#how do hellhounds drink tea

[captain-mj]

I know you'll probably be working on it already, but I'd love to request a chapter 3 for the Love Potion AU~

Chapter 2 was yet another masterpiece and I'd love to see where this goes 🥰

Duet~

Part 1 Part 2

Roach almost combusted when Ghost came back smelling of the soap. And also… Soap. Ghost was intoxicating like this. 

Roach knew he was an elf the moment he stood in front of him. The man was too tall. His accent wrong. But maybe it’s cause Roach wasn’t human himself that he could pick up the differences so easily. 

If it was up to him, he would’ve broken the little love spell that had been put on him, maybe using his own good old fashioned love spell of soft clothing and cologne to draw him in, and kept Ghost for himself. While he was aware that wasn’t a good way to feel, he still felt it. Elves were prized and Roach wanted to take a bite out of him. 

But, then he got to interact with him. And Ghost was… kind. He was blunt and his humor a little too dark. But he also pets dogs and hellhounds alike by scratching behind their ears and calling them sunshine. Kids loved him despite his appearance. 

Ghost was… a ray of sunshine. No… no. He was moon beams. Roach loved the moon. 

He also liked Soap. A little loud. Little boisterous. But hey, Roach could appreciate that in a man. 

They got tons of special treatment and Roach got their company. Maybe he mixed things to enhance romantic feelings into almost all the stuff they got from him. Unlike Roba, he wasn’t using genuine magic, just love attracting stuff. Nothing that would hurt their free will, just… something to make them view him in a better light.

His sharp nails dug into the underside table as his mouth watered. Ghost smelled delicious. There was also quite a bit of jealousy, but if they planned on pulling Roach into it, he could forgive them. 

“Gary.”

Roach perked up and tilted his head.

“The soap. It was… nice.”

Vulnerability. Ghost’s deep voice…

Roach raised his hands and signed. “Helps scarring.” 

Ghost hummed. “Guess it’s obvious I have them huh? Helped with a lot of the tightness.”

Roach nodded excitedly and made him a cup of tea with honey and rosebuds. Ghost lifted his mask and drank. He wanted to invite him in. Promise that he could rid him of the curse that had been inflicted upon him. But love spells were wicked work and there was no way he could convince Ghost it’s for his own good. In his head, he truly loved his abusers. 

Such a sad fate. 

“Stay indoors tonight.” Ghost said softly. “Gonna go hunting for that creature. If I bring it back, maybe we can eat it.” 

Roach shivered and nodded. “I’ll remain inside.” He put his hands down so he could clean the counter. Ghost stayed for a while, not speaking, just existing in his space. 

Soap soon arrived and got his food. They kept glancing at each other and Soap would furiously look away. He looked… embarrassed. 

Roach looked between them and Ghost shrugged. “Nothing for you to worry about, Gary. Johnny hear found out something he shouldn’t and he’ll keep his mouth shut about it.” Even with the mask on, even with his eyes covered, Roach knew that glare was wicked. 

Soap wilted immediately and awkwardly took his drink. Only when Ghost left did he look at Roach. “He’s an elf.”

Oh. Wow. Just coming right out with it. 

Roach stood there, waiting for more for a moment before just signing “and?”

“And… he’s not human.” Soap whispered, looking unsure of himself. “What am I supposed to do?”

Roach just wasn’t seeing the problem here. He tilted his head. 

Soap continued. “He has a love spell on and he doesn’t know. But… he’s an elf. What if I free him and he runs back to his buddies?”

Roach slowly signed. “And that would be a problem, why?”

“Because he’ll tell them what he knows.”

“That the city is here?” Roach signed, hoping the sarcasm would come through. 

“Our tactics. How we train. Everything!!”

Roach frowned. “So… You’re going to let him continue to have no free will so he doesn’t even have the option to go home and possibly betray us?”

Soap frowned. “Well when you say it like that…” He had the good sense to look guilty at least. 

Roach smiled at him. “Ghost is a good person. Not elf. Person. Do you think he deserves this?”

Soap sighed. “No… But I can’t free him. I don’t know how. I don’t know the first thing about…” He glanced around before leaning in. “...magic. How could we break it?”

Roach hesitated. His whole reason for not doing it himself was that he couldn’t get the ingredients. “What if I told you I could do it for you? If we worked together?”

“You know magic?”

“A little. Grandmother was a witch. She taught me a handful of things.” He paused to drink his tea before setting it back down. “Enough I could help, but I could never get everything I need myself…”

Soap nodded. “Of course! We should help him.” There was a faint blush to his cheeks that Roach zeroed in on.

“Did you sleep together?”

“No! Nothing like that! We just… I washed his back?” Soap said it like a question. 

“And then??”

“I asked him if he knew how to break a love spell. He got upset with me about it… Did you know elves purr? Like cats? It’s honestly really soothing.” Soap gushed about Ghost for a few minutes. 

Roach found himself enthralled by the… graphic descriptions of Ghost’s body. Nothing about his face which he found funny. Like he was being chivalrous. 

Soap finally asked him what he’d need from him and Roach wrote out a list of ingredients. Most of them would take several days to get but Soap looked through them and nodded. 

“You’re the best, Gary.”

Roach cringed but nodded. “Don’t call me Gary.”

After Soap was gone, he closed the shop for the day. Another useful thing about having both of them around is he always knew exactly when they’d be going into the woods to hunt for “the beast”. Roach thought that was a rather mean name. He was just hanging out. Never bothered anyone unnecessarily. So he fixed his cellar up and made sure the thing would have plenty of supplies through the night. 

#Johnny “Soap” Mactavish #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Gary Roach Sanderson #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #ghost x roach #roach x ghost #roach x soap #soap x roach #ghost x soap x roach

[houseofashesif]

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀 ❝ 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐊𝐈 ❞ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 ;; Erebrus, named after Greek god of primordial darkness

[ 20 || 6'2 || cis - male || androsexual lithromantic || ❤ ash & rin ]

𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒

a big tattoo on his back spanning nearly the entirity of his upper back. one can even see the floral pattern by the side of his neck from a certain angle

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑼𝑨𝑳 : everyday casual clothing , which is usually either all black or has some in it , but never without it

𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 :

𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑳 : he just likes a lot of burgundy and maroon red

𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑪𝑶𝑨𝑻 : being the classic guy he is, Nikita likes wearing long trench coats over his suits whenever he's off to a super important meeting or something

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊

this but with a lot more shadows around the edges leaving over the lower half of the face barely visible

𝐕𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄

bugatti divo

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀

pronouns ➜ he / him

build ➜ athletic

height ➜ 6'2"

guns ➜ sköll & hati

ice cream ➜ mint chocolate chip

breakfast ➜ belgian waffles with a drizzle of maple syrup

take - out ➜ a crispy chicken burger

sweets ➜ classic chocolate cake

drinks ➜ herbal tea & espresso macchiato

◾️ his MBTI type would be ISTP-A (Assertive Virtuoso). a Virtuoso (ISTP) is someone with the Introverted, Observant, Thinking, and Prospecting personality traits. they tend to have an individualistic mindset, pursuing goals without needing much external connection. they engage in life with inquisitiveness and personal skill, varying their approach as needed. which in a nutshell basically embodies his whole "do it my way or hit the highway" mindset

◾️ Nikita usually prefers to keep his gaze away from people unless he’s speaking, keeping his eyes down to the ground whenever he’s all alone by himself for reasons to be discussed later. but in the rare times when you finally meet his gaze then you’ll finally realise how deep yet bright of an emerald green his eyes are, almost resembling an uncut emerald. they are surrounded in thick black coloured lashes which make his eye colour pop out even more. they seem almost hypnotic in a sense, mesmerising and trapping people in those deep pools of green. however they are just as scary. whenever Nikita feels a very rare yet sudden burst of bloodlust or anger his eyes turn into a muddy, dirty green. they become more sharp and calculating, losing the lazy and carefree glint in them, even soulless as some describe. people have even pointed out how his darkened eyes resemble ones similar to a dead fish’s.

◾ suffers from myopia or nearsightedness and is therefore required to wear glasses. however he vehemently refuses to wear them, and instead goes for lens instead or none at all

◾️ *seductively takes off glasses* "wow, you are so fucking blurry."

◾️ other than his hellhounds, who he likes to call by various flower names (i.e. lily, rose, iris, buttercup and etc), Nikita also likes to create shadow ravens who serve as his messengers from the sky, thus his crow inspired mask.

◾️ apart from depression, Nikita also suffers from post - traumatic stress disorder or ptsd (courtesy of his fathers death), anorexia nervosa, bodily dysmorphic disorder and mild insomnia.

◾️ one of his main hobbies is collecting. as a kleptomaniac, Nikita usually gets quite … creative with his hobby of ‘collecting’ stuff, especially the shiny ones. he doesn't really collect much, but when he does its large in quantity and amazing in quality. his favourite things to buy + collect are music boxes.

◾️ although he's not yet ready to accept Yvette back in his life, Nikita for now, has chosen to simply avoid his confusing feelings about his mother but focusing on the mission in hand (but still he's saved her contact as "Deadbeat Mom" in his phone)

◾️ in terms of love, oh boy, Nikita is super dense, so he probably wouldn't even realize he's got a crush until somebody slaps him across the face figuratively by telling him straight - up clearly by stating facts even he can't deny or some miracle of an epiphany strikes him out of nowhere – when he's still oblivious he'd probably be more docile and kinder towards the crush, probably being slightly overprotective and flirting without knowing it. when he's not-so-oblivious anymore, cue the flusteredness and avoidance because he's embarrassed! let the drama ensue!

◾️ he chose "Elysium Cleanup Crew" as the group name, mainly because he wasn't ready to start another war in the group chat about the names, plus it seemed the most logical to him then, in his still sleep muddled brain

◾️ more info shall be added once available

IF :: @vendetta-if

#vendetta:if #interactive fiction #vendetta if #mafia #Vendetta CYOA #CYOA #Vendetta OC #Vendetta MC profile #OCs #superpowers #will be updated once the demo progresses #hope you enjoyed

[ateezmystery]

Ateez Updates

Admin: I'm using a slightly different layout this time just so I can do a faster update for everyone 😅

I miss him...

Hey babyyyy! Come here and see how spooky I look!

*sigh* yet another dress up day in college and no one to partner with...

It feels like I-I'll never find my soulmate..

Time for another show? Horror version maybe?

Looks like I've been left alone again. Time to go steal some blood.

I like wearing hoods. Makes me feel safer.

❤️: @cupid-of-crime-dr-quinn @dark-royals-cb @multi-chae

Imma go annoy someone!!

Time for yet another swim...

Seungie! I miss you...

Joongie! Come here!

I miss her. I hope she's doing okay...

I... I need a drink...

Anyone wanna come to a recently abandoned restaurant with me?

❤️: @modelseungsik @dark-royals-cb @chungha-oc @k-half-blood @multi-esme

*snoring softly*

M so sleepy..

God all this college work is taking me out!

I miss his cuddles...

I wish I had my Matty here in my arms...

I wonder if I could convince joongie to come join me?

Time to take a rest!

❤️: @dark-royals-cb @universe-of-superm @glamrockpop-cb @9ateez-multiau-bot

I feel like a princess!

A-am I pretty?

I wonder if Changkyun remembers me...

Please... I just want to find my person...

Royalty RP on my show tonight?

I'm so hungry...

*giggles* he's so handsome... There's no way he'd ever wanna date me though.

❤️: @sxryjin @the-hellhounds @kardpackcb

Do I look cute??

I miss them so much... Do they even remember me?

Time to go out!! I've nearly finished all my work, I need a break!

So tired.

I don't wanna do a show today. I'm just gonna relax with a good cup of tea~

Bitey bitey bite-

Anyone wanna, um, cuddle or something?

❤️: @fallenangel-oc @dark-royals-cb @sugardaddybangchan @shangrixxla

The stars are pretty tonight~

I need to go for a run...

Adminnie! I'm taking you out! Make sure you dress pretty~

Hwahwa! Um... Hello~

Imma just... Sleep.

Xiaoxiao! I miss you...

Do you think this will fool the humans into thinking I'm alive?

❤️: @dark-royals-cb @xiao-mingi

I need snuggles...

Anyone wanna come n help me with something...?

I miss noona 😭 m-my heart hurts...

🌸Sanniiiieeeee!!

Ugh. I'm too tired.

I need food.

I wanna go walkabouts but Joong says I'm not allowed on my own...

(the pink broke on my phone so I'm using the emoji for this😭)

❤️: @supernatural-shinee @storybook-nct @dark-royals-cb

I feel so small and cuddly!

Anyone wanna come on a walk with me through the forest? The sunset's supposed to look really pretty....

*sighs* thats all my work done~

🌸Maybe if I act cute enough I can get someone to take me on a date at least...

Woosungie! I stole your jumper hehehe

Mingi hyung! Helloooo!

I wanna go climb to the top of the building and sit on the roof til it gets dark!

❤️: @oc-acehouse @xiao-mingi

#ateez❤️speaks #ateez✨speaks #ateez📚speaks #ateez🌸speaks #ateez💖speaks #ateez🖤speaks #ateez❌speaks

[adastra121]

Doran the Doomed Harbinger

Meet the visiting mage from my Unnamed!MC Luneth's backstory.

Pronouns: He/They Birthday: February 29 Height: 173 cm (5’8) Personality: Troublesome contrarian Likes: Dancing, poetry, sweets, really bad erotica (the cringier the better), puzzles, animals that tend to disgust or frighten people Dislikes: Coconut, dogs (he has severe cynophobia from their traumatic experience with a hellhound), rules, boredom, tight clothing Fatal flaw: Lacks a sense of self which makes them turn to external influences for direction Other: Enjoys his tea with a startling amount of sugar. So yeah, they drink slightly tea-flavoured sugar every morning. With the occasional splash of milk.  Quote: “I know you more than I know the sky. I know deep in my bones that my thread was spun for your tapestry.”

More about them below:

Doran was a magic prodigy, born gifted and powerful and unfortunately for them, that caught the Senobium’s attention.

When Doran was young, he was attacked by a hellhound. He used his magic intending to kill it, but being an untrained magical powerhouse, he ended up absorbing the creature’s heart instead.

Now they’re a walking bomb. A roaring firestorm lives inside of them and they are being burned alive every waking moment. They keep it under wraps with their magic. They’ve become so practised with restraining the hellfire inside of him that it’s become as natural as breathing to them. He does it subconsciously. Unconsciously.

For most of his life, he had trained under the Senobium to be their perfect mage. He did anything they asked of him, even if the tasks they gave him were dangerous or cruel. He took pride in them, even found humour in the cruelty where most others would only find horror. But he understood, even as a child, that the Senobium was in control — although he played the part of their puppet well, if he ever stepped out of line, they would destroy him.

With the hellfire burning inside them and the Senobium’s control, all they’ve ever known is restraint. Eventually, they had enough of the Senobium’s influence over their life and fled Eridia.

For a while, he travelled around the world, searching for a new purpose after leaving the Senobium. He worked as a magic mercenary, providing magical assistance to anyone that paid — sometimes to those who didn’t, if the mood struck.

He tries their hand at being a hero for a while due to being bored. They’ve never felt the automatic urge to be heroic out of the goodness of their heart, but after leaving the Senobium, he didn’t really have much else to do, and they couldn’t find a good reason not to.

His moral code is whatever they find more interesting at the moment.

“I don’t understand. Why would you risk your life for a bunch of strangers?” *shrug* “Why not?”

Also, villain types are genuinely so much more fun to piss off. Because you get the sense that they’ve already passed the point of no return, and once you pass that certain threshold, you lose much of your restraint. And that makes for interesting adversaries and interesting fights.

…You can kind of see how they wound up half-dead when Luneth found them.

Oh my god, I realized he’s just the personification of fucking around and finding out.

Luneth views them as a mess of contradictions. They are as sincere as they are mysterious. As considerate as they are selfish. As kind as they are cruel. Nihilistic as optimistic. With an open heart and innumerable secrets behind their smile. The one thing about them that makes sense? They are lost. And they are wandering the world, searching for their destiny, even as they claim they don’t believe in it.

Doran is a curious spirit. He loves to question everything. Especially if it results in annoying someone.

They enjoy and collect puzzle toys. They especially like the puzzle boxes which you need to solve in order to open. They gifted one of their favourites to Luneth during their time together.

You know the manic pixie dream girl trope? He’s a manic demon nightmare guy — I don’t know how else to describe a character who self-ascribes the role of the inciting incident for someone else’s journey of growth and decides to incite the incident by any means necessary.

I feel like another quote of theirs could be: “Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go apeshit?” I’m pretty sure they’ve said something along those lines to Luneth at one point.

They have a soft spot for “creepy” or “scary” animals like bats, rats, snakes, spiders, bugs, and deep-sea marine animals. Barreleye fish, my beloved.

They wandered without purpose for most of their life. They found their purpose in Luneth. He sees themself in her, but more than that, he sees her potential to be greater than him, than her temple, fate, destiny, all of it. They finally understand faith for having known her. 

Zodiac sign is Pisces.

MBTI type is ENTP.

Like Luneth, this character was inspired by a song I was listening to. Doran’s is “Arsonist’s Lullaby” by Hozier.

And here’s their full character design! I’m not sure if it shows in the picture, but he has fire designs running up their arms and neck in a deeper skin tone.

#touchstarved #red spring studio #touchstarved game #touchstarved oc #doran the harbinger #doran the doomed harbinger #luneth the unnamed #my oc #original character #my original character #myoc #might change their quote later I was listening to hadestown songs while writing his profile #my art

[videoaux-a]

@heavenscrow *  ﹕  /  /   ⟳ " out of sheer curiosity, how do you even drink or eat? You're a television. " vaila to vox

LET US SET THE SCENE FOR THE VIEWERS : After an untimely death broadcasted to millions / live on television! you find yourself in a foreign land, full of strange creatures and nothing but the eyesore that is RED. You live the way you did in life / climbing with nothing but the clothes on your back and your wit ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP. It's hardly more dangerous than Hollywood was when you passed / cut throat business an oh so familiar game. And just as it was for when you were [ famous ] in life . . . PEOPLE GOT NOSY.

How do you even perform in the studio with all those flashing cameras and lights? You're a fit haver.

WELL, STUPID FUCKING EPILEPSIES DIDN'T STOP YOU THEN / WHY WOULD SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS NUTRITION HALT PROGRESS? Besides having a stupid fucking TV for a head, of course.

And so, THE ACTION STARTS. Vox gave an annoyed look to the waiter as she set his food down [ tiramisu, extra bitter, with a cup of tea that was as crimson as the stain by the door from a sinner trying to start shit with him ]. The overlord took a sip of the tea . . . and with a satisfied hum, he indulged the hellhound for perfecting his order.

*﹕// " It's hard to explain ; half 'cause no one gives a shit and it's not their business. Simplest thing I could say is Hell's magic . . . with some weird anatomy bullshit. "

#lore drop! vox suffers from seizures! #* ⌁﹕📺 ↯ NO REAL ME‚ ONLY AN ENTITY — SOMETHING ILLUSORY ╱ 𝐢𝐜. #* ⌁﹕📺 ↯ AND THOUGH I CAN HIDE MY COLD GAZE‚ I SIMPLY AM NOT THERE ╱ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧. #* ⌁﹕📺 ↯ FILMED IN FRONT OF A LIVE STUDIO AUDIENCE ! ╱ 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝. #heavenscrow

[lovelyxhorrors]

Jest of The Dark Angel Part 2 || Noir AU

Hi everyone. This is part two of the Jest of Dark Angel. If you haven't see part one. This is for my friend @the-silver-peahen-residence

Here is part one

---- Warning ----

Mature content ( sexual themes, cursing, alcohol use )

----- Summary ----

After meeting his target and failing to kill him, the hellhound won't let his guard down once more and will try his second attempt. Would Ryunsouke be successful?

-----

I, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, never fail a mission like this. So how did that man...how did he manage to escape me?! How did he manage to do that?!

Ryunosuke Akutagawa has been thinking ever since his encounter with Matt, aka Killer Night. There is no way he fell for his charm. It's impossible! It's uncanny. So how? It can't be drinks. He wasn't drunk. It couldn't be drugs either. He isn't impaired, and he remembers the night. He was in the right state of mind as he watched him the entire time. So how? Maybe it is his charms. Does he have a special kind of power that tempts him to do it with him?

Such questions rack his brain. He had to calm himself with tea trying to come up with his next step.

Yet he wonders. He left a note behind for him when he woke up at the morning. Matt paid for the night at the hotel, much to his surprise. There's nothing to worry about. Ryunosuke doesn't have to cover the expenses since Matt paid for the night. Still, he got information. At least, there is some good out of this. Matt is here on business. Ryunsouke suspected as much, and he could already guess. His father.

Matt said that he likes to go hunting among his hobbies, and that's how he got the scars except for his neck and face. By hunting, it's either animals or their enemies. He did talk a lot about his outdoor experience, and he did talk about the city. So, some of the rumors check out. He did write a report to Chuya, and for the first time, he omits the part where he spends the night with him. If he did, it would bring unnecessary questions, much to his frustration. He is glad that Chuya took it as it is and knowing him, he doesn't prod him for questions because it is expect of him to follow orders.

After that, he is left alone to his thoughts inside his room. He taps on the table with a finger as he thinks, sipping his tea.

"Brother?" His eyes went over to a female wearing a black coat over her clothes and usually wears a white mask that covers her nose and mouth but she isn't and has her hair down instead of her usual hairdo that is in a spiked bun where sections of her shoulder-length hair are loose and down.

"Ah, Gin." His little sister. He and Gin are siblings and she is part of group within the Port Mafia; The Black Lizard led by Ryūrō Hirotsu. He's a good squad leader and Gin knows how to take care of herself even without supernatural abilities.

"How did your mission go?" Gin asked.

"Still ongoing. I need more information." Said Ryunosuke. But how can he explain what happened to her. If anyone laughs out, he would be a laughingstock, everyone will doubt him and Gin would probably lose respect for him or worse, make her more worried. He didn't need any of that.

He won't forgive Matt for this even if he went along with it!

Damn his devilish charms!

"I see. Don't push yourself, okay?" Gin smiles a bit.

Not to worry, he won't push himself. He won't do something reckless like that. He needs to be careful. He needs to get more information but how.

"Thank you, Gin. Maybe I should take a walk."

"That's a good idea." Gin smiles.

---

A walk. A good walk can clear his thoughts. As he walks through the street, he sees something. Something at some greasy spoon. Hold on. Is that?

There is no mistaking the scars and the coat as he is laughing with someone as the waitress attends to him with a smile, serving him coffee and breakfast. After being served, he begins to eat as he is talking with someone right next to him. A woman? This woman has white hair and is wearing glasses. She looks as young as him. A girlfriend?

Ryunosuke had to see. Maybe this is a good opportunity to eavesdrop. So he decides to enter the diner and sit at the counter with his head down as his target is sitting at the booth at the corner. He needs to keep his ears open. He asks for a cup of coffee and some hash browns. Right now he needs to listen to what they're talking about.

He keeps his glasses on.

"Matt. Your father wants you to handle the owners running the club regarding the workers."

"Sheesh...always want me to deal with the hard stuff," Matt said, sipping his cup of joe.

"True but you're capable of convincing them." Said a young woman.

"So how does he want it?" Matt asked.

"Whatever you prefer as long as it's not the usual."

"Right, right, I got it, Sid." Matt nods, "But what happens if they give us any problem like the rest?"

"Then we do the usual. It cannot be prevented. We just need to worry about the Port Mafia. They're the ones who might get disturbed by this. They are getting apprehensive about the killings of certain gangs." Said Sid.

She's right. Though...Ryunosuke wouldn't say apprehensive. Port Mafia is trying to figure out the reason. It sounds like they haven't done but who knows. Given Matt's personality, he might of killed them just because. He felt the man had no motive. No personal or financial motive.

Still...Matt is meeting with some owners running a club over some workers. If he knew any workers, it was either women selling themselves or indentured servants working. Mostly immigrants.

"Yeah...I heard from the coppers there were floaters up the river." Matt said. "A lot of floaters."

Sid sighs. "Mostly the workers. Someone is out there doing something. First, it started out as ladies of the night, then the flappers, and now the mobs are being affected. Their businesses..."

"And that's why my dad said to check on them. I hope they don't serve more of their eel juice. Already got enough of that. I'm more of a milk kind of guy." He sighs.

"Hm. The cops are having trouble getting witnesses. Sometimes...the victims they are with are either hopheads or those on tea. They're not credible. Maybe that's why the Port Mafia is getting involved."

Indeed. Someone is out there killing women from the brothel houses but they escalated from that to killing gangs. But why? Must be a fool thinking they can kill a gangster. But what does that have to do with Matt and his crew?

Ryunosuke makes mental notes. He sighed mentally. This is the information he already knew but it's a good thing to know that Matt is meeting with some club owners. Should he eavesdrop there?

"Uhh..what's the name of the club again? I forgot." Matt sighed.

"Frontier," Sid said.

"Oh! The place that has moonshines?" Matt said. "I wonder if they can make sweet ones!"

"Perhaps. We can ask when we get there." Said Sid. A waitress came by and refilled their cups. Matt smiles at him despite having scars, he gives his best smile. "Thanks, miss." Making the waitress giggle, "You're welcome, handsome." For some forsaken reason, he has this charm that makes the waitress blush. Damn him.

"Speaking of which...what hapepned to your companion you took the other night?" Sid asked.

"Hm?"

"The Asian." Sid reminds him.

"Ah! You mean Ryu."

Ryu?! Wait...is he talking about him?

"He was asleep after we had our fun. I paid for the night at the hotel and left my contact information, letting me know that he was out the door. I let him sleep and didn't want to wake him up. I left him a note." Matt smiles. Ryunosuke listened to this.

"I see. Where do you suppose he is from?" Sid said as she sips her coffee.

"Japan."

"How do you know?"

"I can tell with the names," Matt answered. "Japanese are proud when it comes to their names and they don't change it for nobody. Different from the Chinese who kept to themselves and sold their wares on their street, they changed their names to adapt. Sometimes they compete with them."

"That's true. Yet....he doesn't belong to Yazuka?" Sid asked.

What?

"Not sure." Matt shrugged. "I think he's probably on business or something. He doesn't strike me as that. People from the Yazuka are sometimes traditional or wear Western clothing as they like to call it. They're big on honor and all which I respect."

"I see."

Hm. Ryunosuke thinks, as he sips his coffee.

"Anyway...the owners want to meet up with the private room, don't they?" Matt asked.

"Yes. At the lounge club." Sid said.

"Not surprised." Matt chuckled.

A private room at the lounge club? Ryunosuke is no drinker but this sounds like a perfect chance to learn about his business associates. He quickly paid for his order and left right away.

Heh. This time. He won't fail.

------ Frontier Lounge Club ------

Finally. He's here. The place is more lively than the club he was in previously from the previous night. He looks at the patrons filling the club. A group of ordinary Janes and joes accompanied. There were dancers, waitresses, and bartenders. Ryunsouke also noticed a few highbinders. Some gangsters and their molls are in the lower underground hierarchy.

Not a challenge.

It seems that Sid is talking with two people. A dirty blonde in slacks and tie and a black dame with an afro wearing a double-breasted blazer and pants. She seems to be giving them orders. But what kind?

Now where is his target? He should be here somewhere. He wades through the club as patrons are busy with themselves. He goes to the bar and orders some water to which the bartender gives him a glass of water with no questions asked.

He looks to the crowd, but he can't seem to find Matt anywhere. Although..he did see Matt's associate. A pale woman wearing black glasses and has white pinkish hair. What is she called? Sid?

Aren't they meeting the owners first?

"Oh! Look who it is!"

Ryunosuke sat still as he heard that familiar voice. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ryunosuke! I didn't know you were here!" It's Matt as he smiles at him. Why now?! No. Calm down. This is fine. Act like a patron.

"I could say the same," Ryunosuke said. Matt laughs. "Hahaha! I didn't know you were into this scene."

"Yes. I'm just... trying a different place." Ryunosuke answered to which Matt nods. "Good to know you picked a good place! This place has a lot of drinks to choose from." He said before telling a bartender that he would like an Apple Pie Moonshine. "And their moonshines are pretty good! One of the owners here knows how to make em and teaches the guys behind the counter how to make it!" Matt said.

"Is that so?" Ryunosuke said. "I was thinking of trying it but...."

"You're not sure if you're going to like it." Matt finished his sentence.

"That." Ryunosuke nods. This man knows what he's going to say. Is he really that predictable?

"Alright then....hmmm...how about this. You might like this one. Bartender..get him a Chocolate Moonshine, would ya?" He asked.

Chocolate? What am I? A child?! Ryunosuke made a face to which Matt chuckled. "Trust me, you will love it. The booze tastes like chocolate milk!"

"See?"

"Hmph. I have to see it for myself."

"You mean taste?" Matt corrected him to which Ryunosuke scoffs. After getting their drinks, Ryunosuke got him and took a sip. He widens his eyes slightly. It does taste like chocolate. But it tastes like dark chocolate. It's really creamy and nice.

"I must admit it's quite refreshing." Ryunosuke conceded to which Matt laughs. "Anyway...are you here for the party or what?"

"Waiting for friends. And they're late." Ryunosuke said. That's a lie.

"Is that right? Sorry about that. Hmmm...must be the traffic." Matt noted. Then he blinks, "Hey! How about you hang out with me again! I like having you around. But...I got some business with the owners first. Business boring stuff."

"I don't mind." Ryunosuke shrugging but hoping for Matt to take the bait.

"Really? You sure?"

"Of course. I am still waiting for my friends but of course...they are busy with work. Overtime..." It wasn't a lie but he won't tell Matt what his associates do for a living.

Matt smiles, "Okay then! After the meeting, I can make it up to you! How about it."

"Of course." Ryunosuke gives him a small smile. This is good. This man is giving him access to the meeting and he doesn't need to do all the work. He never thought Killer Night would be this gullible.

---- At the meeting ----

Within the private lounge, Matt and Sid are talking with the owners as they explain their troubles to them. Two owners, twin brothers; Anton and Andrei. They were discussing The workers from Eastern Europe are going missing in the streets and the cause of this. The workers were brought in for work as waitresses, singers, dancers, and other things.

Matt nods at this.

"We don't get any idea who's behind it!" Said Anton, the older brother by a minuter early than his young brother, Andrei.

"We believe it's a serial killer." Said Sid.

"We are thinking that but the men of those girls think it's the other gangs so they try to get back at them. " Said Anton.

"Yeah! The coppers aren't going to investigate the girls are from Eastern Europe and they don't care!" Said Andrei.

"Why? Do they have proof?" Sid asked. The owners shakes his head.

And where was Ryunosuke is? Sitting in the lounge but in another sofa with a few worker girls around this man named Jason who is enjoying their company. This wild man is almost wolfish as he teases the girls with nips and nibbles at their necks, making them giggle at his advances. Ryunosuke wishes he could roll his eyes so hard at this. But he is focused on listening to the conversation.

So the owners were worried about their missing girls. The owners believe that they're pointing the finger at other gangs or some serial killer.

"And what gangs do you expect, messing with your business?" Sid asked. The two owners look at each other and look at Sid and Matt before answering in unison, "Port Mafia."

"Port Mafia?" Matt questioned.

"Yes! These guys are really a big part of the underworld. They can do whatever they want and nobody stops them." Said Andrei.

"Why the girls though?" Matt asked.

"Because they're fine in taking people even by force and sending them all over the world as part of business. Putting them to work and taking away their papers to put them into work as slaves. The Mafia is really brutal. I mean no gang would have so many bodies left behind down at the piers." Anton replied.

Ryunosuke grits his teeth while he sips his champagne. There were no orders given of that. Their members were being attacked too.

"If I may ask...what is their main revenue?" Sid said.

"Gambling." Anton answers.

"Ah...that makes sense." Matt exhales, "If you're in so much debt when gambling, you have to pay it off so you have to put into work to pay off that debt. Easy business."

"It's exactly as you said, sir." Said Anton. Indeed. Ryunosuke thought. Port Mafia's top revenue is gambling as it is so easy to fool the weak into trying to win only for them to fall into debt.

"And now they're probably into selling humans and probably organs." Andrei added.

"Mostly like relating to their gambling debts," Sid said.

"But the girls don't have debts, do they?" Matt asked. The owners shake their heads, "No. We do provide the Port Mafia with girls to work at their dens as part of the business but..."

"But?" Matt raised a brow.

"None of them came back a few months when they go there so we stopped."

That's why. Ryunosuke thought. Someone is putting the blame on Port Mafia for missing girls.

