#(Stop calling yourself our 'ally')

[izzyizumi]

IZZYIZUMI BLOG NOTICE

(under 'read more')

I ALSO don’t care WHAT the f*CK your (or all your 'friends'') Standom TakesTM (or whatever else) are if you’re STILL using, and/or Like-ng / r.b'ng / Lrt’ng posts with the “r-slur” in them IN 2K22.

(Edit: Basically, I saw this happening on Digi-Twit Yet Again and I'm still not amused to this day, and I really hope someday they wake up and STOP this kind of thing.)

But in general, the second anyone here starts throwing the "r slur" or "freak" (NO IT'S NOT & Never WAS """~~better~~""") around, regardless of whatever was being discussed, I'm hard-blocking you, because by then it's not about fandom anymore. And you don't get to verbally abuse me, sorry.

#not dgmn #izzyizumi blog notice #izzyizumi aut #izzyizumi vents #digitwit issues #dgmn standom issues #digiadvs standom issues #02 standom issues #r slur tw #things i hardblock over #(Getting real tired of this sh*t) #(People still trolling in 2k22???) #(Stop calling yourself our 'ally') #bad allyship #izzyizumi no rb #izzyizumi no rb posts #(I'm just really angry right now) #(No matter how much I explain this to people who KNEW ME they never acknowledge it Ever) #(Because they'd much rather keep using this because its ~lol funney!!1!1!~ and to dunk on people they hate) #(But its literally just ableism and I'm Tired of This) #*Might Delete Post Later #(For now) #(Edits probably keeping this up a bit longer but YEAH)

[nothorses]

I think one of the ways that tranandrophobia seems to distinguish itself from the other forms of oppression it is connected to is in the way it attempts to convince you it is indistinguishable and that transmascs are always just collateral damage to everyone else's "real" problems.

One example is the very blatent tirf claim that transphobia on its own isn't real, that it is all misdirected transmisogyny, and that transmascs only experience oppression due to our association with transfemmes.

But there is also the insistence that anti abortion laws and similar things are targeted at cis women and therefore are "women's issues" - transmascs shouldn't complain about being excluded because it "isn't about us". Same with homophobia and butchphobia. Even the terf talking point that they are just protecting "little cis girls" from making irreversible mistakes pretends that actual the transmascs being harmed is just an accident and not the goal.

Trying to talk about transandrophobia is a constant stream of "It's just transphobia. It's just misogyny. No, you can't call your experiences misogyny because that isn't about you. You can't call yourself a lesbian or a butch or compare your oppression to lesbophobia. It isn't about you. Yes, terfs hurt you, but you aren't their main target. This isn't about you. Yes, you need abortions and experience medical misogyny, but you can't talk about it because this isn't about you. You were sexually assaulted because of misdirecred misogyny. Don't make it about you. You've never contributed to the history of gay men, or lesbians, or the trans community. It isn't about you. Those cross dressers weren't trans. Stop trying to make women's history about you. You can't reclaim cunt or faggot or dyke because those words aren't about you. I don't care how many times you've been called a tranny. That word isn't about you. Why must you make everything about you?"

Because sure, transmascs exist, and we might be impacted by everyone else's oppression, but it is always thought of as a theoretical consequence of what is really going on, if it is thought of at all. Transmascs are not considered to be oppressed in our own right.

This idea gives the lawmakers plausible deniability, allies an excuse to ignore us, and feeds into transmasc erasure. If we are never the actual target to begin with, then clearly, we can't be uniquely targeted. The law makers don't need to be held accountable for their transandrophobia because it isn't like they are trying to hurt transmascs, right? We need to let the real victims speak, the ones being targeted on purpose.

Nobody ever sees the way it all piles up, and even if they do, they think "well it's just an accident, right? If we fix the main problem, then this fringe issue will go away on its own" without ever considering that transandrophobia isn't as rare, fringe, or accidental as society wants it to appear and that actual effort needs to be put into dismantling it.

It isn't that they actually believe that transandrophobia isn't real. It's that they just don't believe it is about transmascs. Because even if we are the common denominator, we are still just collateral damage and could not possibly have anything of value to say. Because as collateral damage, our issues are never our own and thus never need to be discussed on our own terms.

100%. And I think this is exactly what this sort of cycle of erasure depends on.

We are erased, our problems are erased, and our oppression is erased, which means it's easy for people to ignore us, our problems, and our oppression. There's so little evidence, so few people talking about it, and they never really see or hear anyone name us in this violence, so surely, it isn't about us at all! It must be about the people they know about already, the problems they know about, and the ones who are always readily named in these conversations.

If we're speaking up, there's no reason to believe us; if anything, we come under scrutiny for trying to talk about these issues nobody else can see. We must be crazy, hysterical, whiny and overdramatic, or perhaps malicious. We're stealing attention, stealing space, and stealing help. We might be victims, but we are incidental and unworthy victims.

And ignoring us, our problems, and our oppression means we continue to be erased. Which makes it easier to ignore us, and erase us, and easier to perpetuate violence against us. And so on.

It's understandable, in a way, for people to ignore us; most people don't know about any of this in the first place, and when they do, they're not inclined to take any of it seriously. Even if they do see convincing evidence that our problems are real and worth talking about, it's easy for that to be a one-off that they eventually forget about. Everyone else is talking about everything else, so we sort of fade away.

It's not their fault; they're not trying to ignore us. They just haven't learned to recognize violence against us, and they just don't seek us out, and can they really be blamed for that? Can they really be blamed for the violence that continues because they and others don't see or try to stop it? We're so hard to find in the first place. You know, because we've been so thoroughly erased.

There are a lot of people who've been fighting this for a long time, and even more we don't-- and probably won't-- ever know about, who've been fighting for even longer. I think it's getting better; the organized backlash against us is, imo, a sign that our reach is getting stronger and wider. But it's a hard cycle to break.

#transandrophobia #anti transmasculinity

[arcielee]

Zȳha lyks

Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 2.4k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, fat phobia, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied. Author's Note: This story is based on this request:

I definitely tweaked it a bit but I hope you enjoy it.💜 Thank you to my beloved beta reader @annikin-im-panicin for your insight with this peace and to @azperja for your emojis 💜 Valyrian translations: Zȳha lyks is his peace 💜 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

It was your father’s ambition to weave himself in the inner circle of the crowned princess that pulled you away from Claw Isle, leaving your brother behind to step into the role vacant for House Celtigar. During your journey, your father would repeatedly impress the importance of absorbing the tutoring of the maesters, to learn of your ancestral history before it had been so diluted by the blood of Westeros…but he was also adamant that you were to take advantage of your social seating, to make worthwhile and lifelong allies while in King’s Landing. 

You were quick to note the marionette strings that Prince Aegon held, allowing the Strong bastards to hold their heads high with their snide comments on how they found you, “pleasantly plump enough,” or so they supposed. 

It cut through your skin and burrowed into your heart, but your face never betrayed your anger nor your hurt. Instead, you went to your father with your heartache but his response was almost flippant about your torment. 

“Our blood stems from the veins of Old Valyria,” your father now spoke of this as a fact, as something without any room to argue against. “They are our kinfolk and we seem destined to intertwine our blood with the blood of the dragon.” 

But on this day you pushed aside your father’s words the moment you saw Prince Aegon and his puppets shift their collective cruelty onto the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond Targaryen. 

He was a quiet, sullen boy, who always seemed sunkissed and kept his large, lavender eyes downcast. You saw how his pain curved his posture, a hooded melancholy draped across his slouched shoulders. He blanched as the boys retrieved the Pink Dread, his freckles stark on his porcelain skin. 

Their gibe laughter echoed within the Dragon Pit and it boiled your blood, urging your steps forward to push past the brunette pair of princes and towards the puppeteer. Aegon’s brow raised, amused with your flushed fury that was staining your features, quick to sneer his comment on how, “–perhaps this swine could be mounted in–” but it stopped once your balled fist cracked into his nose. 

Your satisfaction trilled up and down your spine with the pop of cartilage, watching as he cupped his face and the crimson that poured between his fingers. His wounded howl called back the Dragonkeepers and the White Cloaks assigned to them, all horrified at the sight. You were in trouble, undoubtedly, feeling the large hand that curled around your wrist to drag you back to your father. You dared look at Aemond, catching the upturn quirk of his mouth, the glitter in his eyes that met with your own.   

It began a bond with the foundation of a mutual disdain, a hatred that would be solidified with events at Driftmark. 

The events that followed that fateful night were flurried: the crowned princess all but fled the capital with her new husband and children, while your father decided to uproot and follow after. This had been halted by the queen’s request, behest of her daughter Princess Helaena, asking if you would remain as one of her ladies and confidants. 

It was something that could not be denied and you found yourself alone with Helaena, her first request was for you to bring a book to her brother, who had since been boarded up in his room to recover. 

“Am I to read to him?” You peered up from the cover to Helaena. “What if he does not wish to see me?” 

“I believe this book and its company would interest him,” she glowed with her sweet smile, “I believe he would enjoy the change in narration, as our maester is rather monotone,” was all that she offered. 

At first, Aemond had been hesitant of your company, bashful of the bloodied bandages that required to be tended to, but you showed to be steadfast, unflinching, but with a sense of empathy without the effortful pity that came from everyone else. You saw how he warmed as your visitations turned habitual, with you joining with his lessons and remaining when the maesters left. Helaena would slyly dismiss you for the day and this allowed Aemond to help you practice your shared ancestral tongue, or listen to whatever tome caught your attention in the library, even delving into bits of gossip or updates that pertained to his dragon. 

“Vhagar flies over once a day. I assume it is to check on you,” you informed him one afternoon, “and she rests on the outside of the city walls, overlooking the bay.” 

His cheeks pinked with his shy admittance, “I can feel her.” 

You could not help your smile in return. Whereas Helaena was always sweet and always kind to you, and even Aegon had a newfound respect in your regard, you found it was the second son of King Viserys that allowed you to find a sense of comfort that you thought had been left at home. 

Aemond recovered, as you knew he would, and you still remained at his blindside as he reacclimated to his new depth perception. He began to wear an eyepatch over his scarred socket, its wrathful red line curling above and below, along with his apprehension to the whispers of the court about the marred Targaryen prince. 

“You are the rider of Vhagar, with the blood of the dragon in your veins,” you reminded him, your own blood rising to the surface. “Pay them no mind.” 

Aemond listened to you, as he always did, focusing his determination on relearning his world with his handicap. You watched as he grew tall, his sinewy frame becoming taut under his fitted tunic and slacks, a result of the countless hours he spent training with Ser Criston. He matured with a severity etched into the marble he seemed to be chiseled from, though you still would see a perpetual smirk that would play across his lips. 

Your heart fluttered until it bruised against your breastbone when he shyly asked that you would walk on his right side. “I wish to be able to see you,” he murmured and you burned with his words. Aemond showed consideration to match his gait with your steps and you enjoyed the heat that seemed to permeate from him; his large palm would cover your own, tucking it into the crook of his arm to keep you close at his side. 

Worthwhile and lifelong allies, your father’s mantra repeated in your mind, but on his eight and tenth nameday, you felt the thrum of an unknown emotion vibrating within you with his close proximity. 

His mother had gifted him a sapphire stone that was carved to fit where his eye once been, and when he focused his bicolored gaze on you–how the blue was brought out in his lavender eye with the complement of the gemstone, its amber flecks in the shine from the candles lit–did you feel the air pull from your lungs. 

You had never cared for the vicious tittering of the noblewomen and would find yourself arguing how Aemond was handsome still, as it seemed a quality trait that most Targaryen men possessed. But in that moment, as the warmth flooded your features from his steady stare that now bore through you, you began to grasp it to be so much more for you. 

Aemond misread your reaction, flinching to pull on his eyepatch with his apology: “I would never want to offend you–” 

Your hand reached with its own volition, touching his elbow to stop him. He paused and looked at you and you took a breath before you could manage to say, “Aemond, you are beautiful.” 

You burned from your boldness that was spilling from your tongue, your realization of what began as a mutual hatred for his nephews was on the precipice of something you knew you could not ignore. 

Aemond watched you, his eye flitting over, before he tucked his eyepatch into his pocket and then offered his elbow to you. “Come, Lady Celtigar, we should not keep them waiting,” his voice low, and only then did you notice the rose hue that touched his cheeks. 

After his celebration, it would be romanticized how the prince disappeared, taking Vhagar to fly to Claw Isle and demand your hand in marriage, against the Lord Hand’s protest for a more strategic pairing. Aemond would not be deterred and he returned with the intention to have you as his wife, which you graciously accepted. The ceremony that followed was intimate, steeped in the tradition of Old Valyria and sealed with a kiss that tasted of iron. 

It was then you felt a new shyness that swept through with your muted mortification of the intimacy that was now expected of you, that Aemond would see all of you. He always seemed to take pride with how you were dressed in your finery, gowns stitched to complement your buxom figure, but you soon learned that Aemond much preferred what was beneath the silk and lace. 

