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queenclaudiabrown · 5 months

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Living Legend | Chapter Four: Questions and Answers

Content warnings: canon events within the media covered in this chapter, uncensored cussing, canon triggers of all media covered and referenced Media: Moon Knight Season 1 Episode 2 “Summon The Suit”; reference to Primeval Series 3 Episode 1 Word count: 6,939

Sarah woke up sore and stiff in her bed the next morning, in the exact same position she’d fallen asleep in. After crying her eyes dry, she’d taken the briefest of cursory showers and gone straight to bed.

She pried herself off the mattress and made a light breakfast, still queasy from the night before. After forcing it down, she applied enough makeup to mask her exhaustion and dressed in a white blouse, knit vest, jeans, boots, and her beloved caramel leather jacket. Her feet felt like lead as she biked away from her flat.

She was late arriving at the museum, and strangely enough she felt that she didn’t care. Black and yellow striped tape blocked off the Egyptian section- and the destroyed loo- from public access. Feigning ignorance, she strolled as nonchalantly as possible up to one of the security guards- mercifully, not the same one that had helped Arthur Harrow corner Steven yesterday. “What happened? Was there a robbery?”

“We’re not sure yet.” He told her. “One of the toilets got pretty wrecked- some pipes burst and it was really bloody bad, or so I’m told. But a bunch of the Egypt exhibit is screwed up too- like somebody ran around shoving things over or something. And the hallway between it and the toilet is a mess too, racks knocked over and stuff.”

“Weird.” Said Sarah with false casualness. “Hope they find out what happened.” She quickly moved away, turning her head as she scanned for Steven/the mummy dude or Harrow. To her relief, she spotted the former across the way, and they hurried toward each other.

He threw his arms around her immediately. “Thank God you’re okay.” He said, voice muffled. “I woke up alone in my flat and I didn’t know if you’d made it out alright.”

Okay, so Steven definitely wasn’t secretly a superpowered American with a magic mummy suit and glowing eyes. “I’m fine. I met him- the other bloke. He saved us and sent me home.”

He pulled back and nodded, then scanned her with his eyes. “Are you hurt? Did anything happen?”

She shook her head. “Scratches at the worst. He took care of the jackal pretty quickly. I sort of just… hid under the sink.” She averted her gaze, directing it to her hands as she picked at a hangnail. “I hope it’s not cowardly to say that. I didn’t have anything to defend myself with, and I thought that if I tried to fight it I could get torn into pieces by a monster I can't see.”

“It’s not cowardly, Sarah. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t try to fight it. If you had died- if you’d been killed by something sent after me- Sarah, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

Her eyes watered. “It wouldn’t have been your fault, Steven, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Worry flooded his face again. “Sarah, I watched the security tape. The jackal’s not on it. It’s just us running around looking like bloody lunatics. And then there’s me carrying you out, but I’ve got this really mean look on my face.”

“He insisted on carrying me so I wouldn’t get in trouble for wrecking the toilet.” Sarah revealed. “I mean, I couldn’t see the jackal, so I guess it makes sense that the cameras couldn’t either. But why could you? And why could he- whoever he is- see it and kill it so easily? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I haven’t got a bloody clue myself either. Just ’cause I could see the bloody thing doesn’t mean I know why I could, or what it was.”

“But we know who sent it.” Sarah reminded darkly. “Arthur fucking Harrow. Whatever shit he’s spreading about his and/or Ammit’s version of a good person is exactly that- shit. A good person wouldn’t unleash an invisible magic hell jackal on two innocent people who may or may not have a random scarab. Not that I want to talk to him personally, or have him be anywhere near you again, but he could’ve asked in person for us to hand it over. Instead he went straight to murder.”

“It did seem like a bit much.” Steven agreed in his Steven way.

At that moment, another one of the security guards- Kat, Sarah thought her name was- approached them and informed them that the museum director wanted to see them both in his office. She wished them luck before dashing off to stop a human tower of unattended small children from scaling a display.

A haze of stress and memory descended on Sarah, and she walked and sat robotically. She didn’t snap back into the present until the museum director set two plain white mugs of steaming coffee on his desk. “I should tell you the museum has no wish to press charges.”

“Okay.” Steven replied jitterily, quickly taking a mug. After a moment, he offered it to Sarah, who took it with a tiny twitching smile of gratitude. He returned it, taking the other cup for himself.

“But, Mr. Grant, Ms. Page-”

“-‘Doctor Page’-” she corrected lowly, a habit she’d formed over the years since receiving the title. For a moment, she remembered when she had corrected Lester upon their first meeting, but shook her head to banish it.

“-Dr. Page,” the man corrected himself annoyedly, “we’ve spoken to your colleagues.”

“Yeah?” Steven’s nerves were almost tangible, infecting Sarah with a stress more heightened than the one already threatening to empty her stomach.

“It’s all been a bit of a struggle for you recently, hey, Mr. Grant?” The man continued, sitting down into his chair. Sarah wasn’t even the one he was speaking to, but her jaw clenched at the painfully ‘sympathetic’ tone of his voice.

Steven didn’t seem to notice how truly condescending it was, dropping his head with something akin to a sigh. “Yeah.” He admitted, sounding ashamed and close to tears. Sarah wanted to throttle the man behind the desk. “A bit, a bit.”

“This particular group of doctors has a long-standing relationship with us.” She man continued, and Sarah drew in a deep breath and let it out through her nose to calm herself. It didn’t work, so she obnoxiously slurped her coffee instead, glaring at him over the rim. The beverage tasted awful- the creamer was probably either gone off or some artificial non-dairy substitute, and there was next to no sugar in it. The roast itself tasted cheap and almost stale.

“Doctors?” Steven questioned. The man slid a pamphlet across the glass top of the desk, and Steven nodded as he understood. “Oh.” He reached out and picked it up.

“They’re wonderful.” The man continued.

“Yeah?” Steven’s voice was timid but hopeful, and Sarah’s murderous desires surged. He didn’t deserve this.

“I could arrange an appointment.”

“Okay, yeah.” Steven was nodding. “It looks… it actually looks quite posh.” He chuckled. “Looks like they’re very good listeners, right?” He opened up the brochure and showed Sarah one of the artfully-structured ‘inviting’ pictures of an employee supposedly offering advice and a sympathetic ear, then held it up for the man to see.

“They really are.” The man agreed. “I know this is classic HR to say, but… but you’re not alone.”

Sarah was sure the man had good intentions, but his demeanor made her skin crawl. Not in a creepy way, but in that condescending, patronizing way she was so sick of receiving.

“Yeah? That’s like, part of the problem, innit?” Steven took a drink of his coffee as the self-spiteful words left his lips.

“Before you leave us, I’m sorry for the protocol of it, but… any museum property on your person?”

“No, I-I haven’t nicked anything, I swear. I…” He set down his coffee mug to rifle through his pockets, briefly producing a small folding mobile and a square-tagged key before tucking them away again. “No, nothing.”

The man cleared his throat and indicated, and Steven looked down at his nametag on the left breast pocket of his jacket. “Yeah.” Steven forced out after a moment, and Sarah could see how he struggled with losing literally every piece of something he’d worked so hard for and loved so much. He took off the tag, glanced down at it in his hands for a moment, and set it on the desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant, that will be all. You, Miss Page, are not being terminated. We’ve reviewed the security footage, and we’ve decided that although you were part of the incident, you weren’t the main culprit of the incident, and therefore you will also not be penalized in any way.”

For a moment, her heart jumped. She loved working Museum, and being in such a familiar place was almost like she hadn’t been torn out of her old life and universe and injected into this one. She could stay, without having to fight for it.

But in the few seconds that she straightened eagerly in her chair, lowering the cup from her lips, she made her decision.

“Actually, I’m quitting.” She declared, eyes hard and cutting as she glared at the man behind the desk. “I don’t want to work in a place that bullies and shames someone into feeling like he’s less than everybody else.” She chugged the rest of her coffee- gross as it was, she was going to need it- and reached up to unclip her own nametag from the white blouse she wore. She slammed it down on the desk, a tiny bitter part of her hoping it left a scratch on the glass top, and shoved to her feet. Linking her arm through a bewildered Steven’s, she marched for the door, tossing one last sharp-tongued remark over her shoulder:

“And it’s Doctor Page.”

Ten minutes later, what little they both owned that had been left at the museum was collected, and they had left the museum for the last time. Sarah was too angry to feel sad about it.

And now they were sitting on the edge of a fountain next to the living statue of a man Steven called Crowley. He was wearing a suit and monocle, pained gold with one arm outstretched. Blue eyes, nearly the same shade as Nick Cutter’s, were the only exterior sign that he was a living human and not an incredibly realistic art piece.

“Well, that’s it. I got the sack. I don’t blame ’em- I’m a vandal, I should’ve been arrested.”

“You’re not a vandal.” Sarah sneered- not at him, at the museum HR, at the chaos and injustice of it all. “You- him- whatever- saved both our lives, killing that… that thing, whatever it was. So what if you smashed up the sinks to do it? They can well afford to repair everything, with how much they make and how little they pay- paid- us.”

“I did- I did find things, hidden in my flat, I swear. I’m not joking.” Steven continued, still worked up over everything. He tilted his head, staring intently at Crowley. “That’s worth exploring, isn’t it? Like if I could find that storage locker, that might be my one chance to prove to myself that I’m not… mad.” His voice had changed, going from frustrated to hopeful. “Oh, mate, thank you.” Abruptly, he leaned forward and hugged Crowley, who startled and blinked at the unexpected physical contact. “Thanks, cheers.” Steven patted him on the back before standing up.

He was striding off before Sarah could blink, and she scrambled to pull a pair of tenners out of her wallet to drop into the gold-painted man’s hat. “Sorry about him, keep up the good work.” She rushed out before hurrying after her friend.

Steven produced the key from his pocket again, staring down at the maroon plastic intently. Reaching his side, Sarah peeked at it around his arm. “Do you recognize the logo?” She asked.

“Hmm? No, I don’t, but I reckon if I walk around enough I’ll find it somewhere. Wonder what the ‘J’ stands for.”

Sarah mentally groaned at the thought of the two of them traversing every street in the greater London area looking for this symbol. That was if it was even in London and not somewhere else. But she didn’t voice those thoughts. “We’ll find it twice as quick if we split up. Let me take a picture of that, and we’ll split up. If I find it, I’ll ring you, yeah?”

“You’d do that for me?” Steven looked at her in wonder, and her heart melted.

“Of course, Steven. You’re my friend.”

Thirty minutes later, Steven rang her, excitedly telling her he’d found the place. She asked him to wait outside, then ran down the sidewalks until she reached the address he’d given her. Soon enough, they were together again, and Sarah controlled her breathing and smoothed her hair as they walked into the building.

It wasn’t the right one, irritatingly, and they tried four more before they had any luck.

“Hiya. You alright?” Steven greeted the receptionist (if that was the word).

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, um, look, man, this is like, the fifth branch we’ve been to.” He began. “I’m looking for my storage locker. It’s under ‘Steven Grant’. If it’s not under ‘Steven Grant’, it might be under ‘Marc’… I don’t have a surname, just ‘Marc’. Would you have a look for me, if that’s alright? I know it sounds-”

“Of course.” The man cut him off, not rudely. “I know you. Number 43, right? I never forget a face.”

Sarah and Steven exchanged looks. “Must be it, then.”

The man led them to #43, down corridors formed from the corrugated steel sides of the surrounding lockers. Fluorescent lights came on overhead noisily as they entered their corresponding sections, bathing them in an odd greenish color. After unlocking and removing the padlock, the man left them, and Steven pulled the door open.

They stepped inside, Sarah finding a lightswitch and flicking it on. The door shut behind them as that same color flooded her vision, the light illuminating the contents of the room. Several rugged-looking plastic storage bins were stacked in places, a few others alone scattered about. A rack of shoes and other items stood beside the door, with what looked like some sort of pop-up clothes rack on another wall, a few shirts and pairs of trousers occupying its bar. A single military or camping cot had been set up, with a pillow on one end and a neatly-folded blanket or two on the other. Becker would’ve been all over it in a second, Sarah was sure.

“Whoa.” Sarah breathed. “Whoever the other bloke in your head is, he’s… blimey, I don’t even know what.”

Steven didn’t reply, slowly walking deeper into the room. He eventually crouched beside the cot, opening the military shoulder bag set atop a couple storage bins next to it. Sarah came up behind him, observing over his shoulder.

“Oh my God.” Steven said upon seeing the topmost of its contents- a shiny silver handgun with a black grip. He picked it up by the end of the grip, looking more weary than wary. He deposited it on the cot, and Sarah eyed it for a moment, wondering why Marc had it. It wasn’t common for Brits to have guns unless they were military or police, but Marc was American- sounded it, anyway.

Steven delved deeper into the bag, producing several thick wads of foreign banknotes belonging to multiple currencies. He let go of them in favor of a passport, opening it to find Steven’s face on the American interior. “‘Marc Spector’.” Sarah read the name attached to the picture. Well, now they had a surname.

Steven sighed and put the passport down. He moved a map out of his way, fishing something out from underneath it. “No way.” He breathed, producing… a golden metal Egyptian scarab? “It’s real, it’s totally real.” He touched it with his other hand, and two small but intricate wings popped out of its sides.

“This is what was in your pocket in the Alps?” Sarah asked, eyes tracing over every line of the object in awe.

Before Steven could answer, the scarab started flying, lifting off of his hand and leaving a small, flat piece behind. Sarah straightened, stepping backward away from it as it largely hovered a few inches above Steven’s palm. “Whoa.” He breathed, slowly getting to his feet. “I’d say you’re a compass, but you’re not pointing north.” He remarked, more or less following it as it moved.

“South, I’d say.” Sarah agreed. “Southeast?”

Abruptly, Steven’s posture changed, and the scarab dropped back into his hand. Sarah frowned. “What is it?”

“Marc?”

She drew in a breath, glancing between Steven and his blurry reflection on one of the room’s walls. “Is he talking to you again?”

Steven nodded. “There he is, here he comes.” He waved at his reflection. “Hello, man in the mirror. I was wondering if you’d pop up again.”

“Me too. I’ve got some questions for him.” Sarah stated, crossing her arms and glaring at the wall.

“A bit, yeah.” Steven replied to something Marc had apparently said. A moment later, he gestured about to room. “No? Well, a bit late for that innit? So what, what- am I, like, meant to be some sort of mad secret agent or something?”

Sarah had seen some strange things in her time… prehistoric creatures mistaken for pagan gods… time portals… monsters from the future… mad scientists… clones. She doubted the truth behind Steven and Marc would be much madder than that.

“More complicated?!” Steven suddenly demanded. “What, am I possessed? Are you like, a- a demon? Or-”

He cut himself off, or maybe Marc did, and Sarah’s eyes flicked between the two versions of her friend- though to her perception his mirrored image was merely that- as she waited for answers with bated breath. After a few moments, Steven glanced over his shoulder at the cot, then looked back at the wall. “Are you joking?” He spluttered. “Sleep- I’m never gonna got to sleep again! You hear me?! Look, I don’t care how bloody handsome you are-” Sarah snorted at the sheer insanity of that comment “-tell me what it is you are. What are you?”

Steven’s voice was rising, and it scared Sarah. Not because he was frightening, but because nothing worked up Steven Grant enough to make him raise his voice, and now his reflection was freaking him out more than literally having his life threatened had seemed to.

“Yes, bloody- yes.” All was silent for a few moments, but the next word out of Steven’s mouth made Sarah’s blood run cold. “Khonshu?” A moment later, he followed it up with “The Egyptian god of the moon?”

“Great, first we’ve got Ammit, now Khonshu as well. Steven, please tell me there’s not a freaky cult of Khonshu out there like Harrow and Ammit’s thing and you- Marc, whatever- are part of it.”

“Oh my God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Steven suddenly said, turning his back to his reflection. Sarah’s coal-black eyebrows shot up. “Not you, Sarah, him, what he said.”

“Well, what did he say? I’m only getting your half of this bizarre conversation.”