"What about the male workers?"

"They are hired as bodyguards and escorts of the girls to different bars, dens, and other places. We tried to find them but they too gone missing."

This is concerning.

"Well....if you ask me...it's too easy to put the blame on these guys, isn't it? The Port Mafia? It's probably some gang who has a problem with Port Mafia or just some killer going around to kill girls like Jack the Ripper." Matt said.

That's one way to look at it. Ryunosuke thought.

"So is there any gang that has problems with Port Mafia?" Matt asked.

The owners begin to think and answer at the same time. "The Thunder Triad. A group led by the Chinese and they are fighting over shipping rights with the Port Mafia."

"Do they think they're behind this?"

"That or....Jaguar Cartel." They said. "Those guys are trying to do that by bringing in some opium and coke. They're from this place called Mexico."

"Eh..bro! What about that other group! Asani Company." Andrei asked.

"Ha! Those guys are busy making moonshines and all. No way, they would be messing with Port Mafia. They're on good terms with each other. They need them more for their business!" Anton said.

"Anansi Company?" He asked.

"A group of black folk...at first...we are scared of them but they do good business. Really good at making oil and other stuff including alcohol. Fighting with those Italian folks; Fiore Family. Fiore always fights with those Irish folk; The Badgers." Said Andrei.

"So many groups~" Matt voiced.

And those groups sometimes have a grudge against Port Mafia except for Anansi Company. He heard from the boss that they do pretty good business and help increase the sale of alcohol and other banned things.

"What kind of people are in Port Mafia?"

"Heard they're from Asia or Europe but anyone can join. Most people who deflect from the groups we mentioned go join them. Sometimes...disbanded groups go there."

Half-true. Ryunosuke thought.

"Hold on. Do they have women in their groups?" Sid asked. Anton nods, "Yeah. They are also gone. They have their guys patrolling their streets. The coppers are doing somethin...but nothin"

Shit.

"Are they also thinking if Port Mafia is behind this?"

"Eeeehh.....yes and no. Some groups have an alliance with Port Mafia like Anansi and Fiore for example and some don't like them like the Triad, respecting the lines in the district. Most are like Switzerland...Jaguars and Badgers."

"The Badgers didn't get their girls taken because they patrolled the district after hearing the girls from the district Fiore Family were going missing. No news from other gangs."

Matt and Sid look to be thinking about this until Andrei ask them a stupid.

"Matt sir. Is it true you're the one who kill those guys back at that party?"

Damn fool.

"Moron! Don't ask him that!" Anton asked. "Sorry! My stupid brother doesn't know what's going on..."

"Eh it's fine. And yeah...I kill them."

"EH?!" The owners look at them. "B-but why?"

"Oh well....they claimed to be the strongest and want to mess with me and Sid here so I kill them to see if they are strongest." Matt smiled.

The owners were disturbed by how casually Matt answered. Ryunosuke finds this amusing.

"Do you even know who these guys work for???" Andrie asked.

"Which one?"

"The Fiore Family!" Said the brothers.

"If they got a problem...then we can settle it," Matt said. Ryunosuke almost wants to sigh. Does this man not care about the situation he caused?! He doesn't seem that concerned. How foolish.

"Anyway....we got what we needed. We just need to find a pattern of all this and see what we can do. Thanks for telling us what we need to know."

"O-of course, sir! Thank you for coming!" The owners said.

"Good. Now get back onto the floor, I don't want to take your guys' time away from the work! We have the girls being monitored and being escorted by my guys."

"S-sure thing!" The owners leave the room right away. "Sid, give the details to Pete and Shrika." Said Matt. Sid nods. "Of course." Sid leaves the room in search of the two teammates. "Hey, Jason! If you're going to do it, do it somewhere else. Take it to a different room!" Matt said.

"Ha!? Fine, fine! Sure! Come on, ladies! I will show you a good time!" Jason laughed, escorting the two ladies in his arms out of the room. Leaving Matt and Ryunosuke by himself.

Matt sighs as he joins Ryunosuke next to him. "Sorry about that! It went too long as I expected."

"No worries. I was thinking about my friends right now." Ryunosuke sighed. "And how the girls are all over that man."

"Hahahaha! Jason is known for getting ladies at his side. He's what you call a ladies' man."

"Of course..." The girls were trying to entertain him but Ryunosuke didn't reciprocate their advances so he gets refills from the girls by pouring champagne into his glass.

"Anyway...I must be going and check to see if my friends are here or not." Ryunosuke said he got what he needed so he needs to report back. However....Matt wraps his arm around his arm.

"?"

"How about you hang with me for a bit. I really miss you!" Matt said with a smile. Ryunosuke looks at him. "Is that so?" He muses.

------ Few minutes later -----

"Aaaah~"

Again. How did this happened again?!

The hellhound is bend over the lounge couch with Matt over him, slamming his hips down making him moan.

"You okay, Ryu?"

Ryu?! Did he gave him a pet name?!

"Hnnngnn...I"

"You been getting tight down there. Did you really like that much?" Matt whispers at his ear giving him the goosebumps.

How can he ask him that question?! The only thing he can said in response is..."We're going to get caught. What if someone comes in and sees us???" Ryunosuke cried, making the killer chuckle. "We will be fine. This is a private room for us inside this club. So nobody would barge in here without permission unless they're a copper. But those bulldogs won't be coming here."

"Mfmmm..." Ryunosuke bite down on the fabric of the sofa to muffle the moans coming out of his mouth.

"And don't worry about letting your sounds out. This lounge club has loud music, so nobody would hear us."

That's not what I am worried about!! Ryunosuke thought.

"B-but...."

"Hehe. The only thing you need to worry about..." Then Ryunosuke receives a powerful thrust hitting. At that exact spot precisely making him cry out. "Is here!" Matt grins as Ryunosuke is panting and moaning with his tongue out. The hellhound lays his head against the couch while Matt keeps snapping his hips towards him. Ryunosuke can hear the loud music behind the closed door. It's muffled but he can hear the slapping sound of skin contact between him and Matt.

Damnit. This is...

Why? Why does it feel so good??

"Ah..ah...ah!" Ryunosuke utters the sounds from his mouth while Matt grunts behind him. Matt presses his chest against his back as Ryunosuke hides his face in his arms. They were half-clothed as Matt unbuttoned his dress shirt and took off his pants. The assassin had his pants off down to his ankles.

Matt growls as he keeps on going before giving a final snap of his hips, climaxing inside him. The hellhound moaned softly as he felt the warm load inside him.

What is with this damn.....monster?

He felt Matt pull out slowly and he was turned around. He twitched as if his hole missed that hard warm girth.

"Sorry...Ryu..I don't think I am done yet."

He must be joking..what is up with his stamina?! What would he be like if he fought him right here?! Would he stand a chance-Ack!

Ryunosuke coughs. He keeps on coughing harshly making Matt blink and stop.

"Ryunosuke. You okay?" Matt asked as the other covered his mouth with his palm.

"Ah...yes...I am..." He lowers his palm. Ah, here it is. The blood on his palm. The symbol of affliction. A nasty one. He looks at his expression. He wonders. Would it be disgust? Anger. horror. Annoyance?

"Huh? Ryunosuke. Hey, hey, hey. You okay? Are you sick?" Matt looked worried. Not disgust, no anger not shock or horror.

"This is fine." Ryunosuke scoffed. "I'm used to it."

"Used to it. So you have been sick this whole time? Why didn't you say anything? I could have got you to a doctor."

He didn't answer because it didn't matter. It's the when. He doesn't know. He already received some treatment to prolong his life from the boss. He doesn't know how long.

"There is no cure-all so it doesn't matter. I won't let this get in the way. Sorry for ruining the mood." Ryunosuke said. So what is Killer Night going to do? After saying it, what would his response be? He should get angry, shouldn't he? Doing this with a sick person.

"No. You don't gotta apologize." Matt goes to take his hand that has the blood on it. "We can stop if you want."

Wait. What? What is this? Pity? Is he pitying me?

"Still....you should have told me but I kinda understand," Matt said.

Then he felt a lick on his hand making the hellhound widen his eyes. Matt continues to lick the blood from his palm. "You won't let this stop you, do you?" Matt looks up to Ryunosuke with his red eyes making Ryunosuke look away. "I won't." He confirmed.

"Good." Matt goes to shift their positions as he has Ryunosuke sit on his lap and his back on his chest. He felt his waist being held by his hand while the other is teasing his body. The assassin can feel his breath on his neck. "Hrm...." Ryunosuke's cheeks flush a little. Then he felt the gangster stroke his length making him pant.

"Just relax against me. I will take care of you." He said gently, resting his chin on Ryunosuke's head. Ryunosuke bit his bottom lip. He closes his eyes and remains relaxed. Or at least tries to. It's hard to when he felt his pecs being massaged, his nipples being pinched and his length being stroked. He is lightly panting.

Damn it. When did he become this sensitive? Why is he feeling so wet down there? If he keeps going, he would be growing weak in his knees. And...he couldn't get his mission complete. He needs to do something. Soon, he came again as he saw his own fluids on Matt's hand.

"Not so bad, huh?" Matt asked, nibbling on his ear.

"Grrr..." Ryunosuke growls making Matt blink, "Damn you....stop pitying me...." Ryunosuke gritted his teeth.

"Huh?" Matt replied, pausing his actions when Ryunosuke looks at him angrily, "Do not pity me! If you're going to do it, do it! No need to hold back, you damn beast!" He shouted at Matt then bites his hand down, drawing some blood.

He will be damned. He won't allow this! He won't allow this treatment to go on.

Then the beast's lips curled into a smile, "Heh." Matt seeing this.

What? What is he smiling for? Right away, Ryunosuke got lifted when Matt got up from his seat. "?!" He widen his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Matt smiles as he holds him up, hooking his legs with his arms, as their chests press against each other "I didn't mean to treat you like the fragile doll you are." He said when Ryunosuke felt something hard prodding down below. He twitched feeling the hard girth of the beast's length.

What? What? What is this?

His body became heated at the feeling right now.

Then Ryunosuke gasped when Matt slammed him down onto his hard length. He grasps onto his dress shirt with his pale hands. "Just hold tight...I won't hold back." He whispered. Ryunosuke gasps and moans, burying his face into Matt's shoulder while he is being held, being bounced on his cock.

D-damn him...ah...ha...mmhmng...why is he so good at this?!

Then he felt something hit his back. A wall.

"Ah?!" Ryunosuke moaned as he is being pounded against the wall.

"Ha...Ryu...I never thought someone would demand things and bit my hand like that. It makes you really cute." Matt said. "So I will make sure you will get what you wanted~"

The hellhound receives an ongoing rough pounding from the Killer Night making him cry and pant. He let out tears of pleasure while holding onto Matt for dear life.

"Ha...ha....ah...oh....nugh...mmfma..ah!" Ryunoukse utters out erotic sounds for Matt to hear, encouraging him to go faster and harder, hitting his sweet spot precisely. "F-fuck!" Ryunosuke cried.

"Fuck..." Matt growled. So tight and so hot. Matt wouldn't want to stop his hips from moving. He is so good. "It's good, right? You can't get enough of it, right?" He lets go of one of Ryunosuke's legs as he is holding one leg up, continuing his hard pounding. He can feel Ryu's thighs feeling slick from the wetness. "I can feel how wet you are. It's good, right?" He goes to nibble on his neck, nipping at his skin.

"S-shut up and just...fuck me." Ryunosuke growled, cheeks flushed red before letting out another cry. Matt laughs, "Ha! So cute! Alright...I will shut up and fuck you non-stop till you fain." Matt obliges and continues, going deep inside of him. The slapping of skin is heard inside and the music is still ongoing outside. Nobody would hear the intercourse between the hellhound and the dark angel.

"F-fuck....r-right there." Ryunosuke is losing his mind. He can't take it. If this continues, he will cum again. He throws his head back against the wall, letting out more moans. He goes to wrap his free leg around Matt's waist, keeping him close. His mind shifted from his objective to pleasure.

"M-m-more!" Ryunosuke said.

"Ha..ha..." Matt growled as he grasped the hellhound's waist tightly making sure to hit the right bundle of nerves and giving what he wants. He goes to kiss Ryunouske on the lips, claiming dominance of his mouth before they get closer to climax.

Soon, they cum together. Ryunosuke cum between their chests and Matt fills him up with his warm load.

"Ha...ha...ha..." Ryunosuke panted as he drooled against Matt's shoulder before closing his eyes. He heard a whisper from the dark angel.

"Sleep well...my little Ryu.~" He said before Ryunosuke passes out.

-----

#ic #thesilverpeahenresidence #the horror of the night matt knack #the silver peahen residence ( the black fang hellhound ryunosuke akutagawa ) #{ mature content } #{ mature content }.

[bewitchingbaker]

97. How do they like their coffee? (Or tea if they don’t drink coffee)

5:00 a.m

Like clockwork, the discord that was Chris's alarm echoed through his bedroom. From the dark purple comforter arose the baker's hand, searching around for a moment before finally hitting stop on his alarm. As if he were a zombie, a silk scarf clad baker rises from the king sized bed with a yawn.

With eyes half open, he scans the room as he slowly comes to. The pitch-black hellhound that was Lord Quas was sleeping peacefully in his bed (bought by Chris of course) with a red fleece blanket shielding him from the morning cold. To his left, he spotted a floating kitten sporting multiple closed eyes known as Dee was happily drifting into her dream world.

Oh how the rent free slept peacefully.

"hmm.."

Chris slowly slid off of his bed with a deep-voiced stretch, phone levitating into his hand. Slowly but surely he began to wake up, somewhere in between brushing his teeth and washing his face. As he joins the world again, the baker begins to go over his tasks for the day.

"Gotta prepare dough for the week...score the loaves...oh fuck, gotta get those pies baked as soon as I get in.." He muses as his ringers guide a levitating bag of 'Just Food for Dogs' into a bright purple dog bowl. His other hand guides a fresh batch of the Luna's iconic ground coffee into a French press. Boiling hot water soon followed as Chris wished the sleepy hellhound a good morning.

5 minutes passed before those huge hands pressed down on the plunger for some naturally strong coffee. An excited rub of his hands led to him pulling out his favorite mug that displayed the Roots drummer as the card Hierophant. Gingerly, he poured himself a cup making sure to not waste a drop.

Now it was time for the fun part.

With a dorky saunter to the fridge, the baker withdrew a an almond-based hazelnut coffee creamer. A bowl of sugar floated his away along with a vial of cinnamon. A bit of creamer here, 2 spoonfuls of sugar there, and a dash of cinnamon for good measure and you'd have the Chris morning special.

A sweet mix with a bit of kick to jumpstart the young Luna's day. After all, he would need it for the day he was about to have.

#brooklynislandgirl #ic #mini drabbles #; facts #but the baker likes his coffee sweet with a little kick

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

#Obey me #Obey me! #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[kim-monsterlings]

Danon - M Hellhound x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; injury (brief, not to reader), mild aggression, mentions of death, soul bonding, fluff, receiving oral, penetrative sex (+ knotting), marking (no biting - tattoo), more fluff to top it off, with the NSFW only at the very end - (if there is anything else anyone would like tagged here that I haven't caught, let me know!)

Wordcount: 3715

Masterlist

 The creature rested at your front door had been your shadow for some time now.

 The raven fur thick at its scruff tinged with a crimson the nearer you came, and though you doubted its domesticity - its claws were far too long for any house pet, not to mention in place of fluffy ears were ram horns, wide and curled back to its neck - you still felt sympathy for the creature, wounded as it was.

 You first saw it nearly a month ago, trailing at your shadow when the evening fell into night. If the creature had wanted to have you then, it would have. The flash of fanged teeth hadn't been so unusual, until the muzzle almost tore back, sinew and tendons sewing flesh together, up to it skull. Then you'd known it wasn't quite a dog, nor some odd breeding anomaly, and had fought to ignore the memory.

 Until the creature was at your backdoor come dawn when you went to the river for water and herbs for medicine. You were no healer, not properly, but your parents had passed down knowledge you cherished and made use of. Poultices ready-made waited for collection, all the while your stalker sat by the tree line, waiting; you weren't sure what for.

 To see it so defeated when it was usually full of life tugged you down to your knees. The first time you had confronted it - in a rage of foolishness, really, considering how lucky you had been to avoid any harm at its infliction, the creature had staggered back almost in shock at having stones thrown, before letting loose a growl so low your muscles locked, and you thought then you had incited your own death, as its muzzle nudged up at your fist, the creature large enough to come to your hips like a pony.

 The memory was nothing now. You whispered, hoping to soothe the dog-like demon when you brushed its fur. It gave a low whine, and tail thin like a whip with an arrowed tip tucked neater to its belly. Whatever it was, was decisively male, but your focus was more on the scratches curled deep into its stomach, and the wound on its throat must have been from another creature of the same kind.

 "Hey, boy," you said and offered your hand for him to sniff. The notion struck you as pointless; obviously he recognised you, laying at your door after following for so long, but the press of a hot nose was more reassurance to you than anything. "Stay still. You'll be okay, boy."

 The idea of letting him inside was daunting, but you couldn't just leave him there to die. No matter why he followed you, he had come to you now for help, and you pressed onto his back carefully. When he snarled, you winced through gritted teeth.

 "Come on, boy." You tucked your hands beneath his back enough to encourage him up. Your door was open. All he had to do was collapse inside. "Go on-"

 With a pitiful whine, he fell heavily against your thigh as you led him in. He managed to carry himself to the fireplace before landing with a thud, and though he still breathed, you weren't surprised to find him now unconscious.

 Treating a dog was different from humans but you made do with what you had, and you couldn't do anything more than that. What you noticed, even as you tried not to, was the thick stench of something foul and smoky on washing away blood, and something about it twisted at you. Like it was unnatural. There wasn't anything natural to a dog of his size, with horns and a tail like that, nor a muzzle so wide and sharp, but you had already invited him in and tended to his wounds, so you moved on.

 You left a bowl of water and some old meat at his side but when you retreated to your room, sharp canines snatched your wrist. His eyes flicked up to you, a bright, burning red against his ashen body. When you conceded and sat at his side, a soft whimper enticed your fingers to his scruff, careful to avoid the horns and shallow wound.

 "You're okay," you hummed, holding still when he inched close enough to lay a heavy head on your thighs. "You'll be okay, boy. You’ll be healthy again, and you won't even try to eat me, will you? No," you whispered, and spoke until his eyes fell shut.

 That night you spent curled uncomfortably back against the sofa, falling in and out of a restless sleep. You woke before dawn to find the beast gone, and in his place was a man. The first, natural instinct that came to you was to scream; his head was nuzzled against your thighs, a hand curled at your hip and clutching loosely, but the familiarity struck you before the screech came.

 His body was the same black of his fur, a rich, almost obsidian, but the giveaway was the tail twined to his bare legs. Even still, his mouth seemed off, a little too wide, and the short nubs at his temples, though dramatically smaller horns, were the same.

 So you yawned, snatching the blanket off the sofa and laying it across his thin body, too. Waking hours later with daylight on your face, you were alone. He had rested you on the sofa with a pillow beneath your head and the blanket up to your neck. It melted away remnants of fear, after being alone with not only some demonic hound, but a strange man, too, more than capable of harming you.

 It was a struggle to continue your day as you normally would, but it was a weekend, so a short trip out was all you needed. You were back before midday but still alone. Alone until well into the evening, almost convinced it had been a fever dream until you had finished changing into comfortable clothes, and the silhouette standing in your kitchen turned, tail wound at his bare ankle.

 "Oh."

 The tail flicked and he watched you with glowing eyes, which darted back from you to the door. "If you would rather I leave-"

 "No. No, stay." His head canted much like it had when he was the creature, and you smiled, offering him a change of clothes you had bought; not so much a change, but something to cover up with. "I'd like the company, and an explanation."

 He apparently had no shame, and you had to admit, he needn't have any. His body was taut, and once more you were drawn to admiring him. The clothes hung off his frame, adding to his general unruliness - his hair particularly, ruffed with thick curls nearly enshrouding the nubby horns.

 The stranger was a foot or so taller than you, stiffening when you reached out towards him. He blinked when you introduced yourself, before whispering, "my name is Danon. It's okay," he said, and tipped his head down.

 They were rough, thick at the base, and Danon's breath caught when you stroked up to the tips. Horns of a devil, yet he stood before you still weakened by wounds visible, though closed over at his throat, at least. No blood stained the white shirt yet, so you instead moved past to make a drink for you each.

 "Start from the beginning, Danon."

 His lips twitched, though the smile didn't last. "I am a hellhound. We guide souls on from their lives here. My life is owed to you."

 You sipped in quiet until it helped calm your thoughts. Sat opposite a hellhound, you needed the strength. "Sounds lonely."

 His voice trembled. "It is."

When Danon chose not to elaborate, you embraced the quiet. He had only sniffed at the tea, but you wouldn't force him to drink it. With his hands so large, clawed, the mug shrunk between them.

He still remained quiet, so you watched him carefully and said, "you followed me for a month."

 "It was meant to be you."

 Danon's lips pulled back like he was snarling down at his mug, but the action somehow only made a smile grow on your face. He snapped his head up, slamming the mug down hard enough the handle shattered free.

 "It was your life I was sent for. Not the elder man. You. Say something," he bit out, a snarl coming audibly now when you just looked at him, heart-pounding but face unchanging. "Is that it? You don't care about your own life? I could snatch it from you now, leave you there breathless until-" he bit his cheek sharp as his tail swung out in short whips. "I chose to give you time."

 The only sound you could make was a breathless, "why?"

 "I watched you long before revealing myself."

 "Oh, don't tell me," you cut in, rolling your eyes. "You fell in love with me? Is that it?"

 "Yes."

 "Very funny," you snapped, and Danon's throat bobbed. Like you had done, he said nothing, and you began to grip your mug tighter. "Tell me you're lying. You killed someone because you love me?"

 "His time had come. I sent him in place of your soul. The world cannot lose you. The way you care for these people… not one other soul is so caring. You deserve to live."

 "But he didn't?"

 Danon's long tipped ears twitched, almost pinning back once your voice sharpened. He thumbed the crack in the mug with his claw and grunted, "we can claim a soul. I fought for yours and until I choose to let you pass," he glanced up, finding your face ashen. "You will live. The elder was sickly. Longer for him would be a cruelty. His soul was so far gone I couldn't resist guiding him. It's like… like an itch."

 Questions sprouted endlessly the more he spoke, and you fully intended to return to the matter of him claiming your soul, but he hunched over, and you wondered if it took a toll on him, being the one to cart people from this life. Better to have a guide than not, but your mind drifted to the man whose passing you'd heard of nearby; very old, very sick, and in a way, it was an easing of pain.

 "Don't I itch?"

 His warm laughter came as a surprise. Danon's tail swayed gently. "No. You're like a beacon to me. I need to scratch the itch, but your soul is where I return to. When you healed me, you accepted my claim. For simplicity," he murmured, canting his head a little to hold your eyes. "We are bound, 'til death do us part. It is late."

 Like that, Danon dismissed the questions burning in your mind. He rose, his form slender and lean, before rounding the table towards you. His claws pressed beneath your chin and he fell low, so close his breath brushed your face. The warmth in your stomach tightened your chest. If Danon lowered himself a little more, you would lean into his kiss without pause.

 "I will never apologise for choosing you."

 Sleep evaded you for a long time. Knowing that a creature of hell was resting in the lounge gave you plenty to torment over, and like he knew, the soft padding of paws entered your room. The beast huffed a heavy breath against your hand before curling at the foot of your bed, a weight that left you curled into yourself. His presence was a comfort, even as you struggled to stop thinking of him.

 He loved you. He loved you, and he had bound your souls together.

 Sometime in the night as your thoughts became heavier, the bed dipped. The creature rose, a yawn baring sharp teeth in a display that had frightened you nights ago, before whining quietly. He nudged at your arm until you let him lay close, nosing at your throat and whining again until you were able to rest.

 Danon wasn't by your side when you woke. There wasn't a trace of him left. The shattered mug had been cleared away, the smoky scent that followed him was gone, and the comfort with it. You almost thought it had been a dream, a delirious lie after being alone too long, and forced yourself to go about your day as you would normally. If Danon came home, it would be of his own choice.

 He staggered into your room three nights gone and collapsed to his knees in reaching out to you. It was the thick of night, so you woke with a cry at somebody waking you. Danon caught your face in clammy palms and hushed you. It was without a word that you kicked back the sheets for him, and he crawled beside you - bare, but so exhausted you couldn't find it in you to care as he clutched you tight with a rough sigh.

 It wasn't the time for questions, but you leaned back as far as you could with his arms snaked against you, brushing your hand against his burning cheek. "I missed you."

 His glowing eyes blinked down at you. "You missed me?"

 You hummed and leaned into his chest. "Did you have an itch?"

 His chest rose beneath you but it was answer enough. Danon's kiss was tentative, pressed to your temple like a breath, fleeting when he laid his cheek to your crown. "I missed you, too."

 "Tell me what it means to have my soul claimed."

"Come morning, you may ask me anything."

 "Will you be here?"

 The hellhound paused a breath. "I'm never far," he said, but it was answer enough as you woke entwined, cheek to his shoulder and with a tail draped over your hips.

 For a creature of hell, sunlight blessed him. The sharp angles of his face looked softer in the golden hue, and you were free to admire him until he grumbled and peeked open an eye at you. Danon's brows dipped when he found you already awake, but you were quick to catch his arm before he could lean away.

 "I fought for the right to your soul," he murmured, thick with sleep and slightly slurred. "It is mine. Nothing can take you without me releasing you."

 "Don't I own my own soul?"

 "It is mine," he said against the pillows, grumbling and turning away. Though as he fought to muffle himself, his arm around you tightened. "Pretty soul, too."

 "Am I immortal?" Danon breathed a laugh. His tail flicked down your legs and he shook his head. "Are you?"

 "If I wish to pass on, I may."

 The words were rough and muffled now he had found a spot on the pillow to hide from the light, but you spoke still. If he was in your bed, he would answer your questions. "Will you pass on when I do?"

 He hummed, "I might." You frowned, and he let out a rumble of a growl, turning fully from the pillow. Danon rose over you until you were laid back beneath him. "It is dependent on you."

 "Me?" You blanched, "why me?"

 "How attached I am. I never," he growled, and would have lurched back if not for your touch brushing his arm. "I never intended to claim someone. Your soul is my burden-"

 "I'm a burden?"

 Danon snarled, but you bit back a smile at the gesture. He brought himself close, forehead to yours, and whispered, "I loved you before claiming you. That is my burden alone. May I?"

 Throat tight, you tried to hold your voice steady when you asked, "may you?"

 "May I sleep?"

 Your breath rushed from you and you forced a nod, laying still as he nestled back into the pillows. Danon's hand skimmed your stomach when you slid free, and his tail snagged at your ankle before unwinding.

  Days passed much like that, and each in his presence weakened you. Confessions came in soft whispers when, to him, they were the only possible answer to yet another of your questions. You asked him if he had a home. He did; loose curls fell against his horns, brushed his dark eyes, and the answer, though he never did anything more than smile at you, echoed in your chest. It was the same reason he came back after a soul needed guiding, and the isolation of what he was struck you when he returned, falling into your arms no matter where he found you.

 The worst came when he was gone nearly a fortnight. Some nights you doubted if he would come back to you, and the memory of him seeing you as beacon became your clutch. You had taken to resting on the small sofa in the days, knowing that if he came back in the light, you would wake.

 His whine was so soft you thought him to be the beast when a warmth brushed your cheek, but arms tucked beneath you and curled you into a bare chest. Danon's lips lingered on your forehead before he laid you on your bed, whispering your name as he began to free you from your dress. The lace parted easily for him, and you brought his hands up to your sleeves when he made to turn, helping him undress you until you were left only in your underwear.

 "Don't stay away so long," you whispered, reaching out to brush back his loose curls. Danon trembled when you ran your thumb against his horns. "What if you didn't come back to me?"

 He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. "That will never happen."

 "This isn't one-sided," you said. Lengthened teeth cut into his lower lip when you slowly parted your legs beneath him, and Danon's hips fell against yours. He let out a breathless moan when your touch pressed to his lips and he let them part, tongue hot against you. "Did you not think I loved you?"

 He whined, and his head fell heavy onto your chest. You gasped when he kissed the soft skin as it fell low, and his hands settled on your hips. "Tell me you do."

 "I might," you said, and he was peppering softer kisses across your breast, hot lips drawing on your nipple until you groaned. "You'll have to do more than that first."

 Danon's lips curled up against your stomach, and relief flooded you when he moved lower. His thumbs stroked small circles into your thighs when he pressed his hot tongue to the fabric clinging to your body, tasting you through it. His teeth caught at the hem and as you lifted your hips, he snatched them off and returned as fast, kissing purple flushes onto your legs before pausing.

 "Tell me now."

 With a small smile, you reached low to hook a finger against his horn, and breathed, "not yet, love."

 He snarled half-heartedly before a long drag of his tongue made you choke. Danon flicked the muscle up until it nudged to your nerves, earning a sharp cry of his name in pleasure. The heat now rushing through you began to pool in your gut, and tightened with the passion he began to lap at you with. The hound growled low, and the shock of it ran in shivers through you.

 Claws curled against your skin and he pressed your legs back to your chest. The same fire you felt throbbing glowed in his eyes, and he almost held your stare for as long as he stretched your tight body around his tongue, if you hadn't shuddered and bucked against him.

 "Danon-" His nose forced hot air against you, nosing up at your clit and you stuttered out a plea, grasping at his hair and grinding your hips up to his face. "I need you. I need you to-Danon-"

 He yelped when you dragged him up, and his body rubbed hard against you. The weight of him slick and nudging to your core made you wriggle, and he palmed your stomach with a small smile, the other hand circling his cock and guiding it up so his head rubbed to your nerves.

 "If we do this, you will wear my mark." He turned to kiss your knee as it came against his shoulder. "Am I what you want?"

 The shine to eyes was so innocent that you nodded, tangling your fingers in his hair again to drag him against you. "I love you."

 Your voice broke on a hoarse cry. Danon laid over you, your legs strained up against him a way that had your body so tight and stuffed when his cock drove deep. His lips, thick and sweetened by your taste, parted on a heady groan with each thrust, each clench of your thighs dragging him deeper.

 At that moment, your souls recognised the other; they must have done, with a feeling of belonging overcoming you as Danon cradled your face, running away a tear of pleasure. He rutted up as he began to gasp and shake, a weight slamming against your centre. He soothed you with a whisper of his love, and grinned at your answering whine before the claw of his thumb flicked your clit. Bolts of pleasure knotted in your core. You cried, seeing white and locking tight in the same second Danon thrust hard, the knot forced into you and sticking.

 You felt him come, thick and hard until he was panting and kissing down your throat. The black swirls of his mark formed across your chest and Danon held you close as his knot swelled all the more.

 "Stay here." He swallowed, nipping at your jaw before meeting your eyes. "Stop travelling," you said quietly, and Danon's fingers running down your hips paused, splaying wide as he looked down at you. Your traced his chest, drawn to the stretch of his skin where a matching mark laid. "Care for this village, the neighbouring ones. You said you only take souls at their time. Guide theirs."

 "Stay with you?" His small smile tugged at your heart. Danon slid his arm lower to lift you up against him, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. "I will try."

I wrote Danon in like one sitting and honestly? He stole my heart. I don't know how it happened but this is the longest thing I've written that wasn't intended to be two parts. Danon is now my baby, and I hope you all loved him too - let me know if you did! Threw in the NSFW as a treat to myself. We love indulgent writing. Thank you for getting this far <3

#kim-monsterlings writing #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #demon #monster x human #hellhound #hellhound x reader #hellhound x human #2nd person #female reader #Danon the hellhound #kim-monsterlings #exophilia fluff #exophilia writing

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Reggie//i can't let you go now that i got it

Request: your last reggie mantle imagine was soooooo cute it was.... BIG FAV i'm still grinning! could you please do one where reader and reggie have been best friends their whole lives? she's super protective and sweet to him and like? she's been in love for years but has been hiding it well?? she gets him to come away with her to college because 'screw this town' and they live together? but eventually she starts going on dates and it makes him realize he's in love with her too?? mutual love confession

hey! so before you go any further trigger warning mentions of abuse, specifically around reggie and his dad. it’s not in detail but it is mentioned a few times so don’t read if that upsets you. the last thing i want you to be is sad. i hope you all have a good day anyway, whether you’re reading this or not! (title is from Børns ‘electric love’)

- For 18 years 

- Reggie Mantle has been the only constant in your life 

- Even when you were babies he was there 

- Your mom’s sat beside each other in baby class, cooing and awing over each other’s kids

- All while 6 month old you stole 6 month old Reggie’s toy

- And then he cried so hard he vomited on not only himself but you as well 

- Which then made you cry even louder 

- And then your mom’s were asked to leave 

- So instead

- It became a weekly thing for your mom to take you to The Mantle’s 

- While her and Mrs Mantle gossiped and drank tea 

- You and Reggie would hit each other with various stuffed toys. 