That night he would show you. He relished to peel away your layers, his mouth ravenous to taste your skin, his tongue licking to follow the natural slopes of your breasts and to the valley between. Aemond was panting with his anticipation, placing hot, opened mouth kisses to cherish your every curve, with gentle nips of his teeth that left blooms of rose as he continued towards your soft stomach and lower. He savoured your taste and how your body responded, how you were breathless, flushed, writhing beneath him. 

“Aemond,” you gasped as he nestled between your plush thighs. 

He shushed you, his breath warm against your silken folds, and it tickled in a way that caused you to squeeze his head between. His pleasure spilled with a low, guttural groan that rattled your bones beneath, but he would never pull away, as you would learn.   

Your fingers combed through his silver hair as he began to tease you, sparks licking the base of your spine as he drank your essence. His gentle touch fell in tandem with his tongue, a pacing that was harmonized with your sweet sighs, only quickening with the flutter of your walls. The sparks of pleasure flashed white with your peak shuddering throughout, pulsing around his digits that remained knuckle deep, coaxing you to completion. 

When your breath finally returned, you felt him grinning against your cunt. You found the muscle strength to tilt your chin down and meet with his eye blown, the shine of you on his smug expression. “One more for me, pretty girl,” his tone was low, commanding, his lips feathering your now swollen bloom of nerves. 

You were boneless and quivering from your second release and only then did Aemond shift to move on top of you, melting against the softness of your skin, fitting in a way that you never realized before was missing from you. 

He captured your mouth, his gentle thrusts filled you, completed you, and he trembled with his own reserve until you finally begged, “Aemond, my love, please, I need you–” that he rolled his hips against you, burying to the hilt with a rhythm that grew desperate. The litany that spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, the flashes returning but with color from this new pleasure rekindling deeper within you.

That night, Aemond showed you the dragon that you were always aware thrummed beneath his practiced poise, something insatiable and wanting. He played the perfect gentleman in court, though his large hands always reached to touch, to grab whenever eyes were turned. You were his peace personified, decorated with love bites of your passion shared, the lifeline to his sanity that balanced on the edge of the coin flipped by the gods. 

And it was tested when the crowned princess returned to argue for the claimant of Driftmark. 

That night, the dinner had a palpable tension that the minstrels tried to drown with their music. Aemond held his gaze, piercing, loathsome, waiting for a moment to lash out, and that moment came served on a platter: a suckling pig that crackled still from the flames it had been removed from. 

You first noticed the crass snickering of Prince Lucerys that was followed by the swell of your husband’s anger, something you quickly abated with the gentle press of your hand to his forearm as you pushed to stand. The room halted, the attention trained to you as you made show to hold up your gilded cup. “Final tribute,” your sickly sweet tone began, “to the health of our nephews…” 

You knew that Aemond was watching, his agitation holding him rigid in his seat, his curiosity browed as you continued your insincerity, stating all three of their names with emphasis, “...each of them handsome, wise,” and your lips, stained by the wine, curled upwards, “Strong.” 

It was a rippled effect: the shock of the queen, the sharp eyes of the Lord Hand, the heated glare from the other end of the room, but it did not stop you. Instead you looked for the perpetual smirk that was now playing across your husband’s mouth. 

“Come now,” you gestured again with your goblet and even Aegon, with a dark chuckle, raised his own, “let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” 

“I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond pushed to stand, his ire returned with a force as he moved to wall you away from Jacaerys. “You dare raise your tone to my wife,” his wrath cut with each word, the fire in his blood pouring from him. “She only meant to compliment you… or do you not think yourself Strong?” 

It ended as quick as it had begun with Jacaerys thrown across the floor and a throaty chuckle from the back of Aemond’s throat. The clash of dragons was split apart by the White Cloaks and you watched your husband with a pride blooming in your chest, knitting with the love you now realized you had always carried for him: he was truly beautiful, squared off and fearless, his severity now furrowed onto his features that showed golden from the candles lit. 

You held your head high as you walked to grab his sleeve and his attention returned to you, to your touch, though his scowl remained splayed on the sharp edges of his face. You pulled him to leave, to return towards your bedchambers; Aemond brimmed with a passion that you knew needed a release and you would forever be willing to be that vessel for your husband.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @hb8301 @snowprincesa1 @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9 @helaelaemond

arcie's hotd masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond taragaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #plus size reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #Zȳha lyks #his peace

[poetry-protest-pornography]

I need all of you "Biden is a genocidal asshole" folks to just... Think rationally for five minutes.

Do I think he's doing the right thing about Palestine? No, absolutely not. It infuriates me and breaks my heart and makes me want to work harder to push our politicians to be better.

Do I realize that as political allies of Israel, the only choice we have is to uphold our agreements, and that falling to do so means we have zero leverage to push the Israeli government to stop? Yep, sure do.

Do I recognize that as the President of the United States, Biden has zero power over the Israeli government? Yes, because I'm not a fucking idiot.

Do I know without a doubt that any Republican would be 1000 times worse, and actively calling for the continuation of the genocide? Yes.

Will Trump (I do not understand how this is even an option, it makes me incandescent with rage) be even worse? Will he send bombs personally? Will he use his friendship with Netanyahu to gain valuable tips on how to oppress the people of the nation he heads? Absolutely 100%

I know all of this, and if you can think past the immediate outrage and superiority it makes you feel to talk about your protest vote for a third party that will not win and not help anyone and only help elect actual fascists, you know it to! Just get the fuck over yourself and pick the literal only viable option.

#just fucking vote #vote blue #vote #very excited about the death threats this will get me 🙄 #block me babs

[grandlinedreams]

Hii I just found out about your blog today! I really like your writing 🤭 Can I request a straw hat reader and law trying to keep their relationship a secret but they failed. Then the reaction from both crews! Thank you!

Hi bb!! Thank-you, I'm honored!! 🥺💖 but oh absolutely!! I hope this is to your liking, bb! (Ig this is a little non-canon? indeterminate setting)

Palm up, you stare at the little square of white that inches across your skin at a steady pace. There are limits to vivre cards, you know that ㅡ but you can't help but silently will everything involved to move faster.

"You're not sneaky, you know." You whirl, finding Nami leaning against the doorway with an amused look on her face, arms folded across her chest.

"I don't know what you mean," you say warily, mentally kicking yourself for pulling the paper out without making sure you wouldn't be spotted with it, even as your fingers close around it protectively.

Nami's head tilts. "That secret candy stash," she says, "you're not very good at hiding it. You're just lucky that Luffy hasn't figured out where to look yet."

"Oh," you answer, trying not to sound too relieved that she doesn't mean the vivre card you've been watching for the last ten minutes. "Right. I'll have to move it around, then."

Nami studies you silently for a moment in which you're almost certain she knows, but then she pulls from the doorway with a sigh. "We're supposed to be meeting up with the Heart Pirates, so you might want to come out and join us before Luffy figures that something is up."

"Right behind you," you answer, waiting until she turns to put the vivre card away and moving to follow. Outside, you're just in time to watch the swell of waves break, exposing gleaming yellow metal.

"There they are!" Luffy crows excitedly from where he's perched atop his usual seat, waving to the Polar Tang despite the fact that nobody can see him yet.

"Remind me why we're still letting them hang around?" Zoro asks and you turn towards him, though Robin answers for you.

"Because it's important to keep good relations with our allies." She glances towards you. "You agree, don't you?"

You swear there's something in her gaze, a glint of amusement that runs deeper than watching you fumble to agree.

"Whatever," huffs Zoro. "Still think that guy's full of himself."

You bite your tongue, waiting until you're certain you won't say something you regret. "Luffy is our Captain, Zoro. If he trusts them, then we should too."

You feel a lot more than trust towards Trafalgar Law. But though it's gotten easier to keep those feelings under lock and key, it's still hard to not want to bounce forward and fling your arms around him the way Luffy does.

"Traffy!! Good to see you!"

"I've told you to stop calling me that, Strawhat," Law grouses, struggling to free himself from the rubber man's grip. "And get off me!"

Luffy seems far from upset by Law's greeting, cheerful grin still wide and bright as he lets go to offer the same greeting to Bepo, just a few feet behind his Captain.

You pretend not to notice when Law glances at you, your own attention pointedly fixed on some obscure point until you can't feel the weight of his gaze anymore. Only then do you lett yourself look back at him, fingers twitching at the memory of his vivre card on your palm.

ㅡ

Luffy's plan for the ally rendezvous ends up being to anchor both the Sunny and the Polar Tang at the back coast of a nearby island with the intent to keep either crew from being spotted and recognized. (It's more Law's idea, but all he does is roll his eyes when Luffy repeats it with much more enthusiasm.)

After that it's a blur of cooking food in the kitchen, platters laden down with piles of food and lowered down onto the beach, where a bonfire (small and carefully contained) is going at Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper's request.

"Is there a reason you're avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," you say from where you're picking up dry kindling for the bonfire. "Didn't we agree not to tell either of our crews we're together?"

"True," Law agrees as he approaches, "but I hardly think pretending that I don't exist at all is going to work either. They'll think you hate me."

"I think Zoro has that covered," you mumble. "But you know I don't hate you, Law."

"I do?" There's a hint of amusement in his tone, smirk tugging at his lips. He's teasing you, the jerk. "Could have fooled me."

You roll your eyes. "What if you're the one who hates me? Hm?"

He approaches, the height difference all the clearer for how he seems to tower over you, even as he leans down. "Hate is the furthest word from how I feel about you."

You've only shared a handful of kisses with Law and each time, you've been the one to initiate them. Perhaps a testament to how he's missed you, Law leans in, lips pressing against yours.

Your eyes close, and you're tempted to drop the bundle of wood in your hands in favor of curling them into his shirt ㅡ only to break apart at the same time as Law at the sound of your Captain's voice in tandem with Bepo's.

"Hey Traffy!! Where'd you go?"

"Captain? Captain!"

Law sighs. "So much for that," he says, pulling away from you completely and turning back in the direction that he'd come from. "Don't take too long coming back either, or they'll think you got eaten by a Sea King."

Watching his back, it's only then that you realize he's somehow eased the bundle of sticks from your grip and walked away with it ㅡ effectively leaving you with zero reason as to why you'd left in the first place.

"Jerk," you mutter, but you're smiling, bringing a hand up to trace your lips and the lingering warmth.

ㅡ

Sunset is a milky blend of reds and oranges, vibrant against the deep blue of the sea, inciting a deeper sense of contentment that makes you dig your feet into the sunwarmed sand.

"Comfortable?" Law seats himself beside you without preamble, the brush of his arm against yours intentional. You debate for a moment before you lean against him, gaze flicking upward to watch his lips curve into a softer smile when you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I am now," you mumble, let your eyes drift shut as you try to commit this to memory. "I wish we saw each other more."

There's a deeper meaning to it, a wholly selfish want for something more stable than what you have ㅡ going months at a time without sreing each other, vivre cards the only way of guaranteed safety. (It isn't safety, not really. Just the reassurance that the other is still alive.)

"I know." Law answers. "...every time I hear about whatever stunt you lot have pulled, I check your vivre card." Another deeper meaning, vulnerability where he usually can't afford it. "We could tell them, you know."

You snort. "Tell them what? 'Sorry, we've been dating behind your back for the last two years?'"

"You're dating Traffy?"

You feel Law tense under your head at Luffy's voice, and you turn to find him staring at the two of you.

Shit.

"Luffy, I, uhㅡ"

"Yes," Law cuts in, "we are." It startles you, how freely he's admitting to it now when he's the one who wanted to be so damn careful about it.

"Oh," Luffy says. And then he grins. "That's so cool! I mean, as long as you're not gonna steal [Name] and make them join you all the time."

You wonder if somewhere down the line, you've hit your head and entered a different dimension. Surely you have, for Law to be so blasé in admitting to your relationship and Luffy ㅡ well, that's on par for him.

Luffy takes it a step further, however, turning and cupping his hands around his mouth. "You guys!! Did you know Traffy and [Name] were dating?"

You flinch, Law's expression unreadable as there's an answering call ㅡ Shachi.

"No offense Captain, but we figured it out last year!"

"I thought they seemed awful chummy! Congrats, you two!" Nami.

And then Luffy is bounding off back to the others, and your shoulders slump. "Well, that was a lot of worry for nothing," you lament, though you reach for Law's hand, lacing your fingers before you stand, tugging him to his feet. "Come on, boyfriend. We have some explaining to do."

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered. #anonymous #–ml: law.

[fairuzfan]

I don’t ask this expecting you have THE answer or that there is one, but I follow a non Palestinian white man on insta (in addition to many Palestinian folks in diaspora and in Palestine) who mostly shares things from Palestinian ppl/sources.