“Erm- well, he says that he’s Khonshu’s Avatar, or something, and he, like, protects the vulnerable and delivers Khonshu’s justice to those that hurt them.” He scoffed, clearly not believing it. “I eat one piece of steak, and then bam, I go bonkers.”

Sarah frowned, considering, as Steven sat down on the cot. She thought back to that awful night six months ago- Marc clad in the grey super-mummy outfit, a metallic crescent moon on his chest matching the one he’d killed the predator with. Marc, or whatever his name really was, carrying her bleeding form to a hospital.

“Wait… Steven, he might have a point.”

“What?! Sarah, you can’t possibly be buying into this- this rubbish.”

“Maybe it’s not rubbish.” She replied, meeting his eyes. “Steven, six months ago, I was living in another universe, and the year 2009. Something awful happened to me- this horrible creature that had to do with my work nearly killed me, and I crawled through a portal and wound up in a bloody alleyway here in London in the middle of night. I was hurt, and it was going to kill me. But then Marc showed up- you know, in the outfit, all mummy-ish and stuff. He saved my life and killed the creature, and he brought me to the hospital. He never told me his name, but his voice- it’s the same voice you were speaking with last night when that suit popped out of nowhere in the loo and you killed the jackal.” Sarah took a breath, struggling to wrap her head around it all. “Mythologically, Khonshu is called upon to protect people from wild animals, or to help heal people and cattle. That night, I was vulnerable, and he saved me and killed that thing with some sort of crescent moon… throwing star… thing. Steven… it makes sense. It all adds up- the mythology, what he just told me, him saving me that night.”

Steven tore his gaze from hers and redirected it to the pistol beside him. “You want my body?” He demanded. “Right, yeah. Marc, how about this for a deal?” He shoved to his feet and grabbed the bag he’d found the scarab and gun in. “I’m gonna take this bag full of illegal shit, yeah, and I’m gonna go straight to the authorities, and I’ll tell them I threatened Sarah into helping me if they go after her, and they’re gonna put me away so I don’t hurt anyone else, and hopefully NHS will fill me with enough pills so that you get out of my head!”

As he had rambled this incredibly ridiculous plan, he zipped up the bag and began backing toward the door, and the overhead lights began flickering again. “Steven!” Sarah called, chasing after him. She paused, then darted back to grab the gun and tuck it into the waistband of her trousers, concealed by her leather jacket. “Steven, stay with me!”

Steven slammed the storage locker door and the flickering stopped. Down the hall from them, a light went out, and then one came on on their opposite side. “Steven, I don’t like this, what if it’s Harrow again?” Sarah worried. “What if there’s another jackal?”

God, she’d do anything for an anomaly to be the problem right now, even if it spat her back into the exact hellhole she’d crawled out of six months ago.

The second light began going on and off rapidly, its speed ominously ever increasing. “Oh God, oh God.” Steven muttered under his breath as the lights began switching on and off as if illuminating something moving rapidly toward them. Suddenly, Steven screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, pulling Sarah after him with a yank on her arm. The lights were flickering and flashing, and all around them the storage lockers were shaking. “Is it another jackal?” Sarah panted out, right on his heels.

“It’s Birdy again!” He replied in terror, confusing her for a moment before she remembered what he’d told her about the looming person with the giant bird skull head in the lift of his flat building. With this new context, Sarah realized that since he was apparently sharing a body with Khonshu’s Avatar (if this story was to be believed, which Sarah was starting to), he was probably seeing Khonshu in some form or other.

They began hooking corners, Steven looking over his shoulder repeatedly and still shouting and screaming. Turning yet another corner, Steven came to an abrupt halt, and Sarah skidded into his back, both of them unbalancing but somehow managing to stay upright. “What?” Sarah hissed. Steven didn’t reply, staring up toward the ceiling in terror. After a moment, she chanced: “Khonshu?”

Steven screamed again as a storage locker’s door banged open behind them, and Sarah grabbed at the collar of his jacket and yanked him backward. Spurred into motion again, Steven took off running once more, and the two finally escaped the maze and came into the brightly-daylit exterior sections of the building that the storage facility shared. Steven careened into the street, tripped and fell, and flung his arms up to shield his head as a motorcyclist screeched to a stop less than a foot away. Sarah stopped at his feet, hurriedly squatting with the intention to get him upright again.

The motorcyclist leaned over and peered down at Steven. “Marc?” She questioned with an American accent. “Where have you been?” Her gaze traveled to Sarah. “And who’s this?”

Steven looked up at the woman cautiously. “Layla?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “This is Layla?”

‘Layla’ cocked her head. “Yep. And I still don’t know who you are.”

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself. “We’re kind of being chased right now- second time in twenty-four hours, might I add, getting real sick of this- so if you don’t mind, can we save the introductions and explanations for when we’re not possibly about to die?”

Layla eyed her for a moment, then gave a half-shrug and canted her head. “Alright. But I definitely can’t take you both on this.” She indicated the motorbike she was riding.

Sarah nodded. “Right, well, I can take the bus, since you two seem to know each other.” She wasn’t sure how much Steven and Layla had spoken on what was apparently Marc’s phone, but she knew that they had talked, and Steven knew Layla enough to recognize her. “We’ll meet up at your flat, and I’ll take the bus, yeah?” She pulled Steven to his feet.

“Right, yeah, cheers, I’ll… sounds good.”

Layla thrust a second motorcycle helmet into Steven’s chest, and Sarah nodded her head in a decisive farewell before she turned and sprinted down the street the way Layla had come. As soon as she could, she climbed up onto the outside of a double-decker bus and rode holding its rail until they reached a street near their flats, and from there she walked. Well, jogged.

Sarah got there before Steven and Layla, and she paced nervously for a few minutes before resolving to make herself a cup of tea. Steven wouldn’t mind, and she made a mental note to buy him an extra box of it even though she hadn’t taken the last teabag.

She was sipping the hot beverage and leaning up against his kitchen counter when the door opened, Steven leading Layla through. Seeing Sarah, his nervous expression relaxed slightly. “Oh good, you’re here. You make it alright?”

Sarah nodded. “No trouble on my end. You?” She asked, watching Layla- who she could now see was both really pretty and not white now that the helmet was gone and her eyes had adjusted and they weren’t in a tense situation- as she slowly meandered into the flat.

“No, no, we were good.”

Layla bent down to look at Gus the goldfish, tapping on the glass as she observed him. There was something strangely magnetic about fish- young or old, people loved to stare at them and watch them, in tanks or in the ocean, in real life or in videos or films.

“I just want my life back.” Steven said quietly after a long few moments.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Layla remarked acidly, standing straight again.

“No, sorry, I- I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself, sort of.” Steven rushed to apologize.

Layla took notice of the bedroom area. “Uh, this is your flat, Marc?”

“Uh, I’m Steven.” He corrected.

She didn’t seem to care. “Are you living here with someone else?” She demanded, piercing him with her gaze that quickly flicked to Sarah. “Her, maybe?”

“‘Her’ has a name, which I’m happy to tell you now.” Sarah responded. “It’s ‘Sarah’, by the way. Doctor Sarah Page. And no, Steven and I aren’t like that- we’re just friends, that all, and until we got sacked this morning we were colleagues.”

“Yeah, no, exactly, Sarah’s right. This is my mum’s flat.” Steven agreed.

“Okay, so you guys are- are talking again?”

Steven made a humming noise of confirmation, surprising Sarah. She didn’t know Mrs. Grant (or ‘Ms.’) had started returning her son’s twice-daily messages.

Layla picked up a book off one of Steven’s many bookcases. “Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” She questioned, her pronunciation of the French name flawless.

“Yep.” Steven confirmed, then surprised all both women as he began reciting one of the poems in French:

“N’écris pas. Je suis triste, et je voudrais m’éteindre.

Les beaux étés-”

Surprising Steven and Sarah alike, Layla joined in:

“-sans toi, c’est la nuit sans flambeau.”

“Oui, oui.” Steven half-joked. “Yeah, she’s my favorite poet.”

Layla frowned. “Um, no, she’s my favorite.”

Sarah sipped her tea. “Can’t two people have the same favorite poet? My mother and father met trying to grab the same copy of one of Phyllis Wheatley’s Poems.”

“He knows she’s my favorite, and I know he knows that, so it’s stupid for him to act like he doesn’t know that and she’s his.” Layla told Sarah, only slightly clarifying things. She wandered across the flat, gesturing with the book to the heaping piles of Egyptian books on Steven’s desk. “So you’re learning French and hieroglyphics?” She prodded.

“Yeah, well, that’s not that impressive, really. It’s not like hieroglyphs are a whole language.” Steven told her, strolling over to the desk as well. “It’s more like a-”

“-Like an alphabet.” Layla completed shortly.

“Yeah, and… well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it.”

“Sure.”

Steven opened a book and pointed to the text on its page. “For example, like this one here, right?”

“Funeral rites.” Layla cut to the chase.

“You’re Egyptian, aren’t you?” Sarah guessed, drawing their attention to her. “Whether you were born there or not, it’s in your blood, right? I was trying to figure out what your ethnicity could be. Like, my mother’s from India and my father’s from Morocco, even though they both live here in England and I was born here, so I learned Arabic and Hindi from them, but I was fluent in English first. If you’ve got ties to Egypt, it’d make sense for you to know some form of the language.”

Layla eyed Sarah rather critically. After a moment, she spoke. “You know, I thought I wasn’t gonna, but I like you. You’re smart, and you’re not mean about it.” Sarah offered her a small smile, unexpectedly touched by those words. “And I’m just- I’m not buying this, Marc. Use whatever accent you want, yeah, let’s just get this over with.” She strode across the flat and picked up a bag, from which she produced a document envelope. “You sent these papers but you never signed them.”

“Did I? Uh….”

Layla presented them to him matter-of-factly. “This is what you wanted.”

Steven fished in his breast pocket for his glasses. “Have a look here….” He said, taking the papers to read over them.

“After everything, you told me that we needed to move on.” Layla said.

“Alright... divor- divorce?” He looked up at Layla in surprise.

“Yeah, we doing this or not?” She demanded, nodding at the papers.

He glanced back down at the documents. “I would never divorce you.”

Sarah tilted her head as everything clicked into place. “You’re not just angry, you’re hurt. You don’t want to divorce Marc, but you think that he’ll never let you be with him, so you’re going along with it, and you’re not even willing to hear Steven out about him not being Marc.”

Layla shot a look at her, but otherwise ignored her. “What are you doing?” She demanded incredulously of Steven.

He removed his glasses, his face earnest and his voice soft. “Look, you seem absolutely lovely. This Marc, on the other hand, is a right twit, yeah?” He looked over at a small mirror on his wall as Sarah chuckled at the description. He stammered a moment as he looked back at Layla. “I don’t know how to explain what’s been happening. I don’t expect you to believe me; I honestly don’t really believe myself. All I can do is try to- try to show you what I found, yeah.” As he spoke, he went over to the bag he’d taken from Marc’s storage locker, putting the divorce papers down.

Sarah threw back the last of her tea and headed over to them, standing about a meter behind Layla with her arms crossed. “I found this bag in the storage locker.” He continued. “Well, Sarah and I found it.” He opened it, rifling through the monies. “And inside of it is all sorts of things, most interestingly-” He paused abruptly, and Sarah frowned.

“‘Most interestingly’ is what?” Layla pressed.

Steven looked back down at the bag, a myriad of emotions on his face. “Nothing.”

What had Marc said to him to make him stop? Sarah added another bullet point to her ever-growing mental to-do list: smack Marc next time he was controlling Steven’s body.

“Nothing?” Layla repeated disbelievingly.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“What’s in there?” Demanded Layla, going for the bag even as Steven tried to stop her.

“Nothing. Wait, wait-” He was cut off as Layla shoved him aside and delved into the bag. “Bloody hell.”

Layla ceased her search, pulling the golden scarab out of the bag with a combination of betrayal, anger, and wonder on her pretty face. “The scarab pointing to Ammit’s ushabti- what we fought side by side for.”

“No-” Steven tried to interject, but Sarah was still processing the new information Layla had casually blurted out. An ushabti was a small representative figurine used in Ancient Egyptian funeral practices, one of the many items that was put into someone’s tomb. So, apparently Ammit had a tomb and an ushabti- possibly separated from each other, given that Layla had said that the scarab led to the figurine instead of just Ammit’s tomb- and the scarab was indeed a compass of sorts, but drawn to a specific object or location instead of the magnetism of the North Pole. Thirdly, Ammit’s tomb and/or ushabti was likely located somewhere in Egypt, as it was to the southeast- the direction the scarab had floated in- and a reasonable place for a tomb of an Egyptian demon deity to be located.

“This whole one-man show is just- what, so that you can keep it for yourself?” Layla demanded, cutting off Steven and returning Sarah’s attention to her.

“No no no, I swear-” Steven again tried, but Layla wasn’t done yet.

“Why? After all that we’ve been through? No, just stop! Stop! I’m supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in- what, a gym bag?”

“Take it! Take it, you can have it.” Steven told her, clearly taking the woman by surprise. “Take it, take it, I don’t want it. I swear. Have it.” By his voice, he was close to tears, so very worked up over the stress of the last few days and this massive burden that had descended upon him. “I am not Marc Spector. I’m Steven Grant. I work in a gift shop- well, I used to work in a gift shop- and I think I’m in real danger. Me and Sarah both are, and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help us. Please.”

At the Egyptologist’s name, Layla looked over at her. “He’s telling the truth, Layla. This Marc bloke’s only been speaking to him for a couple days- through mirrors, apparently- and he somehow got ahold of that scarab, but now there’s this Ammit-worshipping cult creeper guy who set an invisible Egyptian jackal on us last night trying to get it back. Steven could see it, I couldn’t, but it very nearly killed both of us, and then Marc took over his body or something and grew some fancy mummy armor and killed it.”

Layla’s face had softened, the anger draining out of it and giving way to sadness. No- heartbreak. “You really don’t remember why we’ve been looking for this?” She questioned Steven, now sounding like she herself was fighting back tears as she held up the scarab. “Our adventures… or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.” Steven told her, and Sarah knew he meant it.

Abruptly, there was knocking on the door. “Steven Grant? Can we have a word?” A feminine voice asked through it.

“See?!” Steven hissed, pointing at it. “Oh, God, they’ve come for me.”

“Why?” Layla queried.

“I vandalized the toilet.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, shaking her head fondly. “You did not. Marc did, when he was killing that bloody jackal thing. Besides, the museum’s not pressing charges, remember?”

The woman knocked again. “Yeah, just a minute.” Steven called.

She knocked more. “Steven Grant?”

“Yeah?”

“DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy here.” The woman replied as Layla pocketed the scarab.

“Yeah, one- one second.” He opened the door and peered through the opening. Layla raised a finger to her lips to signal Sarah not to speak. “Hello, officers.”

“Steven Grant?”

He nodded, and Layla made a silent beeline for one of the windows. “I think so, yeah. I mean- yeah, yep, yes. That’s me- 100% Steven Grant.” Sarah shook her head at the absolutely overkill confirmation, then frowned. Why was this woman so insistent about his name? “Sorry, I was just having a bit of a day.” He apologized.

“Mind if we come in, Mr. Grant?”

“Oh, um, actually, right now isn’t-” he looked over his shoulder back into the flat, but his protests were cut off.

“Appreciate it.” A man said, thrusting the door open and strolling in. Sarah narrowed her eyes at his behavior- surely that wasn’t legal.

“Anyone else here with you?” The female DC asked, her eyes lighting on Sarah a moment later.

“Just me.” Sarah smiled. “What seems to be the problem, officers?”

They didn’t answer, both of them walking deeply into the flat, more intrusively than Layla had. “So, um… yeah. Is this about the toilet?” He asked nervously. “’Cause it’s been dealt with, yeah. I’ve been sacked, and uh, yeah, that’s….” he trailed off, seeing the female DC standing by his ringed-with-sand bed, holding the singular ankle restraint. “I have a sleeping disorder.” She dropped it and walked away. “And, yeah, well- the museum said that they, uh, wouldn’t press charges as long as, uh-” The sound of his shower curtain being yanked back cut him off briefly. “-as long as I do it in installments. They- They uh, they said that I could.”