- As you got older 

- The weekly visits turned into daily ones 

- Especially when you moved three houses away from him

- You and Reggie started to see each other more than your own parents did

- Your mom still went over once a week

- But when she arrived you were always usually there

- Either stood in the kitchen getting a snack 

- Or lying on Reggie’s bed watching an awful movie he just ‘had to show you’ 

- They usually involved a hybrid of two animals

- Sometimes mythical, sometimes not 

- But in all of them they were usually taking over the world

- They also always had the same four actors in

- But despite how much you protested 

- ‘reggie? are you being serious? we watched this one last time.’ 

- ‘no, we watched molemaid last time. this is medusamaid. they’re completely different’ 

- ‘oh, sorry. my mistake’

- You actually secretly loved them 

- Because they made him happy

- You would watch in awe as he laughed at stupid jokes 

- And how his eyes would always light up at a particularly gruesome part, no matter how badly CGI’d it was

- You also listened to the countless of theories as to how ‘hurrik9’ is clearly the prequel to ‘hellhounds’ because ‘they’ve got the same main character! it doesn’t matter if they’re not played by the same person. y/n, they’ve got the same name.’ 

- You also listened to him complain about the inconsistencies between ‘werewombats 1’ and ‘werewombats 2’

- ‘no matter how much the director stands by the decision to make them turn on each other, despite the first film clearly stating that that’s the last thing they’d do.’ 

- But the thing you loved the most about it 

- Was that he was only ever this way with you

- You’d been sworn to secrecy when you walked in on him watching ‘dinocano vs uniquake’ 

- And you promised never to tell anyone about his secret passion

- Or the fact that he had a stack of notebooks filled with plots and mini scripts for his own films. 

- Reggie may have gotten popular

- But to you, he’s still the same Reggie you’ve always known.

- Whose scared of clowns but won’t admit it

- And cried when watching Edward Scissorhands but if anybody asks it was you

- And who hates hot chocolate, but its the only thing he’ll drink when he’s sick 

- He also only eats pink marshmallows in months ending in R

- And white ones every other month 

- But in December he has both...because its Christmas.

- Yeah, you and Reggie are best friends 

- Always have been, always will

- But it doesn’t stop you from wanting more.

- It doesn’t stop the longing looks when you think no one is watching 

- Or the lingering touches whenever he hugs you

- It doesn’t stop your heartbeat picking up whenever he walks into a room

- Or how you forget how to breathe whenever he looks at you

- You look forward to everyday, even if you have a pop quiz or homework you only remembered the night before

- Because he’s going to be there to make you smile

- Even if he isn’t doing it on purpose 

- You look forward to the countless of texts he sends

- No matter how weird or ridiculous 

- Like when he text you at half three in the morning to ask if birds were real because somebody told him they weren’t.

- You then got a text straight afterwards telling you that it would be great idea for a plot

- And you still answer every single one

- No matter how stupid they are 

- It’s really a wonder how you get any sleep with your phone being on loud all the time

- But it’s worth it

- Especially when you get texts like 

- ‘he’s done it again’ 

- Reggie’s relationship with his father complicated to say the least

- You remember when you were younger they used to be best friends 

- Reggie idolized him 

- And you’d have conversations in Reggie’s tree house, about how much he wanted to be just like his dad when he grew up

- But when he did grow up

- And started to develop a personality that didn’t just revolve around football 

- Reggie no longer wanted to be just like his dad 

- He wanted to be the furthest thing from him

- The first time it happened 

- Reggie tried his hardest to hide it from you 

- And for the first time in 8 years 

- You went two days without seeing each other 

- On the third day though 

- You’d had enough 

- So you went round to see him 

- But when you asked his mom if he was in 

- She lied and told you he had just gone out 

- Even though you could clearly see him trying and failing to hide on the stairs

- So you did what any normal friend would do 

- You climbed through his bedroom window 

- With about as much grace and steal as you could muster 

- Which surprisingly, wasn’t a lot

- And you gave him the fright of his life 

- ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ 

- ‘you’re avoiding me’ 

- ‘i’m not. i’ve just been...busy’ 

- ‘doing what? fighting?’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘your eye’ 

- ‘oh yeah...that’ 

- That was when you knew something was wrong 

- You’ve known Reggie your entire laugh 

- And you know the three things he’ll always boast about 

- Girls, football and fighting 

- ‘what happened?’ 

- When he told you 

- You couldn’t believe what he was saying 

- You wanted to find Marty Mantle and give him a black eye...see how he likes it 

- But Reggie begged you not to do or say anything 

- ‘it’ll only make it worse’ 

- ‘but its wrong. he should be locked up’

- ‘who’s going to believe me?’ 

- ‘me’ 

- ‘see...it was only one time anyway’ 

- So you agreed, reluctantly 

- And you so wanted to believe it

- But then a few weeks later he turned up to school with a bust lip

- A month after that another bruise around his eye that he tried to hide behind sunglasses 

- And by the time graduation rolled around 

- Both of you had lost count of the sunglasses and excuses 

- For three years he’d been trapped in a house with a father who thought hitting was the same as love 

- And a mother who pretended it didn’t happen 

- But now college was round the corner and that meant a chance for both of you

- Or at least thats what you thought

- ‘you didn’t get in?’ 

- ‘i didn’t get in.’ 

- ‘to any of them?’ 

- ‘nope’

- ‘reggi-’

- ‘it’s fine. my dad has always wanted me to work for him. i guess this will make him happy. even if i am the cleaner’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please go’

- That summer was the longest one of your life 

- It was even longer that the time Reggie had to get his appendix out and so you couldn’t hang out for a 3 weeks.

- For two and a half months 

- You heard nothing from Reggie 

- You text, called, DM’d and even E-mailed

- But you got nothing 

- You went round at all times of the day to try and talk to him

- And every time Mrs Mantle answered and told you he was either out or busy

- Doing homework was her favourite excuse

- And Reggie has only ever done homework when you were doing the majority of it 

- You even tried climbing in through his window again 

- But he locked it 

- So you watched every morning as he dragged himself into his dad’s car

- Wearing a stiff suit and a miserable expression 

- No matter how hard you tried to get to him before the left 

- How fast you ran or how early you got to his house

- They were always long gone before you managed to get anywhere close to him

- You missed the midnight texts about nothing 

- You missed his stupid jokes 

- You missed watching an entire room light up whenever he walked in

- You missed the way he made you feel, even if he was unaware of it 

- You even missed watching his god-awful movies 

- You just missed him 

- And when he missed your leaving party 

- That was the final straw

- At 7am the next morning 

- You shoved the last of your boxes in the back of your car 

- Said goodbye to your parents 

- And drove away

- Three houses down the street 

- Making sure your parents had gone back inside before stopping 

- You sat outside for a few minutes 

- Trying to think of what to do or say 

- You knew his mom would answer the door

- And that you’d get the same excuses 

- You also knew from the past few experiences that his window would still be locked 

- So you threw rocks at his bedroom window in the hopes that when he’d check to see what it was, he’d leave it unlocked 

- And he did! 

- You watched from behind a bush as he hung his head out the window to look around

- His brow furrowed and hair messy

- Clearly he’d just woke up

- You couldn’t help the smile twitching at your lips 

- You’d missed that face 

- Climbing the window was a lot harder than it used to be 

- Mr Mantle had taken the ladders away 

- Another reason as to why he sucked

- But you managed eventually 

- And you almost died only twice 

- Which is good 

- It’s better than three 

- You landed on the carpet with a loud thud that made him jump half way across the room

- ‘y/n. what the hell are you doing here?’

- ‘it’s moving day. and i must say i’m very disappointed at the lack of preparation on your part. have you even started packing yet?’

- ‘it’s not funny y/n’

- ‘i know. do you see me laughing?’

- ‘i’m being serious y/n. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘the last time you told me to leave, i listened and i didn’t see you for two months, so no’ 

- ‘what about college’ 

- ‘what about it?’ 

- ‘it starts in three days’ 

- ‘i know. and if we stand here any longer we’re going to miss it. so get packed and lets go. it’s a nine hour drive and i’m not doing all of that alone’ 

- ‘you know i can’t go’ 

- ‘says who?’ 

- ‘my dad, every single college i applied for and me’ 

- ‘listen to me reggie. you are my best friend, you have been since we were babies. there’s not a part of my life you haven’t been in. do you really think that would stop at college?’ 

- ‘we didn’t spend the summer together’ 

- ‘and it was the worst summer of my life’ 

- ‘same...but that might have been because i was spending 12 hours a day in an office’ 

- ‘rude. but i’ll take it!’ 

- ‘i did miss you though. it was weird not seeing your face everyday’ 

- That makes your cheeks heat up and you have to force the flutter in your chest to go away

- ‘it always cheers me up’ 

- There it goes again and you want to claw at your chest until it’s no longer there 

- Hope is a terrible thing to have when you’ve been in love with your best friend for your entire life

- ‘you always cheer me up’ 

- Oh dear...

- ‘i love you...a-as a friend. this summer has been the longest and most depressing for both of us. i don’t want to live the rest of my life like that. i need you reggie. so please pack your bags, say screw you to your dad and to this town and lets go’ 

- ‘what about money? where am i going to live?’ 

- ‘we’ll figure that out on the way there. just hurry up’ 

- And he did 

- You and Reggie threw the majority of his belongings into any bag you could find

- He took all the money he’d been saving out of the poorly disguised fake plant

- And wrote a nice little note for his parents 

- You also may have added a few choice words to it 

- But what Reggie doesn’t know won’t hurt him 

- And the two of you climbed into your car and never looked back

- The 9 hour car ride was the most fun you’ve ever had 

- It was like you were trying to fit the entire summer you’d lost into those few hours 

- It was filled with off key singing 

- And stories of your summer 

- His favourite being about Archie being tricked into going skinny dipping by himself

- You laughed loudly like nothing had happened 

- And cried silently because everything had 

- Thankfully when you arrived on campus, it was already night 

- So you managed to sneak Reggie into your room

- And when you nervously told your roommate 

- She just grinned at you

- ‘it’s fine, my boyfriend will probably be staying over a lot too’ 

- ‘oh, he’s not my boyfriend’ 

- ‘we’re not together’ 

- ‘...okay’ 

- She said with a knowing smile and you and Reggie shared a look

- And a year filled with adventures started

- Reggie got a job as a bartender with a little help from Veronica 

- And you started your classes 

- But nothing is ever easy 

- At least not when it involves you or Reggie 

- It turns out hiding a whole human is a lot more difficult that you anticipated. 

- It involves Reggie squeezing into your closet 

- And a whole team of people to get him to and from the showers 

- But it was also difficult for another reason

- Because it was easy to hide your feelings from him when you lived in separate house 

- But now you’re sharing a room

- And a bed 

- And every time he would wrap his arms around you 

- And pull in for a half asleep cuddle 

- You’d forget how to breathe 

- You’ve never been more excited to wake up

- Because he’d be all messy hair and parted lips with just a little bit of drool coming out of them that it would be cute instead of gross 

- And when he said good morning in the same deep, tired voice 

- You wanted to live in that feeling forever 

- But then 2nd year rolled around and everything changed 

- It all started when you moved into your own apartment 

- You knew you had to but there was a part of you that hoped you could keep everything the same 

- You found a tiny, two bedroom flat that you could both just about afford 

- Reggie was so happy to have his own room

- ‘i won’t have to sleep next to you and your freezing cold feet anymore’ 

- ‘i’ll just sneak into your bed when your fast asleep and put them on you then instead’ 

- ‘i thought we were supposed to be friends’ 

- It took a few weeks to get used to an empty bed 

- But eventually you started to sleep properly 

- And it was quite nice to have your own space again

- It meant you could study without having to listen to ‘nighthawk nightmare’ 

- Honestly, you don’t really know what the plot of that one is 

- But you’ve still seen it 7 times 

- You may be in love with him but it doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying sometimes 

- And you were happy with going back to admiring from afar

- Your heart can’t get broken that way

- In fact a small part of you thought he felt the same way 

- That one glimmer of hope you felt a year ago

- Came back all of sudden 

- And soon 

- You became aware of the lingering touches 

- And the gifts he’d buy you just because 

- He also asked what you wanted to watch for your movie night 

- And he’s never, ever done that unless you were sad or sick

- And even then, when you broke your arm a few years ago, he chose the film

- The way he looked at you suddenly felt different 

- You would feel him staring, but when you would check he would always be scrolling through his phone 

- And you’re sure the was a little bit of flirtiness in his tone whenever he spoke to you 

- But just because you think you can’t be burnt if you stand far enough away from the fire 

- Doesn’t mean that the sparks can’t jump out and get you anyway 

- Because all of sudden Reggie started bringing girls home 

- And every time you saw a t-shirt that wasn’t yours on the sofa 

- Or a pair of shoes discarded by the door

- You felt yourself die a little

- After a few weeks of this 

- Something in you snapped

- You’d spent the majority of your life pining after some boy who saw you as nothing more than a friend 

- And sometimes a small part of you thought as just an escape route

- So you moped for a few weeks before deciding it was finally time to move on

- Reggie would only ever see you as a friend 

- And that’s fine 

- The only way to move on, is to move on. 

- So you waited for the right guy to move on with 

- And there were a few 

- But none of them were right 

- Until you met Daniel 

- Sweet Daniel with curly brown hair and dimples

- Who studied history 

- And spent his days sitting in the coffee shop on campus

- For a few weeks the two of you spent your short interactions stealing glances and exchanging shy smiles 

- That evolved to small talk with flirty undertones

- Until finally he asked you out 

- And you said yes 

- And you kept saying yes to each date afterwards 

- They were fun too

- He’d take you to museum's and on picnics and at night he’d pick you up and you’d go star gazing 

- He would make you laugh when he’d tell you a joke 

- And make you blush when he’s whisper in your ear while staring up at the sky 

- But he wasn’t him

- And that killed you

- It doesn’t matter how many time he takes you to watch some unknown indie film thats supposed to be the greatest thing ever made

- It has nothing on standing outside the only cinema in town that’s showing ‘sharkcano vs tigerana’ in the freezing cold with Reggie wearing an absolutely ridiculous costumes that Reggie threw together last minute and somehow roped you into wearing too.

- But what hurt even more was watching how Reggie acted around you when you and Daniel started dating 

- He looked hurt whenever he saw the two of you together 

- And you would watch him roll his eyes whenever you mentioned him 

- Until eventually he would just avoid you all together 

- Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone when you’re living in the same 2 bedroom flat that barely gives two foot to yourself? 

- It’s hard 

- But Reggie finds a way 

- Eventually you’re more roommates than friends 

- And you really don’t know how much more you can take 

- You feel like you’re about to break 

- And Daniel can see that too

- So on Friday night he invites you to go drinking with him and his friends instead of staying in and moping 

- ‘bye, i’m going out’ 

- ‘wait’ 

- The speed of which he runs from his room and into the living room where your stood, startles you to say the least 

- ‘what?’

- ‘don’t go out with him.’ 

- ‘why not? what ever george has told you about is a lie. george does that. he once told a bunch of people that you streaked in an old people’s home and almost killed his grandmother’ 

- ‘because he isn’t me’ 

- You’ve dreamt of those words 

- Built them up in your head for years 

- But in all of your daydreams, there’s never been a scenario like this one 

- Not one where you’re about to leave to go on a date with another guy 

- ‘reggie? what are you talking about?’ 

- You need to make sure he’s saying what you think he’s saying 

- Because you can feel yourself hoping again

- And you know if he doesn’t mean what you want him to

- You don’t think you’ll be able to recover

- ‘i love you y/n. you’re my best friend, you always have been, you always will be and i love you.’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please tell me you feel the same way’ 

- ‘i-’ 

- In your head you had a full oscar worthy speech planned out just in case this ever happened 

- But now you’re here in the moment. 

- You have no idea what to say

- ‘it doesn’t matter. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’ 

- ‘do you really think i’m going to walk away from you after that? when have i ever walked away from you?’ 

- ‘i-no’

- ‘i love you too by the way. if you care’ 

- ‘shut up...wait really?’ 

- ‘yes i do. i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember so are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?’ 

- ‘i’m definitely going to kiss you’ 

- ‘good’ 

- And he does 

- He’s standing in front of you before you can catch your breath

- His hands reach up to cup your cheeks 

- His lips part as he stares down at you 

- And you’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at you

- Like you’re everything good and light in the universe 

- And like he’s also been waiting just as long for this moment 

- Maybe he has 

- Maybe he’s been waiting all his life for this 

- He just didn’t know 

- You feel whatever breath you had left leave your lungs

- His lips are soft against yours, but he gets his point across 

- And you’ve never been happier 

- All the heartache and tears 

- The laughter and stupid jokes 

- The 3am texts 

- The constant worrying 

- The early mornings and late nights 

- The damage to limbs from trying to fit in tiny closets

- And the scrapes on your ankles and bruising on your legs from crawling through his bedroom window 

- They’re all worth it

- ‘are you still going on your date?’ 

- ‘what do you think?’ 

- ‘good. because they’ve just released werewombats 3’

#reggie mantle #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle x reader #reggie mantle x you #reggie mantle x y/n #reggie #reggie imagine #reggie x reader #riverdale #riverdale imagine

[pencil-down-a-paragraph]

keeping up with the constatines

I’m writing an absolutely ridiculous John Constantine fic that involves him becoming the temporary guardian of two teen superheroes (which is the worst idea ever who decided to let him near children)

here’s the gist;

because Trigon is the worst, Raven is in hiding and is tossed around the Justice League before Giovanni Zatara is made her guardian

after only a few weeks living with the Zatara’s, Giovanni is killed, leaving not only Raven without a place to stay, but also Zatanna

this is obviously a problem

the Justice League have no idea what to do

the only other person they’d deem strong enough (magic wise) to protect them is Doctor Fate, and he straight up refuses

Flash, the absolute idiot, suggests Constantine because ‘he’s really powerful, right?’

its a terrible idea

he makes deals all the time

he’s sold his soul more times than should even be possible

he’s a terrible influence

but they’re desperate and he’s powerful and it just might actually be their only choice

so

they call him

at first he refuses, asks why they can’t get anyone else, if there’s anyone else, why they’re even considering him of all people

eventually he relents on the premise that its temporary until they can find someone better suited for the job

he owed Zatara anyway

the League sets everything up

they stick him and the teens in a three bedroom apartment in Bludhaven

John has absolutely no idea what he’s doing

Raven and Zatanna don’t know either, they’re really just trying to vibe through their grief

things could definitely be better

four weeks in, the Teen Titans are formed

Raven joins and Zatanna declines the offer

she’s still grieving :,)))

John is v uncomfy bc he doesn’t know what to do with a depressed teenage girl

he usually just falls into a pit of self loathing and drinks away his problems but he’s a responsible enough adult to know not to suggest that to a minor

he tells the League

she starts going to therapy with Black Canary

another month in and school is about to start

the League agrees they should attend bc they really do need the education and some since of normalcy might help improve their moods

this may or may not prove to be an issue

bc, ya know

the girls are kinda being hunted and Raven has no real surname

they got that covered tho

John protests, the girls agree

school starts and Rachel and Zorina Constantine are introduced as the new kids in class

John asks when the kids will be placed elsewhere and is told, very firmly, by Dinah that a sudden change might put Zatanna back in a bad mental state

John relents

life goes on

UNTIL

Zatanna walks into the apartment with a dirty street child

John’s not one to ask questions, he didn’t say anything when Raven came home one night with an emotionally wrecked Robin and declared that he was staying the night

any other time, he would have let it be

but not tonight

he definitely said something this time

bc he turned around, choked on his totally not spiked coffee, and exasperatedly yelled something about how ‘we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, bringing the host of Shazam here is not low profile!’

Billy would be more shocked if he weren’t about to pass out from malnourishment and exhaustion

which he promptly does

Zatanna screams

John sighs

he hates his life

which is fair tbh

for some reason i’m still working on, Billy sticks around and accidentally integrates himself into the already weird, little, broken home

life goes on again

until John uncovers a vampire nest, informs the League, and him the kids get relocated to Central City

two weeks later Zatanna meets Superboy (the 90s punk one bc i love him)

the Young Justice is formed a week later

another week and they reach out

Zatanna accepts this time

then life really does go on

there’s really just so many shenanigans going on

they adopt a hellhound puppy

Billy names him Quincy

Zatanna learns to love herself and how to be herself with the help of Raven and through clothes and music and basically what i’m trying to say here is that we stan punk Zatanna in this house

Deadman and Swamp Thing tend to show up, usually unannounced, to visit and terrorize John bc that’s what friends are for

it should be noted that Billy’s twelve and best friends with Cassie Sandsmark (also twelve) in this

also that when i first thought of this i accidentally started shipping Zatanna and punk Superboy

so i’m currently the only person who’s making content for that specific ship

yay

bbrae will also be in this but other than that there probably won’t be any other ships

unless you count a brief mention of John and King Shark’s past relationship lol

it should also be known that i have an entire incorrect quotes file for this fic

i’ll probably start writing chapters soon (unless one of my other equally terrible fic ideas captures my attention [which will probably happen]) but i’m definitely working on character designs and drawings so you’ll get story content regardless!

my eventual beta reader and story idea consultant @sailor-saturns-tea-kettle she’s made character moodboards for the story (found under the keeping up with the constantines tag) and came up with the title

#i'm so excited to write this #get ready it will be terrible #the story not my writing #my writing is EXCEPTIONAL #dc #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #john constantine #zatanna #zatanna zatara #raven #rachel roth #dc raven #justice league #justice league dark #swamp thing #dead man #deadman #hellblazer #superboy #kon el #90s young justice #young justice #teen titans #billy batson #shazam #captain marvel #robin #black canary

[the-writing-mobster]

Heeeeey, sweetums! How are things? I would be interested to know these ❤, 👀, ☕, please and thank you😄

😄💖 welcome to the party dear heart! I was hoping someone would ask those!

—

⟨⟨❤️ Who is your favorite character to write for and why?⟩⟩

Hands down my favorite character to write is Sans. Full stop. I looovvvve writing Sans.

« He's so devilish, like he literally makes me blush while I'm writing his interactions with Frisk, plus he's smooth as hell. He's fucking hilarious, I love writing his inner dialogue; it's so frantic and unhinged, it's great! Plus, I really, really enjoy those moments he gets dark and scary. It's ~bone~ chilling. »

—

⟨⟨👀 Do you have any words/phrases you use habitually?⟩⟩

Oh absolutely yes.

The term "a murmur rippled through the crowd," is a term I use a LOT.

Another one is "They shot them an ~insert adjective here~ look."

For WDYW specifically I adopted the phrase "faster than a hellhound after a soul." And I think I've used it more than twice...

Have there been any phrases any of y'all have noticed I use a lot?

—

⟨⟨☕️ Do you drink anything when you write? Coffee, tea, alcohol, etc?⟩⟩

If I'm at my computer I might have a mug of Iced Chai Milk Tea. It's basically elevated chocolate milk hahahaha! Other than that, none at all. And it's not something I NEED to write, it's just because I'm always thirsty and I have an addiction to chai.

..............................~ 🌹💀🌹 ~..............................

#wdyw #underfell #underfell frans #fanfic #ask box #ask me about wdyw #ask me about ywiw #thank you for the ask! #fanfic ask game #ask game #underfell sans #underfell frisk #frans

[luna-tormenta]

🌻✨Things I Do As A Death Witch💀🌿

Say blessings to the plants and animals that provide food for my family and I, to honor their sacrifice and to wish them an easy passing.

Collect walnuts on walks, to represent life and death in spells, as well as be beautiful decor throughout my home. (My daughter will find them playing, too, and bring them to me excitedly!)

Tap into objects memories, to see their lives before coming to me. I do this with crystals, herbs, and many different items I come across!🔮

Collect carcasses of insects to use in spell work 🦟

Say prayers of passing to roadkill I pass by, with my Enochian Fallen Angel, J.

Passing by cemeteries, I give a big "hello" addressed to the gatekeeper!

I tied a planchette onto my purse to act as a portable ward wherever we go.

I use Patchouli Oil to help keep me grounded throughout the day.

Dried flowers are all over our home, keeping a safe watch, but also are used for their correspondences. (The flowers are hanging, pressed into books, placed in frames, tied into wreaths, and stuck in vases throughout our common rooms of use.)💐

Pruning dying parts of my plants is an every day thing I do! I thank them for the gift, ask how they are and if I may use the gift in spells. Most of the time, they are dried and used for spellwork!🌿

I carry Bones of the Earth (crystals) with me wherever I go! I have some placed in the car, in my purse, and my daughters diaper bag. An obsidian point dangles from the mirror of our car for safety and protection!

My Hellhound, A, runs next to the car everywhere we go. I enjoy watching him play! 🐺

5 rings I wear constantly are dedicated and honor the chthonic deities I work with. (Hades, Persephone, Demeter, Clíodhna, and The Fates💜)

Spirit vessels are placed throughout the house as well!👻

A fallen tree branch tied with twine on the ends, hangs in my hallway, and dangles my necklaces from itself. The branch charges my necklaces!

L, my Lunar Moth Faerie, drinks tea with me every day. 🦋

I use bones and feathers as little wards through our home.

Bells are on the doorknobs, so I can hear them ring when someone (physical or non) enters our home.

I am a mother of a toddler Faerie who was saved from experiments to make hybrids. We read Spooky Fairytales together. 📚

I create various, unique items to give as presents to my spirit family!

We have movie nights every Saturday, too!🎥

I do chores with my Brownie Fae, B. 🧺

Dedicate my Shadow Work to my deities.

Sleep with my Floating Demon Eyeball next to my side!🧿

In every room of my home, my selkie, D, and I placed seashells as another layer of ward. (The bones of the sea!🐚)

In my purse, I have another bag that holds a pendulum, small notebook, crystals, a pen, and tarot cards for on-the-go encounters and magic.

In my wallet, is a locket with a coin, a bud of lavender, moonstone, and obsidian. 👝

Give doggy treats to my hellhound and Cerberus for being Good Bois!!🥰

Walk with Death as a friend through Life.

When I visit cemeteries, I;

Gather wildflowers to place on dusted over graves.

Bring milk with honey for infants gone too soon. 🍼🍯

Make biscuits for the gatekeepers.🥐

Visit my friends, Eunice and Cynthia, and bring them items of their choice. 🕯

Carry coins as little offerings for spirits I encounter.

I will add stuff as I remember them and create new ones!

Many blessings and love upon you all!🌻✨🌙

-Lúthiena 💀🌿

#lúthiena's adventures #my posts #my craft #luna tormenta #death witch #death witchcraft #death work #shadow work #energy work #my deities #queen clíodhna #queen persephone #lord hades #mother demeter #my spirit family #spirit work #spirit companions #my companions #witchcraft

[kpopfanfictrash]

Darkmist (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash​ as part of the  Deadly Intentions collaboration with @underthejoon​​ @lamourche​ @floralseokjin​ @prolixitae​ @btssmutgalore​ and @taetaetrashhh​ 

Creative Contributor: @taetaetrashhh for organizing the collab and this wonderful moodboard!

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader (third person)

Genre: Hellhound!Yoongi / Magical!Reader / High Fantasy

Word Count: 30,868

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for mature themes and sexual content. Character death depicted (not main). Violence depicted in both fight scenes and flashbacks. Unprotected sex. 

Summary:  Y/N has always known she was different. A ward in a city where all know their name. A girl apprenticed to a blacksmith. And a shadow-singer –  a magical being who controls the night and sees all within. Even those who would prefer not to be seen.

A/N: There is some Welsh mythology referenced to within the fic, but it is by no means canon.  [ CROSS-POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE ]

In the lone dark of night, a rooster crows to the dawn.

Y/N stirs, warm beneath bedcovers in the tiniest room of Tywll’s only tavern. Her mattress sinks under her weight, holding her equally captive as her dreams. Fingers curling into blankets, she burrows even deeper to feign sleep.

The darkness wraps around her lovingly, as one would a friend. For a moment, she nearly sinks back into sleep, but no – her eyes open.

The rooster does not crow a second time. If Y/N does not wake now, she will miss opening the forge for the day. Gritting her teeth, Y/N swings first one leg, then the other from bed. The floor beneath her feet is freezing, the last dregs of summer but a vague, distant memory.

As she fumbles about for a match, Y/N’s eyes grow accustomed to the dimness. This happens easily for her, just as it is unusually difficult for her to light her lamp. When it finally works, catching beneath her, Y/N exhales in triumph.

Stretching both arms overhead, she walks to her wardrobe and examines her the clothing. Few are suitable for work in the forge. As a fifth-year apprentice of Owen, the town’s blacksmith, Y/N is well-accustomed to the demands of her job. She is also accustomed to returning with singed hair and burnt clothing, which makes her options somewhat limited out of necessity.

Not that her belongings are much to speak of, regardless. As the orphaned ward of Mervin and Rian Talog, Y/N lives a simple life in their tavern. In the morning, she wakes and travels to the forge. In the evening, she returns home to assist as a barmaid. Her life is straightforward, if somewhat unconventional.

At least, it is unconventional in the eyes of the town. For Y/N to be a girl, unmarried and sweating away in a man’s field – well, some see it as close to near sanctimonious. Luckily, Mervin and Rian have never been of that mindset and are not much for gossip.

Still, Y/N cannot deny her time is running out. As soon as her apprenticeship finishes and Owen declares her his successor, she intends to leave and open her own shop. The thought makes her feel somewhat empty though, as if there should be more, but Y/N usually pushes such emotions aside.

Her kind often feel empty.

Straightening, Y/N surveys herself in the mirror. Her leather work apron stays at the forge every night, so for now she dresses in a plain tunic and leather pants borrowed from Mervin. There is no seamstress in town willing to make them for women. Turning swiftly, Y/N grabs her cloak from her chair and blows out the lamp.

The night is not as dark as before.

It is not yet day, though – the sun still hesitates below the horizon. At the edge of earth, the sky lightens a touch, but there is still a half-hour before the sun comes into view.

Exiting her rooms, Y/N stares at the night before climbing downstairs. Her bedroom is the only one at the top of the tavern. When she was younger, she liked to pretend her rooms were a tower – the most luxurious in the town, envied by all. As she grew older though, Y/N ceased in her thinking and saw her rooms for what they were.

Four flights of stairs, and quarters which nobody wants.

Still, the room holds a certain magic to her still. Hand skimming over the banister as she descends, Y/N fastens her cloak upon entering the kitchen.

Mervin sits at the worn wooden table, bent over a pile of books with his spectacles. Rian is behind him, bent over the heat of the fire. Pushing hair back from her face, she frowns at the flames and critiques its temperature.

Y/N nearly smiles, recognizing this stance from the forge. One might not imagine cooking and metalwork to be similar but oddly enough, they involve the same concepts.

When she enters, Mervin looks up. “Morning,” he greets, smiling faintly.

Y/N nods, glancing at Rian. “Morning,” she says, smiling back.

Rian waves a spatula, then continues to stir. “Should I add sage?” She cranes her neck to look at them both. “Or would that be too savory?”

“Never.” Mervin drops a wink at Y/N. “Hard to imagine your cooking could take a wrong turn.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” protests Mervin.

Rian gives him a look. “And lies will send you to the wrong part of Annwn.”

Annwn – or, the Otherworld. It is the duty of all in their town, their province, their world to live a full, productive life and pass on in peace. The summation of decisions a person makes in their life will determine where one goes in the next – when they arrive in Annwn.

Mervin chuckles and returns to his ledger. “Why ask my opinion at all? Add salt instead.”

Rian nods, already reaching out for the canister. Y/N smiles, gripping her cloak tighter as she moves towards the door. The tavern is already busy – she can hear guests through the door, chatting and laughing. Y/N has no desire to see them this morning though, so she purposefully leaves out the back door.

When Y/N was twelve, she was already at work in the evenings. She helped when she could, clearing dishes from tables and washing them inside the kitchen. It was not unusual for those her age to work, but most had jobs which did not involve the town drinking.

People say many things when they are drunk; things they otherwise would not say to one’s face. One night in particular stands out in Y/N’s memory – the night she learned what the town thought of her situation. Or, most of them, anyways.