He has several times criticized / shared criticism of charity dinners, music festivals etc raising funds for Gaza with the perspective of, it’s not appropriate to have a dance party or dinner while people are undergoing genocide, but also that in this moment, art isn’t resistance because there needs to be physical resistance, blockades of weapons, etc.

I’ve seen this echoed from some others especially critiquing white folks trying to claim “joy is resistance” right now, which makes sense to me, but i also wonder if it’s reductive to say art or music is not resistance because I feel like it can have a lot of power especially alongside social movements… was wondering if you had thoughts on this or perhaps knew where I could look to learn more.

Please ignore if this is too much, and thank you

I think things like writing and illustration and music feeds into the spirit of revolution and is necessary in that way. You have to energize the masses somehow, and to ensure that your message spreads as far as possible. A good way is to make art, or to sing a song, or write a story.

That's why Wisam Rafeedi wrote his book and different resistance factions make posters and videos — to spread their ideas and garner support among the masses.

It's not as important as putting yourself in immediate physical danger to incapacitate the colonial entity — but I think for Palestinians and other colonized peoples, they do need to make art to really process their thoughts. Of course there's a difference when a Palestinian in Palestine, a Palestinian in the diaspora, a nonPalestinian ally of color, and a NonPalestinian white ally do this. I won't deny that there's a nuance when it comes to this.

But writers who write about Palestinian Liberation historically have been assassinated because of how they participate in liberation actions and also spread ideas of liberation themselves. I don't know which white guy you're talking about but I feel like this is mostly a conversation that should be led by Palestinians if we're talking about Palestine because they understand the nuance of saying statements like "the only resistance is physical." I understand what he's saying to an extent but that does erase a lot of Palestinian resistance the past few decades by making sweeping statements like "art is not resistance" and kind of simplifies the issue at hand.

Charity dinners and galas and that stuff... I don't know what I think about them, I think that people are going to do it either way so my opinion doesn't really matter. Hey, if you're going to raise thousands of dollars for Palestine, I'm not going to stop you at all. I personally think you should try to avoid posting pictures and stuff like that from the gala itself if you're going to host one just out of courtesy.

I guess overall what I'm trying to say, art resistance becomes physical a lot of the time. I think its really reductive to say "art isn't resistance" and also personally insulting considering I have family members and friends who were journalists, creative writers, and artists and killed/targeted for their work.

Here's this article by Fargo Tbahkhi about the role of writing during a genocide that might be a good read. They also mention how Israeli propaganda (calling Palestinians "human animals"/"Amalek" as an example) is specifically a use of culture and writing to energize people to commit genocide. An especially poignant part that I completely agree with, and am trying to get at:

Palestine requires that we abandon this catharsis. Nobody should get out of our work feeling purged, clean. Nobody should live happily during the war. Our readers can feel that way when liberation is the precondition for our work, and not the dream. When it is the place we stand, and not the place we shake ourselves towards. In this way, what the long middle of revolution requires, what Palestine requires, is an approach to writing whose primary purpose is to gather others up with us, to generate within them an energy which their bodies cannot translate into anything but revolutionary movement. This is what Boal modeled for us in his theatrical experiments, which were dedicated to empowering audiences to act, to participate in a creative struggle to envision and embody alternatives. For Boal, theater was not revolution, but it was a rehearsal for the revolution, meant to gather communities together in that rehearsal. Creative work readies us for material work, by offering a space to try out strategies, think through contradictions, remind us of our own agency.  

#palestine

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Rescue pt. 1: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standard for women, attempted kidnapping

The king was worse than you imagined, but perhaps you were being dramatic.

He had done nothing but spoke of himself, the money he had and everything else about him. You don't don't think you'd ever met a man who was more full of himself than the king and yet no one seemed to find an issue with that.

You had barely spoken to him, not that he gave you a chance, and he didn't seem to notice. You instead just spent most of you time smiling and nodding, not even wasting your energy to open your mouth.

You had also noticed that he seemed to eye the maids who walked past, paying them more attention than you, his future wife.

Was this supposed to be the rest of your life? Were you supposed to be an accessory that was decorated and put on display, being spoken at but never spoken to while your husband chased after other women?

Did your mother hate you? Why would she do this to you?

"For security." She had told you. "We need a strong ally and you are far too past the age to be unmarried, our people adore you but they talk."

It was naïve but you wished you were born in a time where you could marry for love instead. This security felt like a prison, this marriage would be your chains. You were already alone but you'd be more isolated than ever once he stole you away to his kingdom.

It took everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"I hope you're as excited as I am." The king finally addressed you later than night at dinner and you smiled instinctively.

"Of course, your majesty." Your words were like poison and left a bad taste in your mouth.

"My family and our kingdoms will grow. Soon we won't have to worry about any war."

His family.

You were paralyzed by that notion, disgusted by thinking about the man in front of you touching you or laying with you. You were sure that he'd forget about you if you were pregnant with his child or that would be the only time he'd pay attention to you. You'd be thrown to the side once you gave him an heir, you were sure of it.

Fear gripped your throat, your entire being and it became too much.

You had pushed these feelings away for months, you had ignored them and tried to convince yourself that you could do it for the sake of your kingdom and your people but you couldn't. You were terrified.

After dinner, you were supposed to make your way to your bedchamber, but once you were out of sight, you ran towards the garden.

You somehow slipped past the guards and ran to the river, but you didn't stop. Instead you ran into the forest and let the setting sun guide you far from the castle in hopes that maybe if you couldn't see it your problems would disappear as well.

You stopped when you realized there nowhere you could go. You could run to the nearest village and someone may recognize you or you'd be caught eventually by the knights. Any neighboring kingdom was too far and you'd die in the wilderness before you got close.

You were trapped.

"Are you lost, my lady?" A voice called out to you and you jumped.

A group of men stepped onto the path you were on. They looked as if they had been on the road for a while and judging by their destitute clothes they might not have a place to go to.

However, what sympathy you had for them quickly disappeared when you noticed the strange look in their eyes. You took a couple steps back, but noticed a couple other men appeared behind you.

"No." You said firmly, lying through your teeth. "I was on my way to the village."

One of the men scoffed and raised an eyebrow, not believing you. He seemed to have special interest in your dress and jewelry you were wearing, no doubt knowing exactly who you were.

"We could show you the way." He offered but you shook your head, slowly finding yourself being cornered by the men.

"I can find my own way, thank you." You swallowed hard.

"You'd be much safer with us, your highness."

You stepped away from them as quick as possible and grabbed a stick, brandishing it front of you to keep them away. You face burned when they laughed and you're not sure what it would do to help you but it was the only thing you could think of.

You could bargained them with money but they'd get more out of you if they held you for ransom.

One of the men lunged at you and you swung the stick, smacking him in the middle of the face, causing him to cry out. You hit another before one grabbed your from behind and forced your to drop the stick. You struggled and screamed before you felt something sharp poke underneath your jaw.

"You'll come complacent or dead." The man threatened as he made a show of the dagger.

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest and you began to panic. You thought this would be it before you heard approaching hooves.

An arrow flew threw the air and hit another man square in the back before another sunk deep into a man's arm. Price rode in on his horse and drew his sword before he jumped off, engaging with the men.

He was much quicker than them and far more skilled. Iron clashed with each other and the men let out cries when Price cut them with his blade, going completely untouched.

You used the commotion to stamp your foot on the man and elbow him in the gut. You managed to push away from him, not before getting cut with his blade on your arm, before you ran away from him.

Price grabbed you and pulled you behind him. He stood in front of you protectively and kept his bloody sword brandished to deter the bandits from moving any closer to you.

"Stay behind me." He told you lowly. "I'll keep you safe."

You blame the reason why your chest was set aflame on the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Some of the bandits were dead, lying in a pool of their own blood, while others held onto their bleeding wounds. Their leader glared at Price but he didn't falter.

"Bastard knight." The leader spat.

"You wouldn't want to lose more of your men would you, eh?" He stood tall and kept a fierce, but confident look in his eyes. "I'm more than willing to let you if that's what you want however."

The bandit thought for just a moment they all ran away into the forest.

Your arm stung and you placed your hand over the wound while you watched them run. Warm blood stained your hand but you were more focus on Price in front of you, unable to take your eyes off the back of his head.

The warmth in your chest only grew as he turned to you, his eyes sharp but laced with concern.

a/n: i think i know who fell first or at least who i want to fall first

Tags. @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #captain john price #rpincess!reader #au #john price x reader #call of duty

[transmascissues]

a lot of people aren't going to want to hear this, but if you actually want trans men to stop "playing up" our assigned sex/"female socialization" or "walking back" on our manhood in conversations, here's what you need to do:

accept that it is possible for men (yes, 100%-men-and-nothing-but-men) to experience gendered oppression, including misogyny. accept that it is entirely possible for captial-m Men to have a lifetime worth of experiences with misogyny. accept that it is possible for men to be not just hurt by but systemically oppressed under the patriarchy. accept that being oppressed for one's gender does not require any proximity to womanhood. accept that it is possible for men to experience the things you call "women's issues". stop calling the misogyny specifically directed at us "misdirected". stop acting like our manhood somehow cancels out the oppression we've experienced. stop considering yourself more of an authority on our oppression than we are just because we're men and you're not. stop supporting activist spaces that expect men to "shut up and listen and be good allies" while everyone else task about their oppression. stop simplifying the complexities of gendered oppression to "man = privileged, woman = oppressed". you would distance yourself from your identity too if people used it to gaslight and silence you about your lived experiences.

stop acting like being a man makes someone somehow "less trans" or "less queer". learn how to view all trans people as equally trans and equally part of the community. unlearn your tendency to view manhood and masculinity as inherently less queer than other gender expressions. stop talking about how trans men are "the weakest link" or making "jokes" about how much worse we are than other people in the community or blaming us for all of its problems. stop acting like being men means we have less of a right than other trans people to speak on what it's like to be trans. you would distance yourself from your identity too if you knew that doing so would mean being more accepted by the community you rely on.

deconstruct your belief that cis manhood is the gold standard of manhood. stop telling trans men that it's transphobic for them to assert that their experience of manhood might be different from that of a cis man. stop trying to pressure trans men into never acknowledging how their transness makes their experience of manhood unique by accusing them of "misgendering themselves" or "saying trans men aren't real men". accept that trans men are not cis men and never will be cis men and are still 100% very real men anyway because cis manhood is only one type of manhood. understand that if you hear "trans men are different from cis men" and think that means "trans men aren't men", you're the one who's actually saying cis men are the only real men. you would distance yourself from your identity too if people said that claiming that identity required being exactly the same as a group you're not a part of.

get yourself a personality that isn't just talking about how much you hate men. stop telling all the men in your life how much you hate men and acting like their willingness to just take it is a measure of their moral goodness. stop making "jokes" about how trans men are "joining the enemy". stop talking about how much you wish you weren't attracted to men, or how much of a shame it is that someone else is. stop acting like womanhood and femininity are inherently pure and good and harmless while manhood and masculinity are inherently gross and evil and dangerous. stop acting like there's something inherently corruptive about existing as a man that fundamentally changes someone the second they come out as one. stop acting like it's funny to say you want to kill all of us as if there aren't countless people actively working to eliminate us. you would distance yourself from your identity too if everyone you knew spent their free time talking about how much they hate it.

help put spaces and resources into place that take trans men into consideration. stop getting mad at trans men who "call themselves men but still want access to women's spaces" and start looking at the world around you and asking why we want access to those spaces. open your eyes and realize that there is nothing out here for us, that all of the spaces and resources catered toward our experiences are marketed for everyone except us. ask yourself where the hell we're supposed to go when every clinic specializing in care for our bodies is a "women's clinic", when the only men's shelters are really just for cis men and the people advocating for "inclusive" shelters see all men as a threat to be warded off, when no one is willing to make an actual place for us and we have no choice but to just find the place that looks the least risky and hope they let us stay. put some effort into making this world more hospitable for us. you would distance yourself from your identity too if the resources you need to survive were offered for every identity but yours.

actually show trans men some fucking love for once in your life. find it in your heart to actually give a shit about trans men, to see us as real whole people who are deserving of love and community, to see our needs and feelings as worth your time and energy. care about us, care about our lives, care about our health and happiness and well-being instead of abandoning us the second we come out as men. start valuing our presence in the community and realize that we actually have a lot to offer if you could just listen to us. ask yourself why you're so comfortable leaving us to fend for ourselves in a world that wants us dead and is currently being very loud about that fact. you would distance yourself from your identity too if the community that supported you for years suddenly stopped caring about you the second you embraced it.

y'all will spend all day talking about how horrible it is that some trans men emphasize that they were assigned/raised female but nobody actually cares why so many of us do that. no one actually bothers to ask why we would put so much effort into being recognized as men but be afraid to fully claim that identity. no one wants to consider that they might be part of the problem, that they might be partially responsible for the thing they're complaining about.

if you want trans men to be able to stand firmly in our manhood and not undermine it with a million disclaimers, you have to actually put in the work to create an environment that's less hostile to trans men who do stand firmly in it.

because right now, regardless of my own personal opinions on the ways some trans men talk about their experiences as "afabs" or their "female socialization" or being "men but not like that", regardless of what issues i personally have with those kinds of statements, i can't blame them. not one fucking bit. and if you actually looked at how the world treats us - how our own community treats us - when we do fully own our manhood, you would feel the same way.

and if you aren't willing to do these things - which are literally just basic respect and care for other human beings, by the way - you don't get to complain about the ways trans men deal with how people like you treat our manhood. you can't expect a problem to disappear when you won't even acknowledge the part you might play in causing it.