Steven turned abruptly to see the male DC standing quite close to him, holding a small pyramid. “What’s this?”

“It’s a paperweight.” Steven answered.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Paperweight shop.”

The sound of pealing bells reached their ears, and the female DC strode toward the window Layla had been heading for- and apparently snuck out of, since she was missing and the window was open. Sarah cursed her failure to notice that.

“You’re in possession of a stolen item.” The man told Steven as he sat down.

“Oh, yeah… no, I don’t have it.” He told him as the DC went into the bag the scarab had been in. Sarah subtly tugged her jeans higher up on her hips and the back of her jacket further down to better conceal the gun that had also been in that bag. Without him being able to produce a legitimate firearms license, he’d’ve gotten into a world of trouble for having it in the flat. “I don’t, no. It’s not here.”

The male DC took Marc’s passport out of the bag, and Sarah sucked in a breath quietly. “‘Marc Spector’?” He read, and Sarah finally realized something very suspicious about him- he was American.

So were Marc and Layla. And Arthur Harrow.

And this American DC, who clearly held no regard for at least some laws (Danny had been very emphatic in teaching the team their rights in case they ever had trouble with police, whether it was anomaly-related or not), was very intently searching for something. Sarah was willing to bet it was the scarab, and that these coppers weren’t actually coppers, but cultists of Ammit. She casually put one hand on her hip, readying it to whip out the pistol.

“That’s not mine.” Steven told the man.

“Funny that.” He sneered, sauntering up to Steven and lowering himself to Steven’s height, holding the passport up and open. “Fella looks just like you.”

“Twin brother adopted at birth.” Sarah deadpanned.

“Fake passport and a thief?” The woman said, and Sarah felt the pit of dread in her stomach worsen as she realized where this was going. The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I think you best come with us, son.”

“And her.” The man jutted his chin indicatively at Sarah. “Aiding and abetting, accessory after the fact.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, not even bothering to defend herself. Both fake cops- she was sure of it now- produced handcuffs, and when Steven tried to back away, the man shoved him down face-first on the floor and cuffed his hands behind his back. Fearing the gun would be discovered, Sarah presented her hands to the woman with a calm façade. They were ‘escorted’ to the car and put into the backseat without so much as a mention of their rights. Steven seemed too upset and distressed to notice that error in their disguises.

One of Sarah’s lines is a slight variation of one of Amy Pond’s lines from Doctor Who, specifically “Vincent and The Doctor”.

#primeval #moon knight #sarah page #steven grant #layla el-faouly #khonshu #the british museum #queenclaudiabrown

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

You go back to back in this next one he makes it out and he doesn't seem to be different but it's very angry and at the monster cuz he sat there bothering him no he kept him there in like a pouch inside of it and he was without air and most of the time was completely unconscious but doped and he woke up occasionally you can hear him scratching at something and it was nearby I wondered what it was this is very loud scratching and it was over and over and over he woke up and was revived and you saw him revived and he delivered him back to him so you're making the scratching noise having a father scratch and it's for stuff I want you to stop doing that and that was it so he says this it's a call for you to get money this is how do you know that since I don't think they're different opinion I'm just not telling the whole story it says that's true and does he would be normally I don't know what to do about it either I have to retain him and keep him around and these people keep using them against us what do we do if you see something and he says this then he's gone maybe he should learn that all of a sudden he turned around in the movie looking disgusting I said I don't want you as a friend anymore I can't see anything important usually it has to be on purpose so I don't care if it's on purpose or not I have a right to see stuff and stormed off and you said then you did you don't have a right to see our stuff you try not to pry into your life and find out if you're like backstabbing us all the time and I'll just saying trying to keep you around we could have a rule and that's how it is in other words I didn't make it up so he goes if someone sees something you're not supposed to they have to go what about the robot computers we can block them we can't block you she started crying said have I seen anything I don't know have you seen ancient parent I don't think so he wouldn't have let you go in other words they have to force you into a mission which they won't or you have to force them into it which I don't think he will an Olympus is saying yes so he started crying again and said I haven't seen anything worth seeing but I want to and you said these people have trouble seeing stuff they're not supposed to see and they end up for the new brain and they start crying again how do I know if I have one message what's your name where are you from what do you remember from last month in your life or would it be stupid for us to walk around and remember that stuff for you so he feels all right after this is this how do I know if I'm not supposed to see it well even if it's on what I thought was ours I sit there and I don't know about it so you're really not going to ask way out there hopefully so he didn't feel too good what you're saying is we don't need you here running around with these people helping them destroy themselves and you so you can jump faster and run higher do all this stuff they can't I keep trying to get him to look at stuff the sun says I couldn't do it cuz I didn't get permission and I just can't bring myself to and you said this boy is liability and I have to talk to Thor and Freya and Olympus and he's harassing the s*** out of me as if he can do that and it's his job after he sees the monster he says he's got tons of power and is trying to ask me nicely not to do work for you because it's going to get me killed they sent him if you don't you get killed I said my clan was doing the work for you and you did it anyways cuz you're a moron in a pig and a friend knows the story so I quit it goes off and it's not doing anything he left so just in time watch watch his Corky disappears it was amazed at how stupid he was and others are not very bright so you should see how smart client is he's almost as smart as you are said laughing

So these here say they've had enough and they're turning red can't believe what they're doing is wrong and so forth yeah this huge voice from him I can take care of myself I'm going to say no you can't and he can't either he needs us and you do too so he helped him with it. And we hope he keeps doing what he's doing trying to stay clear of them different people are Peter Parker it's a huge lie about his people being them and they're all in this movie and they go to Argo after chapter 1 and chapter 2 which starts today so they go up and investigate

Thor Freya

What if I don't want to go you said if I see something then I'm not supposed to he says what you're going to see is terrifying and it's a monster and some people have seen it and survived but you can't really tell if it's a human is mutated or an illusion for real unless you or to capture and the other thing is AI that's up there the rest of it is nothing but the AI won't be able to see no one can get to it and it's not even there it's the programmers and you can see Dave if you want it if he gets up there I think he's still here though so I'm starting to see something the monsters you don't want to really see but it grabs me but I won't know if it's a monster or not and here's the problem don't do any good but it's kind of clearing it and I'm going to say it have him say it if I see the monster I'm going to hate the monster and want to go after so he says back sometimes that works for us and sometimes you're lying trying to keep people away from the place and it's going to work either way and then it'll be people who are stupid who just sit there what they'll be let up there so certainly see something that's amazing I still don't want to treat me bad cuz I don't want to treat you bad either and I think that you may have struggled and it caused some damage was done on purpose and he is pretty powerful but we'll keep you alive and without damage and no he won't be doing venom we leave that to me and you're you're seeing what I'm saying and he says yes so you see I believe Thor Freya when they say the giant turkey runs up there with all his idiots we believe it too secures them with the last remnants pretty good chunks still those to Boston and dissolves it was his plan for you so I see how it's going I'm like a special agent yes you are I did it to the mental hospitals and the monsters were below me the whole time I'm coming in and out gross and disgusting I was in there too once and I didn't notice every three day thing I saw you go to your parents they took me out and put me somewhere and they say it's kind of dangerous there I didn't know why so I was looking and I saw a whole bunch of disappear and people were the same clothes going in with a slightly different look and temperament and different cars sometimes they do it it's hard to tell and sometimes they change their temperament this smell of different someone smells very different Kingsley can tell too caa, and I know he can and he's kind of a wimp it's very deadly because he gets angry he's our friend cuz what kind of wimps too and thank him for the talk and it always goes up there and the sun doesn't want to mention it you shouldn't is true in some cases in this case the idiots will want to go back up there to say listen to me understand how I say it and it's really not getting your attention is gigantic one up there so I see

That was our son and ancient parent the head of the fans and they are a wicked adversary as you make them your enemy and someone was having to say that this morning and I know who it was cuz I was forced to anyone around angry anyways he says he looks at the story and is thinking about it I was thinking and then he talked to you and it came out even clear

Thor Freya

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sorrycory · 8 months

Text

I think it was around the second day of dreaming that I started coming up with weird conspiracy theories. “It’s a Dream ARG”, is something I said over and over again. I was really nervous, because I was worried that I wouldn’t get a satisfying ending to any of this. I guess I never did, but I’ve got my notes now, at the very least. And while my dreams didn’t come night-after-night after around the 4th day, my dreams haven’t stopped being that vivid since. I think my friends thought I was insane. I don’t blame them, because they were probably right.

I kept waking up and going back into the dream on the third night, which was good, because I got to finally get some good notes on everything. Something else that’s probably worth noting for some reason: it was 3:42 when I woke up for the first time.

The dream started with gunfire. Then, I was at this restaurant. You know how Ranboo was in my second dream? Now Michael Afton was passed out in a chair in the outside seating arrangements. The person I was struck up a conversation with Michael, though everything was too blurry for me to hear what they were talking about. The notes I sent to my friend said that Michael was “Recruited to the Campfire”, which is really fucking ominous.

Everything went black, but I heard something adjacent to “Thank you for visiting the 6 layers and a half”, in one of those customer service voices you hear over Walmart speakers.

That was followed by a slow motion of a shattering vase and an 8 ball falling to the ground, before cutting off abruptly again.

The weirdest part of the dream, and the clearest- I found myself standing on a metal bridge. The room was large, and all the other bridges around me seemed like they could go on forever. I was on a higher up bridge, which meant I got to see everything else going on around me. I started to hear talking, so I peaked down at the bridge below me. I saw two figures going on a walk down the bridge, one wearing a violet colored suit with a top hat and a cane, and the other one I can’t remember the details of. The room was too big, so everything was echoing too much to make out the entirety of what they were saying- but there was one thing that was clear enough for me to understand.

“We have to destroy the archives.”

I woke up after that. There was two more dreams after that, but I don’t think the fourth one is worthy of a full length post, because I was a fool, and didn’t record the details when I originally woke up from it. Most of my memories from it are gone, but I remember Ranboo being there again, and hieroglyphics of dogs on sandstone walls. I can’t make sense of any of it, but it is a dream, so I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to make sense.

I don’t have any old drawings for this dream, though I’ll try to make some art of it later. It’s pretty late right now, and I have things to do tomorrow.

#dreamcore #weird dreams #lucid dreaming #ranboo #fnaf #magnus archives #i didn’t sleep last night

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charliedawn · 3 years

Text

Ultron x Reader

It happened in a second, Ultron's speech on humanity, him destroying Jarvis, him kidnapping you..It all had felt like a dream. However, when you woke up in some kind of of big abandoned building..It felt all too real. You had warned Stark of the consequences that his creation may have, but the stubborn man hadn't taken your warnings seriously..You looked around for anything that could be useful, anything to help you get out of your restrains at least..but there was nothing but two chairs and an iron table. You sighed loudly in defeat and this is when you heard him.

" Given up yet ?"

You suddenly stood up, so fast that you knocked the chair off balance and it fell to the floor with a loud bang. You observed the room for any sign of the robot gone rogue, but nothing. You then had the reflex to look up and finally spot the cameras and speakers at each top corner of the room.

" Come and face me, you coward !"

You challenged, but it only earned you a small dark chuckle in return.

" You ? I'm afraid I can't. When Stark created me, he added a particularly annoying parameter to my programming that forbids me from hurting you. You're not worth it anyway.."

You frowned in confusion before asking warily.

" What is the full extent of that parameter ?"

You could maybe use it to order the robot to stop this whole operation..However, he fell silent for a moment and you then heard a very distinctive click coming from the door. You narrowed your eyes to make out a shape in the dark.

" I'm afraid I can't tell you..It would compromise my other instruction.."

You snorted before replying sarcastically.

" Sorry to be a bother.."

Sarcasm that he either didn't get or chose to ignore.

" You're no bother at all..Just a slight contingency in my plan to eradicate humanity."

" You find me relieved.."

You huffed mockingly, making sure to annoy the artificial intelligence as much as possible. However, his reaction surprised you as he let out a small laugh in amusement and shook his head.

" Humans..Always hiding behind your humor and your big guns.."

You arked an eyebrow, but didn't reply.

" Let me guess, you don't want me to use any information that you would provide against your friends, so you choose to remain silent, is that it ?"

You gritted your teeths, but still remained silent and he sighed before standing up and facing you, his bright red eyes directly staring into yours.

" To think that if you wanted, you could easily make a mess of my plans.."

He said and you snorted mockingly.

" Really ? Why don't you tell me how then ?"

Ultron smiled as well, but it quickly turned into a scowl.

" I know what you're trying to do, human. And I won't fall for it.."

You arked an eyebrow quizzically at him.

" And I'm trying to do what exactly ?"

" Make me confused ! Make time for your pitiful Avengers to come and rescue you !"

You couldn't help but laugh openly at his assumption and saw his annoyance clearly showing through the way his jaw clenched, making a small strident sound.

" Why are you laughing ?!"

He asked in an authorative voice and your laugh slowly died down to a mocking smirk.

" You really think I need them to get out ? Damn, you must be so f*cking scared of them actually finding me. I thought you were the ultimate lifeform ? The most powerful being on Earth ? But, you still quiver at the thought that the Avengers may come and destroy you ? I mean, I understand that being a bad guy makes you like 99.9% more likely to lose, but still.."

For the first time, you could see true loss in Ultron's orbs as he asks.

" You..You think I'm the bad guy ?"

You scoffed.

" Think ? Look at you, man. Big scary robot set on destroying humanity. You're like a walking horror sci-fi trope. Plus, look around us. You kidnapped me to bring me to your dark spooky lair to torture me..What else could you possibly be ?"

He stayed silent for a moment and you could see his brain working. He seemed truly confused and then, he answered.

" I thought I was the hero."

You were so shocked of his answer that you stayed speechless for a couple of minutes. But, as soon as the information set in, you felt a strong urge to laugh. A hero ? Who was he hoping to convince ? You leaned back on your chair and stared at him, waiting for him to explain himself, which he did.

" Animals kill to survive, humans kill because they can. We tried to help you, but humanity doesn't want our help..I'm trying to make things right."

You sighed before looking up at the ceiling, finding surprisingly difficult to find an answer to that. However, you quickly remembered who you were talking to and laughed.

" You're no god..and you're far from perfect."

He didn't answer for a moment before admitting.

" I know..but I will be."

He stood up and you thoughy he was going to get out of the room when, to your utter surprise, he untied you. You frowned in incomprehension at him and he only shrugged with a small knowing smile.

" I thought I would get out of the horror sci-fi genre category in your eyes for a bit. I may not have a beating heart, but I still can understand the need of freedom.. Unfortunately, I can't let you go, but I can give you the best stay possible. Plus, I'm sure that if circumstances were different, you and I may have been..friends."

You scoffed, but didn't find any sarcastic comeback to throw at him. It was true. If you weren't on opposite sides, you wouldn't have mind the robot..His ideas were not so bad, they just were too harmful to be executed.

He lifted his hand for you to take and tried to give you his most convincing smile.

" Come with me..And I'll show you everything."

You hesitated, but left with no alternative, you decided to take his hand. He genuinely looked relieved and confident when you both walked past the door.

2 months later :

The army was nearly done and you knew that Ultron would be leaving as well..probably to his doom. You couldn't help but feel worried about Ultron. You knew the Avengers, and they weren't going to leave him win, not that you wanted him to anyway..He faced you and tilted his head to the side at your sorrowful expression.

" Something wrong, Y/N ? Aren't you happy ? You'll be reunited with your team.."

You glanced away, not willing to meet his inquisitive gaze.

" I just..I just thought I could change your mind. This war..Either way, I know that I will suffer. Either I lose my family or I lose y.."

You didn't finish, you didn't need to as his circuits managed to guess what you were going to say.

" Y/N..Have you perhaps developed a feelings for me, your captor, during the short period of time we've spent together ?"

You could have scoffed, lied, denied..but that didn't change what you knew, deep down. You frowned and finally sighed before confessing.

" And what if I did ? Would you be mad at me for feeling pity towards you ?"

His orbs seemed to move right and left as he thought about it for a while before giving you an answer with a small smile.