The town drunk – Trevor – brought this to her attention. To be fair, he did not know she was standing there. Did not bother to look over his shoulder and check if she could hear; he merely guffawed at a joke and barreled on with his story.

“Poor Mervin didn’t know what to do with himself, eh?” he roared, slamming beer down on the table.

Y/N flinched when ale flew over the top. She would be the one cleaning it up later.

“It was a late October morning – misty as Annwn, mind you! Mervin goes out early-like.” Trevor leaned in, cheeks ruddy with ale. “He goes to set out the milk bottles and there – on the doorstep! – was a baby. A baby!” he said to uproarious laughter. “Imagine, Mervin with his spectacles an’ whatnot, finding a child!”

Y/N did not see what was so funny about the matter.

She was twelve at the time, not stupid. She saw how the other villagers treated her, how they treated her family. Y/N knew they were different. Most of the men in Tywll were loud, boisterous creatures who frequented their inn – or, they frequented their tavern, at least. From what Y/N could see, they spoke much, complained often and solved very little.

Whereas, Mervin was magic. Not true magic – not the magic which makes villagers light pitchforks, chase down demons and witches at night. No, Mervin was magic in that he could change things. Armed with books and his numbers – admittedly, these seemed like magic to most – he created wealth for the town in the oddest of ways.

This made people regard him warily though, which Y/N did not understand.

On the night in question, Trevor was in an uproar. “Rian did the convincing,” he said, wiping his mouth with one hand. “Mervin took ‘er in, wanted to find a home but Rian put her foot down. Said it would stay with them.”

Hearing this information, Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that true?” she asked, over the din of the crowd.

Before that night, Y/N had always thought Rian did not like her much. Y/N mistook her gruffness for anger, when in reality Rian was simply not prone to fits of emotion. She did not love magic or fairytales, but she did love Y/N.

Trevor’s back stiffened, hearing her voice. The rest of his table saw Y/N standing there and were suitably embarrassed by the turn of events – except for Trevor himself, who slowly turned in his seat.

“Go on,” he insisted, gaze clouded with drink. “Out with you, now! This place isn’t fit for a child.”

Y/N’s lower lip trembled and she turned around to flee, moving as fast as her legs would allow. It was Rian who found her later on in the pantry; she was the one who knew all her hiding spots. She did not say a word about the incident but gave Y/N a warm cup of tea and for the next month, Trevor was banned from the inn.

When he could return, Rian warned Y/N not to listen to nonsense. This was something Rian said often, and something she said even more to Y/N. Do not listen to nonsense, do not believe in fairytales. Do not search for saviors, magic, or destiny. Do not place faith in the books by her bed, since faith belongs to the gods alone.

Y/N would nod and pretend she understood – until Mervin would sneak in at bedtime to read another story. Their lives worked in this manner. Their family worked in this way, happy in the most unconventional of ways.

Waving at them, Y/N slips out the door. As it falls shut behind her, she looks up at the sky.

The first rays of dawn are slipping over the horizon – not enough to banish the mist, but enough for her to see by. Setting off down the lane, Y/N hums to herself. Tywll is a small town, tiny enough that there is only one road. Still, travelers come often from all parts of the province – it fuels their economy and makes them rarely want for anything.

Y/N’s shadow is cast as she walks, scrunching and stretching over muddied dips in the road. It rained all last night, making Y/N’s feet sink as she walks. Unfortunate, since she has only one pair of work boots.

It took Y/N a month to convince Owen to be his apprentice. It took longer to raise the necessary money for a leather apron and boots. Y/N is rather old to still be an apprentice; nearly twenty and still, she is in her fifth year. At least she is close to finishing, though. Y/N is a fast learner and, given a few more months, she hopes to be able to produce a piece to Owen’s satisfaction.

Luckily, Owen is not one of the many in town who refuse Y/N due to her gender. The main reason he balked was due to the cost of having an apprentice. The effort of slowing down to teach is enormous – although Y/N hopes she has more than made up for this cost over the years.

Ducking her head, Y/N continues on down the lane. She is lucky to have so many sources of happiness. Mervin and Rian care for her as their own. Owen, a blacksmith, is willing to teach her his craft. Truly, it is more than any one woman can hope for – which is why Y/N feels guilty to admit she is lonely.

Outside of the aforementioned people, not many in Tywll enjoy Y/N’s presence. Oh, they tolerate her. Most of them purchase her wares as a blacksmith, accept her ale in the tavern, but Y/N has always been considered an outsider.

She was not born here and so, will never belong.

Of the few who are kind, the only one nearing her age is Gwen – Owen’s daughter. He is a single father, if a doting one and Y/N has never cared to ask for the details. Anytime Gwen’s mother is mentioned, Gwen hastily interrupts with her skilled art of small talk.

Nearing a bend in the road, Y/N adjusts her cloak to glance over her shoulder. The mist in this part is thicker than normal, never fully dissipating even when the sun is high overhead. Tearing her gaze from the shadows, she looks ahead – and freezes.

A pair of red, glowing eyes stare back from the darkness.

There is no one else in the square.

Or, this is what Y/N thought when she entered – the pair of glowing, red eyes seems in direct contradiction to this. Darkness writhes around them, attempting to solidify but before this can happen, Y/N spins around on her heel. Grasping her cloak, she rushes out of the road.

Heart pounding, she darts down the alley which leads to the forge. Not daring to glance over her shoulder, Y/N listens for footsteps which follow, but hears none.

If Y/N has learned anything from her fairytales, it is nothing good comes from a Grim. Grims are hound-like demons who lurk in the shadows, warning of nothing but death and despair. Sometimes, their meaning is even more sinister. Sometimes, Grims are the Cŵn Annwn themselves – the feared hellhounds of Annwn who answer to none but Lord Arawn, ruler of the Otherworld.

The Cŵn Annwn have one job. Find souls which belong in the Otherworld and bring them to their desired location – often painfully, and in the basest way possible.

Fighting a shiver, Y/N continues her journey. As she walks, she almost manages to convince herself it was nothing. It was likely only a dog in the shadows. The red glow probably came from the sunrise. Rian is right – Y/N’s imagination is far too active, drawing conclusions which make zero sense.

Except – she has this feeling in her blood, a singing in her bones. Heat stirs within her, as though seeking an unanswered call.

Ignoring all this, Y/N steps into the yard of the forge. Determinedly, she closes the gate behind her. Gwen looks up at the sound, ceasing her sweeping to give Y/N a wave. Switching her broom to one hand, she fixes her hair clip with the other – a silver and jade pendent Owen bought her last Yuletide.

Seeing her there, Y/N slowly relaxes. Nothing bad can happen in the presence of someone like Gwen. Lovely, serene and admired by all, Gwen is the pride and joy of Tywll. Y/N cannot even dislike her for this, though – Gwen is every bit as kind as she is beautiful.

“Hello, Y/N!” she calls out, smiling brightly. “Lovely weather compared to yesterday, no?”

Y/N shields her face as she walks, blocking the sun which breaks over the horizon. Elongated shadows stretch towards her, the longest they will be until the sun sets again. Y/N smiles, moving to answer when a dissonant crack sounds from above.

Both Y/N and Gwen look up, startled when a branch breaks loose from the tree.

Gwen’s lips part, about to scream but before she can, Y/N jumps into action. She moves without thought, throwing herself forward and wrenching power within. The branch veers off-course, smashing into the window – narrowly avoiding the door where Gwen stands.

Staggering backwards, Gwen drops the broom she was holding.

The window lies in shattered pieces, all over the lawn and the branch sticks grotesquely out of the house. Gwen stares for a moment before whimpering, tremblingly pressing a hand to her mouth – the window could have easily been her.  

Owen appears then, hurtling head-long around the side of the building. He must have been in the forge, since he still wears his apron, only one of his work gloves discarded.

Skidding to a stop, he sees the chaos before him. “What happened?” he blurts. Gwen still has not moved, standing before the doorway. “What happened – are you hurt, Gwen?”

Gwen shakes her head, hair escaping her clip.

She points – finger passing briefly over Y/N – to land on the tree overhead. “It was the branch!” she gasps, eyes wide. “It broke off from the tree and hit the window right next to me!”

Rushing forward, Owen barely notices the glass crunching beneath his feet. Y/N sags, relieved by their distraction but neither one of them notices, too consumed by their relief.

“Gods,” Owen gasps, coming to a stop. He removes his hat, making a hurried gesture over his heart. “To think you were standing there. It must have been the storm,” he adds, glancing up. “Lightning must have struck last night, and rain loosened it further.”

Gwen nods, a bit dazed. “It must’ve been.”

Stepping forward, Owen wraps his daughter tightly in a hug. Y/N looks away, lowering her gaze to the ground. He mumbles into her neck – a prayer, or a thanks of some sort – which does not seem like something she should intrude upon.

Folding her hands behind her back, Y/N closes her eyes. Her heart races, as though she has run a far distance and her hands are badly shaking, which is why she conceals them. It has been a long time since she allowed herself a reaction.

It has been even longer since she opened that part of herself.

At last, Owen breaks free. “Y/N!” he calls, noticing her there. “I’m so sorry to scare you like that.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N says. Crossing the yard, she feigns concern scanning the bright shards of glass. “I’m glad no one was hurt. You’re sure you’re not?” she asks of Gwen, searching her frame

Smiling kindly, Gwen bends for the broom. “Quite certain. Thank you for your concern.”

Y/N nods. “Can I help in any way? Pick up the glass, or…?”

“Oh, yes.” Owen blinks, seeming to notice the mess. “Y/N, could you get pail from the forge? We can gather these larger pieces while Gwen sweeps up the rest.”

She nods in acknowledgement, gathering her cloak to hasten away.

As soon as Y/N turns the corner, she stops and sags against the side of the house. Breathing in deeply, her legs barely hold as they waver beneath her. Head spinning, Y/N chastises herself for such an obvious slip. The last time she lost control in this way, she must have been a child.

It cannot happen again.

Blankly, Y/N stares at the grey wood before her. Her vision blurs, threatening her happiness at having helped in some way. Because even if what she did was dangerous, at least Gwen is safe. At least Owen is happy, and their family remains intact.

It is hard to chastise herself for a result like that. Slowly pulling herself upright, Y/N regathers her bearings and goes to fetch the pail. If she is gone for too long, Owen will be suspicious.

Still, an inkling of worry lingers the rest of the day. Red eyes continue to haunt from the shadows, causing Y/N to wonder if she did the right thing. Each time she looks over her shoulder, there is nothing to see.

The morning passes by in a never-ending list of things to be done. Owen is the only blacksmith in Tywll – a fact not unusual for a town of their size, but due to a steady stream of travelers means he is constantly in demand. He is expected to know a variety of crafts, all of which can be daunting. Locksmith, silversmith, armory – Owen knows them all. It means Y/N, by extension, is expected to know them as well.

She does the menial tasks while he labors – pumping the bellows, replacing coal in the furnace and changing the anvil when Owen begins a new task. She is happy to do this, since it means she is that much closer to owning her own shop.

Around sundown, the work finally slows, and Y/N allows herself a moment of rest. Coming to a stop, Y/N wipes sweat from her brow and pushes hair behind her ear. The forge is sweltering even on the coldest of days, let alone midway through autumn. Still, Y/N has always preferred this to the chill.

Owen finished work nearly an hour ago – now he stands at the counter, wrapping an axe up in fabric. Although their town is too small to have a Lord or a Knight, they have several merchants wealthy enough to imagine themselves both. Cadoc is one of said merchants – a finicky man whose family has lived in Tywll for centuries.

He commissioned an axe from Owen last month, which was notable because Cadoc usually purchases his goods from Dowais –a larger town several kilometers away from Tywll. He rarely buys local, but for Owen, he seems to make an exception.

Wrapping the blade against harm, Owen looks at Y/N. “You’ll be fine closing the shop on your own?” he asks, already grabbing his coat.

“Yes, of course. This isn’t my first time closing. Go on – Cadoc is not the type to be kept waiting.”

Owen chuckles beneath his breath. The statement is true – a fact they both know and yet, few would dare say.

“Alright,” he says, firmly grasping the axe. Pausing on the threshold, he glances over his shoulder. “If you leave before I’m back, take those extra nails home to Mervin. Alright?”

Y/N nods, busy scrubbing the soot from the metal. Once he is gone, she continues to clean. The forge stays open past sundown, but customers rarely stop by so late in the day. It is little risk to Owen if Y/N is here alone.

Glancing around, Y/N sets down her cloth and realizes the shadows are longer than she thought. Already, the day grows to a close and soon enough, winter will be upon them. Listlessly, Y/N wonders how many more seasons she will face in this town. Day in and day out, the same trials and tribulations. Why, it is almost enough for –

“Excuse me.”

Startled by the new voice, Y/N whirls and nearly trips over her water.

A stranger stands in the doorway, hat removed from his head. Y/N notices his hands first. They are large yet delicate, clasped around the brim of his hat.

She next notices his face as he steps into the lamplight. The man is beautiful – there are no other words to describe him. With pale skin and midnight-black hair, he might well be a painting. Indeed, Y/N wonders briefly if this is the case.

Then he blinks, shattering the image.

“We’re about to close.” Y/N drops her rag in the bucket. It seems uncomely to hold suds in his presence. “The master smith recently stepped out for a delivery. He will not return for a while.”

“That’s alright,” he says, glancing around. “I’m in no rush.”

Arching a brow, Y/N surveys his face. The man’s accent is not from around here; there is a formal drawl to it, vowels elongated in a way which speaks of nobility. Curiously, Y/N lowers her gaze to his coat. Finely made.

“Do you have a message I can give him?”

The man’s gaze lifts. “Perhaps,” he allows, laying a hand on the counter. “Might I ask who you are?”

“An apprentice.”

His eyes gleam, since this is not what he asked. “How intriguing.”

“Because I’m a woman?

His brows shoot upwards, withdrawing his hand. “Of course not.”

“Then, why?” she asks pleasantly.

“Actually, I did not come to inquire after your services.” He abruptly changes the subject. “But to offer you mine.”

“And what services are those?”

Rather than answer, the man glances over his shoulder. Through the windows of the forge, Owen’s main door is visible. Most of the glass has been cleared, but evidence of the accident remains.

The stranger’s lip curls. “Odd weather we’re having lately, isn’t it?”

The way he says this makes Y/N’s heart almost stop. It takes her a moment to re-start, a moment to recover and during this time, he looks at her over his shoulder.

“The rain has been unusually strong,” she agrees.

“Indeed.”

The stranger says nothing else and there is no trace of humor to the inky black of his gaze. The rest of his clothing is also well-made, Y/N realizes – again, unusual for Tywll. This coupled with his accent has her hackles raised in alarm. This man is clearly an outsider.

Lifting her chin, Y/N attempts to look down her nose. “Why are you here?” she asks again.

“I’ll confess – I came because I’m curious.”

“About?”

When he leans in, Y/N catches a whiff of a scent not unlike burnt wood. “I arrived in the village early this morning,” he says.

“A lovely time of the day.”

“Incredibly so,” he says, expression inscrutable. “Dawn is the most honest time of day, I have found.”

“That’s an odd way of putting it.”

“Is it? The nighttime can mislead things. Darkness often conceals that which is best left alone.”

“Or,” Y/N offers. “It allows the freedom of no one else seeing.”

The man does not respond, silence growing between them until Y/N realizes she may have said too much. Schooling her face to neutrality, she offers a smile. “As I said. Are you sure there is nothing you wish to purchase?”

“Oh, no. Merely my services. I was traveling this morning and saw the branch in your window – you see, I’m a tradesman of sorts.” He pauses, flashing a smile. “I replace wayward things.”

“Replace?” Y/N’s brow furrows, glancing outside. “Like the window?”

“Amongst other things,” the strange man allows. “Odd, though, for the branch to have fallen that way. Based on the tree above, seems like it would have hit the front door.”

Y/N freezes, glancing up and in that moment, realizes her mistake. 

The man’s smile sharpens – a razor in disguise.

Withdrawing, she shakes her head. “The oddest of incidents. Your concern is noted and appreciated, of course.” Heart racing, she turns to regather her things. “I’m afraid there are others in town who can help, though.”

He chuckles. “None like me, I can assure you.”

“Be that as it may, we have no need of your… services.”

“Of course,” he says, smile widening. “I must respect your wishes on the matter.”

Bowing low, he replaces the hat on his head. Y/N is somewhat surprised to find him giving in so easily. From what she knows of traveling merchants, they rarely take no for an answer. As he begins to leave the shop, the man pauses on the threshold and examines an object. Seeing what he looks at, Y/N stops with one hand in the rags.

“This…” He tilts his head to one side. “Is lovely, whatever it is.”

Y/N tries not to scowl.

She does not think he means this as an insult, but the man’s tone and mannerisms are so strange, she cannot help but react. The object in question is one she made late at night in the forge. It began as a lone ball of metal, but under Y/N’s careful manipulation became molten tendrils of fire which seem to dance in the lamplight.

It is useless, per Owen’s criticism, but still – he did not throw it out.

The stranger considers it a moment, then turns back to Y/N. “Did you make this?”

Y/N straightens. “Yes.”

He returns to the object, surprised. “It is quite good.”

“Truly?” Y/N attempts not to look interested but cannot deny that she is. She finds herself wanting to know more about what this mysterious stranger thinks. The thought catches her off guard.

Hiding a smile, he turns in her direction. “It is,” he insists, offering her his hand. “It was lovely to meet you, apprentice blacksmith of Tywll.”

“Y/N,” she says, holding out her hand in turn.

The moment their fingers touch, a fire blazes through her.

Immediately, Y/N releases him, as if burned. It is too late. She stares open-mouthed at her palm, unable to see any visible damage. Yet her skin feels oddly scalded, her bones ringing with strangeness only magic can forge.

Terrified, she glances up – and finds him staring back.

Darkness swirls in the bottomless depths of his gaze. “Who are you?” he growls, taking a hasty step forward.

“Is there something I can help with?”

Owen appears on the threshold.

The stranger halts, emotions clearly at war on his face. Slowly, logic seems to win out, and he reluctantly turns. Owen continues to stare, clearly unimpressed by his manner of speaking. Y/N assumes he did not hear much, but the little he did could not have been good.

“I apologize.” Genteelly, the stranger bows. “I was merely offering my services to your apprentice, should you need to replace your window. Terrible storm last night.”

Owen does not look away. “I prefer my customers wait outside until I arrive.”

“Of course. My apologies, for any offense.”

“None taken.” Owen watches him go. “You are a tradesman, then?”

The man comes to a stop at the door. “Of a sort.”

“Quite a good one, I’d imagine to be able to afford clothes like those.”

“I do well enough.”

“I see.” Owen still does not move. “Well, then. I would hate to keep you from it.”

The man pauses before nodding, reaching into his coat. “Here,” he says, turning to hand Owen a card. “I will be in town a few days longer. Should you have need, you’ll know who to ask for.”

Accepting this, Owen places it beside him on the counter. “Thank you.”

The man nods again before leaving. He hovers on the threshold, half in and out of the shadows before he enters the night. Owen watches him disappear, waiting until he is gone before turning around. Y/N does this as well, still clutching her hands as if burned.

Owen looks sharply at her. “Did he say anything to you?”

“What? No, nothing.”

“Then – touch?” Owen asks, and Y/N realizes he saw the man take his step forward. “Did he touch you?”

“N-no,” she stammers quickly, uncertain why she defends him. “Nothing of the sort.”

Owen surveys her a moment, then nods and walks past. “No good travelers,” he mutters, shutting the door – he is not looking at Y/N and does not see how the name sends a chill down her spine. “Always thinking they own the towns they stay in, huh?”

Ignoring the calling card on the table, Owen strides towards the furnace. Y/N watches him stoke the flames, oddly embarrassed by the whole interaction. It is not as though the stranger did anything untoward. He was odd, yes, but that hardly constitutes condemnation.

Besides, there is the small manner of his skin, like flames when they touched.

This is not something she can say to Owen, though and so, Y/N shakes her head. “Nothing for you to be angry about, I’m certain.”

Owen pauses, shoulders slowly relaxing. “Alright,” he sighs. Hovering a moment, he turns to meet her gaze. “Why don’t I finish the rest? You can head to the inn, come back in the morning.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, yes.” Owen waves a hand. “Go and help Mervin and Rian. Nice night like this, I’m sure the tavern is bustling. I’ll be fine.”

Y/N hesitates, before nodding and undoing the strings of her apron. The garment is covered in soot, but this cannot be helped in the forge. Y/N does her best to wash it with water before hanging to dry in the pantry.

As she exits the forge, she spots the calling card on the table.

Glancing upwards, she sees Owen’s back is now turned. Before she can think, she plucks the card from the table and slides this into her pocket.

Immediately, Y/N pushes open the door and enters the night. The temperature drops several degrees and she stops, wiping sweat from her forehead. Realizing the stranger saw her in such a condition, Y/N frowns as she sets off down the road.

Humming as she walks, Y/N pointedly ignores the events of today. A feat which proves to be impossible when she reaches the inn, coming to a stop in the coolness of its shadows. Fighting a battle within, Y/N slowly reaches into her cloak to pull out the card.

The card is plain – white, with silver filigree letters. The calligraphy is almost too delicate to be real, thin swirls of writing which transcribe only a name.

Min Yoongi.

Y/N flips the card over, expecting to see more, but it is empty. Frowning, she slips the card again in her pocket and resumes her path to the inn. Try as she might, Y/N cannot shake the man’s face from her mind.

The blood in her veins heats, nearly combustive at the thought.

Y/N enters through the back door to change into her clothing. Work in the tavern requires a dress, not pants and her hair up on her head. The new apron is stained with spilled food, not soot but the effect is largely the same.

Hurrying into the kitchen, Y/N grabs a tray by the door. “Where do those plates go to?” she asks Rumilda, their cook.

Rumilda is not of Tywll either, but has worked for the Talog’s since before Y/N was born. Even so, she is still considered an outsider as well. 

“Table under the window,” she instructs with a wave. “The traveling couple with the newborn.”

Nodding, Y/N pushes open the door with her hip. As she enters the front room, she winces at the noise. Owen was correct – the inn is, indeed, busy tonight. Edging around a table of men playing cards, Y/N reaches the window and sets her plates down.

“Here you go,” she says, smiling brightly. The couple voices their thanks, the father gently bouncing a child on his knee. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, no,” says the woman, waving her off. “Thank you.”

Y/N nods, turning around with her tray to exit the room. Rian is at the bar, a large oaken structure which has stood the test of time. Rian always is the one pouring the drinks – she is best suited as gatekeeper, determining when men should be cut off.  Mervin always stands at the front door. He greets guests when they arrive, tallying their bills and determining the price.

On a night as full as this one, Y/N imagines the rooms to be costly. Pushing her way through the crowd, Y/N returns to the kitchen and sets down her tray.

“Lord, the inn is busy,” she remarks, already grabbing a plate. “Lots of strangers, too.”

Rumilda nods, ladling stew into a bowl. “Quite a few coming through town on their way to the autumnal festival in Dowais. Rian mentioned five alone this morning, though she expects there to be more.”

Nodding, Y/N picks back up the tray. “Where is this one going?”

“Table to the right of the fireplace,” Rumilda says. “One of the travelers from this morning, just off the road. Well-off, too, so take care not to spill.”

“Alright.” Y/N is mid-way to the door before her feet falter. “A solo traveler you said?” Wary, she glances over her shoulder. “You’re certain?”

Rumilda continues to stir. “Yes, yes, of course. Mervin gave him the best rooms in the inn. Why – Y/N?” Looking up, she squints through the steam. “You seem as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dazedly, Y/N pulls herself from her thoughts. “It’s nothing,” she says, continuing on. “Nothing at all. The table by the fireplace?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Hurry, now – someone that wealthy won’t be kept waiting long.”

Nodding again, Y/N pushes open the door. It swings shut, the noise of the tavern enveloping her smoothly. A solo traveler this morning and wearing finely-made clothes – Y/N cannot help but think of Min Yoongi.

He did say he would be staying in town, and theirs is the only inn in Tywll.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Y/N tries to ignore the pounding beat of her heart. The man asked too many questions about her. Good questions, intelligent questions – ones which gave Y/N pause. Men like that are not to be trusted.

And then, there is the matter of the heat when they touched.

Skirting around the final table, the fireplace comes into view – and Y/N exhales in relief, not recognizing its occupant.

The man is not Yoongi; that much is certain. 

He is taller, with lighter hair and a thoughtful expression. Rumilda was right, though – he is dressed immaculately, clearly in possession of wealth. His cloak is a deep shade of scarlet and he wears gloves on both hands; ones of fine leather Y/N could never wear in the forge.

Y/N stares for a moment before realizing her place and hurrying forward. The man is also quite handsome – this fact cannot be denied.

“Hello,” she greets, setting his stew on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The man looks up, meeting her gaze.

Y/N blinks, the room slowing around her. His gaze is ice blue, almost impossibly so – it is unnerving, how beautiful his eyes are.

“How kind of you to ask,” he says, smiling easily.

“It’s only my job.” Y/N forces herself to respond. “I work in the tavern.”

“Ah, I see. Then, it appears I am in your debt this evening.”

Ducking her head, Y/N cannot help but be charmed. There is something about him which she finds calming – perhaps the lilt to his voice, or the easy smile to his lips.

“Not at all,” she insists, looking up. “This is my family’s inn. Our job is to make you comfortable. After all, you’ve paid for it.”

The man’s smile widens, leaning back in his seat. “Ah, I see. You make a good point. And what did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t.” She pauses. “But it’s Y/N, all the same.”

“Y/N,” he says slowly, rolling the word. His gaze brightens. “A lovely name. Your parents have exquisite taste.”

The man glances up at the bar – to Rian – as if in deference, but Y/N does not correct him. Rian did not name her, neither did Mervin, but that hardly seems prudent to discuss at the moment. The stranger will learn soon enough of her past from the locals, if he decides to stay.

“Thank you.” Y/N manages to keep her voice level. “Now – truly, is there anything else I can bring?”

Smiling back, he lowers both hands to the tablecloth. Most of his clothing is simple, if well-made, except for the bright silver ring on his hand. There is a sigil upon it which Y/N finds oddly familiar. When the man sees her gaze lingering, he pointedly removes his hand from the table.

Y/N’s cheeks heat, gaze lifting to his.

The lines around his mouth seem somehow less genial. “Perhaps more wine? What vintage is known in these parts?”

“None, I’m afraid.” Shaking her head, Y/N tries not to dissect his reaction. Some people are merely private about their belongings, after all. “More ale than wine, unfortunately.”

“I see.” Just as abruptly, pleasantry returns to his face. “In that case, what would you recommend?”

The man’s hand is still hidden, Y/N cannot help but notice.

She hesitates before speaking, finding the entire interaction to be odd. Perhaps she is being too critical. Perhaps she is reading too much into his mannerisms – likely so. After seeing a grim in the shadows, the incident with the branch and meeting Min Yoongi, Y/N is certainly on edge.

“Oh, many things,” she says lightly. “Rian can make anything you like.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he says, sounding like he means it. “I do apologize – I’m being rude, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I am Alvah. I arrived to Tywll this morning and am thoroughly taken with your town.”

“Are you?” Y/N arches a brow. “You’ll have to explain to me why.”

Alvah pauses, as though uncertain whether she is joking before he bursts into laughter. 

Y/N smiles reassuringly. “About that ale,” she says, already turning away. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Alvah murmurs his thanks as she leaves, but Y/N is already gone, plunging into the crowd. Tywll receives a lot of travelers, especially this close to the autumnal festival. It is not unusual for one or two to stay longer than intended, infatuated by the charms of ‘village life.’

They all leave eventually, though. Only the townspeople ever stay in Tywll.

Stopping at the bar, Y/N lowers her tray to the counter. “One ale,” she says, glancing at Rian. Alvah is hidden within the crowd, so she does not bother to look. “The table over by the fireplace.”

Rian nods, grabbing a glass. “I’ll have the new serving girl take this over to them,” she says, sliding a different cup towards Y/N. “Her other tables are in that area, anyways. I need you to take this wine upstairs. Room seven.”

Y/N blinks, seeing the fine vintage before her. She did lie a bit, telling Alvah they had none of renown. Rian and Mervin save a bottle or two for their most important guests. Rather uneasily, Y/N glances at the stairs.

“Oh,” she says, reluctantly taking the glass. Swiftly, she squashes the disappointment this brings. Alvah was kind, and not bad to talk to. “Room seven, you said?”

“Another solo traveler,” Rian nods. “Although he hasn’t come down yet. Paid a pretty penny though, so make sure he’s comfortable.”

Turning away, Y/N takes the glass from the counter.

Making her way towards the stairs, Y/N nearly spills several times. She is almost glad for the task, as it places her firmly out of reach of loud men and fast hands. The stairwell is a respite, a moment of quiet in the otherwise chaos.

As she climbs, Y/N begins cataloguing all she must do before closing. Help Rumilda scrub the pans, assist the new serving girl in calculating the bills – usher out drunkards before Rian catches wind. When she reaches the door to room seven, Y/N barely hesitates before knocking.

Glancing over her shoulder again, she is almost ready to put the wine down and leave when it suddenly opens.

“Thank you,” says a male voice, “but I – you!”

The inhabitant sounds familiar, if somewhat surprised and Y/N swiftly turns back around. Eyes widening, she nearly drops her wine when she comes face to face with a pair of familiar, dark eyes.

Min Yoongi stares. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Y/N blinks, recovering her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m staying at the inn.” Leaning a shoulder to the wall, Yoongi crosses his arms. “Or, are there other places in town to stay?”

“Well, no.”

“Well, then.”

Y/N glances past him, into his room. A flickering fire casts shadows across the floor, illuminating nothing but a black steamer trunk – and Yoongi, who is looking at Y/N as though she might be a stalker. 

Incensed by this idea, Y/N straightens. “I just… I wasn’t expecting to see you,” she clarifies, glaring back.

Yoongi tilts his head. He is dressed more casually than before, in only a plain tunic and trousers. His boots lie abandoned at the foot of his bed – it is strangely intimate, to see him in socked feet.

Yoongi’s gaze moves to her hand. “Is that wine for me?”

“I’m sorry?” Y/N blinks.

“That wine.” He nods to the cup. “Did you bring that here for me, or are you merely doing a mandatory room check?”

“It’s for you,” Y/N blurts, unable to think of a response.

Shrugging, Yoongi turns around and leaves the door open. He pads to the fireplace, removing the iron to stoke the flames higher. Y/N steps into his room, hovering at the edge and wondering what she should do. The shadows seem to leap out, stretching for her – unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Yoongi does not seem untrained.

Warily, she takes a step backwards.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. “Come in,” he says, replacing the fire iron. “Don’t just stand there.”

Teeth gritted, Y/N closes the door. When it was opened, she was too shocked by Yoongi’s appearance to think of questions to ask. Now, though, she can think of many things – and most do not require an audience.

“Why are you the one bringing me this?” Yoongi asks, watching Y/N walk closer. “Not that I mind, of course.”

Y/N glowers, handing over the wine. She is careful not to touch his skin in the process – oddly enough, Yoongi exhibits similar restraint.

“The owner of the inn asked me to.” Y/N hesitates. “They – I work for them in the evenings.”

Yoongi gives the wine a dubious swirl. “You work for them.”

“That’s what I said.”

Lips quirking, he lifts the glass to his mouth. Taking a slow sip, Yoongi does not look away and, apparently finding it to his satisfaction, turns to set this on the windowsill. The moonlight casts a pall over his features, making him seem otherworldly.

Glancing at the door, Y/N wonders how much longer to stay. There are still a million things to do before sleep – but still, she has questions for him. Who he is, why he is here, why his skin seems to burn and affect her so dearly.

Yoongi pointedly clears his throat.

Glancing over, Y/N is startled to find his gaze on hers. Strangely enough, she sees just as many questions within for her, as she has for him.

“I wonder,” he murmurs, taking a step forward. While Yoongi stares, his gaze hardens to something like ice. “Do your employers know you’re a shadow-singer?”

Y/N freezes in place, feet rooted to the floor.

She cannot think beyond the pulse in her veins, the thud of her heart and the singular thought in her mind.

Run.

Run, she does.

Barely does she make it two steps before Yoongi appears, materializing easily between her and the door. His cup of wine is still held in one hand – setting this down, he wipes a hand on his trousers.

“You can try to run,” he starts, but Y/N is no longer listening.

Shuddering to a halt, she whips her head sideways. Rushing towards the window, she stops short when history repeats itself.