#just saw yet another bit of socialization discourse and im so tired of the back and forth that i gave in and decided to Post About It #people love to notice trans men doing a thing and get mad at the thing without ever wondering why the thing happens in the first place #it's honestly incredibly dehumanizing #because it treats us like one dimensional things with no motivation other than Do Bad Man Things #instead of as whole complex people whose actions are motivated by complicated mental processes #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #trans men #transmascs

[windvexer]

On what I'm going to call "peer positioning" in witchcraft, and the scary empowerment it can bring you

I think a lot of people who get into witchcraft have a problem with being able to see themselves as peers & equals to the powers they cultivate around them.

I see this most often discussed when it comes to gods. "Just because your god asks you for something doesn't mean you need to do it!" Etc. I think we've all heard that.

But today my thoughts are on the tarot, and how some people seem to treat tarot readings as "the truth" or "the answer" that then must be followed, even if they (the living, breathing, human practitioner) don't really agree or don't really want to do that.

I'm really big on the analogy of a witch as a monarch, and the concept of various powers (like gods, spirits, tools, and spells) being counselors in the throne room.

In this context, it's easier to adopt the mindset that all of these powers have their own personalities, abilities, and goals - and that they can & will provide conflicting information when you ask for advice. (Especially ancestors - so opinionated!)

Imagine Captain Picard sitting in the meeting room with Geordi, Riker, and the rest of the space nerds.

Captain Picard is like, "the power core is failing and the away team is stranded on the planet. I think we should use the nebula to hide until the Gromflomites stop searching for us." And then Geordi is like, "but Captain, the engines would never make it! We have to go rescue the away team immediately!" And Captain Picard is like, "damn... Wow. I really wanted to go to the nebula, I thought it was the best choice :/ but if you're saying we literally don't have to worry about the Gromflomites..." Then Riker is like, "Captain, no. Geordi isn't saying the Gromflomites aren't a problem, he's just expressing his top concerns as Chief Engineer." And then Picard is all, "oh, so... this is conflicting information? Did that mean I did a bad reading on Geordi, or that negative spirits are stopping me from being able to communicate? Is Riker possibly a trickster?"

If you're captain of the ship, monarch of the kingdom, (etc.), then it might be important to ask yourself:

Am asking for input from my counsel of allied powers, and then making choices for myself?

Or, have I inadvertently signed over my decision-making process to these powers?

And I think it all kind of comes back to "peer positioning," or, witches being able to develop a spiritual framework within which they are equals to the powers around them.

Since beginning practicing witchcraft in earnest, I have often demanded a course of direction. Instead of asking, "how do I accomplish this?" I would ask, "what do I do?"

And the answer was the same every time, deeply infuriating, but also very scary: "Do whatever you think is best."

I think that's the problem of being the captain of the ship. Once your counselors are done giving their input, you are the one who has to make the final call.

Lately I've really been on a kick about witchcraft as a path of empowerment, and I think that viewing spiritual input as just that - input - is a vital part of the process.

Even if you are a true-blue believer in the magical power of tarot, tarot is still just one counselor sitting in your throne room.

Even if you have tutelary spirits, guardians and guides, gods and angels, providing blessings and support - they are not sitting at the head of the table.

You are.

I think that a framework of allied powers as peers and equals is relatively basic, and does have its flaws. But I also think it can be helpful in a variety of ways:

It can provide a system of understanding why allied powers can give conflicting advice, or even seemingly bad advice that doesn't align with our personal desires.

It can provide a tool for processing spiritual input.

It helps restore a sense of personal authority to a practitioner.

It can help a practitioner reclaim control of a path that's grown a mind of its own.

It aids in practicing that most oppressive of skills - liberated autonomy.

I just think it's something to consider. At the end of the day, most of us have probably got to make our own calls.

[I'm making this post because in the past few months I've been helping witches consult the tarot, and they've been giving feedback like, "so this is what I should do, right?" or, "what is it telling me to do?"

I can basically see the huge reblogs where people are explaining that a period of time where they signed complete personal autonomy over to their god was the most empowering and spiritually electric time in their lives,

and I want you to know, I'm not speaking about vows and oaths made to entities that gives them control over your life. I'm talking about situations where witches put down their autonomy so they can have both hands free to shuffle tarot.]

#witchcraft #witchblr

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 8]

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drunkeness, mentions of blood, kidnapping, torture, use of torture curses

An: so sorry this took so long, I was sick and mentally exhausted from other things and also debating where to end the chapter and where to start the next one; hope its alright :)

Enzo clutched his arm, rubbing the spot you had just harshly hit with your fist, “Okay, ow! You didn’t have to hit me that hard, Angel. T’was just a joke, yeh?” You rolled your eyes, picking up the box in front of you and setting it on the pallet. “You know she wouldn’t have hit you if you weren’t being such a twat,” Pansy spoke without looking up from her clipboard, marking off which weapons from the artillery stock you and Enzo were packing for the next ‘business meeting’ and what was left.

You shot a sickly sweet smile Enzo’s way, “Yeah, Enz, don’t be such a twat.” Enzo scoffed, “I was not being a twat! I simply asked if I could have your room since you and Riddle obviously sleep together. There’s no point in you each having your own room and I know for a fact he gave you a bigger room than mine.” You reared your fist back as if you were going to hit him again, causing Enzo to flinch slightly. You smirked at this, “You’re the most dangerous of the family but you’re afraid of lil ol’ me?”

Enzo shook his head, “Nuh-uh, I know there’s something else deeply hidden within you that we haven’t seen yet. I’m not pushing my chances. And you’re avoiding the question.” You huffed, placing two large rifles in a long wooden box before turning to face him, hands on your hips, “For your information, if Mattheo and I do sleep in the same room, it’s my room. I’ve never in been in his room. So maybe you should go ask him if you can have his room.” Enzo’s face dropped slightly, “Mmm no, I think I’m good. But answer me this,” the smirk that formed on his face gave way that you were going to hate what he was about to say, “Does Riddle make you call him boss during sex?”

A low groan left Enzo’s throat as he clutched his arm once more, “Shit, Pansy! In the same spot, really?” You high fived Pansy, “Serves you right.” You stuck your tongue out at Enzo, who mirrored your action. Pansy opened her mouth to tell you both to stop acting like such siblings when Draco’s voice rang between your ears, Family meeting, dining room, five minutes. You glanced between the two in front of you, “We all heard that right?” Enzo nodded, “You mean the annoying voice of a ferret ringing in my head?” Pansy slapped Enzo in the arm, in the same place of the two previous punches, “Merlin’s beard, can I not have any fun anymore?”

The three of you apparated back into the foyer of the house, making your way into the dining room to see everyone but Mattheo already sat at the table. You took your place to the left of Mattheo’s chair, still glaring and making faces at Enzo sitting across from you. Theo leaned closer to Pansy on his left, “What’s with those two?” Pansy shook her head, “Please don’t ask.” Theo opened his mouth to respond again only to be cut off by Mattheo walking in to the room, his presence alone enough to silence the table.

All eyes focused on Mattheo sat at the head of the table. “Tonight is an important deal for us. The De Luca family has been making deals with us since the beginning, they’re some of our most trusted muggle allies. Theo and Enzo, you two will load the pallets on the truck while Blaise, Draco and I go and meet them at the discussed location.” The boys all nodded at their assignments, not questioning what they were told. “What about us?” You motioned between yourself and Pansy, essentially halting some of the boys midway as they had begun to stand up. Almost as if he anticipated your questioning, Mattheo had a simple answer for you. “You’re not going.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “And why the bloody hell not?” Mattheo’s jaw clenched momentarily as others around the table widened their eyes. No one spoke to Mattheo that way, not when it came to business deals. Taking a deep breath to center himself before turning to you, his eyes a dark onyx as he spoke, “You’re not ready.” You narrowed your eyes at him, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Mattheo mirrored you, not stepping down from his decision, “I understand this may be frustrating, but I’m not willing to risk a repeat of the last time. You’re just not ready yet.”

It was your jaw that clenched now, “A repeat of the last time?” Mattheo had his tongue in cheek, clearly trying to keep his composure and his tone authoritative, “Yes, the last time. Lest not forget you nearly getting sexually assaulted and the boys and I having to kill five fucking people, or has that occurrence slipped your pretty little mind, Princess?” You tensed slightly, your eyes squeezing shut at the memory. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze you tried to match his demeanor, “No, Mattheo, it has not.” He gave you a saccharine smile that you took as anything but sweet. Leaning back in your chair you crossed your arms, pouting in defeat.

Mattheo felt a strange pang in his chest, like a tight ache that was telling him to change his mind, but he had to stand his ground, “You and Pansy have the night off. Enjoy it. It won’t happen much in the future.” He avoided your gaze, looking everywhere but your eyes because he knew once he did he would give in. Instead he kept his stare the the black mahogany beneath his tapping fingertips, “I’m doing you a favor. You have the night off.” You leaned forward on your elbows, making sure to keep your tone sweet and even, “Thank you, boss, I truly appreciate it.” The use of his title stung, but he did not have the time to dwell on his feelings.

Giving the boys all a curt nod, the group stood. Each man disappearing with a chorus of crack-like pops. When the last one was out of site you turned to Pansy, letting out a frustrated, “Can you fucking believe that?” At the same time she blew out a laughing, “You are so fucking lucky, Birdie.” You blinked at her in confusion, “Lucky? How am I lucky? I essentially just got sat from a business deal because other men can’t handle I have fucking tits.” Pansy just smirked, shaking her head, “The sooner you acknowledge your feelings for each other the better all of our lives will be. I mean him too by the way. That little lovers quarrel you guys had at the table had us all at the edge of our seats. You should’ve heard the things Theo was saying.”

You groaned, “Spare me.” Pansy couldn’t help but laugh, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s go shopping or something, get your mind off it. We have the night off, remember?” You smiled then. A slow, almost sinister smile that had Pansy shaking her head. You stood up, walking out from the dinning room. Pansy was quick on your heels as you hustled up the stairs, “No. Birdie, whatever it is you’re thinking the answer is no.” You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the wheels in your mind from turning, “He told us we had the night off, Pans. Then let’s do what any hot, single women would do…let’s go out.” You walked into your room, making a b-line for your closet, “Help me pick out an outfit.”

You turned to see her still standing in the doorway, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. “Oh come on,” you walked back towards her, grasping her wrist and dragging her inside fully. “Help me pick one out and I’ll pick one out for you. You know they never come back from these business deals until the next day, hell, sometimes the next evening depending on how it goes. We’ll go out for a few hours, have some fun, and then we’ll be back here asleep in bed before they even knew we were gone.” Pansy chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Just one club?” You took your index finger, lifting it up to the center of your chest and making a small ‘x’ motion, “Cross my heart.”

Pansy’s shoulders relaxed then, her smiled growing two fold, “Okay…then I say wear,” she flicked through your options, giving a sad pout after a moment, “Wear something of mine, because for Salazar’s sake, Birdie, we need to take you shopping.” You groaned out a slight giggle, “I know…maybe if I play my cards right I can convince Mattheo to buy me some.” You were mostly joking, but the look Pansy gave you told you it would be worth a try in the future. After a few outfit changes, the two of you were turning in the mirror and examining your final choices. After much debate, you finally landed on a blood red corset top with a black leather skirt while pansy opted for a black body-con minidress.

You let out a low whistle as you took in your reflection, “Salazar’s fucking sake we look good.” Pansy nodded, “If we don’t get free drinks tonight, there’s something wrong with the male society.” You huffed a laugh in agreement. After a few finishing touches to your hair and makeup, the two of you apparated down the street from the dance club. As the two of you made your way down the pavement, you were acutely aware of how different you felt compared to a few months ago. “You know, Pans, I haven’t been out like this in a long time,” you hooked your elbow with hers as you guys approached the line to get in. Pansy leaned her head on your shoulder briefly, “We’re gonna have a good time tonight, Birdie. You deserve it. Just relax and let loose. Who knows when we’ll be able to do this again.” You giggled, smiling sweetly at the bouncer as he nodded and let the both of you in without hesitation.