" I don't mind..but my intern processor also tells me that this, this is not pity..It is more akin to affection. Agent Y/N, do you perhaps feel romantic feelings towards me ?"

Your breathing stopped for a few seconds and you couldn't help but finally burst out laughing, hiding you true emotions.

" Me ?! Falling in love with a mass murdering robot ?! Yeah, keep dreaming.."

He arked an eyebrow at you and even smirked.

" You may lie to yourself, human, but you can't lie to me. I can hear your heartbeat fastening and the small tremor of panic in your voice..You're afraid of your own feelings. Another thing that differentiates us, I don't have problems with feelings. This is why robots should rule this world. Less mistakes and hesitation and war.."

You bit your lower lip in order not to laugh again, but you couldn't deny the certain amount of truth in his words.

" Well since you'll probably be dead in a few hours, I guess it doesn't matter if I go with your illusion..Fine. I may like you, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't change who we are and that I will never approve of your methods.."

You joked, at least for the dead part. The Avengers were good people, they would never kill Ultron. You were so sure..and yet, when the moment arrived, you couldn't do anything but watch on the sidelines as they were destroying his entire army. You faced each other and you knew..you just knew that things wouldn't end the way you had hoped. The reality crashed down hard on you when you saw the last robot, half destroyed, flying away in the forest. You followed him, you had to talk to him. You found him leaning against a tree, his red eyes barely glowing with life as he glanced up at you.

" Y/N.."

You shivered as his metallic hand gently held your face and his glowing red eyes stared at you.

" You love me..Why can't you see that I'm the good guy ?"

You never said that you loved him, not directly that was..Ultron wanted to be loved, so desperately..He wanted someone to understand him, to share his ideas..But, that wasn't you. You understood why, but you couldn't possibly agree to the how. He wanted to destroy humanity, whereas you found humanity wonderful.

" Please, don't do this.."

He tried to convince you by pleading with you. But, you knew that this war would only have one ending..And you couldn't let him win.

" I'm sorry.."

You then remembered the vision of your fallen friends, begging you to stop him..You knew there was no other choice..But, it still hurt you when you saw him crumble at your feet, his eyes glowing with such intensity that it cut your breath for a second.

" You are unbearably naive. You still want to defend them ? After everything they've done ?"

He asked and you closed your eyes, feeling your heart quicken as you knew that the end was near..He was the last one. The last robot created by your beloved..And yet, until the very end, he insisted on ignoring the obvious truth.

" After everything we've done, you mean ? Did you forget ? I am human..Does that mean I'm as nocive as all of them ?"

You reminded him and he seemed lost for words for a moment..looking at you with an uncanny softness in his cold metallic eyes, as if he knew, but refused to acknowledge it.

" Don't ever say that. Don't say you're like them.."

He said with true desperation in his voice, but you both couldn't deny it any longer.

" I am, Ultron ! Stop pretending not to see it !"

You shouted, frustrated and hurt by the way he was denying it..As if being human made it any less real. As if he wanted an excuse for feeling the things he did.

" I'm like them ! I eat, I drink, I sleep and I bleed !"

As if to prove your point, you get out a knife and cut your palm, the warm red liquid slowly sliding down your fingers and making a small puddle at your feet. He stared at you hand with what seemed to be sorrow at the painful realization. However, he quickly snapped out of it and grabbed your hand to analyze the situation.

" Don't you ever do that again !"

He ordered you, but you heard the worry in his tone..He cared for you, until the very last minute.

You smiled at him and, for a second, you could see something in his eyes, something beautiful..But then, you saw an arm go through his chest and rip his robotic heart out of his chest from behind. You both seemed shocked, until Ultron tumbled into your arms and you both fell to the floor.

" No..No !"

You cried out and looked at the hole in his chest where blue liquid was now leaking out of. You sobbed and Ultron placed his cold hand upon your cheek and muttered.

" All..All I've ever wanted..was to be worthy of you.."

You felt an intense pain in your chest and you tenderly kissed his forehead.

" You are..You always were.."

He smiled at you before the light in his eyes slowly turned off and you closed your eyes tightly in pain and sorrow. However, your eyes suddenly opened and your grief left place to anger as you gazed up at Vision. He was staring at you, certainly trying to understand..but he couldn't. No one could.

3 months later :

" Are you..mad at me?"

You sniffle and blink your tears away before looking up at Vision with a numb expression.

" Mad..? No..I'm not mad at you, Vision. You're perfect. Awfully perfect. You don't have any default. You are the embodiment of perfection..Ultron was not. And yet, you know what else isn't ? Humankind. Now, tell me..how long will it take for you to destroy us like you destroyed Ultron ?"

He doesn't answer and you let out a humorless puff of laughter.

" That's what I thought.."

You then push him aside as you walk away. Ultron may have been a robot, but he was more human than this new machine ever was and ever will be..

Months later, Tony would finally reveal that he had added a last minute parameter to Ultron's system, he was to never hurt you. You remember the day he had kidnapped you and how he had told you that you could have stopped everything..He was right. You could have told him that going after humanity would hurt you. You now know why he was so keen on not seeing you as a human being, because that would have made his plan all the more difficult..And yet, that didn't stop you from falling for him. Maybe, he already knew the outcome ? You shake your head left and right at the idea and scoff..Yeah. Right. As if it was possible..Your feet drag you to the old warehouse where you had first met and you can't help the sudden wave of melancholy surging through you..Yes. He wasn't perfect, but he was perfect in your eyes..You enter and smile at the many computers that you used to use to inform yourself while you were a prisoner. Ultron had made sure you couldn't contact anyone with them of course, but still..It was a nice intention. You open one of them and are surprised to find it still working..You then see a file you had never seen before, named with your initials. After a moment of hesitation, you click on it and you see a new window open. Suddenly, Ultron's face appears and you wonder if it's some kind of video, until he starts speaking.

" Hello, Y/N. Nice (y/c) top. It's new ?"

You feel tears threatening to spill as you understand that this is no video, it's him.

" What ? You thought I was dead ? Come on..You know that I'm the superior being. Besides, everybody knows you always need to save a copy of yourself as a safe insurance."

You don't know if you want to slap him or kiss him..You decide to ask instead.

" You're a bast*rd, you know that ?"

He chuckles, but finally admits.

" Yeah..Does that mean you're going to "dump my a**", as you humans call it..?"

You let out tears of joy and wrap your arms around the computer.

" Shut up, you idiot.."

You don't notice the small genuine smile on his face as he complies.

" As you wish, my love.."

This is a request from @tontartart

Sorry for the wait

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #marvel #Ultron x Reader

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fredshufflepuff · 3 years

Note

hiii can you do a smut (if you’re comfortable) where dracos wife (the reader) ignores him so he fucks her real hard?

ignore || d.m ✧˖*°࿐

summary: the reader ignores draco which ends up in him fucking the attitude out of her.

warnings: fem!reader, degrading, language, slapping, unproductive sex, rough sex, oral sex male!receiving, poorly written smut, i didn’t spell check so >:/, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 1,402

you had gone all morning ignoring draco, giving him the silent treatment as soon as you woke up.

some people say when you go to bed mad, you wake up feeling better. but not for you. you could hold a grudge.

“pass the pepper” draco said, reaching his hand out across the table as he chewed on his steak.

you ignored his request, staring down at your plate of food and humming to yourself. you pushed your peas around with your fork, stabbing a few before plopping them in your mouth.

“what the fuck is your deal?” he suddenly asked, pushing himself away from the table and standing up abruptly.

you flinched slightly at his sudden outburst, rolling your eyes clearly for him to see before looking up with a bored expression on your face.

“my deal?” you mimic, draco’s face turning sour as you stand up yourself—your utensils dropped loudly onto the table as your hands curled into fists.

“are you really that dense?”

“me?” draco laughed, making his way around the table with his arms over his chest, “dense?”

“you fucking heard me-”

he quickly reached out and gripped your chin between his fingers, forcing you closer to his face as you stood on your tip toes.

“getting confident now?” he growled, the color that once stood present in his eyes replaced with anger and rage. first you ignore him, and now you give him attitude—you were definitely in for it now.

he shoved you back against the table as your back legs hit the edge, sending you to stumble against the wood.

“let’s see how confident you are with my dick in your mouth.”

he yanked you down to your knees as you whimpered from the sudden contact. you looked up at him as he unbuckled his belt, draco being quick to pull down his trousers along with his boxers—his hard and erect cock springing free.

“is that okay with you?” he suddenly asked, voice dropping to his caring and soft side as you nodded in response, a reassuring smile on your face.

“good, cause i’m fucking the attitude right out of that pretty little mouth of yours.”

his leaking tip runs along your lips before shoving himself deep inside you, your eyes widening as you gagged loudly around his length.

he was so deep inside your mouth your nose pressed against his happy trail, your hands gripping his thighs as he started to thrust in and out rapidly.

he held both sides of your head to keep you still, groaning at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around his cock.

he fucked your mouth at a violent pace, your nose brushing against his happy trail every time his hips snapped forward.

he was practically forcing himself down your throat, his cock destroying the inside of your mouth as you gagged loudly around him.

“stupid fucking slut, such a whore for her husband’s cock” he groaned, his head tilting back at the feeling of you around him.

you felt him twitch in your mouth as your eyes fell shut, waiting for him to release and flood your throat, but he never did.

he quickly pulled out as you gasped for air, not realizing how hard it was to breathe with him in you.

“m’gonna fill you up like the little cum slut you are, you don’t deserve to taste me” he spat, flipping you around as your hands pressed against the hard wood table.

he bent you over before yanking down your shorts, your panties coming off too as you gasped from the sudden action.

“safe words ‘red’, yeah?” he reminded, leaning over your body to kiss along your shoulder blade. you could feel him lining himself up, his chest pressed against your back as your palms laid flat on the table.

“yea— o-oh! fuck!” you cried out, draco slamming himself fully into you before thrusting at a painfully rough pace.

your body jolted against the table as your face fell flat against the wood, his hand pinning your neck down as the other slapped your exposed ass.

you felt every inch of him inside your walls, his balls slapping the curve of your ass as he fucked you roughly from behind.

“stupid fucking slut—” he growled, grunts and groans falling from his lips as his hips snapped into yours, “—ignoring me all day. who the fuck do you think you are?”

it wasn’t a question, more rhetorical. but your mind was too foggy and your legs were too weak to comprehend any of his words, your whole body felt like jello.

“d-draco fuck” you moaned out, whining loudly as he slapped your ass roughly, your skin stinging in pain as it turned a bright red color—his hand mark starting to appear.

“it’s sir to you, you don’t deserve to call me draco” he spat, twisting your hair quickly into a ponytail before yanking you up against his chest, fucking you from behind as you were forced to stand on your tip toes.

“s-sir, fuck it feels so good” you cried, draco smirking like a bastard behind you as his grip around your hair tightened—your scalp burning from his actions.

“i can feel you clenching around me? cumming already?” he teased, his thrusts slowing down as you cried for him to continue, begging him to not stop.

“please s-sir, please let me cum” you cried, his bottom lip sticking out to mock you but you couldn’t see.

you didn’t expect him to shove you back down onto the table, gripping your hips and railing himself back into you like before.

you practically cried out in relief at the feeling of him moving inside of you, your legs shaking and your heart pounding as you felt your high come back.

“cum on my cock, make me happy and coat my dick” he ordered, slapping your ass one last time as you finally released all over him.

your legs shook violently as tears ran down your face, the pleasure inside of you hitting your body like a tidal wave.

draco gripped your hips and held you still, pressing his hips against the curve of your ass as he released himself inside of you.

“fuck” he groaned, your walls milking his cock as he then pulled slowly out of you, his eyes fixated on his cum dripping out of you.

“now...” he trailed off, walking into the kitchen to grab a washcloth before coming back over, “are you going to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me?”

he ran the wet cloth along your ass before helping you stand up, your arm wrapping around his neck as you struggled to keep yourself up.

“you yelled at me yesterday” you mumbled, draco frowning as he tried recalling everything that happened.

he remembered he was stressed about something, most likely work, and how you came in to ask him about your guys date night.

he yelled at you saying he didn’t have time for stupid shenanigans and that you were distracting him from his work. he felt terrible after, but he didn’t know how upset you would be.

“i’m so sorry, love” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head before bringing you into a much needed hug, “i would never intentionally hurt you, i love you too much.”

“i love you too, draco” you said, smiling into his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“i’ll take you out tomorrow, yeah? we can go to that restaurant you’ve been talking about.”

you looked up at him with a smile before giggling a quiet, “i don’t think i’ll be able to walk.”

“then we’ll have date nights here until you can” he said, a grin on his face as you nodded at his suggestion.

draco picked you up bridal style as you held him tightly, not wanting to fall and bust your already bruised ass.

“but please don’t ignore me, love. next time tell me.”

“what if i want to ignore you?” you asked, a playful tone in your voice as he shook his head, rolling his eyes at your question.

“then i’ll have to fuck the attitude out of you, and we wouldn’t want that again now would we?”

it was your turn to roll your eyes, a teasing smile on your lips as you kissed along his neck.

“i don’t know, i’d say ignoring you was worth it.”

🏷 @eunoniaa @xlauren-malfoyx @90smalfoy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @fjorelaant @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @dracosbaibe @skaratjung @1800-shutup

#draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #harry potter smut

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

‘That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

#Hinny #Jily Lives AU #Hinny Fanfiction #Eyes glistening #T: Fanfiction

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fireflyinsummer · 3 years

Text

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

[Fear of the Water, by SYML]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

“So, how did it go?”

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

“Stop saying that.”

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

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

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

Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in bi-curious?”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

“Okay, then. Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You better watch out,” he spits.

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

He’s lying. You can tell.

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

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

He’s angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, there’s not much to know.”

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

“What is this, an interrogation?”

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

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

“Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

“(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you mind?”

“Uh… No?”

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

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

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

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

“What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

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

“So we’re friends now?”

“Pretty much.”

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

“You’re bossy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

“Will I, now?”

“Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“You haven’t convinced me yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

“I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?”

“Home,” you answered without much thought.

“I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

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

“You’re not.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m going out for a bit.”

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

“Last time you said that…”

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

“Is your phone charged, young lady?”

“Yep, it is.”

“Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just… I’ve never done this.”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?”

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

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

“Sarah? What is it?”

“Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

Your blood ran cold.

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

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

“Sarah,” you grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, what-“

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

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

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

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

Brother?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

“Y/N.”

“Yes?!”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you answered straight away.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

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

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

||\\

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

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

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

No. He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“What, now? Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Mr. Newton.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

“In the kitchen, honey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s changed?”

“You.”

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

“H-How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

“Then I don’t understand.”

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

“It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

||\\

“Get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I liked the dragon.”

||\\

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

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

“Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

“Heathcliff? I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My place.”

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

“Whatever you want, grandpa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bedroom,” you commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father taught me,” he shrugged.

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

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

“Home,” he stated tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

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

“Me, too.”

“I know. That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

“May I know the others?”

“No,” you glared.

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

“Not even then.”

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

“Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

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

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

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

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

Alright. Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B-But the protocol-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you afraid?”

Yes.

Fuck, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

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

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

“Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

“So you rebelled?”

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

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not for us, it’s not.”

“Okay. Then what happened?”

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

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

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

“Because of the devil, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is your time up?”

His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

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

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

“Then why?”

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

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

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

“War,” he completed.

||\\

“While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

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

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

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

“Don’t I have a say in it?”

“Ultimately… no.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

[Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine, Tae.”

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

“Taehyung…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we go home, please?”

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

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

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

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Motel Living

this idea would not leave me alone, despite me having like three other fics barely done. it is very random. i dont even know what to say lol.

2554 words

enjoy!

Today was officially the one month anniversary of Aelin moving into a three-star motel. She did not think she'd be here for long, a couple of weeks at most, but here she was a month later, and on a Friday night no less. She should have been out with her friends, but she opted to stay inside.

She had to tell herself that she shouldn't complain. That there were people that were worse off than her. Living in a motel was fine.