“Let me save you some time,” says Yoongi, stepping out of mid-air. “Any time you run; I will appear.”

Seething, Y/N pauses to consider her options. Simply put, there are none. None which involve keeping the world as it is, that is. Already, Yoongi knows what she is. It is only a matter of time before he tells the town, so the only thing left is her final defense.

Magic.

Swallowing hard, Y/N resigns herself to a fate long avoided. If her secret is out, she has nothing to lose.

Inverting her gaze, she reaches within. It has been such a long time since she allowed herself to descend. The sensation is akin to stumbling around in the dark, seeking out something which may or may not appear. Eyes clenched shut, Y/N empties her mind to push onward. There is a door always within, pulsing with power and beckoning her near.

It never leaves, calling out to her even when she refuses.

At last, fingers brushing wood, Y/N slowly unlocks it.

For a moment, nothing happens. For a moment, she stands there, body quivering with anticipation – and then.

Shadows burst forth, searing her veins like a drug.

The sensation is akin to fire, to bliss as greedily, Y/N inhales and savors the power. She shudders, overwhelmed by the magic after so long without. Darkness floods her body, searching for weakness, but finding nothing of note. Yanking this back, Y/N reigns in her thoughts and does not relent. Wrestling for control, she demands the darkness obey her, forces it to twist and bend to her will.

Take me away, she demands, teeth gritted.

When she opens her eyes, Y/N finds herself in the Shadow realm.

Unfortunately, so is Yoongi. Teeth bared like a dog, his eyes seem to glow red in the darkness.

The Shadow realm is not one to linger in. It exists, by definition, in between worlds. To her right, Y/N can see the sharpened edge of Yoongi’s bed, the cold black of his steamer trunk. It all wavers though, as if seen from underwater.

On the other side of her is pure darkness.

Growling, Yoongi clenches his fists and strides forward. “Idiot,” he seethes, gripping her elbow.

Y/N inhales, glancing at where their skin touches. Rather than burn, his touch now seems to enhance. Shadows twist around them both, emboldened by the strength of their combined power. 

Yoongi’s eyes widen, staring at this in shock.

Shaking his head, he grips her even tighter and the real world appears.

Stumbling forward, Y/N feels drained by the abrupt lack of shadows – the abrupt lack of power to feed on. The real world feels too harsh, too cold and she longs for the sweetness of night. 

Hissing under her breath, Y/N whirls to face Yoongi.

He stands across the room, picking a shadow from his tunic to fling into the fireplace. It hits a rogue flame with a sizzling sound. “Idiot,” Min Yoongi mutters, under his breath. Accusatorially, he looks at her over his shoulder. “What were you thinking, entering the Shadow realm like that?”

His gaze is intense, stalking forward but Y/N does not allow herself to be crowed. Holding her ground, she pokes his chest with a finger.

“Me?” she demands, stopping him in his tracks. “What were you thinking, coming after me? What… even are you?”

The question tapers off, losing steam at the end. He knows what she is – Yoongi knows Y/N is a shadow-singer, one of the feared brands of magic which thrives in the night. There are many kinds of magic, but shadow-singers are feared above all. Y/N is a human who can travel the Shadow realm, one who can bend the darkness to her will. That is what she did earlier, saving Gwen from the tree branch. The shadows knocked it aside.

Yes, Y/N is a shadow-singer and Yoongi knows it. And still, she does not know what he is.

Hesitancy enters his gaze. Some of his mask has disappeared from the first time they met. As though scrubbed away in the Shadow realm, he no longer seems entirely human. His eyes still glow faintly red, as they did in the shadows.

“Please, Y/N.” Yoongi twists his lips. “Don’t sell yourself short. You already know what I am. You have since you saw me this morning.”

“This – this morning?” Y/N repeats, mind reeling.

Yoongi came into the forge during the evening. If what he says is true, then it was not the first time they met. But Y/N met no other strangers during the day – unless. Slowly, her eyes widen with realization. 

Yoongi is correct. She knows what he is.

“We met in the square,” Yoongi says smoothly, twisting a hand over his chest. Still looking at her, his eyes seem to gleam. “I am Min Yoongi, of the Cŵn Annwn.”

Y/N could not move if she wanted to.

It is so obvious now, in hindsight. Of course, Yoongi is Cŵn Annwn – no other beings travel the Shadow realm so easily. No one else is granted that type of dark magic. The Cŵn Annwn are the final enforcers of the Otherworld, sent to the Real world to resolve the worst kinds of incidents. Namely, those which involve magic.

Seeing her face, Yoongi takes a step forward. “I see you know what I am.”

“I – I know you.” Y/N takes a hasty step backwards. Her back nearly collides with the wall. “I don’t understand why you’re here, though.”

“Don’t you?” Yoongi tilts his head. “You saved someone who was not supposed to be saved, Y/N. Lord Arawn is without a soul, and you are its cause.”

“Am I…” Y/N stares at him, mouth gone suddenly dry. “What... what does that mean? Am I to die in her place?”

Yoongi pauses a moment longer than necessary. “I don’t know.” 

“How... how can you not know?”

“It has yet to be decided.”

“How convenient.” Y/N hesitates. “When will you know?”

Something like amusement crosses his face. “When Arawn decides, I imagine.”

“And when will that be?”

“Uncertain,” Yoongi says. “Until then, I am to keep an eye on the human – and on you, shadow-singer.”

Y/N flinches back from the name. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It’s what you are.”

“Not anymore,” Y/N mutters, turning away. She probably should not turn her back on one of the Cŵn Annwn, but she cannot help it. Continuing to look at Yoongi now that she knows what he is seems impossible.

Every time she looks at him, she remembers the Shadow realm. She remembers Gwen, her power and with that power comes memories best left forgotten. She remembers a small village in the woods, the rending of screams in the night, a singed smell of flesh.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Y/N balls her hands into fists. Counting slowly down from ten, she waits until the screams fade from memory. Hastily, she locks the door in her mind.

When she opens her eyes again, Yoongi stands before her.

“Ah!” she yelps, stumbling backwards. “What are you doing?”

Yoongi recoils as well. “I could ask you the same thing! You’ve been silent for several minutes. Why are you trying to suppress your magic, witch?” he asks, seeming curious.

“Don’t call me a witch!” Y/N scowls, striding past him again.

Yoongi stares after her in disbelief. “Why not?”

“Someone could hear!” Y/N snaps. Coming to a stop at the table, she hesitantly drops a hand to its wood. “Don’t you know what those in the Real world do to magic?”

When she looks over her shoulder, he is looking at her.

“I… do know.”

Yoongi sounds almost remorseful and Y/N hesitates, thrown by his answer. “Then...” She pauses, shaking her head. “You know why I can’t admit what I am.”

“I do – to others. However, why can’t you admit it to yourself?”

Y/N stares back, unsure of the answer. There is something in his expression which gives her pause. Something about the way he said I do know, which makes her think he truly does. There are legends about the Cŵn Annwn which say they once were human – although how a human becomes Cŵn Annwn at all is a story not told.

Quietly, Yoongi clears his throat. “I take it your employers do not know what you are, then?”

“No, they don’t. And they are not only my employers – I’m their ward.”

Yoongi looks up in surprise. “You live here? At the inn?”

“Yes.”

He glances past her to the door. “Interesting.”

“And I would prefer to keep it that way,” Y/N interjects, walking until they stand nose to nose. “Which brings us back to you. What do you want?”

Yoongi arches a brow. “I told you. The Otherworld needs a soul.”

“Yes, but which soul? You’re being horribly cryptic.”

His upper lip twitches, unable to help himself. “As though magic could be any other way.”

Y/N’s teeth grit, about to give him a piece of her mind – when a singular thought occurs to her. “How did you know what I was?”

“A shadow-singer?”

“Yes,” she says. “How did you know I have magic?”

Yoongi looks at her a second, then stretches out a palm. “Touch me.”

Y/N’s lips part in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Skin to skin contact.” Gently, he wraps his hand around hers. The center of her palm tingles. “I can tell when someone has magic by brushing their skin.”

Y/N’s cheeks heat, choosing to ignore the feel of his skin on hers. “I see,” she says, glancing down to look at their hands intertwined. Abruptly, she pulls hers away. “So, you knew what I was at the shop?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you leave?” 

Yoongi exhales. “I – the master smith returned,” he mutters, brow furrowed – as if he does not understand it himself. “Like you said, humans do not react kindly to magic. The instructions I had were to identify the witch, keep an eye on you both – and await further instruction.”

“But what further instructions?” she asks, aware she is toeing a dangerous line. “Why wouldn’t Arawn simply take Gwen’s soul to restore the balance? For that matter, does Arawn come chasing after every soul who is saved?”

A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw ticks. “It is not my place to ask questions,” he says at last. “I know no more than you do.”

With that, he turns and walks across the room.

“Liar.”

His feet falter, coming to a stop. “What?”

“I said, liar,” Y/N repeats, calmly – too calmly. She knows she should not be saying these things, but she is tired. Tired of lying, tired of hiding and tired of feeling as though she has no control.

“Whose soul are you really here for?” she asks.

Yoongi turns slowly, disbelief in his gaze. “What do you want me to say?” 

There is a growl to his words as he speaks, a trace of Cŵn Annwn within. Before, Y/N had almost forgotten to whom she was speaking.

“Do you want me to say your soul is more valuable to Arawn than hers?” Yoongi asks silkily. “Is that it?”

Y/N’s gaze widens as Yoongi comes closer.

“Do you want me to tell you he often does that?” he asks, gaze flashing with night. “Switches out one soul for another – one he deems more valuable?”

“Valuable?” Y/N’s voice is nearly a whisper. “For... what?”

Darkness crosses his expression. “It does not matter,” Yoongi says stiffly. “You already know too much. We all die eventually, Y/N. Annwn is without a soul now and someone must fill it. The possessiveness of Arawn might seem like a bad thing to humans, but it is necessary for reason to hold.”

“What good is magic if I cannot use it to save anymore?”

“What good, indeed?” Yoongi bites. “When you do not use it anyways?”

Y/N falters, having no response to this. He is right – before today, she had not used her magic in nearly fifteen years.

“That’s what I thought.” Yoongi turns, walking away to stare at the moon. “Perhaps we should leave things here for tonight. I think our intentions are known enough, yes?”

“Intentions?” Y/N nearly laughs. “What – that you’re a hellhound, I’m a shadow-singer and only one of us is in control of their soul?”

Yoongi’s mouth twists, looking up at the moon. “Neither one of us are in control of our souls, Y/N.”

Y/N stares at him for a moment. Whatever Yoongi thinks, he does not elaborate and eventually, she decides he is right. There is nothing more to be said – not tonight, anyways. Not with her soul hanging in the balance and Arawn on the horizon.

Turning on her heel, Y/N walks towards the door. “I’ll be going, then,” she says, one hand on the handle.

Yoongi does not respond.

Giving him one last look, Y/N pushes open the door and enters the hall. She pauses on his threshold, a thought occurring to her which needs to be said. Perhaps it is idiotic, but she needs to try.

“What if I offer myself?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

Yoongi stiffens, looking at her. “You would do that?” he asks, his expression unreadable. “You would willingly give up your soul up for a human?”

“Not any human. Gwen.” Her jaw tightens. “Would it work?”

“It would be… unlikely.”

Resigned to the answer, Y/N nods. At least she asked – which is the best she can do. Turning away, she again grips the doorknob.

“Out of curiosity.”

Y/N stops, her exit halted again. “Yes?”

“It has been a long time since I met a shadow-singer.” 

There is a note of longing to his words Y/N does not understand. It also is not a question.

“And?”

“It just is odd,” he exhales. When Y/N turns to look at him, he reaches out for the wine. “Odd, for humans to continually hide the things about themselves which are beautiful.”

For a moment, she stares and does not respond. Yoongi does not look at her though, says nothing more and at last, Y/N retreats to the hall. Shutting the door in between them, she stands for a moment before heading downstairs.

The shadows drift beside her in the darkness, begging to be seen.

Y/N does not look.

She rarely does.

“The faerie was greedy, gluttonous and would not be satisfied with mere gold. No, it wanted the child and so, a message was sent to the castle.”

Blearily, Y/N opens her eyes and squints across the fire. The storyteller sits on the other side, completely oblivious to her sudden appearance. Y/N feels both present and not, hollow and whole. Vaguely, she is aware she is dreaming but it is more than just that – this is also a memory.

Flames leap above the fire, disappearing into darkness with bright sparks of light.

Y/N is seated on a log, feet swinging quietly beneath her, unable to touch the ground. She cannot be older than five. Smoke drifts under her nostrils, notes of caramelized sugar beneath. There are treats to be had here tonight, but not until the story is over.

Nuzzling into her father, Y/N’s eyes flutter shut. It is always here she feels safest – here in this dreamworld, with both parents by her side. This place is not real, though. Were Y/N to travel here, she would find nothing but burnt bones and darkness. The village of Crymych no longer exists.

Once upon a time it did, though.

Once upon a time, Crymych was a haven for magic-users. For witches and warlocks, and all manner of beings who lived at peace with one another. In Crymych, no one worried about fairy tales, or told their children not to believe – everyone knew they were real.

On the other side of her father, Y/N can see the blurred outline of her mother.

On the night of the memory, she stared into the fire, absent-mindedly twisting the shadows with her fingers. Y/N watched this eagerly, hoping one day to have that much control.

Magic was hereditary in all families. Whether this came from the mother or father was a flip of the coin – Y/N’s power came from her mother. Her father was not like the two of them; he was a life-giver, a designated healer in the town. His power was the most mysterious of all, since under the right conditions, he could knit breath and bone back together.

At other times, he could not. This was largely why life-givers were despised by humans. Actually –this was largely why magic-users were despised by humans. Nothing at all was consistent about power.

The humans at their fireside that night did not seem to hate them. They all sat across the circle from Y/N, listening to the storyteller and laughing in all the right places. While Y/N watched, one of them smiled and spoke eagerly to Crymych’s leader, Emrys.

Emrys was a light-bearer – a highly prized power, even in a magical community like theirs. Shadow-singers and light-bearers were amongst the rarest of magic and Crymych was lucky to have both.

While Y/N watched, Emrys accepted a cup of wine from the human. The two smiled and talked, looking nothing at all like the enemies they are supposed to be. This particular band of humans claimed to be different. The called themselves the Travelers and wanted to help witches and warlocks reintegrate with society – or, this is what they said.

The Travelers all dressed in a similar fashion, wearing all-black from head to toe. They even wore gloves on their hands; something Y/N found to be strange. In their community, gloves only got in the way of a hard day’s work.

The Travelers were the first non-magical guests in Crymych in Y/N’s young memory. Usually, humans chose to give them a wide berth. Magic was notoriously fickle – not to mention frustrating.

“It is not their fault,” her father murmured to her mother. “Not really.”

Her mother’s hand curled into a fist, effectively stopping the shadows. “No?” she exhaled, brow furrowed.

Y/N’s father’s lip twitched. “Humans know we can do incredible things,” he said softly, unheard by the others over the fire. “They watch us perform remarkable feats. So, when we can’t always help…” He shrugged, trailing off. “In their grief, humans often lash out.”

“And what of our grief?” Y/N’s mother glared at the Travelers. She was never very good at hiding her facial expressions. “What of our pain?”

“People are afraid of the unknown,” he said quietly. “They do not understand our magic and so, they do not understand us.”

“Fools.”

“Perhaps.” Wrapping an arm around her mother, he squeezed gently. “But so are we.”

Y/N’s mother glanced at him, expression softening. It was clear she did not trust the humans, but she did trust Y/N’s father. Even now, many years later, their relationship has always been a paradigm for Y/N of love.

For the rest of the evening, her mother was silent, although her tight-lipped expression was evidence enough of her displeasure.

Y/N stopped listening to the storyteller at some point, too tired to remain awake. As she dozed against her father, she caught snippets of conversation around the flames. The Travelers mingled easily with the citizens of Crymych, pouring them wine and drinking with abandon. They toasted to their magic, to power and insisted it was something to be celebrated, even revered.

Remarkably, they were not lying – the Travelers did revere magic.

They simply considered humans too debased to use it.

That was the night Y/N awoke to a blood-curdling scream. She was old enough by then to sleep in her own room and she nearly fell on the floor in her haste to wake up. Kneeling on her mattress, she pressed her nose to the window – and jerked back in fear when crimson splattered the glass.

Y/N squinted, not understanding – but then saw the crumpled shape on the ground. 

She saw the unseeing eyes of Emrys staring back at her.

Y/N screamed. 

Hearing the sound, Emrys’ murderer whipped around, silver knife held aloft. Seeing her face, he snarled and raced for the door. Y/N did not stop to think, throwing herself off the bed and sprinting fast down the hall.

The front door rattled as she ran, shoulder slamming into it from the other side. At the end of the hall, Y/N skidded to a stop and threw open her parents’ bedroom door.

Her mother’s head snapped up, eyes red-rimmed as she clutched at her father. He was unconscious, held limp in Y/N’s mother’s arms while she roughly shook his frame.

“Y/N.” Dropping her father, Y/N’s mother stumbled from bed. She glances past Y/N to the hall, hearing the disturbance at the front door. “Get out of here. Now. Hide!”

Her father lay on bed, head lolled to one side. A five-year-old Y/N stared helplessly on, not understanding why he did not move. Then, she realized something important. Her mother had not drunk the wine that night. Her father had. Horrified by this realization, her legs froze in place – and the front door flew open, shattering against the wall.

“Hide!” Y/N’s mother yelled, rushing past.

Shadows swirled at her fingertips, yanked from the ground as her mother met him head-on. The intruder screamed, shadow shoved down his throat. Whirling around, Y/N rushed to her father and tugged on his hand. He did not move, drugged and unconscious.

“Wake up, daddy,” she gasped, vision blurring. Her mother screamed, dark shadows rushing through the entrance to the room. “You have to wake up.”

Y/N’s mother stumbled into the room, clutching her shoulder. Blood dripped through her fingers and, seeing Y/N, her eyes widened. “Hide!” she hissed, gathering a thick ball of shadow. “RUN!”

Shocked into motion, Y/N finally obeyed. While her mother gathered the darkness before her, Y/N darted past and into the hall. Their front door stood open, ajar to the night but as soon as Y/N reached it, she shuddered to a halt.

Her town was lit by fire.

Several homes were already ablaze, doused with kerosene and sent up in flames. They stood as terrible lampposts, lighting the carnage within. Blood pooled on the ground in dark puddles, multiple bodies lying limp and twisted between them. Dark shapes darted from the shadows, cackling with laughter and calling out to each other.

Slowly, Y/N took a step backwards.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the hallway behind her was clear. Her mother’s shadows were no longer there, which could only mean one thing – turning around, Y/N ran back inside.

Her feet pounded floorboards beneath her, hallway growing longer with each step she ran. When she finally reached the bedroom, Y/N realized in horror her father was dead. His throat had been slit ear to ear, blood ruby-red on the sheets. As for her mother, Y/N arrived just in time to see her gutted through with the knife.

Her mother choked, hands twitching around the steel in her gut.

Someone nearby screamed – in a far-off part of her mind, Y/N realized it was her.

Dropping her mother to the floor, the man slowly turned. Blood dripped from his knife to the ground – his black gloves were stained with it, his silver ring tarnished with crimson.

As he took a menacing step forward, Y/N came to her senses.

She ran.

Sprinting down the long hall, the world seemed to blur. Shadows stretched out to her eagerly, wrapping her body and calling her home. Closing her eyes, Y/N begged for safety – and when she opened them, she had entered the Shadow realm.

No one found her there.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N tears herself from the dream to sit upright in bed.

The only sound in the room is her breath, which is deafening. Hands fisted in sheets, Y/N clenches her eyes shut and wills her heartbeat to slow. Chest rising and falling, Y/N reminds herself over and over where she is.

Tywll, not Crymych.

A tavern, not her parents’ home.

Slowly, her eyes flutter open.

Staring at the wall, Y/N’s cannot help but remember. For so long, she has tried to forget. To forget what she was – what she is – and how she became who she is now.

Haltingly, Y/N tugs back her covers to stand from the bed. Padding to her washbasin, she splashes cold water on her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, Y/N grips the bowl.

A stranger stares back at her.

Well – not a stranger, but Yoongi is correct. She is not a shadow-singer. She is not the person her parents raised her to be – but then again, the person her parents raised her to be is someone who cannot exist. The world will not permit her to.

Y/N does not know if anyone else survived Crymych’s massacre. In theory, they might have. Only the adults drank the wine, but Y/N cannot imagine anyone else lived through that carnage. If her mother and Emrys died, two of the strongest in their generation, it is unlikely anyone lived.

It is an accident Y/N is alive at all. She certainly did not intend to travel to the Shadow realm that night. It took her three days to make it back to the Real world and once she did, the Travelers were gone.

Her parents were gone too, but in a different way.

Swallowing, Y/N tears her gaze from the mirror. It has been a long time since she had that nightmare. She cannot help but blame Yoongi for it. If he had not shown up the way he did, asking about her past and forcing her to relive it, she would not have fallen down this hole once again.

And yet – glancing over her shoulder, Y/N ensures she is alone. No one watches her from the shadows, no one waits in the hall.

Closing her eyes, she reaches slowly inside to unlock the door. It does not take as long as before for her power to flow. Exhaling, Y/N sags in relief as her magic floods through her. 

It has been so long, she almost forgot what a blessing it is.

The shadows twist around her ankles, climbing her arms to slip up her neck. Y/N relishes in it, tipping her head back to better enjoy the burn. The darkness has always been a comfort to her – it has always offered her protection, rather than fear.

Exhaling slowly, tears prick her eyes. Y/N wipes these away. It has been so long since she allowed herself to use magic. So long since she allowed herself to be real, to be true and to embrace what she is. The experience hurts.

It also feels right.

Once sated, Y/N releases her hold on the shadows. They do not flee from her this time. Instead, they seem to hover. She looks at them wistfully – until finally, Y/N leaves the door open and returns to bed.

Slipping under her covers, she draws them up to her chin. Her insides are aflame, but no longer does she find the sensation unpleasant.

Uncertain, she turns her head on the pillow. That spark, the feverish sensation – she realizes it was not Yoongi, exactly, but her magic. 

Like calls to like.

Shivering, Y/N sinks lower and pulls the sheet overhead. Curling in on herself, she wonders if he even needs to sleep. She wonders if Yoongi felt anything at all when they touched. Then, Y/N wonders why she bothers thinking of him at all.

Pushing all this away, she allows the warmth of sleep to pull her under.

For the next week, Y/N distances herself from the inn.

It is not so difficult – claiming increased work at the forge, Y/N simply slips out early each morning and returns in the evening. When she does, she washes dishes with Rumilda and stays far from the tavern. In the morning, she helps Rian in the kitchen until it is time to go.

In this way, she avoids Yoongi.

Y/N knows this to be a hopeless endeavor. Yoongi is Cŵn Annwn – it is impossible to hide if he truly wishes to find her. He can enter the Shadow realm, which is something Y/N finds intriguing, despite her feigned disinterest. She has never met anyone else who could. Y/N, herself has only traveled there twice.

Once, on the night of the Travelers and again, the night Yoongi found her.

Since he does not find her, Y/N assumes he has no need. This also interests her, along with the idea that Lord Arawn plays favorites. Not much is known about the dark King of Annwn, aside from his power and aura of mystery. Equally little is known about the Cŵn Annwn and yet, here Y/N is with one sleeping at her doorstep.

Closing the door to the inn, Y/N pulls her cloak close and sets off down the lane. She is later than she meant to be, due to Rumilda taking ill late last night. As Y/N darts around the tavern, her cloak catches on the edge of a barrel.

“Ah!” she yelps, swiftly jerked backwards. Her hand is already reaching for the clasp when a voice interrupts.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

Glancing up, Y/N is stunned to see Alvah before her. She had almost forgotten his existence. His fingers work nimbly at her cloak and, once free, Alvah takes a step back. 

Smiling at her, light brown hair falls into his gaze.

“I – thank you,” Y/N stammers.

“Not a problem,” Alvah says, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes.

He really is attractive. Y/N noticed it the other night in the tavern but now, in the clear light of day, the fact is infinitely more apparent. Tugging her cloak around her neck, Y/N nods and sets off down the road.

Alvah falls into step alongside her.

Y/N looks up, surprised.

Seeing her face, Alvah’s lip quirks. “I’m sorry. You’re probably thinking I’m following you. Aren’t you?”

“Well.” She pauses. “Now, I am.”

He laughs easily. “Rest assured I’m not. I merely have business in town.”

“Business?” They continue to walk, turning down the next lane. “Most of our guests move on from Tywll in a few days. Isn’t the autumnal festival next week?”

“Ah,” Alvah says, as though he understands the confusion. “I’m not most guests, though.”

“Apparently not,” Y/N says, upper lip twitching.

They continue to walk on in silence, Alvah’s gloved hands are clasped behind his back. He glances sideways at her. “I’ll confess, I can’t leave until I accomplish something of worth.”

“Something of worth?” Unable to help herself, Y/N teases a little. “Can it be anything, or does it have to be something specific? Does a long walk constitute ‘something of worth?’ Does sowing a field? Planting a harvest?”

Alvah laughs and tips back his head. “I actually had something in mind.”

“Oh? What?”

“The merchant, Cadoc,” Alvah admits, faltering somewhat. “I need him to offer my father a trade deal. If I can convince him of this, I’ll be granted our land as its heir.”

“Oh.” Something akin to disappointment settles within Y/N’s stomach. The son of a landowner is far above her station. “That is something of worth, indeed.”

“I hope so. If I manage this, I hope I can advance in other aspects of my life.”

“In what way?” 

Absently, Y/N tucks a strand of hair behind an ear. Her skirts drag through the mud and she is woefully aware she walks to the forge. Whomever Alvah’s future wife is, Y/N is certain she will not have hands dirty with soot and steel.

“In marriage, for one,” he says quietly.

It is at this very moment Y/N steps in a puddle and nearly face-plants in the mud. Alvah’s hand quickly steadies her, grasping her elbow before she can fall. Glancing upwards, Y/N’s cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

Yanking her arm free of his, she clutches her cloak. “I’m so sorry,” she breathes, looking back at the puddle. “I, um – I just don’t often speak about…”

“Marriage?” Alvah prompts with a smile.

Silently nodding, she turns down the street to the forge.

“Why not?” 

Alvah follows. 

Now, Y/N knows he is following her. There is nothing else this way but the forge and she glances his way, oddly pleased by the realization. “I would think that’s obvious, no?”

“Not to me,” Alvah says pleasantly.

Although it is still early, the town has begun to wake. Several townspeople throw open their shutters, sweeping their stoops in anticipation of a day’s work. Y/N glances their way, feeling the thrum of life in the air – and yet, none glance in her direction.

“I’m not exactly the sweetheart of this village,” she says, under her breath.

“I don’t know that’s a bad thing.”

Despite the thrill his words give her, they turn the next corner and come into view of the forge. 

Alvah continues to walk, glancing her way. “Was that too forward?” he murmurs. “I apologize, if it was.”

“I – no. I only am not sure I agree.”

“No?”

Y/N sighs. “My current status limits my options.”

“Status?”

Coming to a stop at the gate of the forge, she gestures limply at its doors. “There are not many who wish to marry a woman apprentice.”

Alvah’s gaze brightens, realizing what she is saying. “You work... here?”

Y/N nods, lips tight.

“But that’s wonderful. Why, I – oh. What happened?” Alvah frowns, seeing the boarded-up window.

“Oh, nothing much.” Y/N shrugs, pushing open the gate. “There was a storm the other night. A branch fell.”

Alvah frowns, examining closer. “A storm? I – oh, I’m sorry. I’m being nosy, aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Not at all. Most townspeople would’ve already formed their own conclusions.”

“I don’t wish to be seen as most people to you.”

Y/N’s heart flutters, though she does her best to temper the response. It would not do to be attracted to Alvah. As much as he wishes to believe they could work, Y/N knows they would not. He is the wealthy son of a land-owning man and Y/N is, well, Y/N.

“A branch crashed through the window,” she explains, returning to his original question. “Narrowly missed the smith’s daughter, Gwen.”

“You don’t say.” Alvah resumes staring at the window. “What a lucky break it missed her.”

“Yes. Lucky.”

Alvah pauses, then looks at her cryptically. “This daughter – was she injured?”

Y/N is surprised to find him so interested. “I don’t think so,” she admits, startled into the truth.

Alvah’s expression turns sheepish. “I’m afraid I must apologize again. You’ve now seen me for what I truly am.”

“Which is?”

“Insatiably curious,” he laughs, offering a smile. “I ask far too many questions when I’m nervous.”

“Oh?” Y/N glances at the forge. “What would you have to be nervous of?”

Rather than answer this, Alvah gently takes hold of her hand. Y/N looks down in surprise, thrown when he lifts this to his lips. Brushing a kiss to her fingers, he slowly releases his hold.

Y/N stares at him in shock.

“You tell me,” Alvah says, low and direct.

When her lips part, but nothing comes out, he turns back up the road.

Y/N watches him leave, uncertain how she should feel. She rubs the back of her hand with one thumb, attempting to commit the gesture to memory. As nice as his touch was, it was only that. Nice.

It did nothing to spark the life in her veins.

It did nothing to stir the magic in her blood.

Turning around on her heel, Y/N enters the forge.

At the end of her day, Y/N is thoroughly exhausted.

She stands in the middle of the forge, bellows held in one hand while she strokes the flames higher. Owen left a half-hour prior to make another delivery, directing Y/N to finish up today’s metalwork. It was a large step towards her independence, being left alone in the forge.

Feeling prideful of this, Y/N sets the bellows aside and picks up a large piece of metal. She needs to create several more horseshoes, since the recent crowd of travelers has bled their stock dry. Holding the metal over the fire, Y/N slowly melts it in each direction. Glancing briefly over her shoulder, she ensures no one watches and tempers the edges with darkness.

Yoongi chuckles and steps from the shadows. “Does Owen know you do that?” he asks.

Y/N yelps, nearly dropping the horseshoe in the flames.

Yoongi’s smile widens, walking closer. “What are you doing?”

Scowling, Y/N retracts the horseshoe to dunk in the water. “Creating something,” she mutters, staring into the bucket. “Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

Yoongi comes to a stop at her shoulder, peering over. “Creating something with magic?”

Y/N’s gaze flies upwards. “Will you please be quiet?” she hisses. “Someone could hear.”

“Someone like Gwen?”

Swiftly, Y/N removes the horseshoe and stomps to the shelf. Satisfied by its shape, she places this down and whirls to face Yoongi. “Touch her,” she blurts. “And I’ll have something to say about it.”

“Like what?”

Ignoring his mirth, Y/N strides past him to undo her apron. The leather is heavy, sticking to her chest in a way she pointedly ignores. It is not as though Yoongi would ever look at her like that. However – when she glances his way, she sees Yoongi look hastily up.

Almost guiltily, he avoids her gaze.

Y/N pauses, uncertain what just occurred. Deciding she is imagining things, she resumes hanging her apron. “Leave Gwen out of this, alright?”

Disappearing from where he stands, Yoongi reappears beside her. “You know I can’t promise that,” he says, low. “Just like you can’t promise not to use magic. It’s not what we are.”

Enraged by his casual use of magic, Y/N lifts her chin. “Since you seem so intent upon continuing this conversation,” she hisses. “Let’s do it outside of my workplace.”

Without waiting for his response, she grabs her cloak to push open the door. Exiting the forge, Y/N sends a dark wave of magic behind her to clean its surface. Ignoring Yoongi’s smirk, Y/N strides down the road.

“So.” He catches up to her easily, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Can we continue our conversation now?”

“What conversation?” Y/N pulls her cloak tighter. “You broke into my place of work and now are stalking me home.”

“To the inn,” Yoongi corrects. “Where I also rent a room.”

“And the breaking and entering part?”

“Doors are... confusing for Cŵn Annwn.”

Scowling, Y/N lowers her voice. “Doesn’t excuse your impropriety.”

Yoongi shrugs.

He becomes uncharacteristically silent as they walk through the town. The town’s lamplighters are almost done for the evening, the contained flames of the lamps casting shadows over the ground. Y/N stares at it all, feeling their tug in her soul.

It seems now she has let magic back in, it will not be denied. If the time should ever come when Y/N must part from it a second time, she is not sure she will be able to do so.

Yoongi exhales at her side. “Actually,” he says, sounding hesitant. “I came by to ask you something.”

“Oh? How bold to ask more, when you already barter my soul.”