As you entered the club the sound of bass was nearly overwhelming. You could only mildly hear the melody to whatever song was playing, let alone your own thoughts. Pansy hooked her fingers with yours as she led a path towards the bar. You could feel men’s eyes on the pair of you the whole way up. While at your own club Pansy was stoic and focused on her job, this seemed to be an environment where she thrived. Pansy gave a particular pair of tall, handsome men a wink as she squished the two of you between another pair of guys. “Oh, excuse me handsome, we were just trying to get a few drinks, maybe a shot or two,” Pansy’s tone was coated in honey as she batted her eyelashes at the broad blonde next to her.

Her seduction trick was flawless, the blonde man buying both shots and both cocktails. She thanked him and gave a pat to his cheek before dragging you to the dance floor. This became a repeated pattern for the night: bar, batted eyelashes, dance floor. You had to give it to her, the routine worked. “Go on, Birdie you try. How about…” her eyes dragged over the sea of bodies near the bar, “him.” Her manicured finger pointed at a taller man near the center of the bar. He was handsome sure, tanned skin and dark curls on the top of his head, “Why him?” Pansy gave you an incredulous look, “Because he looks like Mattheo.” You were thankful for the amount of alcohol in your system to help hide the burning blush that flooded your cheeks, “Okay, fine.”

You made your way to the bar, Pansy close behind. As you got closer you tried a different approach than Pansy’s earlier tactic. Coming up to the man you stood directly behind him. You motioned for Pansy to stand next to you, her giving you a questioning look. The bar area was crowded, and all you needed for you plan to work was exactly what was about to happen. As another group of people tried to squish through the crowd behind you, your body was bumped forward, causing you to put your hand out and catch yourself on the man in front of you. As you’d hoped, the man turned around and you made your eyes wide and innocent as you looked up at him through your lashes, “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. These crowds are terrible.”

The man smiled down at you, his eyes weren’t the same as Mattheo’s. The man’s were more of a walnut brown and felt cold, like this was all a game to him just as much you . His smile also was nothing near as stunning as Mattheo’s…but regardless the man was clearly falling for the charm you’d put on, eyeing you up and down as he spoke, “Oh it’s quite alright, beautiful.” You let out a bashful laugh, looking down at the ground. The man caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze back to his, “Let me buy you a drink, your friend too.” His eyes flickered over your shoulder to Pansy.

“O-okay,” the boldness of his touch causing you to stutter over your words. Your chest ached once he turned to order the drinks. The interaction didn’t leave you as satisfied as it did Pansy, if anything it left you yearning for something else. You turned to Pansy after the man handed you the drinks, “I didn’t like that.” She hummed in acknowledgement, “Yeah I was more so testing a theory.” You raised both eyebrows at her, “Mind telling the whole class, Miss Parkinson?” Pansy shook her head, smiling as she downed half her drink, “Not, yet, Professor.”

The more you drank the more your chest ached. And the more you felt yourself longing for him. You were far beyond inebriated, not thinking clearly, but what Pansy couldn’t hear couldn’t hurt her. Mattheoooooo, you closed your eyes and called out to him, not even knowing where he was with the deal, if he was possibly fighting someone. You just wanted to hear his voice. Princess…what’s wrong? You smiled to yourself. You were sure to Pansy it seemed like you were just enjoying the music as your body still ebbed and flowed with the beat.

Mattheo’s frown turned down further, something that wasn’t unusual during business meet ups, but this one was going fairly well. “What’s up, boss?” Enzo leaned in to whisper to him. Mattheo held up a finger, trying to focus on your voice in his head, Teeeooooooo, miss youu. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, Birdie, where are you? You hated using your legimens, the fact that you were communicating with Mattheo that way, along with how you were talking was causing him high concern. I’m dancing wiff Pansy, she’s such a good dancer, Teo. I wish I was dancing with yoooou. Mattheo eyed Draco, silently telling him to take the lead before Mattheo walked off back towards the truck. Birdie, are you drunk? There’s no fucking dance floor at the house? Where the fuck are you?

He rubbed both hands over his face, trying to control his breathing. Not drunk…maybe drunk…don’t member the club name, like a pretty flower. Mattheo walked back towards the others, “Are you happy with the product or not?” He was being stern with the man but Mattheo needed this deal over with. The De Luca family member nodded his head, “Yeah, we’re happy. Well wire you the money first thing in the mornin’. Always good doin’ business with you, Riddle.” Mattheo nodded, shaking the man’s hand before grabbing Enzo’s collar and dragging him away with it. “Ow, woah, hey what the fuck?” Enzo was confused by the motion. “Birdie and Pansy went to a fucking club and now Birdies drunk, we have to go get them.”

Theo jogged to catch up, “Which club did our little trouble makers go to?” Mattheo scowled slightly, “This isn’t a fucking joke, Nott. And she said something about a pretty flower? She’s fucking drunk, she’s fucking talking to me through legimens and even then I can tell she’s slurring her words. You were a man whore in your prime, Nott, which club is that.” Theo huffed out a snort but didn’t deny Matthoe’s allegations, “Sounds like probably The Dahlia.” Mattheo nodded, “Draco, Blaise, you two take the truck back. Enzo, Theo, you’re coming with me.” The boys all nodded at their assignments as Mattheo reached out to you again, Stay put, Princess, I’m coming to get you. He rounded the corner with the other two boys to make sure they were out of sight before apparating to the alley down the block from the club.

Your voice rang in his head once more, Are you going to dance with me Teo? I miss you so m- Mattheo stopped in his tracks the moment your voice cut out causing the two behind him to almost smack into his back. “What is it, what happened?” Enzo was taking in their surroundings checking for threats he may have missed. “Her voice, it just…cut out. She was talking to me and then it was like something cut it off before she could finish.” Enzo wore a worried look, glancing over at Theo whose lips were downturned. Mattheo started walking again, only faster this time. As they approached the entrance to the club, the bouncer must have recognized Theo because he pulled back the rope and allowed the three men in without question.

As they approached the edge of the dance floor Mattheo gave one instruction, “Find them.” The three spread out, weaving through swaying, sweaty bodies as they tried to catch a glimpse of anyone that looked remotely like either you or Pansy. Running into Theo, Enzo asked if he had any luck. Theo shook his head, “Not yet. Every bloody black haired woman looks like Pansy out here and I can’t catch a glimpse of Birdie anywhere.” Mattheo approached the two, eyes asking the same question Enzo had moments before. Theo shook his head, Enzo’s height giving him an advantage in the middle of the crowd. “There,” he pointed over the heads of those around him. Theo and Mattheo turn, following his indication until they’re face to face with a very far gone Pansy.

She pouted as they approached, assuming they were there to break up the fun. She opened her mouth to complain when Matthoe effectively cut her off, “Where’s Birdie.” Pansy rolled her eyes, turning around the point at the person behind her. Only you weren’t there. Pansy turned in a circle, once, twice, three times before stopping and facing the men in front of her. “I swear, Mattheo, she was just here. She’s been by my side all night. We were dancing on each other not even five minutes ago.” Mattheo’s face grew hot, a sense of worry rushing over him that he’s never felt before for any kind of person, “What do you mean she was just here. Where the bloody fucking hell would she go?”

———-

You groaned lightly, your head pounding as you tried to sit up. The floor beneath you hard and cold, your outfit doing little for warmth. As you pushed yourself to a seated position you felt a weight in one of your wrists. Looking down you saw your wrist wrapped in a thick metal cuff, a chain attaching it, and effectively you, to the wall behind it. “What the fuck…” a low whisper left your lips as your eyes started to adjust to your surroundings. The floor below you was concrete, leaving a persistent chill running throughout your body. Around you seemed to be the layout of an old factory, abandon machinery and materials littered about the space. It was darker in the building, the emergency lights appearing to be the only functioning electricity around you.

Hugging your knees to yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to call out to Mattheo. You repeated his name, over and over and over. You groaned out in frustration, slapping the floor next to you, causing the chains to rattle. “Whatever it is you are trying to do will not work.” You stiffened, the sound of his voice was something you thought you had forgotten, but hearing it ring through your ears once more brought a flood of painful memories with it. You looked around, trying to anticipate the direction the voice was coming from, the the old walls of the factory had the sound reverberated from every direction. “You know I didn’t think you’d be knocked out this long. But then again, your drunken state must have heightened the effects of the Stupefy charm.”

You watched his figure emerge from the shadows, the fear you once felt quickly returning like a white hot burn all over your body. You scooted yourself back until you were nearly flat against the wall, your knees hugged to your chest as his name fell from your lips like a ghosted whisper, “Damiano…” He smiled, flashing all of his teeth like a snarling predator as he towered over you, “Hello, Sunshine. Did you miss me?” You stayed silently, trying to press yourself impossibly further away, leading him to let out a low and menacing chuckle. He squatted down to your level, forearms resting on his knees as he balanced himself on the balls of his feet. He reached out slowly, like he was going to touch your face. You turned quickly, swatting his hand away.

He smiled once more before grabbing your face harshly, forcing your gaze to meet his, “Don’t be like that, Sunshine. I’m being very nice only chaining one arm down, but if you misbehave I have no qualms doing the other.” You huffed out your nose, still refusing to speak to him. You closed your eyes once more, desperately trying to reach Mattheo, or anyone from the family for help. Damniano applied more pressure to his grip, surely leaving the beginning of what would be a bruise on your face when he was done. “I already told you…your little tricks your new boyfriend taught you aren’t going to work. I figured he was a legimens like his failure of a father. I put a spell on the building; he can’t hear you and you can’t hear him.” Your lip quivered slightly, a new sense of fear enveloping you.

Damiano tsked at you, “I knew it. I always knew you were a stupid, weak, little witch.” He let go of your face before swinging his palm and slapping your cheek with enough force to split your bottom lip. You gasped, coughing slightly to catch your breath again, spitting blood onto the cold stone before you. You glared at him, “You think I’m weak because I’m not like you? Abusing and torturing those that don’t agree or don’t do my bidding? Why am I even here, Damiano. What do you want with me?” He looked down at you once more, a devious smirk adorning his features, “This is why you’re stupid, Sunshine. Can you not see it? Godric, okay. Let me spell it out for you. I don’t want you. You’re nothing to me. Even when you were mine you were nothing, just a tool. And that’s what you are today. Well…more like…a tool.”

Your face fell, which only caused a laugh to emit from his throat, “Oh dear girl, don’t worry. We’re not going to kill you. But we’re going to make sure Mattheo and the rest of his little group get the message. He stole something valuable from me. You, Sunshine, were nothing, but your abilities were everything. I can’t just steal you back or he’ll sick his fucking dog Berkshire. Can’t have that can we? But what I can do, is send him a fucking message.” He drew his wand as he stood a few feet away from you. You held your breath, trying to prepare for whatever he was about to unleash, but nothing could help with what he casted. With a red light leaving the tip of his wand your body was instantly aflame with pain, your muscles and limbs contorting and squeezing with agony. Your breath felt like it was knocked from your lungs, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

Two more figures appeared beside Damiano, their wands also drawn and prepped for whatever torture they were directed with. After a few moments he broke the spell, grinning as you gasped for air and tried to hold your body up from the floor. “You know, I was really hoping you would scream. I sometimes find myself missing the sound of you squealing in pain when I used to punish you. No one has quite the same ring to it you had. Guess I’ll just have to up the intensity of it all. Boys,” he turned to his cronies on either side of him, “together this time.” In perfect unison the mumbled the spell together Crucio. Immediately your back arched off the floor, your arms and legs contorting awkwardly as the searing pain once again entered your body. A blood curdling scream left your throat, the sound nearly as defeating as the pain you were feeling. Your eyes rolled at the immense pain, your mind going blank.

As you felt like you were on the brink of passing out, Damiano instructed them all to stop. He turned to them once more, giving specific instructions, “I want you to rough her up a bit more, but don’t touch her face. I want her to be recognizable when they find her. The two men nodded before approaching you together. You managed to sit yourself up again, holding yourself up on wobbly arms. This position didn’t last as one of Damiano’s men quickly landed the heel of his boot to your shoulder, your collarbone cracking with the action. You flew back slightly at the action and collapsed on your back. You groaned in pain, clutching the area and turning to your side. The men began kicking you; in the stomach, in the ribs, in the back. You were a rag doll for their game of human football, barely audible grunts and moans slipping past your lips. “That’s enough,” Damniano’s voice rang out. You coughed, spitting out more blood that seemed to fill your mouth.

The two men left your side immediately, walking back to their previous positions to watch as Damiano approached you. He crouched over you again, taking your face in his hands. With his thumb he spread your blood over your lips, “I always did like red on you.” You tried to pull away, but your strength was null, “Like I said, Sunshine, you…are weak. But you were mine first. And I can’t let you, or anyone else, forget that.” He shoved you from his grip, you falling back down to the ground. You were limp on the cold concrete as Damiano lifted your skirt over your hips. You felt him grip the meat of your thigh closer to your hip before the tip of his wand began to dig into your skin with a white hot burn. A whimper left your throat as he carved into your skin; you could smell it burning. Once done he grabbed the back of your head, tilting your neck awkwardly so you could see his handiwork on your body. On the outside of your thigh, closer to your hip was a small symbol that would make it impossible for you to ever see it without thinking of Damiano. A sun.