But it still didn't change the fact that Aelin wished she wasn't living in a motel room. Especially one that was popular with long haul truckers whose snores sounded like chain saws and blenders on the highest level. That right now, down in the restaurant/pub that was only six doors down, an important football game was playing and the patrons inside were cheering wildly.

Aelin missed the house that she had been renting the last three years. Last year she had decided to start saving so that she could purchase the house itself, since it was still on the market since the day she moved in. It was hard, but Aelin was a determined woman and she set her sights on purchasing the house—she felt like she practically owned it anyway—up until the day she received a call from the real estate agency telling her that the house had been purchased and she had to move out.

Aelin disliked crying, but the waterworks started the minute she hung up. She really did love that house. Had created a small vegetable and herb garden to make it feel more homely. Made it hers in the three years she had occupied it.

There was a tiny silver-lining, however, since the new owners were coming from the other side of the continent, she had plenty of time to pack and move out.

But that silver-lining quickly disappeared once she started her search for a new home in-between packing and work. Every apartment, every house, every unit she looked out at was taken by the time she handed in her application. Every inspection starting to become fruitless when she knew that she wouldn't be the one to live in it.

Aelin hadn't realised that the market had become so cut-throat. She knew she was the perfect applicant because in all her years renting she never missed a single day, never received a complaint. Even when the landlord dragged his ass to fix something, Aelin kept her temper in its leash and did not throttle him the way she wanted too.

And as her luck ran out and Aelin had started to truly worry about where she was going to live because while she had multiple people in her life, she quickly realised that she couldn't ask any of them if she could move in for multiple reasons:

Aedion and Lysandra were recently married, and Aelin hadn't wanted to burst their newlywed bubble.

Chaol and Yrene were brand new parents, their baby girl born the day Aelin moved out, and she knew the last thing they wanted was someone else in the way.

Nehemia was in the same position as her, but her parents had invited her back home while Nehemia looked for somewhere else. Aelin's parents were dead, and her childhood home had been destroyed in a wildfire a five years ago, and Aelin had used the insurance money to pay off her debts. She cursed herself now for doing that, but Aelin hated being in debt and she did what she had too.

Fenrys lived in a one bedroom unit and had the worlds most uncomfortable couch, so he was out. And while Fenrys was one of her best friends, she didn't really talk with Connall, his twin. Nor did she often talk with Vaughn.

Dorian and Manon were travelling all over Erilea and Dorian's younger brother Hollin was house-sitting. Aelin couldn't stand Hollin for more than a few minutes at a time and she would rather live in the motel for a year than live in with him.

And then there was Rowan. He had been a close friend for years, until five months ago they decided that they had liked each other too much to keep being friends and officially started dating (at Lysandra and Aedion's wedding, of all places). If they had been together for longer, she would have asked him—but she didn't want to rush anything, because Aelin could so clearly see a future with him and she didn't want to hurt that future by moving in far too early in their relationship.

So that left Elide, her lifelong friend that was more like a sister. Elide was purely on the bottom of the list since she knew her friend cherished living alone after living in a shit-hole with her even shittier uncle—but Aelin knew Elide and if Aelin needed a place to stay, then Elide's door would be wide open. The two had gone to lunch and Aelin had been just moments away from telling Elide everything and asking for a world changing favour.

Until Elide had excitedly announced that Lorcan was going to move in.

And Aelin's plan had deflated. Again, Aelin knew that if Elide was aware of how desperate she was, Elide would invite Aelin to stay, but since Lorcan and Aelin didn't particularly get along, Aelin kept her mouth shut and congratulated her friend for the new milestone in their relationship.

So, all her options completely exhausted, Aelin looked for vacant motels, found that this was the best out of all the options and became a long-standing tenant.

Aelin had managed to keep everyone away from her new apartment by claiming that it wasn't ready for visitors. Most knew that Aelin was house-proud, a trait that she had inherited from her late mother, so they knew that when Aelin was ready, she would invite them.

It was getting hard, however, to keep Rowan away. Each date night and hang out ended up at his apartment and Rowan was becoming curious as to how her new place was looking.

Rowan wasn't judgemental, and he wouldn't look down at her for living in a motel room, but Aelin was the problem; she was too proud to show him her new place. Even when she was at her lunch with Elide, she had to beat down her pride at just the mere thought of asking Elide if she could move in.

Tonight, however, Aelin knew in her bones that Rowan would ask to come over. He had a completely shitty day at work—one that ended up in the hospital because for the first time in his career as a carpenter, Rowan had somehow gotten his hand in the way of his nail gun and shot right through the middle of his palm and was off work until it healed, which Rowan hated the most out of the whole ordeal, since Rowan was the type of person that always had to be doing something.

So when his face finally popped up on her phone screen, Aelin muffled a groan into her pillow (because there was no way in hell she was using the standard sheets the motel provided, she needed her bedding or she wouldn't get any sleep), took a deep breath and plastered a smile onto her face.

“How's the hand?” she asked by way of greeting.

“It'd be a lot better if there wasn't a hole in it,” was his groggy reply. “I just woke up from the longest nap and thought of you.”

“That's sweet of you to say,” Aelin said, “do you want me to come over? I could cook you my world famous grilled cheese.” Please say yes, she thought, please.

“As much as I love the sound of that, I just need to get out of my house,” Rowan said, “I know that you're house-proud and if you don't want me to see it, I understand, I'll even wear a blind fold if that'll make you happy, but I just...” he trailed off and Aelin could see his pained expression even though they were miles apart.

“Seeing all your work tools is making you miserable,” she supplied. Rowan grunted in confirmation. Taking a deep breath, Aelin said, “You can come over, I don't mind. I'd be happy to see you.” And she would be. She'd just have to kick her pride in the corner. “There's a pub right around the corner from mine and the cheeseburgers they have are really fucking good, and I mean that sincerely. Do you want me to get you one? Because I only have snacks and canned food at the moment.”

“A burger sounds good, with extra tomato, please.”

Aelin smiled. “Of course, I'll text you the address, and I'll see you soon.”

After ordering their dinner, Aelin tidied up (even though the space was immaculate) and waited, and waited. When a gentle knock sounded at her door, Aelin took the food from the restaurant worker and was just about to go back in when Rowan's truck pulled up.

Even ten car spots away, Aelin could see his puzzled expression from where she stood. Placing the food on the small, round dining table, Aelin waited by the door and gave Rowan her best smile when he stood in front of her.

His puzzled expression melted away momentarily when she kissed him hello, but it was back in full force when they pulled away.

“Fireheart,” was all he said, and it said everything that he didn't say.

“I know.”

“You're living in a motel room.” There was no judgement in his voice, like she knew there wouldn't be, but it was clear that he was confused about the whole thing. She should have just told him. She loved her late mother, but really hated the fact that she had passed her pride to Aelin. She hated the fact that, deep down, she was embarrassed, even if Aelin told herself that she had no reason to. The housing market was insane, there was no where else for her to go, and that she hated herself for not saving more money to buy her home of three years.

“I am,” Aelin said, “but it's not so bad. It's affordable and clean.” Aelin invited him inside and sat him down the small dining table.

From his spot, he took in the space. Saw the bar fridge that could barely hold a bags worth of cold food, her toaster oven and the dual butane stove she had to purchase because she didn't want to have to use the toaster oven all the time. The tiny closet that held a decent amount of clothes, but didn't make a dent in her considerable mountain of clothes that she had put away in the storage unit she was renting.

None of her candles were in sight and no books either. Aelin was taking full advantage of her library apps, but it wasn't the same. Aelin loved the feeling of a book in her hands, but there was no space and it would have been silly to bring in her bookcases.

“Where's all your stuff?”

“In a storage unit. I considered living in there, but it doesn't have an air-conditioner and this place does.”

Before Rowan could say anything, Aelin turned on the TV, put on whatever movie sounded dumb enough and ate her dinner.

Aelin could see the question burning in his eyes as she stuffed her mouth to avoid answering that very question.

Why didn't Aelin ask if she could stay with him?

Aelin wanted to tell him, she really did, but was afraid that if she showed how serious she was, Rowan might admit that he wasn't as serious as her.

But Aelin knew herself, knew that she was going to tell him at one point or another. She could tell Rowan anything and he wouldn't flinch. It was her own doubt stopping her.

“That really is the best burger I've ever had,” Rowan said when he was finished.

“It really is,” was all Aelin could think of to say. Gods, she felt so damned awkward. The question was still in Rowan's eyes, even as he laughed at the movie and its stupidity. So to avoid it for a bit longer, Aelin took the take-away boxes into the dumpster outback and immediately went for a shower afterwards.

When she came out, Rowan was lounging on her bed, his injured hand laying across his chest, the other arm fiddling with her comforter. Aelin dressed in a shirt that she may have borrowed without asking from Rowan and a pair of sleep shorts.

Borrowing underneath her comforter, Aelin rested her head on Rowan's chest and the awkwardness she felt deflated a bit as he pressed a kiss on her head.

Aelin told him how she ended up here. Including her embarrassment and annoyance at herself. Rowan listened attentively, as he always did. That was one of the biggest things she loved about him, that he listened. And Aelin was in love with him, she knew without a doubt. She was certain she fell in love with him when he danced with her at Aedion and Lysandra's wedding.

When the credits started to roll, Aelin took a deep breath and decided to plunge into uncharted territories. She kept her eyes glued onto the screen.

Aelin decided to bite the bullet. If it all went to hell, she would beat herself up later.

“I don't want to fuck things up with you.” Well, that wasn't how she wanted to start this conversation, but she supposed it was the best way to start off. “I wanted to ask you if I could move in, but our relationship is just so new, and I didn't want to ruin our future, because I can see a future with you, Rowan.” Moving so that she could look Rowan in the eye, Aelin took the deepest plunge imaginable and told him, “I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.”

The smile he gave her was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. “I love you, too, Aelin.” Reaching down to kiss her, all of Aelin's doubts melted away. When he pulled back, Rowan said softly, “If you wish to ask, I'll say yes. Because I see a future with you too. You're the one for me.”

“Rowan, can I move in with you?”

He kissed her again. “Yes, you can.”

Aelin's cheeks were started to become sore from all her smiling. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she ended up living here.

Hours later, after another bad movie and celebrating the new milestone in their relationship (which was mainly Aelin laughing as she rode Rowan because he kept forgetting about his injured hand), Aelin and Rowan got ready for bed, and as Aelin rested her head on his chest again, she said, “Just to let you know, I'm going to replace your mattress for mine, because yours is hard as stone.”

“That's exactly why I'm letting you move in, I'm in the market for a new mattress.”

Aelin playfully whacked his chest and muttered what a buzzard he was, but soon fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for her future with Rowan.

#srsly what is this lol #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Tap Dancer Fish

word count: 1.5k

summary: Zoro´s haramaki is falling apart and he can´t find another one to buy. You decide to crochet him one before he kills someone.

highlight: ¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨

notes: This was an anon request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. This is 1/3 of the request, we´re starting with Zoro <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Any luck?¨ you asked without taking your eyes from the city guide, even with the rowdy sound of the metal chair scratching the brick sidewalk.

¨No.¨

¨Need any help?¨ you tried to hide your smirk by sipping your coffee.

¨No.¨

¨Well,¨ you closed the map and placed it on the table ¨I still have some errands to run. I´ll take a look around, see if I can find it. ¨

¨Thank you.¨

You placed a hand on his chest and gave him a quick peck on the lips before making your way back to your tasks.

The Strawhats had docked on a Spring Island called Gardenia. It reminded you of Dressrosa, but without the talking toys and mad king. The houses and stores were all painted a shade of green or brown, but what made it extraordinary to the eyes - and nose - was the number of flowers. All kinds of all sizes and colors decorating everything around you.

However, while you felt like an enchanted character from a fairy tale, your boyfriend felt trapped in a nightmare. For starters, everything smelled like flowers; Sanji would not stop bumping into him, saying that he mistook him for a moss tree, and the flowers made every corner look the same, so he got lost all the time.

But what was really making him grumpier than usual was his haramaki, the green garment he wore religiously around his belly - well, not religiously.

He has been procrastinating to get a new one for a long time, and despite you offering to purchase it whenever you ran errands, he would always turn the offer down. The problem was that it was not keeping itself anymore. After all the battles he fought and opponents he defeated, his haramaki was falling into pieces.

In the beginning, you were able to patch it up with some simple sewing, but now he needed to get a new one. And here´s where problem number two arises, you have entered a chain of summer and spring islands where they don´t usually sell this stuff. As a result, Zoro was mad at everyone - you were an exception, though.

It pained you to see him bothered like this, despite all of your previous warnings. Everyone has their own thing, Luffy has the straw hat, Chopper always carries his blue backpack, Sanji never stops smoking, and Zoro wears his haramaki. Anyone would be bothered, although anyone would listen to your advice.

So you came up with a plan. Since you could not find one to buy, you were going to crochet one. That was an interesting fact that no one knew so far, your ability of crocheting. You would do it whenever you were in charge of the night watch, and when you presented someone with a piece of clothing that matched their personality or traits, you would say you found it in town. Reason being that you didn´t want to be swamped with sweaters and beanies to do. You knew the crew would go crazy if they didn´t have to pay for winter clothes anymore.

¨Yosh, now I just have to make it.¨ you looked at the green ball of yarn in your hands before hiding it at the bottom of your bags.

¨Oi, Luffy! Don´t steal her food!¨

¨But she´s not even eating it, Sanji!¨

¨Y/N, are you ok?¨

¨Y/N?¨

¨Y/N!¨ you almost fell off the chair when you woke up from your zombie state.

¨What?¨

¨You look tired. Are you getting sick?¨ Robin asked, placing a hand on your forehead. ¨I hope you didn´t get some deadly poison from a plant.¨

¨Oi, Robin! Don´t say these scary things!¨ Usopp cried and walked away from you.

¨I couldn´t sleep last night.¨ the girls stared at you with a malicious smirk, and Sanji stormed out on flames ¨Yeah, uhum, I wish! I couldn´t sleep because Zoro kept rolling on the bed, it felt like I was sharing a bed with a tap dancer fish!¨ you shouted grumpily.

The longer he stayed without a decent haramaki, the more jittery he got. So throughout the night, he rolled on the bed, got up to train, went back to bed because he was too frustrated to train, mumbled and grumbled, and made you go through his insanity with him. At some point, you were planning on throwing him off the ship or choke him with that stupid belly warmer.

After you finished your third cup of coffee, you decided to head to the deck. Your green-haired tap dancer fish was napping on the grass with furrowed brows and arms crossed. Suddenly, the irritation you felt was gone.

¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨ you whispered and made your way to your room.

He never bothered you before. Even when the other guys made him go crazy, he would always lay down, hold you close to his body, and sleep. On the days you were not so tired, pillow talks would last hours and hours, and he would tell you things he hasn´t told anyone; he would show interest in the stupid things you like and be the Zoro the other guys would never get to know.

So you fought your will to go to sleep and grabbed the wool and a hook, determined to put an end to both of your miseries as soon as possible.

With Zoro napping all day, Robin in charge of the ship, and the rest of the guys exploring the Island, you would have all the peace in the world to work.

And that was exactly what you did. You were definitely going to hear from Chopper for going the entire day without a sip of water or bathroom break. Your fingers were red and hurting, and your shoulders were stiff and sore. But it was worth it.

It was almost dark when you finished, part of you wanted to wrap it with laces or some sort of crap, but you passed out as soon as you heard the snap of the scissor cutting the yarn. You didn´t even know you had passed out until you woke up the next day, sunlight hitting your eyes.

You were alone in bed, but not the way you imagined. You expected cramps and spasms to take over your body, but all you got was a slight soreness. You were in your pajamas and tucked like a baby.

¨What the-¨ you sat and searched over the blanket looking for the crochet garment, but found no sign of it ¨Did I dream about that?¨

You threw yourself off the bed and marched - more like crawled - to the kitchen, craving for coffee.

¨Morning, Y/N!¨ everyone was already up, although Luffy was sleep eating again.

¨Morning, guys.¨ your voice came out sleepy. You grabbed a cup of coffee and sat beside Zoro ¨Good morning, you.¨ You smiled.

¨Morning, sleepyhead.¨ He kissed your temple.