He scowls, looking her way. “I’m not bartering your soul, Y/N. You tangled with fate by saving that girl. That kind of thing has consequences.”

“What type of consequences?”

Yoongi pauses, only to chuckle. “Oh, no,” he mutters. “Only the dead and dying know that. You know, for a human, you have a worryingly low sense of self-preservation.”

“Perhaps if you were more forthcoming.”

“Oh, yes. Ask the night to tell you its secrets.”

The corner of Y/N’s lips lift despite herself. It is funny, in a way. The questions she asks Yoongi, the frustration she holds for him – they are in many ways similar to the frustration humans have with witches. She cannot understand him and his rules and so, she thinks him against her.

Subtly, she glances sideways.

Yoongi is already looking back.

Hastily, Y/N jerks her head forward. “What did you wish to ask me?”

“Oh. Right.” Yoongi sounds disappointed, which causes Y/N’s heartbeat to race. She tempers it quickly, scolding herself for being so silly. “I wanted to ask if you’ve seen anything unusual.”

“Unusual?” Y/N nearly smiles. “More unusual than a shadow-singer walking with Cŵn Annwn through the town square?”

Yoongi laughs, a deep rumble. “Yes, more unusual than that. I only ask because, well – before my arrival, did you have any difficulty accessing your magic?”

Y/N pauses at the next street corner. The lamplight does not reach this far, giving them space to remain unseen.

“No,” she says, squinting upwards. “Or – I don’t know. I never really tried.”

Yoongi comes to a stop. “Never?”

“It was out of necessity.”

“I know, but…” Yoongi stares at her incredulously. “Damnation, Y/N. How long have you refrained?”

“Fifteen years, give or take.”

“Fifteen… fifteen years?”

“Yes, well.” Y/N exhales and resumes walking. “We all do what we must in order to survive.”

Seeming troubled, Yoongi falls into step alongside her. “The reason I ask, is many of my messengers have been odd since I came here. Reluctant to travel. One even mentioned this area being cursed against magic. Is that so?”

“I don’t really know.”

“He said a great massacre of witches and warlocks took place some fifteen years ago.”

Hearing her history said so casually aloud, Y/N’s feet falter beneath her. She comes to an accidental stop, staring blankly at his back. Vision blurring, her hands ball into fists.

Yoongi continues several paces before realizing she does not follow. “Y/N?” He turns, gaze widening when he sees her expression. “I – oh.”

He seems to do the math in his head. Fifteen years since she last used her magic. Fifteen years since witches and warlocks were murdered. The reality of her situation dawns on him, but before they can speak further, a door bangs open and drunk men tumble out. Yoongi unthinkingly moves closer, glaring at them as they pass. 

Y/N shivers, rubbing her arms to regain control. “It’s fine,” she mutters, shaking it off. “Let’s just go.”

Yoongi looks at her dubiously but nods, following suit.

As they enter the main part of town, the moon breaks through the clouds. Silvery light casts the square in an otherworldly sheen, seeming to exist half-in and out of reality. Smoke curls over the roofs, grey against the inky black of the night. Tywll is quieter after dark, but only barely.

Across the street, a mother lingers in the door to her household. She chats with the milkman, a toddler clinging to her ankles while another one darts into the street. He does not pay attention, swinging around a lamppost and nearly hitting his head on a carriage.

As gently as she can, Y/N uses her shadows to urge the child back to its mother. When she turns around, she sees Yoongi watching.

“What?” she demands, walking faster. He says nothing, merely following suit. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” Yoongi seems genuinely puzzled. “I just don’t understand you, that’s all.”

“Me?”

“You hid your magic for fifteen years.” Lowering his voice, Yoongi glances around. Apparently, her apprehension is catching. “You say it was out of necessity, because these people would have killed you otherwise. And yet – whenever you do use magic, it’s to their benefit. You saved Gwen from harm. You pushed that toddler to safety.”

Y/N’s cheeks heat. “And?”

“And,” Yoongi shrugs. “It’s odd, that’s all.”

“What is?”

“That you would choose to help those who would kill you without hesitation.”

Her eyes widen, feet faltering, but she keeps walking down the road.

Seeing her reaction, Yoongi tilts his head. “What is it?” he asks. “Was it something I said?”

“You just…” Y/N’s brow furrows. “Treat life so cavalierly. That’s all.”

Yoongi seems mildly offended. “I assure you, I do not.”

“But you do.” Y/N finally comes to a stop. “You’re an enforcer. You only deal with the dead, with souls who have already been weighed and found wanting. Souls without an option for redemption. I live here, though.”

“And where is here?” 

“I live amongst the living,” she says. “In my eyes, there is always room for redemption.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickers with something undefined. “There are some who would call you naïve.” 

“I imagine so,” Y/N says, shrugging to walk past. “I’ve never much cared what people thought about me, though.”

After a moment, Yoongi gives in and follows. As they wind their way through the town, the lamps become more and more sparse. The pools of light lessen between them. Rather than be unnerved by this fact, Y/N welcomes it, embracing the night.

When they finally reach the inn, Yoongi stops.

“Well.” Y/N glances sideways, tugging again on her cloak. “Will you be in Tywll awhile longer?”

Yoongi cranes his neck up to examine the roof. “I imagine so.”

“I see. Are you coming in?”

Yoongi looks at her. “In a bit. I need to meet a messenger outside of town.”

His lips part, a question within but before he can ask it, Y/N places a hand on the doorknob. “Well, goodnight,” she says, pushing inside – until her hand is caught in his.

Startled, she looks down.

Yoongi’s hand has slipped easily through her fingers. He holds her gently, steadily, as though she is something to be treasured. When she looks up, she finds his gaze darker than night.

“I don’t wish to harm you,” he says, low and sincere.

This is what Y/N wanted from Alvah’s touch. This heat racing through her veins, this unbearable lightness of her heart – this is what she wanted from Alvah but instead, feels with Yoongi.

Swiftly, she tugs her hand from his grasp. Y/N cannot afford to forget their situation, not for a moment. Yoongi is here for her soul and at any point in time, may be forced to take her to Annwn.

Steeling her spine, Y/N pushes open the door. “Then don’t,” she says, walking inside.

The door swings shut behind her, leaving Yoongi out in the cold.

Y/N leaves early the next morning.

Because of this, Alvah is not waiting to greet her. She did not expect him to be – based on their previous conversation, Y/N holds little hope for a relationship between them. Alvah was nice to talk to, but there is not much more she can ask.

Unlike Yoongi – Y/N’s teeth grit – who somehow manages to get under her skin every time.

Walking fast down the lane, her cloak brushes the ground. The moon has sunk below the horizon, which means the rising of dawn cannot be far off. Rubbing her arms, Y/N fights to keep herself warm.

At the next bend in the road, her feet falter beneath her. 

Something is wrong.

The door to Owen’s home is ajar, left standing open to his front yard. Slowly, Y/N resumes walking and glances side to side. No one else on this street is awake yet, so no one else has noticed the disturbance.

As Y/N draws near, she becomes certain in her assessment. The front gate is unlocked, as though forgotten, or disregarded. Gently, Y/N pushes this open.

“Hello?” she calls, peering into the mist.

No one answers and Y/N is just considering leaving when Owen emerges from around the house. His appearance is off – apron half-tied and hair all askew. He looks past Y/N for a moment, before zeroing in on her face.

“Y/N.” Jerking to life, he rushes across the yard.

“Own?” Y/N frowns and pushes open the gate. “What’s wrong?”

“I – Gwen,” he pants, coming to a stop. “I can’t find Gwen.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glances around, as though Gwen might pop up any moment. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” says Owen, frantically wringing his hands. “I can’t find her anywhere. She’s not in her bed, nor the kitchen, nor the forge. I – I looked everywhere I can think of, Y/N.”

“Alright.” Y/N steps forward. “Alright, we’ll find her. Perhaps she went out this morning? Did you need bread, or water?”

Owen simply looks at her, dazed. “No, no. Gwen never leaves before I start work.”

Y/N does not know how to respond. The best-case scenario is Gwen did leave on her own – otherwise, the possibilities take a darker turn. “Let me help you look,” she insists. “Maybe you missed her.”

Slowly, Owen nods and follows meekly behind when Y/N enters the yard.

The two search the house from top to bottom, the yard from back to front, but find nothing. Owen is correct – Gwen is gone and what is worse; her bed remains unmade. It does not seem she slept here last night. This has Owen beside himself, not understanding how he misplaced her.

Y/N assures him this is not his fault – perhaps Gwen left to meet friends. It would not be kind of Gwen to do so, to make her father worry like this. Indeed, it would not be like Gwen at all, but at least in this scenario, she would be safe.

Returning to the front yard, Y/N glances up at the house. “There weren’t signs of a break-in.” 

Owen nods slowly. “A good thing.”

In a way. It means Gwen knew the intruder – it does not mean she is safe. 

“We’ll find her,” Y/N exhales. “Maybe she went to the next village. Or, a friend’s house? Is there any place she might have stayed the night?”

Owen’s gaze sharpens. The implication in her question is clear – Gwen is young, beautiful and has many admirers. She might have run away on purpose.

“Possibly,” Owen says. His shoulders sag. “There was someone she was interested in lately, I know. Very recent. Gwen is a good girl, she really is, but… well, she can be romantic.”

For a girl of their age to be called romantic is hardly a compliment. Often, it means they lose their head when in love.

“Well, then.” Y/N sighs. “Perhaps we keep this quiet as long as we can.”

Owen hesitates because, on the one hand, if Gwen is in danger people should know right away. On the other hand – if she did run off with a man, it would cause irreparable damage to her reputation.

“We’ll give her until the end of the day,” Owen determines, reaching behind him to re-tie his apron. “If she is not home by then…”

Y/N nods, understanding the implication. If Gwen is not home by nightfall, the consequences cannot be stopped.

The day drags on longer than usual. Although much work is done in the forge, it seems to take twice as long. Owen keeps glancing out the window, as though he expects Gwen to return home any minute. 

As the day wears on, the sun rises and falls, she does not appear.

Finally, Owen shoves his tongs in the water. “I’m heading into town,” he announces, undoing his apron.

Y/N looks up, wiping her brow. “You’re what?”

“Going into town,” Owen repeats, hanging his garment up on a hook. “I’ll see the sheriff and tell him what’s happened. Either Gwen is in danger, or she has run away. Either way.” He sets his jaw. “I’m bringing her home.”

“Are you certain?” Y/N does not wish to dissuade Owen, but she does feel a certain duty to point out the risk. “If she’s run off, perhaps…”

Owen stares out the window. A shadow crosses his expression, considering the unthinkable. 

“And if she hasn’t?”

Were it anyone else, Y/N would consider running off the more likely option. Tywll is so small, it is rare someone steals a loaf of bread, let alone a woman. However, Gwen is not just anyone. She loves Owen dearer than anything else in this world – and Y/N knows she would not leave without saying goodbye. There is something very wrong with this picture.

Slowly, she nods.

Owen takes a few minutes longer before slipping out the door. Y/N begins cleaning the forge, but her head is not in the process. She is too distracted by thoughts of Gwen – where she might be, who she is with and what Owen will do, if she never comes home. 

When she leaves for the night, Owen still has not returned.

Gwen does not come home that night either, nor the one following.

Rumors spread like wildfire through the village – malicious ones, dismissive ones. Ones which have Y/N waking from nightmares again, but this time they are not her own. At some point, Rian bans talk of Gwen in the tavern, but this does not prevent them from discussing in hushed tones.

Y/N overhears as she waits on the tables, replacing their ale and trying hard not to listen. At first, the town suspects Alvah, then Yoongi. They quickly move on when neither one leaves, nor their rooms contain Gwen.

It would not make sense to stick around after committing a crime.

And so, the town turns to other culprits. There have been many travelers in Tywll, traveling through for Dowais’ autumnal festival – it is hard to remember all, but the town tries. Y/N stops listening after a while, only caring about Owen and the safety of Gwen.

At the end of the second day with no sign of Gwen, Y/N begins to grow restless. Yoongi has not been seen much since Gwen’s disappearance. To be fair, Y/N has not seen him at all since they walked home from the forge, but his absence the past few days has been noticeable. As though he does not wish to speak and is avoiding her questions.

It would only be natural for her to suspect Yoongi and indeed, Y/N does for a time. Looking at things objectively, Yoongi is the obvious culprit. He was sent to watch over their souls and he warned Y/N that at any moment, he could drag them away.

And yet – if this is so, and Yoongi has taken Gwen’s soul, why is he still here?

For he is here, even if he is often absent. His steamer trunk is still in his room – Y/N checked this once, against her better judgement – and she has even seen him disappear out the front door. Yoongi is still IN Tywll, which makes Y/N wonder what he knows. 

She decides to find out the very next night. Standing at the foot of the staircase, Y/N waits until Rian looks away before slipping upstairs.

The noise of the tavern muffles on the second floor. Y/N walks down the hall, taking purposeful care not to make too much sound. Room seven is at the end, its number in gold peeling letters upon the front door. When no one answers, Y/N tentatively pushes this open.

Yoongi is not here.

A candle sits on the front table, gathering dust. This does not surprise Y/N – if Yoongi is anything like her, he probably prefers the dark. Stepping further inside, she pulls the door shut behind her.

The trunk lies at the foot of his bed, a dark jumble of clothing within. This sight nearly makes her smile, since it seems so horribly human. The Cŵn Annwn should have clothing of shadow, or some otherworldly substance which does not exist in this world.

Speaking of which – shadows curl at Y/N’s ankles as she walks. This seems to happen more and more lately. Darkness spreads wherever she touches and each place she does, Y/N gleans a sense of the object.

Yoongi has not been here for hours.

Paused at the foot of his bed, Y/N looks around. Gwen is not here, that much is obvious – from what Y/N can tell, she never was. This means Yoongi must be equally perturbed Gwen has disappeared. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, after all.

Darkness pulses in the corners, beckoning her near. Y/N stiffens, realizing where Yoongi must be. If he is not here in Tywll, if she can find no trace of him in this world – he must be in another.

As soon as Y/N thinks this, the world wavers around her. Y/N forces this back and tries not to travel, but then wonders why. Yoongi told her not to enter the Shadow realm but then, he is not here.

Yoongi does not tell her what to do.

Inhaling gently, Y/N closes her eyes.

This time, she feels the world shift and when she opens her eyes, she is expecting the nightmarish landscape.

Still, the Shadow realm seems different today. Its edges are blackened, crumbled apart at the seams. Somewhere in the distance, Y/N hears a scream. Whirling, she faces the same way she came but sees nothing. The Real world wavers just beyond reach and all that exists here is shadow.

“Hello?” Y/N calls.

Her voice does not seem to echo. This makes sense – there is nothing here to produce the vibrations.

Slowly walking forward, Y/N peers into darkness. Her magic exists here, but less. Or – perhaps it is more. Her magic is stronger, but this place is made out of shadows. Being surrounded by so much makes her somehow feel small.

When Y/N takes another step forward, a shape stirs in the darkness.

“Hello?” she says, coming to a stop. “Who’s there?”

The shape stirs once more, beginning to solidify into something huge, something massive. Y/N’s eyes widen, head tipping back to see the end of it. She trembles, about to scream when –

Yoongi appears, dropping from the dark sky before her.

He snarls, gaze red and teeth bared – canines as sharp as hellfire itself. Yoongi does not glance at Y/N, only having eyes for the monster before them. He growls a second time in warning, one hand splayed to the ground.

The thing rears back, twitching grotesquely before it freezes in recognition. Yoongi stares at it silently, daring it to strike and slowly, the thing reneges and melts into twilight.

Yoongi remains frozen until he is sure it has gone.

His head snaps sideways to Y/N. “What were you thinking?” he growls, pushing himself up from the ground.

As he strides forward, he adopts a more human appearance. The red of his eyes dims, canines shortening but there is still something wolfish to his gaze.

Y/N stares over his shoulder, searching wildly for the thing in the shadows. “I – what was that?” she gasps.

Yoongi comes to a stop. “There are more things which travel the Shadow realm than just you and I, Y/N,” he says grimly.

“You!” she blurts, remembering why she came. “I was looking for you, Min Yoongi. We need to talk about Gwen.”

“Not here,” Yoongi mutters, gripping her wrist.

Before Y/N can protest, they melt away and reappear in his room.

Flinging her hand away, Yoongi strides across his floor. He comes to a stop at his bedside, grabbing a decanter and removing its top. Tipping the bottle sideways, amber liquid pours out.

As the daughter of an innkeeper, Y/N recognizes the sharp tang of alcohol. “What are you doing?” she asks, nose wrinkled.

“I’m drinking,” Yoongi says calmly, replacing the stopper. Turning around, he drinks the glass in one gulp. “I occasionally drink when others test my patience.”

“Your patience?”

“Yes, my patience,” he snaps. “You may be able to enter the Shadow realm, Y/N, but you are woefully unprepared for what you will find there.”

“Why? Because I’m human?”

“I – no.” Yoongi seems bewildered. “Because you haven’t used your magic in fifteen years, Y/N! You’re a child, learning to walk. If that Gwyllion had managed to touch you…” He pauses, refilling the glass without touching the bottle. “Your soul would’ve separated from your body and you would’ve wandered the Shadow realm for eternity. Is that what you wanted?”

A chill travels Y/N’s spine. A Gwyllion. 

She has heard stories about the famed demons of twilight ever since she was little. Gwyllions lurk in the shadows, dwell in the places between realms and rip souls from their bodies. She never once imagined one could hurt her, though – her, a shadow-singer.

Shaking his head, Yoongi surveys her reaction.

“No,” Y/N blurts, trying to remain in control. “That’s not what I wanted.”

He glares at her again before tipping his second drink back.

“I…” Y/N’s brow furrows. “If you can re-fill that with magic, why bother by hand?”

“Why, indeed?” Yoongi mutters. “Maybe because I – unlike you – don’t draw attention to myself in idiotic ways. I finish the tasks I am assigned and when I seek information from others, I don’t take unnecessary risks!”

Y/N pauses, zeroing in on the last part of his sentence. “What information are you seeking?”

Yoongi takes a step closer. Smoothly, he waves a hand to make the glass disappear. “Gwen,” he mutters. “Your friend. The soul I was assigned to watch has disappeared.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Yoongi pauses for a moment. “You think I took her.”

“No.”

He blinks, surprised. “No?”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “If you had taken her, you would’ve already left. Since you’re still here, I can only assume it was someone else.”

Yoongi stares at her at moment and Y/N wonders if this is the first time someone did not assume the worst of him. 

“Well, you’re correct.” Turning around on his heel, Yoongi walks towards his trunk. “I didn’t take her. That’s why I was in the Shadow realm at all – I was visiting another of the Cŵn Annwn to request information.”

“Did they have any?”

“No,” Yoongi mutters. “She’s gone.”

“I know that. Honestly, Yoongi, what have you even been doing these past –”

With a snarl, Yoongi disappears to reappear before her.

Stumbling backwards a bit, Y/N recovers quickly to glare. “One of these days, that shock factor is going to wear off,” she snaps.

“You don’t understand,” Yoongi insists. “When I say gone, I mean gone. I can’t find Gwen in the Real world. Nor in the Shadow realm. She’s not in the Otherworld. Gwen is gone.”

As Y/N freezes, comprehension dawning, Yoongi deflates.

“There’s something else going on here,” he says finally. “Some kind of magic I’m not taking into consideration. It doesn’t help most of my informants refuse to meet me in Tywll because of the Travelers.”

Y/N responds to this, automatic. “The Travelers haven’t been in these parts for years.”

“No, Y/N.” He looks at her gently. “They were quiet for a while. Recently though, they have been killing witches and warlocks up and down the north coast.”

Suddenly speechless, Y/N stares at him in horror.

“The last they were sighted was near here,” he adds, quiet. “If it helps, it is not as bad as the last time. Most speculate it’s only a few humans, not as many as before.”

Y/N cannot breathe. All this time, she should she was safe. She thought she could just wait out the storm and then, everything would be fine. It would seem the Travelers will not die, though and fleetingly, Y/N wonders if she will ever truly live.

Swallowing, Y/N moves towards the door. “Fine.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi exhales, clearly not believing her. 

She turns back around. “What does this have to do with Gwen?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

He seems to be at a loss. The trunk behind him is still open, as though it might suddenly contain answers. Y/N stares at this and wonders how Yoongi came to be Cŵn Annwn. There are times when he seems almost human and then other time, woefully not.

Like the Yoongi she saw in the Shadow realm, eyes red and snarling with warning.

“Take me with,” she says suddenly.

Yoongi blinks, startled. “I – what?”

“When you go to find more information.” Y/N looks up, taking a step closer. “The next time you go to the Shadow realm, take me with.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you serious?” Yoongi looks at her, incredulous. “After everything I just said? You’re a liability, Y/N.”

“A liability you’re in charge of,” she reminds him. “You’re in charge of my soul, too, Yoongi. How would it look if I disappeared, too?”

Jaw snapping shut, Yoongi glowers at her. 

Sensing she has hit a nerve, Y/N continues. “Besides,” she says, pressing on. “I can help. I know this town, I know its people. I can help you. Just – let me. Please,” she adds, voice breaking on the word. “Gwen was my friend. I need… I have to do something.”

Yoongi stares at her for a moment, uncertain. Finally, he exhales and turns. “Alright. When I have another lead, I’ll come get you. Satisfied?”

“No.” Y/N watches him walk towards the window. “I want to go now.”

“Too bad.”

Y/N nearly smiles, but catches herself. There is no condemnation to his tone and Y/N knows he does not mean to be rude. He is only stating the facts – straightening her spine, Y/N wonders when she began reading Yoongi so well.

She wonders when she began trusting him.

Because she does – or, she trusts him more than most in her life. With this realization comes a modicum of guilt because Y/N has now gotten what she came for. She has more information, along with a promise and so, she should leave.

Before anything else can be given. 

“Thank you,” she says, reaching out for the knob.

Hovering there, she considers turning around. The room waits expectantly behind her, as though Yoongi also holds his breath. Steeling her spine, Y/N forces such nonsense aside and steps into the hall.

As the door falls shut behind her, Y/N hears him exhale. The sound is ragged, meaningful but is cut off before she can dissect any further. Hurrying away, Y/N tries not to replay the sound in her mind.

Y/N is not woken the next morning by the rooster.

Instead, it is Mervin’s hand on her shoulder which rouses her from her sleep. He holds a candle above her, the flickering flame illuminating his frame. Seeing him like this, Y/N blearily focuses on his face above hers.

“What is it?” she murmurs, pushing herself upwards.

Mervin’s expression is grave, his features drawn.

Recognizing this, Y/N tenses. “Mervin?”

“It’s… it’s Gwen.”

He does not need to say more – the rest is clear. If this were good news, he would be smiling. If this were good news, Mervin would not be waking Y/N in the middle of the night.

Fingers trembling, Y/N reaches out for her dressing gown. “What is it?”

Taking a step back, Mervin places the candle beside her. “They found her an hour ago,” he says, hollow. “She was in the river.”

Y/N freezes, fingers clutching the fabric.

Mervin does not stay long, leaving soon after to give her a few moments of peace. Changing in a daze, Y/N walks downstairs and realizes halfway she forgot several steps in her routine. Her hair is rumpled, buttons mismatched, but no one in the tavern seems to notice. Much of the town has gathered before Rian’s fire, huddled in groups and speaking in whispers.

When Y/N enters, she sees Rian by the fire. The bread is forgotten behind her, half-risen on top of the counter. Mervin clasps her hand, talking gently into the side of her hair. The sight is so unusual, Y/N comes to a stop.

Looking up, Rian hastily wipes a tear from her cheek. “Owen came by,” she announces, briskly standing to return to the bread. “The forge will be closed for the foreseeable future, so there’s no work today.”

“Alright,” Y/N exhales, having expected as much.

She stares at the kitchen, amazed to find it much the same as before. It seems almost offensive, to continue feeding the town and housing their guests when Gwen no longer exists. It seems their life should also come to a stop, out of respect for hers.

Mervin spared her the details of Gwen’s death out of consideration but as Y/N walks through the tavern, she catches the highlights, regardless.

Gwen was found in the river. She was drowned, with nary a mark on her body. No signs of struggle. No signs of injury – self-inflicted or otherwise. Gwen was merely found dead, eyes glassy and wide as she stared from the river.

Already, there are whispers of magic.

Throughout the morning, Y/N continues to overhear conversations. It was unnatural, the way she died and so, magic is the obvious conclusion. A tragedy of such magnitude has never occurred here before. People have died, yes but not like Gwen.

It seems impossible for her to be gone and so, people look for impossible answers.

For the rest of the week, Y/N throws herself into work. It helps to keep her moving, to stay distracted from the idea of Gwen being pulled from the river. She does not see Owen, though she would like to. He is firmly embroiled in a nightmare of his own and Y/N knows his life will take time to heal. Instead, she busies herself with the tavern, the inn and does not think about Gwen.

Or, she tries. 

This proves to be impossible when her death is the only subject Tywll is willing to talk about. Waiting tables each evening, Y/N hears gossip despite herself. The men all discuss the physical aspects of the death. How her lips were blue – cold, from the water – how her limbs were stiff, to the point where she could not be moved.

The women discuss what it means for their town. Gwen was a sweet girl; a good girl and it cannot be ignored she went voluntarily. There were no signs of struggle at the house. Whomever killed her remains at large and if they are near, everyone else is in danger.

Y/N continues to glance at the staircase, wondering when Yoongi will find her. Arawn cannot be pleased by Gwen’s early demise. Despite the ominousness of his presence, the Cŵn Annwn are never dispatched to intervene – only to bring humans to Annwn for judgement.

Although it may be foolish, Y/N finds herself believing him. This was not Yoongi’s plan, she can feel certain of that much. Yoongi might be many things, but he is not cruel – and the way they found Gwen was cruel.

Squeezing her body in between tables, Y/N comes to a stop at a large group of townspeople. The most important men are all gathered, Cadoc amongst them, and – to Y/N’s surprise – Alvah beside him. He speaks quietly with the older man and Y/N wonders absent-mindedly if he remains at work on his deal.

It would be highly insensitive if he were. As Y/N removes his glass though, she realizes they do not discuss business at all – but Gwen.

“I’m telling you,” Cadoc says under his breath. “You’re wrong. None of the men in this town would’ve laid a finger on her.”

Stiffening, Y/N places the glass on her tray.

“Of course not,” Alvah says, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to imply they would. Only, it’s difficult to know anyone’s true intentions these days.”

Trevor grunts, from the other side of the table. “Man’s right. Would be madness to rule out the townsfolk, simply because blaming a traveler is easier.”

“Exactly.” Alvah glances over his shoulder. “Although…”

Cadoc squints over his cup. “Although, what? Spit it out, man.”

Shaking his head, Alvah wraps a gloved hand around his glass. The silver ring on his hand gleams in the firelight. “No, never mind. It is a silly thought.”

“What is?”

The rest of the table looks on, waiting for more. Looking up, Alvah realizes they hang on his every word. Y/N lingers too, motions slowed to ensure she hears what he has to say.

Alvah leans in. “Are there any in town who have… magic?”

“What are you implying?” Cadoc says sharply.

“Nothing,” Alvah says – quickly, as though embarrassed. “It is only… I have traveled much, my friends.”

The rest of the men grumble and glance at one another. Y/N finds it strange to see these men trust an outsider so quickly. Alvah has only been in Tywll a matter of weeks and, under any other circumstances, he would be a suspect of the murder.

“And?” Trevor demands, narrowing his gaze.

“And she died with no marks on her body,” finishes Cadoc, glancing at Alvah. “Is that what you’re getting at, boy?”

Alvah nods in relief. “Doesn’t it seem odd?”

“It does.” Cadoc inclines his head, hand tapping the table. “Still. It is rash to assume magic so fast.”

Y/N is surprised to hear Cadoc the voice of reason in this scenario. She has never much liked the merchant – he usually gives Owen impossible deadlines, and then even shorter ones follow when he manages to meet those.

“Obviously,” Alvah nods. “Likely, there is no magic involved. It is only strange, that’s all.”

“It is,” jumps in Trevor, gaze scanning the tavern.

Y/N turns before he can spot her. Reaching the next table, she purposefully remains within earshot. For the most part, they seem to have moved on – but then Alvah leans forward, whispering something to Cadoc. The first part is inaudible but the second, Y/N hears.

“… odd, he hasn’t come downstairs since they found her.”

Y/N’s blood chills when they look towards the stairs.

Glancing upwards, she sees Yoongi descending. He is dressed in his usual black, sparing no glance for the townsfolk before exiting the building. Multiple heads follow him, Y/N notices with alarm.

She is not sure how she missed this before. Of course, now that Gwen has been found, the town searches harder for her killer. It would seem they do not suspect Alvah, but they do Yoongi.

The wrongness of this twists deep in her chest. Yoongi did not kill Gwen; Y/N is certain. She may not know who did, but she is determined to find out. Which means it is even more imperative Yoongi take her to the Shadow realm. They need to find answers, and fast.

Before her expression can give her away, Y/N hurries into the kitchen. She stays there the rest of the night, helping Rumilda and washing the dishes. She cannot face the town now, unable to stomach their deliberate ignorance. It reminds her too much of Crymych, of her people screaming in fright and the horrible certainty those Travelers had when they killed.

Magic is evil and so, must be extinguished.

Scrubbing a pot harder, Y/N’s brows furrow. She cannot help but think yes, sometimes magic is evil – but in many ways, humans can be worse.

The evening is long. People do not want to leave the safety of the inn and its fire. Eventually, Rian is forced to shoo them all out with a rag, telling them to come back when they open tomorrow. Once they are gone, Y/N brings their dishes into the kitchen. She rolls up her sleeves, ready to work but Mervin reaches out to place a hand on her arm.

“No,” he says gently. “I think you’ve done enough for today. Go and sleep.”

Y/N pauses, glancing at Rian but she also says nothing, scrubbing away at the sink. When Mervin arches a brow, Y/N sags in relief.

“Alright,” she says, untying her apron. “But if you need any help, I’m –”

Cutting her off, Mervin shakes his head. “We’ll be fine. Go.”

Despite her protestation, Y/N is glad for their intervention. While work kept her going at first, it now feels a drag on her senses. She misses the forge – the hot yield of iron, the simmering heat of the furnace. She misses creating something. She misses Owen’s quiet humor and eating with Gwen during supper.

It was a haven once to her, but it no longer exists. The weight of this falls upon Y/N’s shoulders with each step she climbs. Once in her room, she slowly undresses. Each layer she sheds gives no relief to her burden. Turning around, Y/N cannot help but think it should have been her.

She is the magical one, she should have stopped this from happening. She should have been smarter, should have seen the signs earlier and done something to stop it. For sure, she should have kept a closer eye on Gwen after the accident.

Their souls were linked, after all.

“Y/N.”

Whirling at the sound of the familiar voice, Y/N clasps a hand to her throat. “Yoongi,” she chastises, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Yoongi winces and steps out of thin air. “I’m sorry,” he says, cloak swishing around him as he walks. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Does this mean you’ve found something?”

“Or nothing,” Yoongi exhales, coming to a stop right before her.

“You found something? Or, nothing?”

“Yes.”

Her frown deepens. “You’re being purposefully confusing.”

“Not purposefully,” says Yoongi. He shoves a hand through his hair. “I have a lead on information. Someone who may know what happened to Gwen – but I’m not sure. Hence the something, or nothing.”

“I see.” Forgetting about undressing, Y/N grabs for her cloak. “When do we leave?”

Yoongi does not respond, so she glances over her shoulder. She finds him staring back at her, gaze oddly pleading.

Slowly, she straightens. “You promised,” she reminds him.

“I know I did.” Yoongi inhales. “I know, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s dangerous. You don’t understand.”

“I do.” Y/N narrows her eyes.

“You don’t,” Yoongi insists, stepping forward. His hands find her wrists, sliding up to her elbows. Wherever his skin touches, a delicious heat thrums through her veins.

“Say that I don’t,” Y/N says, through gritted teeth. It takes everything in her not to be distracted. “I still want to come. You promised to take me.”

His brow lowers in frustration. “Even though your life will be in danger?”

“My life is always in danger,” Y/N says, breaking off. “It always is and I’m used to that fact but Gwen is the one who died. And I…” Exhaling roughly, she swallows.  “It should have been… I could have…”

Understanding dawns on his features. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She looks at him helplessly. “No?” 

“No,” he says sternly.

Y/N looks at him for so long, she nearly forgets what she wants. “All the same,” she says quietly. “I want to come.”