A single tear fell down your cheek, Damiano leaning in and licking it off your face with a satisfied hum. “You know I love it when you cry, Sunshine. But I can’t stick around to watch. As soon as I’m gone, the blocking spells will be lifted. Then you can call your little dark lord boyfriend. You’re at 1538 Woodbury Lane in London. Really wish I could see his face when he finds you.” He pulled your skirt back down over your legs once more, patting your leg where he just carved your skin before walking away and apparating out of sight with a low popping noise. You waited a few moments, just to make sure he wasn’t coming back, before tightly shutting your eyes, your entire focus on Mattheo and anyone else in the family that might be able to hear you.

1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. You repeated the address over and over again until finally you heard him, We’re on our way, Princess, don’t move. You opened your eyes, at the sound of his voice, tears now flowing freely down your face. The irony of that statement ‘don’t move’ was not lost on you, causing a forced laugh from your lungs. With Mattheo’s confirmation that he was coming, you finally allowed your body to relax into the concrete below you. As if that was all the permission your body needed, your eyes felt heavy and soon, everything became dark.

#Protego series #mafia!matheo riddle #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!blaise zabini #mafia!enzo berkshire #mafia!theo nott #mafia!draco malfoy #mafia!pansy parkinson #Mattheo riddle x you #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle angst #Mattheo riddle fic #mafia!au #mafia fic

[sungbeam]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — part one (i – vii)

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

your sister's dead, but apparently that's not the most shocking news. maybe she wasn't killed on accident, maybe ji changmin isn't really human, and maybe the monsters were never under the bed but all around you...

▷ genre, warnings. strangers 2 reluctant allies/friends 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creatures au, angst, action, murder mystery-ish au, forced proximity trope, suspense, gore, depictions of violence and blood, themes of death and grief, use/description of weaponry, swearing, a slightly unreliable narrator bc she has no idea what's happening, reader's sister is dead, mentions of stalking, humor bc coping mechanisms, reader has hair long enough to braid sorry, blood drinking, the barest of proofreading and editing done...

▷ part word count. 22.3k words / 47.4k - read part two here

▷ associated songs. teeth (5sos), wet nightmare (bibi)

a/n: i tried to make it scary I SWEAR but changmin brings the clown out of me 🤥 anyways i ripped a chunk of my heart out and im serving it to you bloodied on a gold platter, i hope u love her :') read the warnings ofc and lmk your thoughts <3 also i completely gave up on wrestling w blr so im dropping it in two parts, but both of them at once 🤣 pray for me.

#1—NEXT OF KIN.

THEY TOLD YOU YOUR SISTER'S DEATH WAS AN ACCIDENT, they being the authorities who had shown up at the front door of your apartment with their caps in hand, solemn faces pressed into lines that you could not read between. The world had fallen out from beneath your feet like someone had just yanked the carpet out, and you hadn't yet stopped falling.

The funeral was set on the rolling green hills of Elysium Memorial Park, the cemetery where your parents were buried, where your grandparents were buried, and now, where your sister joined them six feet under. Generations ago, your grandparents had purchased plots for themselves and their future family members while the land was cheap. When it came for your time to leave this mortal coil behind, you too would join them in the dirt of Elysium. It almost seemed right that the sky had opened up to reveal a blindingly hot sun, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Perhaps the sky would not weep for your sister, but celebrate her life instead.

But while the heavens above would shed nary a tear, you could make up for that loss yourself. Having little to no living relatives left, you had been expected to take responsibility for all the arrangements, all while grieving, all while studying, all while trying to not fall apart some more. You were holding it together by the zipper of your dress pants and the caffeine from your coffee. You couldn't stop crying for the entire service, the forced silence of your cries balanced by the violent tremors in your shoulders.

Your sister Sena's patch in the land was now marked by a heaping pile of dirt. She had a lot of friends—most of whom gathered behind you and had thrown their flowers upon the dirt hill. You had a few distant relatives as well who you'd managed to remember (somehow) amongst all the madness. A couple of them were able to fly out for the event, but most had to decline.

When you heard your name being called, you drew your blazer sleeve over your eyes in a futile attempt to dry them.

Walking towards you now was a couple, middle-aged, dressed in black from head to toe, not far from how you looked right now. You knew them from about a week ago when they had sought you out after the news of your sister's death spread.

You hadn't the heart to sue them when they confessed who they were. It's our fault, they told you in the quiet of the hallway outside your apartment, we're so sorry. We understand if you'd like to press charges.

Sena was a victim of an automobile accident. You didn't know the entire story—was too tired for the whole story—just shocked she was even in the country. She was supposed to be across the world for a study abroad program, but why was she discovered on the side of the road, a few towns over, inebriated and dead? She became nothing more than roadkill and a statistic in death, and maybe that was why you were so bitter.

"Yn, it was a beautiful ceremony," said the woman—Julia, she had introduced herself as that week ago. Her nose was reddened from the friction of tissue paper, her eyes damp and glittering in the sunlight. "I'm sorry you—that you have to deal with all the pomp and circumstance."

"We know you deserve your time alone," joined her husband, Carter. He tucked his hands into his pockets, mustering up a smile for your sake, but you could still see the guilt flooding his eyes with water. "We just wanted to say thank you for letting us come and pay our respects."

And for not pressing charges. But you dashed that thought away. That was the bitterness talking, but these were good people. They had come forward and been honest, and it wasn't their fault Sena was drunk. (Why in the world was she drunk and here and why didn't she tell you the truth—?)

"Thank you for coming," you replied, "I wasn't sure if you would take me up on the offer, to be honest."

You wrapped up conversation with the couple and watched them depart across the grassy hills toward their car. Your eyes surveyed the last bits of the lingering crowd for familiar faces—anyone at all. But all you found were strangers.

These were all Sena's friends, after all. She had always been the more adventurous of the two of you.

You sighed and resigned yourself to start looking for the funeral coordinator to discuss payment and the like. Though the event was over the worst was just beginning. There was so much to do, and so little energy left to perform them.

But as you began trudging through the plush grass toward the far end of the plot, you noticed a man standing beneath the shade of a nearby oak tree. He wore typical funeral attire—the black dress shirt, pants, shoes, and even a pair of rectangular shades to cover his eyes. Like many of the others, you didn't recognize him—at first.

And then he shifted, lenses of his glasses reflecting sunlight and you could just barely put together the puzzle of his face and his identity. Ji Changmin.

What was he doing here?

They were friends, too, Yn, you reminded yourself. Yet, you weren't sure why you were so surprised he was here. Maybe it was because you never remembered extending the invitation to him (but someone could have spread the news by word of mouth). Maybe it was because several months had passed since you last saw him. Maybe it was because you always thought there was something… strange about him (but that could have been your bias; there was always this thing about him that irked you). Either way, you never had anything to say to him before, and that had yet to change even in light of your sister's death.

The two of you stared each other down, and for a moment, you believed he was going to walk over to you.

But instead, he pushed off the tree trunk and made his way toward the trickle of funeral goers up the hill, leaving you to wonder after him.

The next time you saw Ji Changmin was a week after the will reading.

Because you were Sena's next of kin, you were contacted by your shared attorney about Sena's will. Apparently, she had a will. After all these years, you couldn't even fathom the idea of needing one so early, but for some reason, she had. (Maybe that worried you a little more.)

The strangest thing was that your attorney had delivered to you a flat lockbox made of steel and secured with an old fashioned lock and key. Along with the stash of money in her savings account (where the Hell had all of that come from anyway?), Sena also gave you that. Whatever it was.

You had yet to open it when you bumped into Changmin on your way out of your college's academic counseling center. With recent events, your departmental advisor called you in to discuss your academic plans for the foreseeable future.

You can take as long as you like, Yn, she'd said to you. You're already ahead of schedule to graduate anyways. But that wasn't the point was it?—

"Oh." You stopped short as you rounded the corner and nearly crashed into something. "Sorry," you said before you even recognized him.

A pair of dark, feline eyes looked you up and down. "Yn, right?" Changmin drawled. A pair of white wired earbuds hung from his ears and his shoulders were fitted with a dark colored bomber jacket that was familiar to you. You'd seen it draped over the back of one of your kitchen chairs once when Sena had him over for a project.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. Changmin?"

His nod was barely there. He cocked his head to the side in a way that felt like he was trying to gaze into your soul. "I'm—I'm sorry for your loss," he said, grappling for the right words. "Sena was a good friend."

"I didn't realize the two of you were so close," you told him. This was probably the most he'd ever said to your face, and you to him.

Changmin gave a small shrug. "We worked closely together, so it was kind of inevitable. How are you doing?"

You didn't think the conversation would last this long. "Oh, uhm, I'm fine." You inwardly knocked yourself over the head. He's probably just trying to be nice, Yn. "I mean—" you amended, "—I'm doing as well as you can imagine, I guess. Just lots of legal stuff and…" Her room. Cleaning out her room. Opening the lockbox. Reading her last will and testament for the fiftieth time.

When you didn't finish your sentence right away, he nodded again, shuffling on the balls of his feet. Was he feeling as awkward as you were? "I get that. Hey, if you—y'know, like, need anything—"

"You don't have to do that."

"What about coffee? Just… to talk."

Coffee? You considered him for a second. Before, you nor he had ever given any indication to the other that you acknowledged the other's presence. In fact, you confessed to Sena once that he intimidated you, even if he was just sitting there in your shared living room while pouring over JSTOR academic essays.

He was patient, you realized. Then you relented. "Okay. When's good for you?"

You thought you saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes, but that could have just been the afternoon sunlight. "Now?"

Your eyes widened a smidge, and you coughed. "Uhm now? I—I have class…?" You didn't, but the curve ball that was an impromptu coffee session with Ji Changmin wasn't something you needed right now.

His eyebrow lifted as if he didn't believe you. "Okay," he dragged out. "Tomorrow morning?" He offered as a counter.

Your brain did cartwheels in an attempt to figure out if you would have the willpower to do that. "Okay," you said. Better to get this out of the way, right?

"Do you know that one place on Magnolia?"

"The one across from the Eight Ball?" You perked up in recognition. You and Sena used to go all the time. The two of you liked to say that Magnolia was her street because it housed all her favorite places; just the thought of taking a stroll down it made your eyes water. "Yeah, Sena and I used to go all the time."

Changmin paused, his mouth opening, then closing.

You guessed what he was thinking. "It's fine if we go. I'm not gonna like, burst into tears or anything," you chuckled awkwardly, clearing your throat when excess tear fluid made you congested.

His lips pursed, impressing a dimple into his cheek. "Okay, only if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." It seemed that everything you said to people was something like a lie nowadays.

It was late when you finally faced the lockbox.

The box was an unassuming hunk of metal, flat and slim and no bigger than a standard piece of paper. You warmed the key in your palm until it was hot to the touch and made your skin redden. The sky outside your apartment window had darkened to a blot of ink, the white shutters drawn shut to create a white paneled shield. You just finished up a very lazy dinner, washed up, and decided to confront the last thing on Sena's will.

The lockbox in the bank under my name goes to my sister, Yn Ln. She is the only one allowed access to it until she opens it; what she decides to do with the contents is her choice.

There must have been something important inside it, you reasoned, otherwise it wouldn't have been a part of the will and it wouldn't be under lock and a single key.

"What is this, Sena?" You asked aloud, venturing to twist the lock open with the key. The locking mechanism gave way, and you set the lock and key aside. The shorter end could slide open like a hidden door, and you peered into the dark depths, almost afraid of what you might find between its jaws.

You could make out the silhouettes of shapes at the bottom, the soft-cornered texture of a wad of bills. You reached in.

One of the things she had left for you in her will was all of the money in her savings account. It had shocked you to see the number—you always thought her only job was at the library, but clearly, she was not just on a librarian's salary.

Pulling out a stack of cash from the box was yet another thing that helped solidify in your mind that something was off. The confusion settled first, and then the betrayal. Had she not trusted you with this knowledge while she was alive? You were the one going into accounting and finance, and yet, she hid all of this money from you? Was she afraid of something? Afraid of judgment, of the law?

You tossed the twenties onto the table. The note slipped between the rubber band and the first piece read something along the lines of 'in case of emergency.'

You made a plunge into the box again. This time, you pulled out the last two things at the bottom, a standard white index card and a small, fabric pouch. The card displayed Sena's familiar scrawl:

You're probably wondering what any of this is, but if you're reading this, it means that something's gone wrong—like really wrong. The necklace in the pouch is super important. DON'T TAKE IT OFF. Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't trust anyone. This is really important to me, Yn. Please be safe; I love you.

x, sena.

Please be safe? Safe from who or what?