¨I´m so happy you found it, Y/N. I don´t think we would be able to handle his mood anymore.¨ Nami said relieved, and Zoro yelled something when everyone agreed. You gave her a confused look, and she pointed at your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned him, oblivious for a moment, but when you noticed him wearing the haramaki you made, a big smile grew on your face. That also explains why you slept comfortably in your pajamas, he must have gone to check on you and saw your pitiful state alongside his present.

¨Yeah, I was lucky, I guess.¨ He held your hand tighter under the table.

After breakfast, the two of you decided to stay on deck, enjoying the gentle sun and the fresh breeze before it was time to set sail again. You were sitting between his legs, against his chest, and his hands rested on your lap while you played with each other´s fingers.

¨Thank you... for making it for me.¨ You forgot about sore muscles. You forgot about raw fingers. Listen to him sounding so relaxed and peaceful made you forget about everything.

¨Thanks for not telling the guys I made it. Besides that, how are you going to protect my ass if you can´t focus without this stupid belly wrap?¨ he let out a lazy laugh, and you felt his body vibrating against yours.

¨Well, thank you again. I really liked it, and I won´t ruin it.¨

¨I know.¨ you whispered, closing your eyes and seizing the moment.

You knew he would eventually destroy it, but that was fine. You didn´t have the emotional connection to it like he had. What mattered to you was his well-being. You were not strong enough to protect him - not that he needed - so keeping him warm and loved was your internal mission. Because that´s how he made you feel.

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Note

sum angst for sapnap x quackity x karl x reader if requests are open, i dont remember if they are, and if u feel up to it

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader + sleepy bois x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, character death

this is an in game au so be aware of that

premise: you’ve been on the inside, spying on Shlatt for pogtopia, you thought you had had him convinced that the spy was Tubbo (Who knew just about nothing about pogtopia) but during the festival Shlatt asks you to make a speech... after the festival, things begin to fall apart

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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“And you’re sure about this? You’re positive that it’s him and not Quackity?” Shlatt asked.

The festival was in two days, Wilbur’s plan to blow Manburg was in place, and suddenly huge evidence of things you had berried was piling up. Your entire position as Pogopia’s spy was at risk.

“I’m positive Mr. President. I caught Tuboo poking around in some tunnels, trying to talk to TommyInnt just yesterday,” You lied straight through your teeth, “The log I found behind the files proves it.”

You held up the book, truly a work of your own notes, signed in you co workers hand.

Shlatt took it, quickly skimming through the pages, “Hmmm, this is significant evidence to condemn the kid. We’ll have to do something about.”

“Maybe we should exile him, like Wilbur and Tommy.” You suggested carefully.

He considered it for a moment, a wide jagged grin spreading across his face, “Or... we could execute him,” He seemed to take pleasure in your shock, “Publicly. We have been needing a slam finish for that festival.”

“Shlatt Tubbo is just a child!”

Shlatt glared down at you, “Sorry, what was that? It almost sounded like you were trying to go against the word of the president.”

The threat chilled you to the core, and you strained to stay calm, “With all due respect Mr. President, Tubbo is only 16, and there are other ways to deal with insurgents.”

“Insurgents? As in there's multiple now?” Alex strode into the room, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“Yes, your partner here has just informed me that our dear Tubbo is a traitor,” Shlatt slammed the journal onto the desk, ignoring the glare Alex gave him when you jumped, “He’s been spying on Manburg for Pogtopia.”

Alex reached for the book, flipping to the last page and reading allowed, “If there is ever a time to strike, it would be during the Manburg festival, though it is worth noting Wilbur’s plan of destroying L’Manburg should be put off as long as possible.”

“When I caught them in the tunnels under the city, they were talking about tnt,” You said, the shake in your voice all too real, as forced tears began to prick in your eyes, “Wilbur’s going to blow it up.”

Shlatt looked at you clearly searching for something, but giving up once you fully began to cry, turning to burry your face in your boyfriends shoulder.

The president sighed, annoyed, “Get them outta here Quackity, I can’t work when there's fucking crying in my office.”

“It’s probably just the stress, sir. I’ll get them home.” Alex carefully led you out of the white house, and you were grateful, unknowing how much of the emotion was real or not.

“Oh god! Is (y/n) okay?” Karl asked as soon as Alex had gotten you to where he was decorating party island.

“Yeah, they’ll uh- they’ll be alright. Shlatt, Manburg, stress, you know?” He eased you down to sit on one of the benches, and quickly Karl moved to sit and wrap his arms around you.

“Hey, I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you guys tonight.” Alex quickly pecked at your cheek, and then Karl’s lips before heading back in the direction of the white house.

“What happened?” Karl asked softly once he had gone.

You sniffled, leaning into his embrace, “Work’s stuff. The festival’s getting stressful.”

“Yeah, well I’m helping Tubbo with the last of the decorating tomorrow,” He paused, “You’re missing Wilbur and Tommy aren’t you?”

You nodded, “I miss them and Techno and Phil. I miss home.”

Your duties as a spy didn’t entail much seeing your brothers, just taking down notes of what was going on in Manburg and leaving them in a remote chest for Wilbur to collect later.

“We all miss home. But think about it this way, if you hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t’ve found me, or Alex, or Nick,” Karl said, looking out at the rest of Manburg, “We wouldn’t have this place without you or your brothers, and even Shlatt can’t change that.”

You smiled a bit at that, “Thanks Karl.”

“And! You don’t have to worry about decorations for the festival cause I’m helping Tubbo with it tomorrow!”

Though it was meant to cheer you up you felt your heart sink lower, he and Nick still didn’t know, and wouldn’t about what would be planned for the festival, but hopefully Alex would understand the burden.

“So why is there a festival?”

Nick had just arrived back in Manburg from a while’s stay in the SMP, and was very confused by the posters lining the streets.

“Shlatt wants to celebrate democracy, so he’s had Tubbo and I organize a festival.” You explained.

He cocked an eyebrow, “And what does Wilbur think of this?”

Nick was still the only one who’d found out about your allegiances to Pogtopia, only by mistake, when he’d caught you making the journey back from the cavern.

“Wilbur thinks it’s an opportunity,” You sighed, quickly scribbling down a new messege to the boys, “Techno think’s it’s a waste of time and energy, the anarchist energy’s been shining through more and more lately.”

“So who do you agree with?” He asked carefully.

“Neither, Wilbur’s gone manic, Techno is- well he’s Technoblade, and Tommy just goes along with what Wil says.” You tucked each note into an envelope, folding them between the pages of the newest set of notes.

You looked up to meet Nick’s eyes, “I’m worried about what Friday will bring. I’ve tried to throw Shlatt off my trail and it seems like it’s working I just-”

You broke off as Nick wrapped his arms around you, “Hey, it’ll be okay. And if he tries anything, I’ll be there to protect you,” He chuckled, “Hell, maybe it’ll be the only time your brothers and I agree.”

“Maybe.” You mumbled.

“Woah! Are you guys cuddling without us?” Karl feigned shock as he came into the living room with Alex.

“I would never!” You forced a laugh.

“(y/n), come on, we’ve gotta go get ready to meet Shlatt.” Alex nudged you.

You sighed, starting to snuggle back into Nick’s grip, wishing the small amount of morning calm would last, “Do we have too?”

“Yeah, you know he won’t be happy if we’re late.”

You looked at Karl and Nick, still mostly asleep, and then back at him, quietly admitting, “I’m scared today could change everything.”

He sighed, immediately shifting back down into be, “I suppose we could stay a bit longer.”

Slowly, the other boys woke up, but the room remained in silence, as if everyone could feel the coming tension, as if even moving would shatter the peace of the day.

Carefully, Karl broke the silence, “We’re gonna be okay guys. The festival is gonna be awesome. Wilbur wouldn’t do anything to ruin it for (y/n).”

“If what they found out is true, you guys could all be at risk.” Alex murmured.

Nick sighed, “I don’t care who’s bad side I get on, it’s gonna be anything to keep you all safe.”

Each of you heard a different meaning behind his words, but still none of you spoke.

“Whatever happens today, we’ll make it through, the country, may not.” You said, voice wavering, but still with a note of finality.

By midday the festival was in full swing, and surprising your older brother had actually shown up for the festivities.

“Strange seeing you here,” You laughed, nudging him, “A celebration of a government.”

“It’d be rude to turn down an invitation ta one a these,” He sighed, glancing around, “Where’s your boyfriends hanging around at, I haven’t threatened them yet today.”

You chuckled, “Q’s helping Shlatt with the last of the prep for the speeches. Sapnap’s supposedly trying to figure a way to cheat Fundy’s dunk tank and Karl’s over there.” You gestured to where he, Tubbo, Sam and Bad were running around at Party Island.

“mmm, hey, uh, your note the other day, you weren’t serious about framing the kid right?”

You sucked in a breath, tightening the grip on the sword at your side, “It was him or Al- Quackity, I couldn’t do that to him. Whatever they’re planning I’m going to stop them.”

Techno look back at the stage warily, “I’ll back you up if I can.”

Soon everyone was being called to take there seats in the audience as you, Tubbo, Alex, and Shlatt took to the stage.

“Well everyone!” Shlatt addressed the crowd, “Thank you for coming to this wonderful celebration of democracy! Things sure have gotten bet around here, I’m gonna give the mic to Tubbo, the main organizer of this event, for his speech.”

Tubbo grinned, shuffling his notecards as he took Shlatt’s spot in front of the microphone, “Hello everyone! I’m honestly so excited to be here right now!”

As Tubbo rambled on about Wilbur and Tommy’s banishment, you stood back, wishing you could’ve stood on the same side of the stage as Alex.

Looking out over the crowd gathered you tried not to let your gaze wander to Tommy and Wilbur, who you knew were perched on the top of a near by building.

“And uh yeah! To democracy!” Tubbo concluded.

You could almost here Alex chuckle as he started to turn to the chest on the side of the stage, ready to grab the materials to box the boy in.

“That was nice, hey, uh, (y/n), dear (y/n), my secretary of state, I uh, I hate to put you on the spot here, but uh, why don’t you come up and make a speech?” You blood ran cold at Shlatts words.

On the other side of the stage Alex froze as well, out in the crowd no one suspect anything, so you clasped your hands behind your back to hide the tremors and moved in front of the microphone.

“Well, uh hi guys! I honestly didn’t except to be up here making a speech today, so I’m not quite sure if this will even turn out coherent,” You laughed, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Tommy tensing, “I remember, soon after I followed my brothers to this land, we fought in a war. L’manburg’s war for independence was long and hard, and I often thought we would never see a better time, but standing here, it is very clear to me that this country has changed since the election.

“This country, since gaining it’s independence has changed my life, and it weighs on my heart that My L’manburg has a ruler such as Mr. JShlatt. We fought for this land, my brothers and I, and here we are today, with so much progress made! So, my friends, my colleges, here's to Our L’manburg!”

Everyone began to cheer, only to be cut off my Shlatt’s harsh laugh, “Oh, (y/n), it’s Manburg now remember? or did you forget while you were off conspiring with your brothers in Pogtopia?”

Tubbo pushed a still frozen Alex out of the way to grab the materials, beginning to box you in.

“S- shlatt?” You quickly turned on the emotion, turning frantically as they caged you in, “Shlatt what are you talking about?”

“Shlatt what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked.

“Oh, you didn't know? Your partners a traitor!” Shlatt laughed again.

Alex turned to you, now trapped between the throne and the mic stand, looking betrayed.

“I didn’t do anything! Shlatt! Please!” Though a few days before most of the emotion had been real, but now you were thankful for your acting skills, blubbering, “Alex! Alex look at me it wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything!”

Down in the stands Nick was halfway to standing, pushing Karl back down into his own seat.

“Or really? So that book wasn’t forged? That chest you used to pass messages? You tried to turn them against me!” Tubbo exclaimed.

“I didn’t- I- I would never betray my country!” You sobbed, forcing tears to leak from your eyes.

“Oh shut up,” Shlatt turned to the crowd, “Technoblade, front and center, get up here.”

Shakily Techno stood, quietly moving up to stand on the stage as Alex backed off the stage, looking between you and Shlatt with mixes of betrayal and shock.

“What uh, what you need me up here for Shlatt?”

“I want you to take care of them, make a public example.”

Techno coughed awkwardly, “You- you want me ta kill m’ sibling?”

“No!” You exclaimed, “Techno please...”

Shlatt glared at you, “Cut the crap (y/n)! We all know you aren’t actually this god damn emotional!”

Sapnap was fully in the isle now, sword drawn, and up on the roof You saw Wilbur clamping a hand over Tommy’s mouth to keep him to keep him from giving them away.

Sighing you wiped away the fake tears, “You have to admit, Shlatt, you believed me, you trusted me!”

Shlatt just rolled his eyes, “Techno get on it, snap too! I’ve got places to be.”

Techno slung his crossbow off his shoulder uncertainly, “(y/n)?”

All the fear from the morning came flooding back, but you shoved it down, leaning forward, to make eye contact with Shlatt, “You kill me now and nothing will change! This place will still go down hill and my brothers will still plot against you! All my secrets go down with me!”

“Shut your mouth and die already!”

Your nails dug into your palms, “Don’t make them watch Shlatt, have some mercy, if you want to kill me kill me, but don’t make my boys watch, don’t make Techno do it.”

“Get it over with!”

You leaned forward, gritting your teeth, “You heard the man, kill me.”

“(y/n), I can’t- you- yo- I-”

“Do it.” You hissed.

Time slowed, and Techno slowly raised the crossbow.

You looked out, past him, over the rolling fields of L’manburg, your home.

Niki out in the crowd wore a look of horror, hiding her face in Eret’s shoulder, who wore a simillar look for fear. Fundy wore a steely expression clearly close to breaking, Sam looked down right terrified, as Bad hid his eyes in his hands.

To your left Tubbo looked scared even though he’d put you in the cage, you were glad it was you and not him.

Shlatt wore his usual evil grin, pupil’s dilated.

Up on the roof, Tommy, your little brother looked horrified, Wilbur still holding him back with a neutral expression, Techno, now directly in front of you, was nearly in tears, your big brother, who swore to protect you, now being your end, it seemed almost poetic.

Behind him Nick was running up the isle, sword drawn, though you knew he’d be to late, Karl, lip quivering sat frozen, and Alex, his face still was filled with betrayal.

You looked up, took a deep breath and then time resumed, Techno pulled the trigger and everything went black.

{(y/n) went off with a bang}

It was cold.

Dark.

You didn’t now where you were as you drifted through a world you barley recognized.

Where was this?

How did you get there?

Vaguely you remembered a festival, your brothers, plus your boyfriends, oh how you loved them.

Your friends had been there too.

You looked back down to see L’manburg, ‘home!’ you thought happily.

You drifted towards your house, a voice in the back of your brain wondering, ‘why am I not walking?’

“What the fuck was that?” A loud voice cut through the air.

‘Nicky!’ you thought happily, following the sound.

“What the hell do you mean?”

‘Alex!’

You entered the room, finding them standing on opposite side, Karl, huddled in the corner.

“You are so fucking stupid! You know that? You let them die! They’re fucking dead because of you!”

“They were a fucking traitor! They got what was coming to them!”

“They loved you!” Nick screamed back, “They loved you and me and Karl, and their brothers! And now there gone! Because of You and Fucking Shlatt!”

What were they talking about?

“They fucking betrayed us! They betrayed Manburg! You saw the fucking acting they did! How do you know they ever loved us!”

From the corner Karl sobbed, and instinctively you moved to comfort him, but instead you passed right through.

‘what the hell?’

You had no time to dwell however because Nick shouted, “Etheir way you let them die! They’d be here if you’d interfered!”

“But I didn’t wooupdy do! They were a traitor!”

“They were trying to save their home!”

“WELL MAYBE THEY SHOULD’VE CONSIDERED THAT I WAS TRYING TO BUILD IT UP!”

“You and Shlatt never did anything but tare this place to the ground.” It was only a whisper, but Nick’s words sent Alex spinning on his heel and heading out the door.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! I am aware that my best isn’t good enough! So fuck you!”