Yoongi returns her gaze, weighing the consequences. Whatever he sees in her expression must convince him because he finally takes a step backwards, holding out a hand.

“Fine,” he exhales, entwining their fingers. “Do not speak once we arrive, though. Let me do the talking.”

Y/N glances at him in surprise. Contrary to most men in this village, Yoongi has always listened to her when she spoke. He has never once tried to quiet her. Knowing he would not offer these boundaries without reason, she slowly nods. 

“Fine.”

Yoongi nods, setting his jaw as they disappear.

They reappear on a damp riverbank.

Letting go of her hand, Yoongi swiftly steps forward. He peers into the shadows as Y/N crosses both arms. Their location is unfamiliar. Y/N does not recognize the place, nor their surroundings. They are not in the Shadow realm – but neither are they anywhere she has been in the real world.

Willowy moss drips overhead, creeping down tree trunks to blanket the ground. Glancing at Yoongi, Y/N wonders why he let go of her hand. Opening her mouth to ask, she remembers his warning and slowly closes her lips.

Yoongi comes to a stop at the edge of the river. “Hoseok?” he calls. There is no answer. “Hoseok, I know you’re here.”

Mist rises gently from the water. This is a wild place, Y/N realizes. She can feel this in her bones and no longer, is she certain they are outside of the Shadow realm. Perhaps this is simply an unexplored part, an unfamiliar part. Rubbing her arms, Y/N glances around and wonders if she has been foolish.

Perhaps she should have asked Yoongi where they were going before leaving – definitely, she should have asked something before blindly following.

A shape solidifies before them, stepping from darkness.

The man wears a dark cloak, like Yoongi, but the similarities end there. He is taller, with a narrower face and distrusting eyes. Inhaling sharply, the man’s nostrils flare and Y/N gets the distinct impression he is scenting them.

Yoongi watches lazily while he does this. “Are you done, Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s head snaps down with a smirk. “Nearly.”

Exhaling deeply, Yoongi folds both arms over his chest. It is the oddest thing – although Hoseok searches the darkness behind him, he does not seem to see Y/N. It is as though she were not present at all, or somehow invisible.

“You stink like a human,” Hoseok says, eyes glowing red. “You’ve spent too much time with the mortals, I fear. Losing your touch?”

Yoongi does not react. “I have a job to do. Unlike you, I follow my orders.”

Hoseok’s gaze tightens. “Were your orders to get that village girl killed?” 

“Someone else interfered,” Yoongi growls.

“Obviously.”

“Enough,” Yoongi drawls, waving a hand. “You know why I’m here. You said you have information. Get on with it.”

Hoseok calmly examines the back of his hand. “I did say that, yes.”

“So, do you?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “If I tell you, then what will you give me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens. “How about I won’t report you to Arawn for interfering with the investigation of another Cŵn Annwn?”

When Hoseok rolls his eyes, Y/N stiffens. Of course – Hoseok is also Cŵn Annwn. Looking closer, Y/N can see the truth of the matter. Hoseok’s red glowing eyes and the way he stepped from the shadows – obviously, he is Cŵn Annwn.

Still, Y/N cannot shake the feeling they are not the same.

“So predictable,” Hoseok mutters, glaring at Yoongi. “Always threatening to run and tell daddy.”

“The information?” Yoongi repeats, sounding bored.

Hoseok sighs. With a wave of his hand, a shadow appears in his palm. While Yoongi and Y/N watch, the darkness swirls and solidifies into a hair clip, lined with silver and jade.

Y/N nearly gasps, recognizing it to be Gwen’s. It is the one Owen bought her for Yuletide last year, the one she rarely removed because of how much she loved it. Remembering her promise to Yoongi in time, Y/N clasps a hand over her mouth. The noise remains stillborn.

Hoseok tilts his head. “Is this answer enough?”

Yoongi takes a casual step forward. “Did you get this from the girl?” he asks, examining the object. “Because I’ll be honest, Hoseok – pulling strange things from shadows has never impressed me.”

“It’s hers,” Hoseok mutters, lips pulling back from his teeth. “I was the one who escorted her to the Otherworld. She drowned, yes?”

“Mm.” Yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. “I’m afraid I need more than that.”

Y/N glances between them, hardly able to believe the callous way they discuss this; as though Gwen were an object, not a person. As though this were mere currency and she, a transaction. In a way, Y/N supposes this to be true.

“Blonde hair, rosy cheeks.” Hoseok arches a brow. “Rather attractive, for a human. Kept speaking of her father. Owen? Said she wanted to see him one last time – a predictable final request.”

“Alright.” Yoongi cuts him off, his distaste for the other Cŵn Annwn obvious. “I believe you. Now – the information?”

“Ah,” Hoseok pauses. “That.”

Twirling a hand, Hoseok conjures a soft plume of shadow. It snakes around his wrist, undulating gently with each twist of his fingers.

“I still don’t know what’s in this for me.” Hoseok smiles. “Until then, I’m afraid I simply don’t recall what Gwen said.”

Yoongi’s lips pull back. “Hoseok, you distasteful piece of –”

“Language,” Hoseok interrupts, holding up a hand. “And don’t try to threaten me with Arawn again. We both know he’s as displeased with you, as with me right now.”

Yoongi glares at him heatedly, clearly displeased by the way things are going. His eyes glow faintly red – not as noticeable as Hoseok’s, but the implication is there.

“I’ll relinquish the next hunt to you,” Yoongi says at last. He spits out the words, laying them at Hoseok’s feet. “The next time Arawn pits us against each other for a soul, I’ll let you win. Does that satisfy your request?”

Hoseok’s eyes gleam with interest. “It does.” He pauses, then laughs and twists the shadows before him. “I plucked this from the girl’s memory before transporting her to the Otherworld. It’s the last thing she saw before she died.”

Y/N watches a gloved fist appear from the shadows. The hand slowly flexes and unflexes, as though clenching life from a body. The hand wears a glove, finely made and on one finger rests a strange, silver ring.

Staring at this, the river seems to fade in her peripheral. 

“Alvah,” Y/N breathes.

Yoongi goes utterly still.

Abruptly, Hoseok straightens and the glove disappears. Glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze widens – as though seeing Y/N for the first time. Taking a slow step from the shadows, Hoseok begins to walk forward.

“And who is this?” he asks, focusing in on Y/N.

Y/N swallows, meeting his gaze. Unlike Yoongi, there is no mercy to his expression. She gets the distinct impression this man enjoys what he does, who he is.

Hoseok comes to a stop, letting out a low laugh. “Yoongi,” he purrs, incredulous. “Are you up to your old tricks again? Bending the light. You devilish creature. And yet – also foolish,” he murmurs. “Bringing a human to neutral ground. Free for anyone to take.”

“She’s not yours,” Yoongi snarls, crouching reflexively in between them. “She’s mine.”

Hoseok’s upper lip curls. “Not here, she isn’t.”

Before Y/N can scream, Hoseok lunges in her direction. Yoongi is faster, his hand grabbing Y/N’s wrist to pull into night. Y/N gasps, vision unraveling as the world disappears. The riverbank slackens, Hoseok’s red eyes vanishing as they reappear somewhere else – only to disappear again.

They do this several times, visiting worlds Y/N does not know the names of. She sees an endless sea of metal, the tips of smoke curling from rooftops. This is replaced with a gaping, red maw in the ground. This vanishes too, and she sees Hoseok’s lips pulled back in a snarl. Then he is gone, and they stand on a riverbank, covered with mist – and then they are back in Tywll, stumbling against the inn.

Y/N lets out a noise as her back hits the wall.

Yoongi drops into a defensive crouch. In one hand, he brandishes a strange, silver knife – his other is thrown out, keeping Y/N back.

She blinks, not having seen him when he pulled this. Her back is pressed to the wall, heart beating hard in her chest. Nothing happens for one beat, then two. Hoseok does not appear from the darkness. They stay like that for a moment, breath coming in pants.

Finally, Yoongi straightens. He stares into the darkness, as though waiting for something and then turns around. 

“You,” he blurts, the noise strangled.

Y/N stares back, struggling to comprehend what she just saw.

Yoongi slides his knife into his belt. “Explain,” he breathes, stalking forward. “Explain why you spoke back there, why you revealed yourself! Why you nearly go yourself killed.”

“I– Alvah,” she exhales, barely audible. Out of everything tonight, that vision remains clear. “The ring on the memory’s hand. I... I know it. It belongs to Alvah.”

Yoongi comes a halt inches away from her face. “What do you mean?”

“The ring.” Y/N sags against the inn. Her knees buckle beneath her, barely keeping her upright. “Alvah has one just like it.”

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes.”

He glances over his shoulder at the town. It lies silent, draped in moonlight while Yoongi considers. “Well, then.” He returns to Y/N. “Alvah is not who he says he is.”

She releases a breath, slowly closing her eyes. “Obviously.”

Y/N expects Yoongi to chuckle, or give some sort of admonishment, so when he does neither, she opens her eyes.

Yoongi stares back at her, inches away from her face.

“Yoongi?” she asks, self-consciously licking her lips.

“I… Y/N.”

He sounds oddly hesitant, standing before her in moonlight. Gaze darkening, his gaze roams the planes of her face. Y/N can feel this heat of this in her body, still pressed to the wall.

“Yoongi,” she breathes in.

Clenching his jaw, Yoongi closes his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Your name?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he repeats, barely audible. Eyes opening, he lifts a hand to slowly place on her cheek. “Don’t say my name like you wish there was more.”

“And what if I do?” she asks, made bold by the dark.

Yoongi’s gaze drops to her lips, unbidden. As though in a trance, he takes a step forward. The hand which was once on her cheek slips to her waist.

“If you do,” he exhales. “I may do something I’ll regret.”

“Do it.”

This is all the coercion he needs to kiss her.

Y/N inhales, breath stolen by the press of his lips against hers. She has been kissed before, but never like this – never with teeth and fire and meaning between them. Her arms twine around his neck before she can stop them, pulling him forward as her spine hits the wall.

Yoongi’s lips bruise her, thrill her and a thousand other contradictions. His tongue is greedy, seeking whatever purchase he can find at the seam of her lips. One hand cups her face, large fingers splayed until he pushes a piece of hair back. Y/N arches against him, assisting in letting him take what he wants. Her hands are equally needy, thoughts a blurred line between logic and sanity.

Suddenly, he gasps and pulls back. 

Yoongi stares at her in shock, reaching tremblingly up for his lips.

Y/N stares in this direction as well.

“I – Y/N,” Yoongi breathes. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looks at her helplessly. “You know why.”

She does know, although she is loath to admit it. Y/N has always been a rational being. Logically, she knows this is the last person for her to fall in love with. Yoongi is not even a person anymore – not really. 

And yet – her heart, the traitorous fool, beats solely for him.

Swallowing, Yoongi does not move. “Please,” he breathes, dragging his thumb down her jaw. His hand cups her chin, his body curved over hers. “You are not yet safe. Please, just… wait until I can ensure that you are.”

“Alright,” Y/N says, finally nodding. Softly, she places her hand over his. “But promise to return.”

“I promise.”

Yoongi bends for another kiss but before their lips can touch, vanishes away into darkness.

Y/N exhales, collapsing against the wall. In all honestly, she understands why he did this. Had he kissed her again, she would not have let him leave.

Slowly pushing herself upright, Y/N enters the house and returns to her bedroom. Slipping inside and up the stairs, she undresses swiftly and slides into bed. After a long moment, she gets up and locks both window and door.

Once satisfied, she crawls under the covers and stares at the ceiling. Her mind refuses to turn off, dissecting each hour with unwavering precision. Each breath of wind against the side of the house makes her turn, certain Hoseok has found her. Y/N begins counting down the seconds until Yoongi returns – or, until she falls asleep, whichever comes first.

At some point, she must doze off because the next time she wakes, it is to black cloth over her nose. Inhaling sharply, no oxygen enters and Y/N flails, jerking against her intruder.

“Hello, Y/N.” Alvah’s smile is calm, cutting through the darkness.

That is the last thing Y/N sees before the drug takes hold and she falls back on the bed.

Head lolling onto her chest, Y/N jerks into consciousness.

Her arms are pulled tight behind her back, rope cutting into her wrists and holding her hostage. Firelight flickers in the corner of her vision as blearily, Y/N squints.

She cannot remember where she is, why she is here.

A roaring fire dances before her. Light from the flames leap over her skin, forming cruel patterns. Cringing away from this, Y/N realizes she rests on her knees. Wobbling, she nearly falls forward but the rope binds her in time, stopping the motion. Exhaling lowly, hair falls in her face.

Across the fire, someone chuckles.

Suddenly remembering the events of tonight, Y/N’s head lifts.

Alvah smiles from the other side of the flames, sharpening a knife in one hand. He is dressed entirely in black – tunic, waistcoat, overcoat and trousers. If Y/N did not know any better, she might think him on his way to a party.

Slowly, he stands. The silver of his knife gleams as he walks closer. “You left me no choice, you know,” he says sadly, stopping before her.

Y/N does not respond, twisting again in her ropes. Reaching out for her magic – she inhales. Nothing happens. The shadows refuse to come, her darkness lies vacant and still. The door remains stubbornly locked in her mind. Panic shoots through her, making her tremble. Each pulse of her blood feels sluggish and slow; Y/N can only assume this is because of whatever drug runs in her veins.

Alvah crouches before her. “Kissing a hellhound in the open like that.” Gently, he tuts and presses the knife to her chin. “Why, anyone could have seen you – and I did,” he says, gripping her hair and yanking back her head. “I saw you, Y/N and truly, I must thank you. Without that, I would’ve kept searching in all the wrong places.”

His hands are still gloved, identical to the mirage Hoseok showed. That strange, silver ring still rests on his finger. The sigil seems so familiar to Y/N and yet, she cannot quite place it.

“What?” Alvah laughs. “Are you choosing now to be quiet? A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t stop giving me information. Couldn’t stop telling me about the town. It’s people. All the… strange happenings going on.”

Y/N’s stomach sinks swiftly. Remembering their walk through the town, she now sees it from a different perspective. Alvah was trying to gather information from her. This entire time, he has been searching for magic.

“Ah.” His lips twitch. “You understand.”

“You,” she whispers, the word scratching her throat. “You thought… Gwen had magic.”

“I did,” he agrees. “I was most displeased when I couldn’t convince her to show it to me. Her death was an accident, you know. I merely thought she needed proper… incentive to perform. I was wrong.”

Y/N’s head spins, realizing what he means. 

He tortured her. Alvah tortured Gwen seeking a confession, but never received one – because she was not magical. He tortured Gwen because he thought she was Y/N and eventually, Gwen died.

“You… monster.”

Alvah’s expression darkens. “Not a monster,” he hisses. “I am merely doing what’s necessary to rid this world of monsters. Of those who hoard their power and refuse help to humans.”

Y/N stares at him fearfully. “What are you?”

Mirthlessly, he laughs and releases her hair. Y/N’s head droops forward. 

“Your worst nightmare, witch. I’m a Traveler,” Alvah breathes. “I was created to take the night from creatures like you.”

Imagines flash before her eyes, unbidden. Her parents’ bodies on the floor, Crymych awash in fire and blood. Her father’s throat slit, a knife plunged into her mother’s gut – and the human who did it, slowly turning around. She remembers him wiping blood from his knife, silver ring on one hand.

Y/N’s gaze flies to Alvah’s fingers.

Seeing where she looks, his lips curl upwards. “You recognize this?”

“Yes.” Y/N stares at the sigil, her knees pressed into dirt.  “I’ve seen it before.”

“You’ve seen it?” Alvah’s brow furrows. “In person?”

Y/N nods. “At Crymych.”

Alvah stares at her for a long moment. “Liar.”

Y/N stares at him, confused by his expression. Alvah looks back at her, as though she is the impossible one. But – the longer she thinks about it, the more it makes no sense. The Travelers who visited Crymych were adults – they were her parents age and older, but Alvah is her age. It is impossible for him to have memories of Crymych.

Unless.

“You killed Gwen,” Y/N says slowly, piecing it together. “But… she was killed by magic. Drowned, by a water-shifter.”

Alvah stares at her a moment before smiling. There is no mirth to the gesture. He starts chuckling, rocking back on his heels and swiping angry tears from his gaze.

Ruthlessly, he whips out his knife to point at her chest. ��You,” he exhales, with something like relief. “I’ve found you at last.”

Y/N stares at him, wide-eyed. “Me?”

Alvah nods, frantic. “The child shadow-singer of Crymych. I heard all about you growing up.”

Recoiling, Y/N stares at his long, silver blade. She again reaches for magic, finding none, except – there. Barely anything at all, but something faint stirs in her veins.

Alvah snarls at her expression. “Surprised I remember? No? Ah, I see – you tried to use magic, and found that you can’t.”

When Y/N scowls, jerking forward, he laughs.

“Your magic will return when the drug wears off,” Alvah assures. “But that won’t be for a while. Not until after I kill you. Unless…”

Y/N stops struggling. “Unless, what?”

She needs him to keep talking. She needs Alvah to continue his monologue until her magic returns, or Yoongi discovers her missing. Glancing over Alvah’s shoulder, Y/N stares into the darkness at the edge of the campfire. Alvah must be the threat Yoongi’s contacts were afraid of. It is he who has been ruthlessly carving a path of blood up the coast.

“Come with me.”

Startled, Y/N’s gaze snaps upwards. “What?”

“Come with me,” he breathes, pushing himself upwards to stand.

Reaching behind her, Alvah swiftly cuts her ropes. Before she can fall, his hands grasp her shoulders to lift her to her feet. Y/N stares at him in shock, too confused to run.

“Yes,” Alvah breathes, his grip vice-like on hers. “I see it now. You were spared, just as I was. You were sent to Tywll to live amongst humans and see the good in humanity. You were a child, too – of course you were spared.”

“Spared?” Y/N stares in horror. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Withdrawing his hands, Alvah retreats to stalk around the fire. Once on the other side, he whirls to face Y/N. “I’m a water-shifter, like you said,” he exhales, pulling off his glove.

Flexing his fingers, he stares down at his palm. Brow lowered in concentration, he waits until a pale, spinning orb appears above his fingers. The water dances and glimmers, catching the light.

Y/N stares at this in horror. Gwen was drowned with that water.

“I’m also from Crymych,” Alvah breathes.

It makes sense, in a way. Y/N always wondered if others survived. If anyone did manage to escape the burning houses of Crymych, it would be a water-shifter.

When Y/N says nothing, Alvah closes his fingers. The water splashes over his fist to the ground.

“The Travelers spared me,” he explains. “They took me with them, taught me what a curse my magic was. They explained I would be saved if I joined them. If I used my magic for good, instead of my inherent evil.”

“By… killing those who have magic.”

“Yes.” Alvah steps forward, ecstatic she understands. “Exactly.”

“But how could that possibly be good?” Her words halt him in his tracks, leave him staring at her. “You were in Crymych, Alvah. You saw what the Travelers did. They slaughtered your family… your friends…”

His face hardens. “They did that for the greater good, Y/N. Our friends and family were corrupt, they were evil. They holed themselves up in the forest and refused to help. Y/N,” he sighs, walking back around the fire. “I know it’s difficult to understand. It was hard for me, too. But now I see,” he whispers, stopping before her. “And you can, too.”

He waits, looking at her expectantly and Y/N’s heart breaks a little for the boy he once was.

“Alvah,” she whispers, so pityingly she nearly breaks apart.

She cannot imagine what hell his life must have been. To see his own family butchered, then be taken by his would-be murderers and raised as their savior. A dark messiah turned against his own kind.

Slowly, Alvah pushes up the sleeve of his tunic. He reveals angry, red welts on his arm. “This is what the Travelers saved me from,” he insists. “A fire-starter was drunk that night and lost control. Y/N – you didn’t see what you thought you saw. The Travelers managed to pull me out of the flames. They were only fighting in self-defense, Y/N.”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “Oh, Alvah – no. It wasn’t self-defense. I saw them. I watched them murder my parents, I saw them put our elders to sleep. They laced the wine they gave them with drugs, like you did to me.”

Alvah’s gaze flicks towards the handkerchief on the ground. For a moment, doubt crosses his face, but this is banished as easily as it came.

“I – no,” he breathes, re-gripping his knife. “You cannot tempt me with lies. I know my purpose. I will remain true.”

Y/N stares at him, helpless. In her mind, the door is almost open – she wonders if this is Alvah’s first time drugging an actual witch. Either that, or he spoke longer than he meant to when he realized who she was. Perhaps he genuinely does think this is fate, that they are meant to be together.

Either way, the longer she stands here, the more she feels her magic pulse in her veins. Almost enough to fight against his.

“What will you do?” Y/N asks, watching him walk towards her.

“Will you join me?”

Alvah tries to keep his voice even, tries not to seem eager, but Y/N can see his obvious want. His hand flexes on the hilt of his knife and again, her heart slowly breaks.

“No,” she whispers.

His expression breaks, catches and then heals, all in one moment. 

“Then, you must die.”

Alvah whirls, brandishing the knife and Y/N inhales to wrench shadows from darkness. To her immense relief, the darkness obeys. The surge is weaker than usual – she is weaker than usual – but her shadows coalesce before her, knocking his weapon aside.

Alvah curses, spinning and trying again. His knife cuts through darkness, slicing it open and Y/N gasps, stumbling backwards as though she, herself has been hurt.

“You see?” Alvah laughs. His breathing is heavy, light hair askew. “This is no ordinary knife, witch. It cures evil.”

He has returned to calling her witch, a sneer on his face. Y/N falters, grasping frantically for the tree trunk behind her. She glances to the side, searching for a way out because she does not yet have energy to attempt the Shadow realm.

When Alvah lunges, she dodges and stumbles down towards the river. Her feet splash into water, glancing over her shoulder to find him.

His laughter rings out behind her, following suit – albeit at a slower pace. “Ah,” Alvah teases, “you wish to fight on my domain, do you?”

Before Y/N can recognize what this means, the water rises around her. Her eyes widen, the only warning she has before she is dragged under. His water forms claws, grabbing her clothing and keeping her under. Y/N gasps, accidentally inhaling and choking on liquid.

The water enters her lungs, making her cough and in the corner of her eyes, Y/N can see darkness closing in. She wonders dizzily if this is what happened to Gwen – suddenly, her eyes open.

Gwen will not have died in vein.

Reaching deep within her – past the door, past limits she is not even aware of – Y/N tears darkness from the maw of power itself, yanking this to her chest and releasing into her veins. The heat simmers for a moment, unseen – and then she explodes.

Shadows erupts, twisting as they push out the water. Alvah falters at the side of the river, staring at her in shock. Y/N inhales, steam rising from her skin – and she opens her eyes. Her shadows shoot forward, streaming fast towards the bank.

Alvah screams when they wrap around him, binding his limbs and holding him hostage. Slowly, as if in a trance, Y/N walks from the water. Both hands are before her, twisting the shadows in ways she does not understand – she only knows what needs to be done and the shadows obey. It is like something else has hold of her mind, feeding her knowledge she has yet to be taught.

She is furious. And Alvah should pay.

Shadows are shoved down his throat, through his nostrils where they writhe in his lungs. Y/N twists them up, making it hurt and he screams out again. Inhaling sharply, she drags her shadows out to force him to his feet. With another twist of her hand, she scoops his knife from the ground.

Alvah catches this limply.

“Fight me, then!” she yells, tears blurring her vision. “Fight me on even ground!”

Alvah blinks, suddenly lucid as he lurches forward. Y/N dodges his first swipe. Her shadows wrap around his neck, pulling him backwards and she laughs, manic. Spinning, she faces him on even footing. Her darkness coalesces, forming a barrier as something moves in the shadows.

Y/N pays this no mind, too focused on her revenge. Darting forward, she knocks Alvah’s weapon aside. Her darkness is alive, pulsing around her in coils and blades. Whirling, she turns back and – Alvah’s knife sinks into her shoulder.

Blinding clarity bursts through her. Shuddering to a halt, Y/N gasps at the pain.

Teeth bared, Alvah wrenches the knife from her body. He prepares to strike again – until Yoongi appears, shoving between them and flipping his knife.

“Y/N, CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

Hastily, she obeys. Blood trickles between fingers, shadows appearing to wrap around the wound. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turns away from his voice. From beneath her eyelids, she sees the clearing blaze suddenly with light. Y/N winces, lifting her uninjured arm to shield herself from the blow– but even so, it is painful.

Trembling back from whatever Yoongi is doing, Y/N staggers away. Even once the light has faded, the back of her eyelids gone dark, Y/N refuses to look.

Twigs crunch beneath boots, drawing closer.

“You can look now, Y/N.”

Slowly, she lowers her arm. Y/N’s shoulder still bleeds, blood trickling into the sleeve of her tunic. She does not care about this though, staring dazedly at Yoongi. He still holds a silver knife in one hand – when he sees her looking at this, it swiftly disappears.

Alvah is nowhere to be seen.

“W-where is he?” Her teeth chatter, glancing around.

“In Annwn,” Yoongi says simply. “He attacked one of the Cŵn Annwn. His life is forfeit to mine.”

“But…” Y/N stares, still not understanding. “He was attacking me.”

“Not in the version I tell Arawn.”

“Yoongi,” she exhales, an admonishment.

“Not here, Y/N.” Yoongi glances cryptically out at the river. “We must return to Tywll. I’ll need to return to Annwn soon for questioning.”

“Now?”

Yoongi pauses, glancing at her. “No,” he murmurs, stepping forward. Gently, he slides both hands into her hair. “Not now.”

“Then, when?” she asks, head tilting upwards.

Refusing to answer, Yoongi brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Never mind, when. Your soul is still pure,” he murmurs against her skin. “That’s all that matters.”

Y/N’s brow furrows, another question on her lips. “What do you mean by–”

Cutting her off, they dissolve into darkness.

They reappear in her bedroom, walls solidifying around them in a turret of grey.

Y/N exhales, sagging forward as his hands keep her steady. She looks up at Yoongi, weary from blood loss. His gaze darts to her shoulder and swiftly, he frowns.

“I-it’s nothing,” she breathes. “Really, I –”

Yoongi closes one hand over her arm, frowning in concentration. Y/N stares at him in wonder when warmth seeps into her skin. Beneath his palm, her muscles knit together, blood flowing again as her skin heals smoothly over.

Once finished, Yoongi exhales and takes a step backwards. He seems paler, slightly drained and yet, satisfied. His hand gently falls to his side.

Y/N stares at him, speechless. “I – how?” she blurts, gaze darting to his hand. “How did you do that? I mean, how did you find me tonight?”

The side of his mouth quirks. “Is that all you want to ask?”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head, still somewhat dazed. “I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start.”

“Then I’ll start at the beginning. I found you by luck. I tried many places before that one.”

“And you’re… a light-bearer.” Y/N frowns, glancing down at her arm. She can still feel where the brunt of Alvah’s knife went in, where her skin broke apart. “Or a life-giver? What are you?”

Yoongi gives her a sad smile. “I was,” he corrects. “I was a light-bearer.”

“Then how did you heal?” Y/N’s head spins. “The last time I saw someone heal was, well... It has been awhile since I knew a life-giver.”

“The Cŵn Annwn are unique,” Yoongi says quietly. “We each retain the powers we die with, but… for each magical soul we transport, we glean their powers as well.”

It dawns on her then, what exactly Yoongi offered Hoseok. A win on the next hunt. He must have meant this. It is the job of the Cŵn Annwn to return magical souls to Annwn. Based on their conversation, it sounded as though Arawn often pits them against each other. 

Which makes sense. The incentive is that whomever returns with the soul keeps the power.

Y/N’s skin begins to crawl. “So, what you’re saying is…”

“I have many powers, Y/N.”

“I see.” She looks at him for a moment, seeing him in a new light. “And what of the other thing you said? About my soul being pure?”

Yoongi’s lips tighten. “Nothing.”

“Yoongi.”

“You shouldn’t know,” he exhales, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t place that burden on you.”

“Yoongi.”

Swiftly, he turns and walks the length of her bedroom. Y/N’s bed is pushed into a corner, the sheets still mussed from when she was roused from it earlier. Roused is a kind word. Looking at the mattress, Y/N shudders when she remembers Alvah’s hands on her body.

Yoongi comes to a stop at the window. “Have you ever wondered how one becomes Cŵn Annwn?”

“Often,” she says honestly.

For a moment, he simply stares at the town. The moon cuts through the plane, illuminating his face. “You kill someone with magic,” Yoongi admits at last. “And then you die. Instead of going to the Otherworld, you enter Arawn’s possession. It is why Arawn plays these games, you see. When he sees a magical human he wants, occasionally he sets them up to enter his service... later.”

Staring at Yoongi, comprehension begins to dawn – and with it, comes horror. This must have been what happened to him. With a sinking stomach, Y/N realizes how close she came to joining the Cŵn Annwn tonight. She nearly killed Alvah with her magic and if she had, that would have been it.

She would have belonged to Arawn, like he does.

“You see?” Yoongi exhales, searching her face. “I’m telling you things you shouldn’t know. I’m bringing danger into your life you shouldn’t have. I – we…” 

Breaking off, he shakes his head.

“Yoongi.” Y/N walks forward. Coming to a halt before him, she looks up. “You saved my life.” Before he can protest, she adds, “And my soul. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not.” His expression falters. “But then – maybe I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you understand, Y/N?” Frustration enters his tone. “I want you to live. No, need you to live. You deserve more than this half-life, this cursed life – you deserve freedom. Not a half-existence like…”

“Like yours?” 

“Yes. Like mine,” he finishes, somewhat broken.

He does not move away though and so, she places both hands on his arms. Slowly, achingly she slides them around his neck. Her fingers brush the dark hair at the nape of his neck. 

Yoongi swallows. “You deserve more,” he breathes, closing his eyes. 

“And if I don’t want more?”

“You – you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh?” Y/N narrows her gaze. “From what you said, my options are clear. I can die a pure soul and go to the Otherworld – where you are not. Or, I die with blood on my hands and am cursed. But then, I would be with you.”

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs. In contradiction to his words, Yoongi’s hands wrap around her waist. “Don’t act like it would be worth it.”

“Who are you to say it wouldn’t be?”

“Because you don’t know me.”

Her thumb lovingly strokes the back of his neck. “I know you’re honest,” she says lowly. “I know you’re the only one who helped when I needed to find Gwen.”

He pauses. “I had other motives.”

“Don’t be so self-deprecating. There was more to it than that – you saved me tonight when you didn’t have to.”

“Again,” Yoongi exhales, tortured. “Other motives.”

“Not for my soul.” When Yoongi falls silent, Y/N continues. “Ever since you came, you treated me as an equal. More than that – you saw me in ways no one else would. You forced me to see myself that way, too.”

“I hope you do,” he murmurs, suddenly insistent. “I don’t want you to hide, Y/N.”

“You see?” she breathes, tilting her chin. “You say things like that, and then say I don’t know you. I know you’re feared, even amongst the Cŵn Annwn.” Her lips twist in an almost smile. “I know Arawn favors you above the rest.”

Based on Yoongi’s expression, this statement is correct. “It is never a good thing to be loved by the king of hell,” he says.

“Still. Do not pretend my options are clear, Min Yoongi. I know which path is unbearable, and it is the one without you.”

“Y/N,” he whispers, finally breaking. His hands close around her waist, drawing her near. The heat of his breath drifts across her lips.

Y/N’s heart stutters painfully. “Please,” she whispers, lifting her chin. “Please, Yoongi. Kiss m –”

Cutting off the word, he crushes her to him.

Longing leaps through her veins, her gasp eaten by his, swallowed by his kiss. As they collide, hands twining, fists clutching, Y/N loses herself in him.

She forces herself to be still, to not reveal how desperately she wants him. It is hard though, when he is kissing her with abandon, as if they stand at hell’s door. His lips tempt and torture in equal measure, and she is spinning apart.

Forcing himself back, his forehead finds hers. “Y/N,” he growls.

“Yes?”

Yoongi wrenches open his eyes. “Your shadows.”

Startled, Y/N glances down to find tendrils of magic around them. Darkness shifts at her feet, curling and uncurling and slowly, Y/N looks up.

“Is it strange?” she asks, still pressed against him. “I can try and stop it, if –”

Yoongi catches her hand, entwining their fingers together. “No,” he says, earnest. “Never.”

Y/N smiles, relaxing when he walks the two of them back to her bed. Her knees hit the mattress, pausing a moment before he kisses her softly. His mouth teases hers, pressing until her lips part and his tongue slips inside. Her hand moves under his tunic, brushing the skin at his waist.

Yoongi stiffens at this, groan caught in his throat. “Y/N,” he says, biting down on her lip. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” she purrs.