You held the note in your hand for a moment and couldn't believe this would be the last thing you received from her. It would be a tangible legacy, in a way, and you weren't sure how to feel about that. You moved the note to the table and turned your attention to the pouch.

You carefully tugged it open. She said it was a necklace, right?

"Oh," you voiced aloud while fishing out a thin, silver chain.

There was a pendant attached to the end with some heft to it. It was a deep, bloody red in the loose shape of a teardrop. There wasn't a sharp peak, but a slightly flat end on one side and a rounded end on the other. You would guess it was some kind of precious stone, but when you stared at it long enough, it looked like the color pulsed… like a heartbeat.

Your breath hitched.

Eyes narrowed, you held it up to the light by the chain. The vibrant red remained stagnant—perhaps you were just tired.

Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't take it off. Don't trust anyone.

Strange request about a necklace. For a moment, you wondered if your sister had indulged in some unsavory acts to achieve the numbers in her bank account and the previous stone in your hands. If you put this on, would you be counted as an accomplice to robbery?

"God, you just need to go to sleep, Yn," you muttered, swiftly clicking the chain into place around your neck. There was no way your sister would have anything to do with—

You froze.

From the other side of your shutters, you swore you heard the sound of shuffling. It wasn't unheard-of that the leaves and tree branches knocked against your second-floor window once in a while, but there hadn't been much wind as of late.

A chill spider-crawled up your spine as you strained your ears to hear more.

When you came up with nothing, you shoved the pendant under your shirt and cleaned up the lockbox. You had an early day tomorrow, after all; sleep was dire to face Changmin.

But as you crept into bed, you couldn't help but feel as if the stone on your sternum did have a heartbeat, and that something in the dark was watching you.

#2—GHOSTS ONLY HAUNT.

YOU STEPPED FOOT ON MAGNOLIA STREET looking for signs of your sister.

The morning air was a little cooler as spring filtered into town, and it also meant that this street in particular would begin to swirl with baby pink petals from the trees of the street's namesake flowers. There weren't many people around on a Thursday morning, but the sun peered between the buildings to say hello, at least.

You were in good company.

"Hey."

"Holy shit—" you whipped around to find Changmin almost right behind you. Your heart stuttered against your ribcage, your hand flying to your sternum where the necklace was. You were still getting used to its presence.

He gave nothing away with his facial expression. Damn him.

"I didn't realize you'd be early," you breathed as you tried to get a grip on yourself. Did this guy just materialize out of thin air everywhere?

Tongue in cheek, he said, "Well, I couldn't really sleep, so I figured the morning air might freshen me up a bit. Shall we?" He gestured with his elbow and chin to the establishment to your right.

There sat the quaint, little coffee shop you'd both agreed on yesterday. This one was one of Sena's favorites. She always claimed that their blueberry scones were the best in the world.

When you didn't say anything for a little, he cleared his throat. "We don't have to, if you can't or don't want to."

You hadn't even realized you were being quiet. Thoughts had been muddled as of late. You cleared your throat and stumbled for the door. "No, we can go in."

Two cups of coffee arrived at your table seven minutes later in compostable cups and a pile of artificial sweetener packets and creamer. You straightened in your seat across from Changmin and began ripping open sweetener packets and wondering if you should have gotten something of substance to eat. (You had stared at the blueberry scones for a long minute before deciding that today was not the day you wanted to cry in front of someone, especially this someone in particular.)

Changmin moved his cup toward his side of the table but made no move to add sugar or cream, or to even drink it.

This place was so familiar to you that you knew exactly how many packets of cream and sweetener to mix in, and you gently blew a breath over the steam floating off the surface. When the liquid hit your tongue and your throat, its warmth enveloped your nerves in a warm embrace, assuring you everything was going to be okay. The emotion hit you like a freight train.

You pressed your thumb against the rear gland in your right eye and willed it away. "So uhm," you said, fanning your eyes gently as you attempted to pull yourself together in front of him, "what… what did you wanna talk about? If there was anything?"

He folded his arms over his chest while leaning back in his chair, and you thought you saw his gaze soften. "Why don't you take another sip?" His eyes went to the coffee. "It'll help."

You couldn't deny that suggestion, and you reached for your cup to take another small gulp. The breath you let out rattled.

This was a bad idea.

"Are you gonna be okay if I talk about Sena?"

You nursed the coffee cup in your hands and nodded slowly.

He eyed you for a moment, then relented. "Did she happen to leave anything that was marked for me? Before the—the accident, she said there was something she needed to tell me."

Something she needed to tell him? You racked your brain, eyes drilling into the wood grain of the coffee table between you two. The will hadn't mentioned anyone else but you. And all of the letters or notes from Sena that were given to you were all for you; the attorney would have handled the rest and mailed them off to anyone else she'd written something for.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "No, I can't think of anything. You say you were expecting something?"

The resolve in his eyes steeled over, and that little bit of softness you'd seen before disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. You couldn't read him anymore. "Yes, I have her texts."

He fished out his phone from his pocket and you pursed your lips as he maneuvered to a screen of his and your sister's last messages to each other:

sena: i think i'm going back home soon, so i'll c u then changmin: okay that's fine changmin: wait ur still over there?? i thought u left already? sena: had to talk to someone abt the thing, but it was a dead end sena: just remind me that i have something to tell u changmin: what? sena: it'll be better if i said this in person

That was all Changmin let you see.

You leaned away from his phone, head reeling more from the fact that he knew she had been out of town and knew where she was and why she was there. Never mind the fact that apparently, Sena was holding onto important information for Changmin. You couldn't care less about that.

You supposed the texts were for him to prove to you he was telling you the truth. It wasn't like you weren't telling the truth either.

"Why was Sena out of town?" You asked him. "Did she ever go on any of those study abroad trips?"

Changmin paused, then something flickered in his eyes. "I think I showed you too much."

"I think you showed me too little."

"Yn, did she tell you anything about what she needed to tell me?"

You were going to push against him for your own agenda again, but the slight pressure in his tone made you think twice. There was something urgent in his words, his expression, his body language. You couldn't tell what it was, but something about this had to have been important.

Absentmindedly, your hand rubbed the area where the pendant sat on your chest beneath the collar of your shirt, and his eyes followed for a moment before flickering back up to your eyes. "No," you told him quietly. "She didn't tell me anything."

He must have believed you, because defeat shuddered across his face, and he said goodbye to leave. He didn't even take his coffee with him. Asshole.

You told yourself it would be months before you could bring yourself to go through Sena's things, but after this morning's run-in with Changmin (because it wasn't even a session; you could hardly call it anything but a run-in because it lasted maybe ten minutes), you were determined to unlock her door and do some digging. Clearly, she was hiding more than her money and jewelry(?) from you.

Changmin… he completely ignored your questions confronting him about Sena's whereabouts and her purpose for traveling. You were getting more and more suspicious as to what your sister had been up to lately. Changmin had to be in on it, too, then. He had to be.

Sena's door took up your entire vision as you stood before it with the key in your hand.

You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting when you opened it, but it was as if she had never left. Everything was where she left it—plum-purple covers tucked beneath the mattress, vintage national park postcards hanging from fairy lights by wooden clothespins, jackets layered over the back of her desk chair. There was an empty mug on her desk with the remnants of a red lip tint on the edge, and you knew you weren't going to remember to take it out to the sink later.

The small shelf-nightstand hybrid next to her bed was filled to the brim with books and notebooks and magazines. You settled gingerly upon the edge of her bed, palms pressing against the comforter.

The room still smelled like your sister.

You took the small bottle of perfume on the nightstand and spritzed a little onto your wrist. You pressed it to your nose, letting the scent make your senses woozy. It wouldn't bring her back; it didn't smell exactly the same when it was on your skin.

You set the bottle back onto the nightstand, then lowered yourself to your knees to pull all of the books off the top shelf. You stuck your head into the empty cupboard—you weren't really sure what you were looking for.

All of the titles here were the normal things you remembered seeing her read: assorted mythologies, books on the occult and supernatural, her textbooks for anthropology and archeology. There were about a dozen and a half National Geographic magazines that you flipped through within the next two hours, as well, all of which turned up nothing of curiosity.

None of the bound books were notebooks of any kind.

You crawled over to her desk—rifled through those. Nothing. They were all school related and completely, utterly ordinary.

Disappointment weighed you down into her desk chair as you hit another dead end.

Was there nothing she could give you?

No, she's dead, you thought to yourself. You'd never known Sena to be a secretive person, especially with you—in fact, you were the quieter of the pair, and she always managed to coax the right things out of you.

Sometimes you had felt like the older sister because you handled so many of the logistics and practical things, but when the world became too scary, you could always count on running to her to feel safe again…

Safe.

Sena, were you ever safe? You were beginning to think not so much.

"Do I need to file for a restraining order?"

It was getting ridiculous how many times you ran into Changmin in the past two weeks. It was outside the advising office, on your way to the store, in the hallway outside your finance lecture. And now, he loitered in the lobby of your apartment complex with a wired earbud in one ear and the other dangling freely.

He seemed to be unfazed by your remark as he peered over at you from beneath the brim of his cap. "What if I just live here?"

"But you don't," you huffed, coming to stop right in front of him. You had a feeling you would have definitely known if he moved into this building. "What do you want from me, Changmin? I'm not going to magically lead you to my sister's secret stash of whatever. I just want to get to class."

"Then go to class," he said simply. He gestured with the phone in his hand toward the door. "I'm not here for you."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Perhaps you were being a little silly, and this was just some weird trick your brain was playing on you to make you notice him more. "Answer me something."

"Only if you answer something for me."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Worth a shot," he said with a sigh. "What shall I answer for you?"

"You and my sister weren't dating, were you?"

He must have choked on his own spit because he coughed, furiously thumping his chest. You would have laughed if this was any other circumstance, and if you and Changmin were friends (but you weren't). He shook his head at you. "No. Your sister wasn't interested in me like that and neither was I. We were strictly colleagues."

You cocked your head to the side. Colleagues… you let that marinate. "Okay, so did she have anyone she was seeing then? Just out of curiosity." A former lover you didn't know about would make sense, something like a Bonnie and Clyde situation maybe. Or perhaps you were chasing after ghosts to get a glimpse into the past.

"Someone I suspect, but I don't have their contact," he replied, mimicking your head tilt and narrowed eyes. "If you had her phone—"

"I don't."

"Ah, a shame then."

"Do you?"

"And why would I withhold such an important item from the next of kin?" He drawled.

Changmin suddenly jolted upright from the relaxed position he stood in. It was so abrupt, it gave your heart a start. "That's my cue."

You followed after him out the front doors. "What cue? Did you hear your microwave go off or something?"

You swore to God you saw his mouth curl up in amusement. But it might have been just your imagination. He yanked his other earbud out and lifted a hand in goodbye. "Something like that! See you around."

He disappeared around the corner before you could follow after him. Plus, you really did have a lecture to get to. (Wait, did he say that she was seeing someone—?)

You sighed, wondering if you should follow him… something in the back of your mind told you it would be safer not to.

#3—MONSTERS AMONG MEN.

YOU SWORE JI CHANGMIN HAD TO BE a psychic with the amount of times he predicted your whereabouts. Every time you saw him in your vicinity, you and he shared either a verbal sparring match or stared one another down. He seemed amused by it; you were growing increasingly concerned, even if it was all just coincidence.

(There was this one time, on a Wednesday this past week, where you were the one who appeared at the anthropology department to see one of Sena's old professors. Changmin was there, as it was his major's headquarters, and shot you a curious glance. The meeting was innocent and an accident. No, you definitely weren't stalking him. Absolutely not.)

(It was interesting to consider whether both of you thought the other would lead you to something of Sena's. You were certain he knew more than he let on, and perhaps he thought the same of you… Shit, maybe you should invest in a taser.)

Additionally, the weird sounds around your apartment had increased. Sometimes when you walked around in the evenings, the hair on the back of your neck and your arms stood at attention, as if you could feel the gaze of someone or… something watching you. However, every time you turned to look, the crazier you were convinced you'd become.

It didn't help that the necklace Sena left for you kept mimicking your heart beat when you weren't paying attention. If you willed it to repeat the steady beat in the light so you could observe it up close, it would cease.

It was as if distance from your skin or touch left it without a heart to echo.

You were half certain you were losing your mind. It had to be all this stress and emotion overwhelming you.

Saturday morning, you decided to pick yourself up and go see your sister. The funeral home had called you earlier this week to say that her headstone was complete, so this would also serve as a trip to ensure everything was engraved correctly before it was placed over her grave. You dressed yourself up in a dark top and comfortable jeans, something you might be able to sit in on the grass as you lingered in her presence, even if she was dead.

Ever since you went through her things, you hadn't ventured into her room again. You thought it might preserve the way it looked, smelled, felt… preserve something of her.

Once you'd gone to the funeral parlor and management center at Elysium Memorial Park to confirm the engraving, you took a brisk walk up the hill to where you remembered Sena's plot to be. The sun peered out between clouds this morning, giving the sky a dual-toned appearance, one half a dark gray, and the other a gossamer yellow.