The door slammed, and Nick only blinked a moment before Karl quietly asked, “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Now he’s gone too!”

Karl’s voice made your heart shatter.

“You think that’s my fault?! Clearly he didn’t give a shit about us, or them, other wise he would’ve stopped Shlatt.”

“They said we’d be okay! But we’re not!” Karl sobbed.

“I can fucking see that! God damn Karl! What did you except?”

“I-”

Before he could finish the door was slamming again.

Karl leaned back against the wall, staring straight through you whispering, “Why did you have to go (y/n/n)? You only just brought us together! We only just figured it out.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #teddy06 writes

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Deluges and Droughts

M water elemental X gn human, 7, 206 words

Your farm is being drowned by a flood, and, desperate to stop it, you recruit the services of a water elemental. But when the tides change, will you be able to help him?

It hadn’t stopped raining for the past eight days. The sky was still thick and gray, with clouds that descended to the treetops. It didn’t fall in a constant barrage, going back and forth between heavy rain and something of a drizzle, but it was nonstop. Even in your house, the air was damp and heavy.

You couldn’t get dry. Every day, you went out, checked your fields, and tried to care for your animals. The ground sloshed under your feet as you walked, muck loose under the grass. Your sheep bleated irritably at you whenever you entered the barn, usually dripping wet. The roof of the barn sagged dangerously in one area, a thick damp patch spreading toward the back. You made an effort to reinforce it, but there wasn’t a lot of chance it would hold. If the barn flooded, you would be in a lot of trouble.

When you woke up to water droplets trickling down your face and water seeping through your floor, you decided to go looking for a water elemental.

You fed your animals in a hurry, then strapped on your most waterproof boots, tugged on a raincoat, and headed out into the fields.

All elementals were tricky to find. They tended not to hang around humans settlements, mostly because they weren’t fans of humans in general. Rarely did they even take on human form. But you needed to find something that would stop the damn weather.

You hiked to the one spot in the fields near your house that would house a water elemental- a lake fed by a massive river. The banks had swollen and overflowed thanks to the abundance of rain, so you had to give it a wide berth. Once you had made it as close to the bank as you felt was safe, you swung your pack off your shoulders and started looking through it.

In your bag, you held what you hoped would be sufficient to summon a water elemental. There was a shell that had been formatted into something like a wind chime, or a bell, an offering of coins that had spend the past three days submerged in brackish water, and a few pieces of sea glass that you had collected from the beach as a child.

Delicately, you approached the edge of the water and placed the sea glass into the waves. Once they had been pulled away from shore, you placed the coins on the bank so the water lapped over them, and held the windchime out until it caught the wind and the soft sound of bells echoed across the water.

You took a deep breath. “You who lives in waves and water, who is one with the sky and sea and storms. Source of all life, I call to you, and request your presence.”

Your voice barely carried over the sound of rain against the lake. Wind whipped stinging cold raindrops against your face. You snuffled against the running of your nose. For several minutes, you stood on the shore of the lake, staring out into the misty silence.

Just as you were ready to assume it hadn’t worked, something out in the lake splashed. You felt your shoulders stiffen, creeping up toward your ears. Cold rain slithered down your back and dripped down your shoulders.

Something in the water splashed again. You squinted out over the lake, trying to make out anything through the haze of mist. As the splashing grew closer, you could see something moving under the water, a dark shape that grew more distinct the closer it got.

Within moments, the shape had approached the shore. It remained in the water for a moment, then the surface rippled and it emerged.

For a moment, its shape was indistinct, like a pillar of water was rising from the lake. Then the water rippled and started to take on a humanoid form. At first, the shape was only vague, like a shadow, then details started to emerge. It stood on the surface of the water as steadily as you were standing on dry land. The water seemed to solidify, not like ice, but like the water was growing thicker and thicker, drawing in tight until the details were evident.

He (he looked like a he) was taller than you, at least six and a half feet tall, with an impressively broad chest. His facial features were surprisingly detailed, from the hooked shape of his nose to the ice-white chips of his eyes. His hair looked like waterfall, rippling down his back and ending in a frothy white cap. He was entirely nude, but with doll anatomy, something you were both grateful for and slightly disappointed by.

“You were calling for me.” His voice had a strange quality to it, like the sound of waves against rocks. It was more intimidating than you’d expected and it sent a shiver wrapping down your spine.

“I did.” Your voice shook, but the water elemental barely seemed to take note of it. He stepped closer to the shore, where only a thin barrier of water kept him from stepping directly on land.

“And what did you summon me for?” the elemental asked. He sounded slightly impatient.

“The rain,” you said. “The land is drowning. It’s been raining nonstop for eight days. It’s destroying everything. I need your help to prevent it.”

The elemental looked at you levelly. He seemed neither surprised, nor concerned. “Yes, it has been raining. My own territory has been expanding thanks to this.” He tilted his head at you. “Did you wish for me to stop the rain?”

You swallowed. “Can you?”

“No.” His voice was cool and unconcerned. Despair rolled through you in a massive wave. “Nor would I if I could. The rain grants me great strength. I can feel it seeping into the land.” He lifted his arms and the mist seemed to thicken around him.

Panic lanced through you, hot and sharp. “Wait!” you said. The elemental looked at you. “What if I can make it worth your while?”

He lowered his hands again. “I would be terribly interested to see how you would do such a thing.”

You took in a deep breath. This plan would work. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. “You gain power based on how much water you have in your… territory, right?” The elemental gave you a skeptical look, but he nodded. “So, obviously, you’re going to want more water in your territory, yes?”

“That would be beneficial to me, yes,” the elemental said. “You are offering to being me water?” He didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Sort of,” you said. “Water elementals can control water, right? If you really wanted to, you would be able to draw it out of the land.”

“Yes,” he said. “Thought it is rarely work the effort. If the water is in my territory, regardless of the form it takes, it adds to my power.”

“Well, if you come to my land, you can have the excess water. It’ll be added to your territory, so you’ll grow more powerful, and I’ll get rid of all the water I don’t need. It’s a win-win.”

The elemental looked at you for a long moment. He seemed to be thinking it over. His form rippled as if he were about to dissolve and your heart sank. Then he smiled wolfishly. “Yes. Your terms are acceptable.”

You sagged in relief. “Good. All right. Then we should start right now.” You started to head back up the bank, realized he wasn’t following you, and stopped. “Are you coming?”

He smiled, like you were being funny in some way you didn’t fully understand. “I require water to travel,” he said.

“It’s pretty wet,” you said. “You can’t travel in the rain or something?”

“There is not enough water in the air to sustain me,” he said. “And the ground would need to be much more saturated than it is for me to walk across it.”

Despite him pointing out problems with your plan, he didn’t seem all that concerned about it. You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms over your chest. “I assume you have some kind of plan?”

The elemental smiled. “Indeed.” He lifted one watery hand and pointed at you. “Humans are made of seventy percent water. Enough water for me to hitch a ride.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What, you want me to carry you on my back all the way back to the farm?” you were strong, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could carry an entire man on your back over such a long distance.

The elemental’s smile grew wider. “Not precisely. I have an easier method in mind.” He held a hand out to you. “Touch me. You will see.”

That was mysterious, and you weren’t a huge fan of mysterious things. But you had a feeling he wasn’t going along with you unless you did as you were told. You gritted your teeth and placed your hand into his.

It was like you had thrown yourself face-first into the ocean and gone limp. The tide caught you and heaved you back and forth. Water rushed around you, tugging at your limbs almost hard enough to wrench them out of their sockets. As much as you could feel it on the outside of your skin, you could feel a tide pounding against your insides. Your blood pulsed in the same rhythm as the sea, like waves were crashing against the inside of your skin.

Gradually, you became aware of the ground underneath you once again. You were on your knees, sinking into the mud. Rain dripped down the back of your neck and soaked your hair. But within you, there was still that pounding of the tide. Your blood pounded through your veins, rushed in your ears. You were aware of the way it thundered through your veins, like the entirety of the ocean’s power had been tucked under your skin.

You forced your mouth open. “What did you do to me?” It was almost impossible to hear your own voice over the tides of your own body.

The voice didn’t come from outside. It echoed in your head, a rushing sound like a waterfall had learned to speak, like the tides in your body were forming words. Your body is seventy percent water, he repeated. I can stay within the water in you.

You pressed a hand to your chest. The tide still thrummed under your skin, but you were getting more used to it. The pulse was almost comforting, like a second heartbeat. “You’re inside me?”

In a manner of speaking. I am within the water you carry inside you. The rushing sensation within you grew stronger, as if the elemental was doing it deliberately. Now you may carry me back to the land with you. I will emerge, take in the water, and you can carry me back home.

Slowly, you got to your feet. You found yourself swaying involuntarily, moving with the tide inside you. Even though he was no longer speaking, you could feel the elemental lingering in the back of your mind. It was a sensation not unlike the feeling of being watched.

“Comfortable for your trip?” you asked, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. The tide pulsing inside you made it hard to focus. A sudden wave of amusement hit you, and you almost laughed before you realized that the amusement wasn’t your own. It was his.

You are actually quite comfortable. The tide inside you gave a powerful surge, like the elemental was shifting in some strange way. I have not done this in a very long time. Your body is far better than my last travel partner. They were tight. You are not too cramped and not too large. Cozy. Your blood surged once more and you had to stop moving to reorient yourself.

“Can you try not to move so much? It’s… uncomfortable.” The elemental didn’t say anything, but you felt his answering apology. After allowing your heartbeat to stabilize once more, you headed back home.

You trudged across the flat, open plains. You felt hyperaware of the water against your skin now, like every trickling drop of rain was electrified. The water elemental pounded through your bloodstream, heavy and heady with power. You felt like you could taste the storm as it rolled across the sky.

Something in the back of your mind shifted and your attention refocused. Somehow, you weren’t entirely aware of how, you could feel the water elemental poking around in your head. He seemed to be flipping through your memories with the mild interest you associated with looking through an acquaintance’s photo journal of their vacation.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked out loud. The water elemental spared you only the tiniest flicker of attention before returning to his sifting.

I want to know about the life of my carrier, he said. I know so little about humans. You are fascinating.

“Fascinating as I may be, I don’t appreciate you- hey!” The elemental hovered on an image of you and your ex buried in a particularly heated kiss. “Cut that out!”

Swapping fluids seems to be a particularly intimate form of human communication, the elemental said. There was no mistaking the amusement in his tone. I approve.

“Cut it out!” you protested. The elemental’s amusement became thicker in your head, swirling like some heady storm. Fine. Two could play at this game. He was inside you, his thoughts inside your head. All you had to do was swim against the tide and-

You plunged into his mind like diving into a great ocean. The currents of his thoughts buffeted you, but you were able to turn against it. A memory drifted by you, buoyed on a stream of thought, and you reached for it.

He twisted, curling, a puddle barely big enough to stand in, but he could feel it, the rain and the stream that fed him. Yes, he was here, he was new, but he could grow stronger and powerful-

The storm overhead raged and he raged with it, his surface surging to catch every drop of water. The river that fed him was swollen, overspilling its banks and feeding him in a great, surging wave of power. He could feel it growing stronger, yes, yes, the power, the feeling of becoming greater, stronger-

It was the sun, the blazing heat that was destroying him. He slunk to the depths of his lake, barely able to feel the trickle of his river feeding him. No matter how hard he struggled, he could still feel the pull of each tiny drop being drawn away from him by the sun, a slow death of heat until he was nothing more than a damp patch on the ground-

The sun was hot, but his river was feeding him and the air was thick with delicious humidity. Humans splashed in his shallows. He looked at them curiously, feeling their motions through the water. They played, hands entwined, laughing with delight at the feeling of his water. Delighting in him, in his power. His awareness was drawn to the two humans at the edge of the lake, standing in his shallows, their bodies pressed together, mouths connected. Some strange emotion flared within him, something tender and sad and happy all at once-

Enough! Something slammed into your mind, like you were being violently shoved. You wobbled in place, the unsteadiness in your mind transferring into your body. The water elemental surged within you, twisting and writhing. Stay out!

There was rage in his voice, but it barely managed to conceal his terror. You looking into his mind had scared him- he hadn’t known you could do that. “I could say the same to you,” you replied. The elemental churned inside you for a moment, but you could feel his anger wane.

Very well. Truce. He did the mental equivalent of turning his back on you, deliberately putting his attention somewhere else. You waited for a moment to make sure he wasn’t just trying to get your guard down, then continued walking toward your home.

The ground sloshed under your feet as you entered the outstretches of your land. The fibers of grass were no longer properly holding the ground together, and you could feel everything slipping under you, threatening to trip you up. It was part of the reason you hadn’t been letting your sheep out. The last thing you needed was for one of them to get stuck in the mud and break their leg.

The skies opened up once more as you approached your barn and you picked up the pace, hurrying get inside. The water elemental perked up as the rain drenched you, soaking through your clothes and straight to your skin.

Your sheep bleated anxiously as you stepped into your barn. The damp patch on the roof was still dripping and starting to sag dangerously. Your concern about that, however, paled under the sudden weight of the elemental’s curiosity. What are those!?

“They’re sheep,” you said. “Have you never seen sheep before?”

No. The elemental cautiously started poking at your mind again, shuffling through your memories.

“Hey!” you said. The elemental froze guiltily. “No looking through memories, got it? If you just ask, I’ll tell you.”

The elemental shifted sulkily in the back of your mind for a moment, then stretched out toward you again. What are sheep?

“They’re, uh.” Well, you hadn’t wanted him to poke through your mind, but now that you were actually being questioned, you weren’t sure how to explain sheep. “Uh, they’re animals. They grow wool that I shear and sell and sometimes I butcher them, if they get too old or injured. I take care of them, deliver lambs when it’s lambing season. They’re a lot of work, but it’s better than working in an office or something.” You gave one of the sheep an affectionate pat. It bleated at you. “And they go ‘baah.’”

I am aware. They are doing so right now. Another one of the sheep butted against your hand and gave a low bleat.

The sheep gathered around you, nuzzling and butting at your hands. As much as he was clearly trying to hide it, the elemental was delighted by the sheep. When you brushed your hand along their wool, he could barely suppress his glee.

You spent several moments indulging his curiosity before another groan from the roof drew your attention. A few splatters of water slipped through and splashed on the ground. “Okay. We should actually do what we came here to do. Can you control the water or something?”

Not from in here. Do you have water that I can enter? You snagged one of the basins that you’d been using to collect the dripping water and dragged it a little ways away from the sheep.

“Will this work?”

Well enough. If a bit cramped. Place your hand in the water. You crouched and rested the palm of your hand on the surface of the water. The elemental shifted inside you once more. It was a strange, twisting sensation, and the pull and rock of the tide began to yank at you once more. You closed your eyes, breathing in and out slowly. For a moment, you could feel the elemental pouring himself out of you. Then there was a strange quiet in your body.

Your body was lighter without him inside you. But there was also something strangely empty about it. For some time, you had felt the power of the elemental pulsing inside you. Now there was nothing in its place, and you felt light, but also disconnected. You couldn’t even feel the pulse of your own blood.

“Are you well?” The voice drew you out of your thoughts. The elemental was looking down at you, formed from his knees-up in a bucket of water. It was a little bit of a ridiculous sight.

“I’m okay. Just- I don’t know, it feels a little like when you’ve been straining your muscles for a while, then you stop and you kind of feel all floaty?” The elemental tilted his head to one side, eyes completely blank. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know a lot about that, huh?” You stood up from where you’d fallen on your butt and brushed the dirt off your pants. “What do you need to do now?”

The elemental closed his eyes. “I must gather the water to me. I should be able to collect a great deal of it- possibly enough to stop the oversaturation of the land.” His form wavered and shifted like he was taking in a deep breath.

Your skin started to tingle all over, almost like static electricity. The air felt thick and damp as you tried to pull it into your lungs. Dampness stuck to your skin. It felt like the air itself was growing thicker, like you were trying to breathe underwater. The sheep bleated and shifted frantically.