Growling lowly, Yoongi grips her waist and pulls her body to his. Y/N shivers, feeling the firm press of his muscle – Yoongi’s knee parts her legs, watching her lazily as her core aches around him.

“Is that all?” she asks, breath catching.

Yoongi’s gaze turns molten, slowly reaching down to gather the hem of her skirt. “I can barely restrain myself as it is,” he confesses, pushing the fabric up her thigh. “If you continue to tease, I’ll stop trying.”

“Stop, then.”

Yoongi’s lips are at her throat before she can finish the words. He kisses her clavicle, working his way upwards and searing her skin. Grasping her jaw with one hand, he turns her head sideways to gently kiss the crux. Inhaling sharply, Y/N tries not to groan when his tongue laves the same spot.

He does not stop there, descending her neck with carnal sensuality. Glancing up at her bosom, Yoongi awaits further instruction. Eyes lidded and heavy, Y/N looks down at him and nods. Yoongi’s hand slowly works upwards, tangling in the laces of her bodice. His fingers and magic work until they pull back, dropping the string to the floor.

Y/N inhales, hands clasping her dress before it can fall.

Without her laces, her hands are the only thing holding fabric between them. Yoongi’s gaze darkens, intent as heat sinks between her legs. She wants him – badly but cannot of think how to ask. It does not escape her then, how many realms he is above her.

Softer than silk, his palm cups her chin. “Will you let me see you?” Yoongi says gently.

Staring back at him, Y/N slowly nods her head.

Yoongi’s hands slip down, interlacing their fingers to pull hers back. The dress drops to the floor and Yoongi inhales, dazed by the view. He stares at her for a moment, transfixed by her bare skin in moonlight. When he looks back up, his gaze seems to glow.

Not a red glow, like in the Shadow realm, but an unearthly silver – that of a light-bearer.

Y/N stifles a smile. “You said you were a light-bearer?” she whispers, shadows snaking his thighs. “Is this a side effect of that?”

Yoongi shivers, then nods. “Yes and no,” he growls, backing her up to the bed. “It is because of my power, but it is happening because I am indescribably happy.”

Before she can respond, his lips are on hers. Yoongi kisses her eagerly, messily as their tongues intertwine. No longer does Y/N deny what she wants of him. It is obvious anyways, in the needy press of her body to his. In the rutting thrust of his breeches against the silk of her core.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps, hands curling into his hair. “Yoongi.”

He swiftly pulls back to undo his belt. Sliding this free from his pants, it drops heavily to the floor. Staring at Y/N, his knees follow suit – one by one, kneeling before her.

“Please.” Yoongi licks his lips, tortured. “Let me taste you.”

Y/N stares at him in shock.

Yoongi mistakes this silence for hesitance. “I’m sorry,” he exhales, sitting back on his heels. His chest rises and falls against the dark of his tunic. “Are you… have you ever…?”

“Yes,” Y/N says, recovering herself. Swiftly, her hands wrap around the bedpost behind her. “I have lain with men. It is only, no one has ever offered me that… so freely.”

His gaze narrows, as though in disbelief. “Well, then,” Yoongi says lowly, sliding a hand up her thigh. “What foolish men, to deny a feast.”

Barely does she have time to comprehend before Yoongi is at her core, spreading her folds to examine her body. Exhaling, she stares at his crown of dark hair.

Yoongi looks up, a sinful smirk on his face. “I thought so,” he purrs, delicately swiping her mound with his thumb. Y/N shivers, trembling above him. “Already wet and wanting. Just begging to be eaten – I bet you taste sweet.”

He moves before she can answer, pressing a virginal kiss to her thigh. His other hand finds her knee, lifting her higher and pressing her ass to the bed. When his lips brush her core, Y/N slowly inhales. He kisses her gently, wet and open against her sex. It feels good, all his licking and teasing – until he comes to a stop.

When Yoongi smirks up at her, Y/N’s heart stops. She realizes he may be her undoing.

Slowly, his tongue drags up her sex. Repeating the gesture, he gathers her juices up with his mouth – sloppy and eager, until she is panting above him. Yoongi’s hand curls under her knee, opening her wider before he finally gives in and drape this over his shoulder.

Letting out a guttural groan, Y/N releases the bedposts to fist in his hair.

If anything, this spurs him on, tongue laving circles around her clit until she is eager and swollen. Y/N gasps out his name, thrusting against his face without meaning to. She is chasing something she does not understand, every inch of her body alive and on fire. At some point, his hand drifts down to her ass – then to her entrance, circling her core.

“Gods.” Still gripping her waist, Yoongi jerks back and wipes his lips with one hand. His mouth is wet, sinful and smeared with evidence of her arousal. “You’re so wet, Y/N. So perfect and needy. I – I need to be inside you.”

Hearing him say this, Y/N clenches around nothing. “Yes,” she breathes, as he stands from the floor. The front of his trousers look unbearably tight. “I want you inside me. Want you to stretch me out.”

Growling, he clutches her body closer. “I can use my fingers first,” Yoongi says sweetly, licking the shell of her ear. Tugging on this with teeth, he elicits a shiver. “Make it easier.”

“No.” Y/N grasps his chin, returning his lips to hers. “No, I want you inside me. Want your cock,” she murmurs hastily, already undoing his trousers.

Yoongi chuckles, letting her do so. “Do you? Where?” he asks, pulling his tunic overhead.

Lowering herself onto the bed, Y/N looks up and stills.

She has not seen him naked before. Only bits and pieces – the sliver of skin at his throat, a flash of underarm when he rolled up his sleeves. Those mouth-watering veins which wrap the length of his fingers. Y/N was right in assuming those veins wrap other things, too. Now though, he is bare, beautiful and entirely hers.

“What?” Yoongi tilts his head. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Reaching up, she pulls him down with her. “I only… I do not wish to be parted after tonight.”

Lowering a knee to the mattress, Yoongi’s hands cup her face. “Nor I,” he allows, giving in and kissing her fully.

Falling backwards, Y/N arches against him. Yoongi’s right knee nudges between hers, rubbing her center to provide the friction she craves. Yoongi releases a moan, feeling her slick on his thigh. Grabbing hold of her hips, he forces her still.

“Not like that,” he murmurs, kissing her gently.

Y/N melts forward, hands cupping to roam his body. Yoongi is equally greedy, exploring her skin with unrivaled attention. It is only when she feels his cock, hard on her stomach that Y/N remembers what she is after.

“Oh,” she breathes, looking down.

His cock is pretty, in a way she could not have anticipated. Wrapping a hand around himself, Yoongi slowly slides up and down on his length. Y/N watches this, lips parted as his red, leaking tip disappears and reappears between fingers.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers. “Now.”

Yoongi chuckles and releases himself. “Alright. How?”

Slowly, Y/N turns around to rest on her knees. She looks at him over her shoulder. “Like this. From behind.”

Yoongi stares at her in awe, pupils blown out with lust. “Are you certain,” he murmurs, already moving into position. “It will feel deeper this way.”

“Mm,” Y/N inhales, lowering herself to her elbows. “I – I like that. Like to be stretched.”

“I see,” Yoongi murmurs, bed dipping as he moves into place.

His hand slides up her core and Y/N shivers, ducking her head. Seeing her splayed in the moonlight makes his cock twitch. Her cunt is already dripping – Y/N can feel the arousal smeared on her thighs, dripping down to pool at her clit. Yoongi’s hand slides from her ass, cupping her pussy and feeling her wetness. He holds her like that for a moment, rubbing her clit with his finger.

“You like that?” he murmurs when she groans. Slowly, he slides his fingers apart and begins scissoring her clit. “What about that?”

“Oh,” Y/N sighs, pushing back on his hand. “Please – please.”

Yoongi smirks, rubbing her as she ruts up against him. As he moves forward, her pussy clenches and he presses his tip to her cunt. He inhales for a moment, as though in preparation. Gently gripping her waist, he slowly thrusts inside. Immediately, he is met with resistance. Y/N is wet, that much is obvious – her pussy leaks eagerly around Yoongi’s length, but she is still so tight. Needing to be stretched, like she said.

Y/N moans, arching her back to take him in deeper. Yoongi goes slow, letting her feel every inch. Y/N’s hands fist in the sheets, her mouth open with pleasure. God, it feels so good to have him inside her. Yoongi is only halfway and already, she has never felt this full. Already her body reacts to him in ways she does not understand.

Yoongi lowers a hand to her back, rubbing each side of her ass. “There,” he murmurs, pushing her down to take the last, final inch. “Such a sweet girl for me.”

“Am I?” Breathlessly, Y/N squeezes her walls around Yoongi’s cock. “Doesn’t feel sweet.”

Withdrawing slowly, Yoongi grabs her ass to shove back inside. Y/N moans, lurching forward as his cock grinds mercilessly to her walls. “Maybe not,” he admits, thrusting again. “What’s sweet though, is imagining what you’ll look like full of my cum.”

Whimpering, Y/N pushes backwards again. It is the first time a man has spoken so freely in bed and in response, Y/N feels on fire. Her nipples brush the mattress as Yoongi fucks into her, filling her body with each thrust of his cock.

“Oh – oh – oh!” she gasps, jolted forward.

“Sh,” Yoongi murmurs, hand wrapping around her mouth. “As much as I love your volume, we are not alone in this house.”

His thumb slides down her throat, cock slipping in and out of her body. Spreading her legs, Y/N lets him take it, hard from behind and loses herself to the bliss. His hands are strong and sure on her body – as his hips bruise her ass, his hand cups her breast and roughly pinches a nipple.

When she groans again, louder, Yoongi growls. “Y/N,” he grunts, snapping his hips to her ass. “I meant it – I’ll stop, if you can’t be quiet.”

“Make me,” she gasps.

“Make you?”

“Mhm, make – mmph!” she yelps when Yoongi withdraws, grabbing her waist to flip her on the bed. Hovering above her, he grips her knee, yanks it up and thrusts smoothly back in.

Y/N gasps, lisp parting as she is wantonly split by his cock.

“Make you?” he growls, fucking harder. Y/N gasps, head thrown back when he begins pounding into her body. “With pleasure.”

His lips descend on hers, hot and needy as her arms wrap around him. Yoongi spreads her even wider, pistoning like a madman into the warmth of her pussy. Her walls clench tightly around him as he fucks her wide open. His tongue is in her mouth, hands hot on her body as he pins her to the bed. Y/N cannot think around the blinding, surging pleasure within her.

“Yoongi!” she gasps, head hitting the sheets.

He continues to move, rolling his hips as she shakes underneath him. “That’s it, Y/N,” he murmurs, sliding a hand in between them. “That’s it, darling. Let go.”

His fingers brush over her mound, doing skilled, nimble work as her body clenches around him. Everything in her body is so tight, searing and unbelievably full. Hands clutching his body, Y/N cries out his name as everything breaks apart. A deep, shattering wave arcs through her, eyes rolling back in her head as she loses control.

Fire and magic wrap them both, Yoongi shuddering into her neck as he also comes undone. Sated and blissful, Y/N relaxes against his chest. Softly, her fingers curl into the base of his hair. Yoongi exhales, brushing a kiss to her collarbone and softening inside her.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, meeting her gaze. “I do not wish to be parted.”

Her limbs wrap tighter, preventing him from leaving. “Then, stay.”

“Y/N…” Hesitant, he stares and then finally nods. “I will,” Yoongi murmurs, brushing his lips to hers. “For tonight.”

Waving his hand, he conjures a cloth at their side. Cleaning her off, he disposes of the rag. They lie down together, limbs entwined. Yoongi’s arm slides under her waist, her right hand on his chest as his leg drifts between hers.

“I could stay here for days,” Y/N whispers, eyelids already drooping.

Yoongi smiles, watching her shadows drift lazily up from the floor. “Me, too,” he murmurs, curling around her.

They fall asleep like that, two souls entwined.

When Y/N wakes the next morning, he is gone.

Even before she opens her eyes, she knows. She knows from the heavy feeling in her heart and the frigid space beside her in bed. And still – her stomach sinks when she opens an eye and sees nothing.

Well, not nothing. The blanket has been quietly tucked in, his clothing removed from the floor but a smooth piece of paper is placed on her desk. Seeing this, Y/N pushes her covers slowly aside to sit up. The morning air is cold, biting her skin but she largely ignores this, standing up from her bed.

The note is precise, to the point – much like Yoongi. He does not mince words, which Y/N would normally appreciate, but not now. Not when she is staring at lines on a paper and trying not to be furious.

We will see each other again.

That is all.

Y/N stares at this for a moment before the anger overtakes her and she crumples it into a ball. Breathing heavily, she stares out the window – the moves to toss it away but stops short.

Mechanically, she smooths out the paper. She stares at its lines for a second time, waiting for the hidden meaning. Surely, Yoongi would not leave without a reason. Deep down though, she knows what the reason is. Yoongi was unable to convince Y/N she was better off without him and so, he has removed himself from the picture.

Gritting her teeth, she resigns herself to this truth.

Yoongi is gone.

The sun is starting to rise, grey streaks of dawn beginning to light the sky. Y/N is surprised no one has come to wake her yet, although admittedly, she has nowhere to be. Owen has not yet re-opened the forge. It has only been a week since Gwen was found in the river. 

Remembering this, Y/N closes her eyes.

Last night seems like a dream. It seems ludicrous to think only a matter of hours ago she was stolen from bed, dragged to the river and nearly killed in the same manner Gwen was. She did not die, though. She fought back, Yoongi appeared, and – Y/N stops that thought in her tracks.

He is gone now.

Opening her eyes, Y/N stalks towards her wardrobe. Yanking clothes from the drawers, she dresses hastily before heading downstairs. Emotions churn in her stomach, each one grappling for attention over the other. In a way, this is easier – Y/N can push them all aside, forcing herself not to remember.

She does not think of Alvah, nor the manner in which she was taken. She does not think about Gwen, drowned under the river. She does not even think about Yoongi, the celestial being with stars in his eyes.

When Y/N reaches the kitchen, she pauses with one hand on the door. The images threaten to overwhelm then, rising to block out the day, but Y/N has always been good at compartmentalization. Shoving these behind the door, along with her magic, she arranges her skirts and steps into the room.

Seeing Mervin brings Y/N to a stop. Both Rian and Rumilda are gone, which is an oddity in itself. Mervin sits alone, reading his ledgers, an uneaten apple beside him. Rian will likely be alone in a minute to scold him for forgetting.

“Good morning.” Mervin pauses, scribbling something down in a margin. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Forcing herself to move, Y/N walks to the table. Pulling out the chair beside him, she slowly sits. “Well enough, I suppose.”

Melvin’s lips lift. “That is better than nothing.”

“True.”

He is quiet for a moment, turning the page in his ledger. Y/N stares down at the table, listening to the hum of people outside in the tavern. If feels surreal, sitting here as though nothing has changed. And yet, everything has. Gwen is dead, so is Alvah and Yoongi is – well, it does not matter what Yoongi is. 

Yoongi is gone. The certainty of this sits hollowly in her chest.

“You’re reviewing the books now?” Y/N glances over, attempting to distract herself. “I thought you do that in the evening.”

Mervin nods, pushing glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Normally, yes. However, two of our guests departed this morning.”

“Oh?” Y/N fights to keep her voice neutral. “Which ones?”

“Oh, those two wealthy ones. Alvah – well, never caught his last name – and Min Yoongi.”

“I see.” Y/N’s lips tighten, attempting to stay silent – but unable to stop herself. “Did either one say anything before they left?”

“Well, let’s see. Alvah left before dawn,” says Mervin, setting down his quill. “The other stopped by and paid for them both.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze on the table. “He did?”

“Mhm. Said the town was lovely, but his work was calling. He said he would stay if he could, but it was imperative that he leave. Which seemed odd,” Mervin remarks, arching a brow. “I barely remember him leaving his room.”

“That’s true,” Y/N says, turning swiftly away.

She stares into the fireplace, willing herself not to think long on the matter. Yoongi needed to leave, it hardly matters if it was voluntary, or not. He is not here any longer and so, she must move on. They had a wonderful night, but it was only that – a night. He was right to insist they would not work. She is human, a witch and he is – more.

Gently, Mervin lays his hand over hers.

Y/N looks up in surprise.

His gaze is piercing, behind his spectacles. “You know…” Mervin hesitates. “We never expected you to stay here.”

“W-what?” stutters Y/N, dumbfounded.

Mervin smiles sadly. “We took you in, of course – we fed you, clothed you and loved you all these years. But… we never expected you to stay.”

Y/N finds herself at a loss. “You didn’t?”

“Not in a bad way,” he hastens, as though she might misunderstand. “We merely knew you were different; knew you were special.” Mervin pauses, purposefully not saying magic. “This town stifles people like you. Rian and I wanted more for you than that.”

“You both aren’t stifling.”

“Perhaps not,” he allows, smile lilting. “If you’re truly happy here, we would not kick you out. I’m merely letting you know... we understand if you can’t stay.”

“If I… can’t.”

He looks at her meaningfully. “If there’s somewhere else you must be. Or – someone else you must be with.”

Y/N stares back at him, dazed and wonders if Mervin also has magic. Only a mind-seeker could understand as much without her saying a word. Or – perhaps it is only a parent faced with the fate of their child.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispers, feeling her vision blur. “Whatever happens – thank you.”

Mervin nods, smiling gently and withdrawing his hand. Picking back up his quill, he returns to the ledgers and Y/N stares at his books. All this time, she assumed because Yoongi was gone, she had been left behind. However – perhaps she is looking at this the wrong way.

Yoongi is gone, meaning there is nothing keeping her here.

All of a sudden, his note takes on a new meaning.

Boughs of the willow trees hang overhead, dripping to brush the grey banks of the river. Aberbwlch is a lonely stream, narrow where it separates the Real world from Shadow. Steam rises from its surface, curling shapelessly before dissipating to night. If there are any stars, they do not shine here.

On the bank of the river, a shadow steps from the darkness.

Her cloak is dark, trimmed with fur against the emerald green of the forest. She does not look at her surroundings, merely stares straight ahead.

“I know you’re here,” Y/N finally says.

A moment passes, maybe two before Hoseok appears.

He is dressed similarly to the first night they met, plain black clothing hewn from darkness itself. Cocking his head to one side, he regards Y/N warily. She is the one who arranged their meeting, after all.

“I was surprised to hear you sought me, human.”

Y/N’s upper lip curls. “Were you?” she asks. “You’re a terrible liar, Hoseok.”

Surprise flits across his face. Only a moment, before he throws his head back and laughs – it is not a pleasant sound. Lowering his chin, he regards her again.

“You are much younger than I thought,” he remarks, beginning to circle around her.

Darkness curls at her fingers, displeased by his movement. Y/N expression remains stoic, as though this whole interaction is merely a social call. In a way, it is. She has seen many things these past months; things she will never forget, and Hoseok’s actions are child’s play compared to those of the Shadow realm.

Slowly, she looks at him. “Is there a problem?”

Hoseok comes to a stop. “No,” he murmurs. “It is just odd. It is not often one of your kind asks for my help.”

“By my kind, you mean human?”

“No.” His smile flashes in darkness. “I mean pure,” he breathes, caressing the word. “There is not blood on your soul.”

Y/N nearly stiffens. “Then, you must know why I’m here.”

“I’ve heard rumors.” Hoseok raises a brow. “Musings, if you will.”

“Then you know I am serious.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, gaze sparking with interest. “Or, perhaps I am merely curious of the girl who seeks the Otherworld.” Slowly, Hoseok takes a step forward. “Curious of the human who dares request an audience with Arawn – Lord of all things dead and unseen.”

Y/N stares back. “What would make you curious about that?”

He merely smiles, shaking his head. Closing his eyes, Hoseok deeply inhales. Y/N does not move, tries not react while Hoseok scents out her intentions. It does not last long – his brow swiftly furrows, not understanding what he finds.

“It’s true.” Hoseok’s eyes snap open. He stares at her in wonder – and possibly, a touch of fear. “Your soul remains pure and still, you seek an audience with the devil. A meeting with Lord Arawn. Why?”

For the briefest of seconds, Y/N’s façade slips and Hoseok sees the determination beneath. He sees her raw anger, the soul-wrenching longing and nearly recoils in shock.

“Perhaps he has something of mine,” Y/N says quietly. Just as swiftly, her boredom returns. “And perhaps I am determined to get it back – at whatever the cost.”

Her hand clenches around a note in her pocket.

Author’s Note: This is a one shot at this time! I know, I know, I set it up for a sequel. LOL right now though, I plan to leave this open ended. I hope you enjoyed!

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission. 

#btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi fantasy #bts scenario #bts fantasy

[ayoitsnic]

Crowley x Reader x Lucifer

Part 1

*Based loosely around 12x15 but Ramsey kills Gwen and gets away

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger Warnings: Injured animal? Idk? If you think something should be added to the TW list drop a comment or DM me

Summary: Humans aren’t supposed to see hellhounds, so what happens when y/n finds an injured hellhound and brings it home to care for? 

*Disclaimer* Lucifer will be introduced in the 2nd part which should be up by Saturday 4/3/2021

It was almost midnight when y/n got off of work. She was exhausted after her shift at Regional West Medical Center in Nebraska. As she trudged through the parking lot to her old, beat up 2002 Suzuki she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her, like something was watching her from out in the darkness. Fumbling with her keys she turned to unlock the driver’s side car door (The remote to unlock the door was broken. The car could only be opened with the actual key.), only to freeze in place when she felt the hot breath and heard the heavy breathing of some sort of animal behind her. “Dear god, please let it be my overactive imagination.” she prayed silently, knowing it was no use. Whatever stood behind her was very much real.

Very slowly she turned to face whatever it was that was sniffing her, her keys moving between her middle and ring finger in case she needed to defend herself. Instead of being met with what she thought for sure would be a small bear or a rabid coyote, she was met with a very large dog. A very large dog that looked like it had been through absolute hell. Its fur was matted and caked with dried mud and dirt, and it was covered with cuts and what she naturally assumed was its own blood. It was hard to tell through the thick, matted fur but it also looked very underweight. “Oh you poor baby….” Y/n’s heart melted upon seeing the creature.

Obviously the dog had been out on its own for a very long time. Y/N took pity on it. It seemed so sad, and it didn’t appear rabid or vicious. It looked like it just wanted help. Reluctantly she reached down to check for a collar. There was a collar but it was in a foreign language. One she’d never seen before. Unlocking the back of the car she coaxed the dog in with some leftover food she had from her lunch break. She knew the poor thing must be starving. Being hurt it took a little help getting in. Little did she know how dangerous that dog really was or that there was a man out right now searching for it.

The K-9, which y/n decided to call (Dog’s name) had fallen asleep on the car ride home, snoring softly over the radio that was playing some Green Day song. Pulling into the driveway, (Y/N) stopped the car and turned off the radio. Almost on queue (dog’s name) looked up to see where they were. A light was on outside, illuminating a large porch (Which could probably use a new paint job, if we’re being honest) with 2 rocking chairs, a small table and a plethora of healthy, brightly colored plants. She picked up the injured dog and carried it inside, planning on taking it to the vet in the morning to see if it was microchipped.

She was going to let the dog sleep in the basement for the night, unsure if it would destroy the house or not. She remembered her aunt’s German Shepherd who took pleasure in tearing up sofas, and eating her plants. The dog also really needed a bath and she didn’t want it on the furniture until it got one. Unfortunately around 3:30 am, y/n felt a dip in the bed and then something making itself comfy by her feet. Looking over, she found the dog curled up in bed with her. Way too tired to deal with it now, and knowing she had to wash the sheets anyway she just fell back asleep let the dog stay with her so long as it stayed at the foot of the bed.

~

The next morning, Y/N got up early to go to the pet store and get stuff for the dog. She called up the local vet, making an appointment, she washed the sheets, and most importantly she began trying to wash (Dog’s name). At first the dog resisted, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the water. Y/N knew exactly how to deal with this though. Placing a glob of peanut butter on the side of the tub to keep the dog preoccupied, (Dog’s name) happily entered the bathtub. A trick y/n had learned from that aunt with the poorly behaved German Shepherd. By the time y/n was done with the dog she’d had to drain and refill the tub 3 times before she gave up and kept it drained, just using the shower head. She couldn’t believe how much blood and dirt had come off this dog.

Around 2pm the doorbell rang and this dog who was once so sweet, albeit a bit skittish turned into an absolute beast. Running to the door, loud deep barks and growls left it. The dog seemed ready to tear the stranger on the other side of the door to shreds. It was almost like it had turned into a completely different dog. “(Dog’s name)!!!” Y/n shouted as she raced down the stairs after it, hoping to get to the door before the dog did. “NO!!!” She yelled. Even hurt and underweight, (Dog’s name) was really big. If it wanted to break that door, it probably could. Without thinking, Y/n quickly grabbed the dog by the collar to stop it. “I said no!” She told her firmly with a pointed finger. The dog whined, tail between its legs as it hurried back up the stairs to the bedroom to do that thing dogs do when they roll around on the rug to dry themselves.

The front door had a glass window looking out so y/n could see the stranger. He was short, and wore a nice suit. He seemed only slightly concerned about the interaction. The man didn’t even flinch as the massive hound lunged itself at him. It seemed like this was a normal day for him. Actually, he seemed more unnerved after she called the dog off. Opening the door, y/n apologized profusely for the dog “I am so sorry about the dog! I-” Before she could continue, the man squinted at her, clearly confused about something. “What are you?” He questioned in an English accent.

“Hellhounds? Really?” She questioned with a quirked eyebrow and a small grin, crossing her arms and constantly turning to keep facing the man. It was obvious she didn’t believe him.

Obviously his question confused y/n as she gave him a look of confusion back “What do you mean ’what are you?’” She stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her “I'm human”

“Yes, really.” The man continued, as serious as a heart attack “You especially shouldn’t be able to control that bitch. I’ve only ever known one person to be able to control Ramsey and you and not that person.”

“Oh really? And who might that person be then?” Y/n asked, beginning to think this was some elaborate prank being played on her by a friend or coworker.

Remembering what the demon said about her being able to control the hound, y/n gave it a shot. Raising a hand she firmly commanded “Ramsey stay.” Not only did the dog stop dead in her tracks, she laid down and waited for further orders. Now most people would be a little freaked out by this; finding a hellhound that they didn't know was a hellhound, and now being visited by a demon sent to collect said hound. Y/n however wasn’t afraid. Actually she kind of got a Déjà vu feeling at this.

“No you can’t be. Humans can’t see hellhounds, much less control them.” Normally Crowley would just collect the demonic hound and leave, with humans being none the wiser that the rogue canine was even there, but not only did this woman know the hellhound was there, she was taking pretty good care of it. Even stranger, the dog was letting her care for it. There was something different about this woman, something special. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet. Crowley circled y/n, inspecting her. He was trying to find any indication of her not being human.

“Lucifer.” Crowley responded

At that, y/n was done. “Look pal, I don’t know what kind of kool-aid you’re drinking but I’m not buying it. Now’s the part where I tell you to get off my property.” she turned to go back inside, closing and locking the door behind her. As she turned to head upstairs though, Crowley was standing right behind her, his eyes red. She let out a screech, jumping as far back as she could (Which wasn’t far as the door was right behind her). Again, the dog that the demon in front of her called ‘Ramsey’ came running to her defense.

~

“The name’s Crowley. King of hell.” He introduced himself “May I ask who you are?”

“Y/n y/l/n.” she responded before telling him “Queen of this house.” This was crazy. Y/n was standing in her entryway conversing with a demon king. “Could I offer you tea ‘your highness’? Maybe Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she addressed Crowley as 'your highness' She wasn’t gonna hand over the dog so easily, and something told her the demon wouldn’t be leaving without Ramsey.

“.....Who are you?” Y/n asked the man

Y/n and Crowley sat in her kitchen, sipping tea and chatting. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” The demon who sat across from y/n questioned “Most people would run, or beg for mercy if a demon showed up at their doorstep. Not invite them in for a drink.”

~

If it weren’t for the fact that y/n could sick Cujo on him at any moment, Crowley wouldn’t be being so patient with her. He wouldn’t be trying to convince her to send the dog to her death. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you take that dog back.” Y/n told Crowley. For some reason she felt bonded to that dog, with the overwhelming need to protect her.

“I’m afraid I must insist. She’s dangerous and unpredictable. It’s for the best that she be put down. She’s killed a lot of people who weren’t on hell’s hit list while she was topside.” Crowley explained “A pup like that out and about isn't good for business. It makes it look like I’m not in control.”

“Do you want me to beg for mercy?” Y/n asked with a smirk and a small, dry chuckle. “Sorry but you’re not very scary so forgive me if I’m quaking in my shoes.” She would never be seen begging for mercy. Not in a million years.

“I thought you were the king down there.” Y/n questioned “A king answers to no one. You could turn, walk right out that front door, and pretend she vanished. That you weren't able to find her. Or you could go back and tell your people she attacked you and you killed her. Besides, you’re a demon. You don’t really care about the people she’s killed, do you?” Y/n definitely cared and felt bad, she just didn’t believe Crowley did.

“The Winchester’s. They hunt monsters. Vampire’s, werewolves, demonkind, et cetera.” Crowley explained “They’re ruthless, and if they find out that dog is here they will show up and kill her. Painfully. If you hand her over I promise her death will be a painless and merciful one.” Of course he would make the boys sound worse than they were. In reality they’d kill it as quick as possible if they could. He’d say anything to get her to give up Ramsey. 

“Of course I don’t, but some hunters I know care a lot about the people that were killed. If I don’t collect this dog, they’ll come and collect her for me and they’ll be far less inclined to sit and chat over hot beverages.” Crowley explained

“Tell me about these hunters.” Y/n asked, genuinely interested. "I assume you're not referring to people who shoot buck in their free time."

“Let them come.” Y/n spoke after quietly mulling over what was just told to her. Whether she was underestimating these hunters or just didn’t believe what Crowley was telling her he was unsure. “She may be in a weakened state now but she’ll get better. She’ll get stronger and when she does I’ll be the only one who can stop her. If they show up, I’ll be ready and they’ll have to go through me. When they get through me, she’ll be ready for them too.”

“Y/n I know you think-” Y/n cut off the demon king, her patience wearing thin. She had all the leverage she needed in this situation and she knew it “You said I was the only one who could control her. Now I don’t know how or why that is, but that means there’s nothing stopping me from sicking the dog on you. If she really is as vicious and dangerous as you claim she is, I would be afraid of the one person who can send her after you. I’m telling you to walk away. I’m giving you an out. I strongly suggest you take it.”

Thinking about it later though, she was actually kind of sexy. She knew she held the power and the leverage in that situation and she knew how to use it. Not only that but she was bold enough to try and intimidate not just any king, but the King of Hell. And she didn’t need to raise her voice once while doing it. She was clearly a strong, intelligent, woman. He liked that.

~

After he was gone, y/n was in fact a little freaked out. If there was a hell that meant there was a heaven. Would she be going to hell just for harboring this animal? And better question; how do you even properly care for a hellhound? She imagined it would be a lot different from taking care of your average, run of the mill Pitbull.

Crowley stood his ground, calling her bluff. He didn’t believe she would actually do it. “Ramsey!” Y/n called “Ramsey c’mere girl!” she whistled as the Hellhound came barreling from upstairs “Ramsey, hurry up! Go get him! Get the demon!” Y/n told Ramsey in the same sickeningly sweet baby voice most humans use to talk to animals they find cute. Before she could get to him though, Crowley had disappeared into thin air.

After hours spent searching on the internet y/n got her first lead. Okay so it wasn’t really a lead. It was more of an idea. It’s not like she could just log onto wikipedia and pull up a page on 'How to take care of a Hellhound'. She did however find instructions for summoning and trapping a crossroads demon. She didn’t realize there were different types of demons but to her, a crossroads demon was still a demon so good enough right?

Late that night y/n put Ramsey in the car with her and drove to the nearest crossroads. Spray painting a ‘devils trap’ in the road she buried a box in the center. It contained a photo of her, some graveyard dirt, and the bone of a black cat. No, she didn’t go out and kill a cat. She was able to get that from a wiccan shop on the outskirts of town.

After burying the box, she stood and read the incantation she had written on a scrap of paper “Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!” She waited a moment and when nothing happened she thought she might've gotten a word wrong. That was until she heard a woman speak behind her “What can I do for you tonight?”

Jumping a bit she turned to face the demon. “I just need some information.”

.....To be continued....

#Crowley #Crowley x Reader #Lucifer #Lucifer x Reader #Supernatural #x reader #Female reader