rather brilliant, actually,” she says with relish. “It spoke a lot about what a scarlet woman I am, having had three whole boyfriends in my life-“

“Naturally-“

“But apparently now I’m even worse, because now…” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m the one you’re cheating on Hermione with.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. “As if Hermione and Ron weren’t just down the road from us?”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny planted a cheerful kiss on his cheek. “Let them say what they want.”

#harry potter #ginny weasley #2020 hinny discord incognito elf exchange #taylor swift