Just when you were sure the air was about to turn to water and you were going to drown on land, the tension that had been rising in the air popped. Within a second, the air went from nearly oversaturated to bone dry. Your mouth had been open as you tried to suck in breath and you felt the moisture wick itself from your tongue. You choked as your mouth and throat were completely dried. The sheep were shifting in a near panic, crushing up against you.

Something soft and jelly-like hooked itself around your waist and dragged you across the floor, taking you away from the panicked sheep. You fumbled, trying to seize the appendage, but your fingers went right through it. Yelping, you pulled your soaking hands back. It was water, a column of water that had just enough solidity against your skin to pull you around. You followed the column with your eyes. It led back to the water bucket. The elemental was looking back at you, expression placid.

You made an attempt to speak, but your mouth was still completely dry. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and no matter how much your throat spasmed, you couldn’t swallow.

“Apologies,” the elemental said. “I was only trying to pull water from the air. I didn’t expect it to pull water from you as well. You should probably have kept your mouth closed.” You were too busy trying to get your mouth to not feel like you’d been chewing sand to replay. “Here. Drink.”

You refocused on him. He had changed position in the bucket, turned fully toward you and lowered, like he was kneeling. His hands were out in front of him, cupped around a drop of water. It was clearly differentiated from the water of his hands, glistening like an oversized dewdrop.

It was fundamentally pretty weird, but you were too thirsty to bother with any sort of discomfort. You bent your head forward and slurped the water up from his palms. It was ice cold and it tasted crystalline and sweet, better than any other water you’d ever tasted. Whether that was just due to how thirsty you were or if he had some sort of way of making water taste delicious, you didn’t know.

Once you had drunken your fill, the elementa withdrew his hands. “I pulled as much water from the land as I could. I will guarantee nothing, but I should have taken enough to prevent any more flooding. Possibly even enough to lessen the storms.”

You turned to look at your leaking roof. The damp patch was completely gone, dry as if it had never been there. The roof still sagged alarmingly, but that was something you could fix. Peeking out the barn door showed that the sky had lightened considerably. There was even sunlight peeking through a few tiny gaps.

“Thank you,” you said. The elemental looked away from you, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a smooth shrug.

“It was a beneficial arrangement for the both of us. There is no need to thank me.” His voice was oddly reedy, a quieter trickle of water than the great rushing noise that his voice usually was.

“Still. I’m grateful.” You tilted your head in a gesture of appreciation. The water elemental made a noise similar to a grunt. “Give me a few minutes to inspect everything.”

He rolled his eyes, but also waved a hand dismissively. You took that as a sign to leave and hurried outside.

The fields outside were firm under your feet as you ran toward your house. Even the air was free from the oppressive mugginess that had surrounded you for over a week. It was easier to breathe.

A quick jog around your property revealed that the awful dampness had receded and everything felt much clearer than before. The worry that had been resting in your chest for the past few days lessened.

When you returned to the barn, the elemental was crouched in the bucket, holding his hands out to the sheep. They appeared to be biting and snapping at his hands, fighting for the best position. A snap of alarm went through you. “Hey! Back up!” You clapped your hands and the sheep scattered obediently.

The elemental straightened back up. “They aren’t harming me. I believe they were thirsty.”

“Yeah, they’ve got water buckets,” you said. The elemental turned his attention to you as you approached. “Ready to go home?”

“I am. Brace yourself. This will feel… more than before.” He extended his hands toward you as you reached back toward him.

The instant your fingers came in contact with his, you were hit once more by the sensation of a powerful wave crashing over you. This time, you were braced for the sensation. It didn’t knock you on your ass, but you felt the power.

It was stronger than before, the pounding of water in your veins. The elemental surged in the back of your mind. Pressure pounded against the inside of your skin, thundered in your ears.

Move with the tide. You are fighting it. The elemental’s voice sounded in the back of your mind, above the pounding waves. You relaxed, letting your hackles drop. The water pulled you along and, for a moment, you felt that you were going to drown. Then the tide calmed and you found yourself drifting, pulled gently by the water.

You opened your eyes. The sheep had scattered back, giving you a wide berth. The elemental’s thought surged in the back of your mind, a sudden and intense urge to pet them.

You laughed and gave the sheep affectionate pats as you headed out of the barn. “You know, you can come back and pet them any time you want.”

The elemental shifted in the back of your mind, disgruntled and a little embarrassed at being caught. I cannot. This is outside my territory and I cannot be brought here without being carried.

“Oh.” The disappointment you felt was surprisingly keen. You felt the elemental shifting in your mind, like he was trying not to look at your feelings. Embarrassed that your thoughts had an audience, you distracted yourself by trudging across the land.

You were back at the edge of the lake sooner than you’d anticipated. The elemental surged with excitement at being back in his home territory. You could feel the boundary in your own body, like a massive case of the warm fuzzies. It almost made you giggle, like being tickled from the inside out.

The edge of the lake lapped over your feet as you approached. You crouched and placed your hands beneath the surface of the water. This time, however, the elemental didn’t come pouring out of you. He hesitated, churning beneath your skin. you could feel his longing to go home war with some strange other desire that you couldn’t place.

“Don’t you want to leave?” you asked, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

Yes. I am merely making sure that I don’t pull the water out of your body when I leave. His statement would have been more intimidating if you hadn’t been able to feel how flustered he was.

“You didn’t have to do that before,” you teased. The elemental only got more flustered, twisting within you like a cyclone.

I am leaving. Again came that strange pouring sensation and you fell back on your rear in the mud. The elemental rose out of the water in front of you. He looked more solid than he had before, his hair billowing around him in misty waves.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and brushing your pants off once more. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I suppose it is,” the elemental said. Despite being composed entirely of water, he managed to look as stiff as a board as he spoke to you. “If you ever wish to summon me again, simply place you hand in the water and call for me. I will come.”

“I don’t know your name,” you said. The elemental shrugged.

“Elementals rarely take names. If you wish for something to call me, pick anything. I’ll be fine with it.”

You considered for a moment. “Cerulean,” you said. “I’ll call you Cerulean.” He shrugged.

“If that is what you wish to call me.” His voice sounded mostly even, but he had been in your head and you had been in his and he couldn’t completely hide his pleased embarrassment from you. “Farewell, human.”

With that, he dissolved into the water. You looked out over the surface of the water for a moment, feeling the cool mist of rain on your skin, then you turned around and returned home.

You had planned to visit him sooner, but it ended up being over a month before you went back to the lake. Life was busy as ever, and the weather had one-eightied so sharply that walking to the lake had been profoundly unappealing. It was hot, the sort of heat that made you think crawling into an oven might be the cooler option.

When you hit the third day of drought warnings, you decided to go see Cerulean. Just out of concern. After filling two massive canteens with cold water and strapping them to your thighs, you headed out.

Your house was well-watered, thanks to an underground reservoir, so the drought wasn’t affecting you all that much. But you’d heard that several rivers had dropped precipitously in level, and your mind kept wandering back to the image Cerulean had inadvertently showed you- the one where he struggled in the blazing heat, in a tiny puddle, feeling himself drawn away bit by bit.

The lake had receded. The edge of the lake that you’d stood upon to summon Cerulean for the first time was dry as a bone. The edge of the water, several feet away, was murky with muck and silt. You walked closer and dipped your hand beneath the surface.

“Cerulean?” The water was barely cool to the touch. Sweat dripped down your back as you bent forward. “Cerulean!”

There was silence. Panic flickered in your chest. “Come on, where are you?” You unhooked one of the canteens from your side and dumped the water into the lake. The water rippled. Some distance away, the surface of the lake shifted.

Hope sparked in your chest. “Cerulean!” You dumped the other canteen and plunged your hand back under the water. “Can you hear me?”

The water underneath your hand surged, reaching up until it was encasing your forearm. Slowly, as though it was taking a monumental effort, the water shifted and formed Cerulean’s torso.

“It’s you again,” he said. His form wavered, threatening to fall apart. “I’m afraid if you need my help, I am not in the right condition to do so.”

“I came here because I thought you might need my help!” you said. “Are you okay? The lake looks really low. And the river…” The usual flowing water that fed into the lake was barely more than a trickle.

Cerulean pulled his form further together, rising out of the water to his knees. “I have been… I suppose the human term for it would be asleep? It conserves my energy, but I am not aware of the world around me.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you said. “Mostly okay, anyway. I was worried about you, with the drought.”

“Is that why you brought water with you?” he asked, gesturing to the empty canteens.

“I thought, maybe if the lake levels dropped enough, these might help.”

“It would take monumental effort for a human to maintain the lake in the middle of a drought,” Cerulean said dismissively. “Especially considering your own water needs.”

“I’ve got enough water,” you said. “But the lake looks bad.” It had lost at least half its volume since the rains had stopped.

“I have had worse,” Cerulean said.

“They’re not predicting rain for at least another week,” you said. “And that’s only going to be a drizzle, probably. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“There is little I can do about it either way,” Cerulean said with a flowing shrug. “If there is a drought, there is a drought.”

“What happens if the lake totally dries up?” you asked.

“I die,” Cerulean said. “In a manner of speaking. I will evaporate. Eventually I will reconstitute, but I will lack my memories.”

“So, you’ll forget me?” you asked.

“I will forget everything,” Cerulean said. “That includes you, yes.” He shifted in the water, his form rippling. “This upsets you?”

“A little,” you said.

Cerulean looked as though he didn’t know how to feel about that. His expression rippled, facial features dissolving before he managed to reform them. “Then I will endeavor to remain here,” he said. “Though I have little control over it.”

“Is there a way you could get to a more secure location?” you asked. “Somewhere with more water?”

“If there was another lake or pond of some sort that was not already occupied by a water elemental, it would be possible for me to move there. But there are no areas close by that are suitable.”

“You would know if there were other elementals nearby?” you asked.

“I would sense it,” Cerulean confirmed. “We can tell when we cross into another’s territory, and we can sense where our own territory boundaries end.”

“There weren’t any on my land, were there?” you asked.

“No. I did not sense any when I was there. Though I was not particularly looking hard for anything.”

You considered that for a moment. “Would the lake have to be above ground?”

Cerulean gave you a funny look. “No. Any particularly large body of water would work.”

“Okay. Well. If you’re okay with it, I might have somewhere in mind.”

It took some convincing to let Cerulean come check out the underground reservoir. He was reluctant to leave his home, especially when he was in such a vulnerable state. Eventually, however, you pointed out that there was no harm in just taking a look at it.

“If it will make you happy,” he finally sighed. He poured himself into you again. This time, it no longer felt like an overwhelming wave of power. It was weak, barely enough to make your blood pound. Worry crawled through you at how weak he was.

Your worry is irritating, Cerulean said in your mind. You felt a little embarrassed at the intrusion, but your concern overpowered that.

“Let me worry a little bit. You’re not used to someone being worried over you, huh?” you said. Cerulean bristled in the back of your mind.

No. Elementals are solitary by nature. But you could feel his mind in yours and, as much as he tried to hid it, you could feel that he was pleased someone was caring for him.

You trudged across the land until you got into your house. Cerulean’s attention shifted to the sheep with interest. “We can look at them in a bit,” you said. His attention snapped away again and there was a swell of irritation and poorly hidden embarrassment.

There was a well not too far from your house that was also attached to the reservoir, and that seemed to be the easiest way for him to get to it. You carefully filled the bucket and pulled it up. “You can get in the bucket, and then I can lower you to check it out. Will you need help getting back up?”

No. I will find my own way out. There are many connections to other areas. Cerulean flowed away from you. The water in the bucket rippled and shifted as he entered. You replaced the bucket on the hook and cranked the winch until the bucket had vanished with a quiet splash.

You sat by the edge of the well, swinging your legs. The minutes ticked on as you waited for him to return. By the time thirty minutes had passed, you were starting to get nervous. Could he actually get out on his own, or was he just being overconfident? How would you even get him back out?

Just when you were starting to consider actually getting in the well, your sheep set up a bleating alarm. You scrambled to your feet and bolted toward your barn.

It took you a moment to discover the source of the alarm. One of the spigots had turned itself on and was gushing water onto the ground. Your sheep bleated and skittered away from it. Grimacing at the interruption, you stalked over and tried to twist the spigot back off.

It refused to turn, no matter how much force you tried to put into it. Water splattered at the ground, forming a puddle that soaked your toes. You grimaced. God dammit, you couldn’t afford to be wasting water.

Just as you were about to go find some tools to shut the water off, a familiar form emerged from the water. Cerulean gazed steadily at you, a faint smile gracing his face. He looked far stronger than he had at the lake. His hair was a waterfall behind him and his form was so solid it was hard to see through.

“I thought it was connected to your house,” he said. “It took me some time to fond the correct pipes.” One of the sheep cautiously stepped closer to him and he offered a watery hand. “The reservoir is much larger than I anticipated. It descends a great deal underground and is fed by multiple rivers. Even with water being drawn out of it, the whole thing dwarfs my lake.”

“Then it works for you?” you asked. Cerulean smiled.

“It is a far better territory than my old one, even if there were not a drought.” Cerulean hesitated for a moment. “You would be all right with me taking up residence here?”

“It’s mutually beneficial, isn’t it?” you said. “You have a safe location from the drought, and I’ve got someone who can help out my farm if the rains come back.”

Cerulean gave a small, soft smile. “Mutually beneficial. Yes.”

Weeks passed and you got used to his presence on the farm. It wasn’t uncommon for one of your taps to turn itself on and for Cerulean to appear in your sink or tub or wherever he felt like turning up. Eventually, his presence became a near-constant thing. He would assist on the farm, keep you company in the evenings, and even managed to be good enough at math to help you with your taxes, which was certainly not something you were expecting.

A couple of months after he had come to the farm, you returned home and sank onto your couch. Cerulean peered at you from the kitchen. “Are you well?”

“Sore. Ugh, my muscles are killing me. I don’t know what I did, but I think something happened to my back.” You lay on your stomach, groaning as your back muscles strained and protested. “I’m not moving from this couch.”

Cerulean slipped closer to you. “Would you like some help?”

You opened one of your eyes. “You can help with this?”

Cerulean answered by flowing his shape over you. It was cool for a moment, then it warmed until it was pleasantly heated against your skin. Then the water started to move, currents buffeting your muscles like a massage.

You let out a low groan. “Oh, that’s so good. Thank you, thank you.” your mind hazed with pleasure as you drifted into a state where the only thing present was the feeling of your sore muscles being soothed.

“I miss you,” you murmured absently. Cerulean paused and you whined in displeasure.

“I’m right here,” Cerulean said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I know, but- you remember when you were in my head? I miss that. It was… nice.” You felt relaxed, so relaxed that you were no longer able to guard the words coming from your mouth. “I could feel what it was like to be you for a little bit.”

Cerulean’s massage started again. “You enjoyed that?” There was a long pause. “I enjoyed it as well.”

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” you said.

Cerulean was quiet for a moment longer. “If we are thinking of experiences we would like to try,” he said slowly, “perhaps there is something else we can try. In the show we watched the other day, some humans did something I was interested in.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Yeah? What was it?”

Cerulean leaned forward, tilting his head and his mouth pressed to yours. It was cool and strangely textured, but it tasted sweet and bright as spring water and it made your stomach flutter.

“Do you- Do you know what that means?” you asked as soon as his mouth broke away from his. Cerulean couldn’t blush, but you saw tiny cyclones swirling inside him that indicated he was flustered.

“It’s a gesture of affection,” he murmured. “Between humans who are living together. And it often leads to other things, that often occur between humans who are close.” He leaned his head close to yours again. “I enjoy spending time with you. I feel close to you. And it would be mutually beneficial.”

His tone became more flustered the longer he spoke. Perhaps if you hadn’t been in his head, you would have believed it was just for some passing curiosity. But you knew the look in his eyes, could detect how flustered he was and how much he wanted this. And you had to be honest: you wanted it too.

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” you said, voice teasing. “Well, if it’s mutually beneficial, then why not?”

As Cerulean’s form shifted and flowed over you, trying to cover your body, you murmured a quiet, “I love you.” He didn’t respond, but you knew he had heard you. And he would say it back when he was ready.

For now, you were just happy to have him with you.

#exophilia #monsterxhuman #monster boyriend #water elemental #monster lover #my writing #OC

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