You started down the hill, head ducked to watch for any graves or hills so you didn't trample over other people's bodies. A bundle of flowers from the grocery store sat cradled in the crook of your arm—a bundle of pink carnations ("I'll never forget you") and dark crimson roses (mourning). You didn't often pay attention to the meaning of flowers, but you thought if you weren't able to choke anything out today, then at least they could speak for you.

Just as you neared the grave between oaks, you lifted your head, your footsteps slowing at the person who stood over your sister's grave. "You have got to be shitting me."

"Isn't it a sin to curse over someone's grave?" Changmin asked as you stopped short of where he was. There was a single stem of sunflower (adoration) seated at his feet on the bundle of earth that was Sena's resting place. "Well, I wouldn't know. That's not my expertise."

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a loose gesture with a flourished hand. "Visiting a friend. Don't leave on my account. She's your sister."

It was as if he could read your mind. You didn't count on anyone being here when you saw her, but he had a right to visit her, too. The bitterness seeping into your bones would have to be squandered for today; the universe just needed to stop making the two of you bump into each other.

You ignored the quickening pitter-patter of your heart and the necklace, and trudged over the grass to where he was.

You gently placed your bundle of flowers next to his, then straightened to stand beside him. The two of you stared at the patch in the ground in silence.

A frown etched itself onto his face, along with a crease between his brows. He seemed almost angry—at what, you couldn't tell. Not you, you hoped.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to the grass to sit down and be closer to her.

I miss you, you voiced into your head, as if you could transmit these thoughts to the dead body in the ground. I'm so… it's too much, Sena. I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me, I don't know what Changmin wants from me. The apartment is cold. Why didn't you tell me you were home all this time?

For the moment, you let your vision blur with tears.

You covered your mouth with your palm to dam the emotion inside, especially with someone else right next to you, but dignity be so fucking damned. Your body trembled with the weight of everything and beyond—you were Atlas carrying the world upon his shoulders. Pressure mounted in your cranium from how hard and freely you sobbed, your fingers pressed to your face to support your head as your tears wet the earth beneath you.

A presence lowered itself to the ground beside you, and Changmin remained politely quiet. He breathed in deeply, but you heard the slight tremble of his breath when he exhaled.

Maybe you were crying for the both of you.

After what seemed like eons, you sniffled, pawing at your puffy and reddened eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. You hadn't brought along any tissues or anything, an oversight.

You gathered your wits about you and clambered to your feet, your knees knocking together like a baby deer. Changmin still had his eyes pinned to the ground.

"Whatever the Hell you want from me," you told him hoarsely, "I don't care. Just leave me alone."

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Without another word, you walked away to head back to the bus stop.

Your skin prickled when you returned home. The air was oddly… off, and a strange smell lingered in the air. It was subtle, only becoming apparent to you with deep, focused inhales. The identity of the smell eluded you and it wasn't something you were familiar with.

You kicked the front door shut behind you, and noticed that the window was ajar. Had you accidentally left that open before you left?

Strange.

You padded across the room to peer out at the street below. There sat the usual tree that occupied the space in front of your window, the one that you assumed (hoped) was the thing making all of the noises outside the past few weeks. (Because if it wasn't that, you didn't want to know what it really was.)

The thought occurred to you that you might have opened the window before you left to air out whatever smell had crept through the air vents. Yes, that made a whole lot of sense.

Settling with that explanation, you cranked the window closed slightly, only leaving a sliver so you could muffle as much of the sounds outside as possible. This part of town wasn't the noisiest, luckily, but when there were vehicles that drove by, they tended to be loud for no reason.

You sighed, settling down onto your couch with your bag. The whole rest of your day was open, and the only thing you had thought of was to go see Sena.

The feeling of eyes on you loitered on your skin like an invisible ant crawling over your body somewhere. You swiped at your neck, rubbed your arm… you couldn't identify it when you swung around to observe your own home.

This was your home, wasn't it? Why did it feel like you weren't alone in it?

You were going to go close the window—

A shadow appeared on the ledge of your window sill and you let out a scream.

The mass gnarled its teeth at the sound, pouncing at you with claws and fangs that glinted in the daylight.

You scrambled backward on the couch, toward the opposite end, your heart throwing itself up against your ribcage. "What the fuck?" You breathed, trying to figure out what in the world it was.

Bad idea. Oh, baaaad. Bad. Bad. Bad idea.

You shouldn't have stared so long; then you wouldn't have realized it had multiple rows of teeth, a face pale as a full moon, and two beady eyes narrowed into slits. Saliva dripped from its maw and down its chin as it crawled on its haunches and arms to you.

It made a guttural noise, then lunged.

You swore and fell over the arm of the couch, dragging along the lamp on the side table. You tried to move your right leg off the arm—it didn't budge. Oh god, it had its claws in your pant leg—

"Mine," it snarled, surprisingly sentient. "Master wills it so."

You kicked it in its face and managed to scramble away, clutching the lamp in front of your body as a weapon.

It ran after you, and your body leapt into instinct.

You nearly slipped as you fumbled to your feet and tipped the coffee table over the creature. "What the fuck are you—SHIT."

Wood splinters exploded as the creature smashed clear through one of the legs and went careening for you.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE," you begged, running for the kitchen and the block of knives in your sight.

Your knees hit the wood floor with a vengeance, and you had no time to mourn over bruised knees. You twisted around and just barely shoved the lamp between its jaws before it could enclose them around your neck—

Somebody pounded on your front door. "YN? YN!"

Familiar—that was all that went through your head. "HELP ME," you screeched, your hands growing slippery from the slobber. Desperation filled your veins and you gave a violent shove.

Your front door bursted open, the handle banging against the opposite wall and leaving a dent.

Changmin charged into the room with a dark look in his eyes, a swear on his tongue. "You're the little weasel who's been fucking with me."

The creature shifted his attention to Changmin. "Your Disgrace," it gave a mocking bow.

That seemed to be his ticker.

You couldn't comprehend what happened—only an exchange of blows, a blur of body mass—Changmin brawled with the creature on your floor and you dragged yourself behind the kitchen counter to hide. You reached for a knife from the knife block up above and pulled your knees to your chest, the sounds of snarling and wood breaking and bones cracking—then—complete silence.

You slapped a palm over your mouth, eyes going toward the ceiling to pray to anyone who could hear you.

This was when you died. The creature had killed Changmin and now it was coming back to finish what it started.

You held your breath with your eyes wide open. You strained your ears. The sound of a sigh met your ears, one that was oh-so familiar to you.

"Shit," came Changmin's voice. "Yn. Yn? Yn, where…?"

He rounded the counter, his hair sticking up in different directions and a large tear at the top of his shirt, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. He eyed the knife pointed outward at him, and he showed you his palms as if placating a rattlesnake. "Woah, hey, it's okay. It's gone now."

Your body trembled from head to toe with all of the pent up fear and adrenaline. You shook your head, your hand still clapped over your mouth to keep your screams or cries in.

Changmin lowered himself to your level slowly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise, it's gone and you're okay now. Let's put the knife down."

You slowly, slowly brought your extended hand down, letting the blade point toward the ground and away from the man in front of you. "What—" you choked, "—what was—who are—"

His facial features arranged into something short of stress. "It's a long story…" He roughed a hand through his bangs. "That thing back there? Yn, that was a demon."

You blinked.

He exhaled sharply. "I'm a demon."

"Don't fuck with me."

"You think I'm fucking with you?"

Your free hand clutched at the pendant around your neck. "You—you don't look like that thing though."

He gave a nod. "Right, I don't. I'm… a different kind of demon." When you remained quiet, he prodded, "You're not going to fight back? You're not gonna tell me you're going crazy?"

"Oh, I know I'm going crazy," you nodded vigorously, wiping away the snot that dribbled down your nose inelegantly. He reached over the counter to grab the roll of paper towels and slide it over to you in an act of (rare) kindness. Your head made contact with the cabinet behind you. "Is the carcass lying on my living room floor, Changmin? Tell me it is not lying on my living room floor."

"It's not."

"Then where the fuck is it?"

He licked his lips, closing his eyes. "It escaped."

"Out the window?"

"No, through a portal—"

You wheezed, and you were sure you looked half mad to him. "Oh my god, I really am off my rocker." A portal. A portal! Of course it was a portal.

He pinned you with a look. "Yn. Yn, listen to me. You're not safe here."

"No shit. I almost died two minutes ago." You saw his unimpressed expression and forced an apology out of your mouth. "Sorry. Humor is a coping mechanism. You can't just tell me demons exist without me thinking we've both gone absolutely insane."

Changmin settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, gripping onto the edge of the counter behind his head. "Yeah, your sister reacted similarly when she found out."

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"What?"

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Supernatural creatures exist. The ones that you read about in books and in myths and legends, and watch in silly movies and TV shows?" He gestured wide with both his arms. "They exist—we exist."

You could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You swallowed. "And she… she knew this?"

A nod. "Yes. We've all been walking among you this whole time."

"What does this have to do with Sena?" What did any of this have to do with your sister? Was this even worse than you imagined it was?

He pursed his lips, exposing the little mole beneath his bottom lip for a moment. "Sena and I were… business partners. We were in the bounty hunting business, essentially."

There were words coming out of his mouth, but it was too much. All of it hit your head and fell straight to the floor, and none of it truly sank into your sense of reality.

Sena was a supernatural bounty hunter? And she died while on a case. A personal one, he said—?

"—I was coming over to show you something when I felt my trap get triggered."

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in. "Trap?"

"I've been hunting that demon for weeks now," he explained to you, but the words were coming out slowly like he was reluctant to let them go. "It's been… avoiding me, and I tracked it to your apartment and realized what, or who, it was after." His teeth ran over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed on you. "You're wearing it, aren't you? The pendant?"

On instinct, your hand shot up to your sternum. "How the Hell—"

"That's what Sena and I were looking for." His sharp, feline gaze remained pinned on you as you slowly lifted the chain to take the pendant out. It glistened like a fat, red ruby in the daylight. "What did she tell you about it?"

"Absolutely nothing," you said plainly. You set the knife on the ground beside you and adjusted your sitting position with a shaky exhale. "Except that I shouldn't let anyone touch it before me, that I shouldn't take it off, and to not—trust anyone."

You stiffened when Changmin reached for something in his back pocket.

"Relax, this is what I wanted to show you." He held his hands up after retrieving a cream-colored envelope from his back pocket, majorly bent and crumpled in some portions, but intact for the most part. He slid the envelope across the kitchen floor to you, and you immediately recognized your sister's handwriting.

You gingerly picked it up off the ground and inspected it. It couldn't have been forged—the way she wrote her R's were too distinct. She was so weird about always writing capital R's even if it was supposed to be lowercase.

You opened the flap and tugged out the letter inside. As you made your way down the note, it came to you that this was his evidence. This was his evidence that Sena knew him personally and that, according to past-Sena, you could trust him.

Your fingers shook as you pushed the letter back into the fold, and you shoved the envelope back over to him. "Okay," you muttered. "What now?"

Something akin to relief washed over his face. "She didn't tell you anything about the pendant? Nothing?"

You shook your head, fondling the stone between your fingers. "No. I found it in the lockbox she left for me with cash and a small note."

"Lockbox?" He perked up. "Are you certain there wasn't anything else in there? Not a second stone or a second necklace? Nothing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, and you pressed your thumb and forefinger to your closed eyes when they began to sting from dehydration. "No. It was just those three things I mentioned earlier. Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you said. "I am absolutely sure. You don't think I turned that thing upside down?"

Changmin stood up and began to pace around his side of the kitchen, his head buried in his two palms. "Oh fuck," you heard his muttered swear.

"What is it?"

He rubbed his hands down his face, and it reset him to that careful blankness from before. "Do you trust me?"

"No," came your automatic answer.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Your sister was after something important before she died. She—she was supposed to update me about it when she got back, but she never did." He carded a hand through his hair again. "It could reveal to us more about what happened. Didn't she mention anything about how important this was?"

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Sena wrote it plainly in her final note to you about how important this necklace was, and keeping it with you. You supposed you could dash out any thought that she stole this from a bank or jewelry store… a mortal one, at least.

What the fuck was this thing made of?

You enclosed your fist around the stone. "So what are you saying?"

"We need to finish what she started." He considered something for a moment, then added, "And you're not safe here."

Something panged in your chest. "I'm not teaming up with you."

Changmin took a couple steps toward you and from this distance, there was an unmistakable ferocity in his gaze. "I would agree with you, but unfortunately, if I want answers and the pendant, then I'm stuck with you."

Your blood pressure spiked. "You're such an ass."

"Ass or not," he drawled, "you can stay here and risk that cretin coming back for you, or you can come with me, and we can figure out what the Hell happened to your sister."

Your bones, your joints—everything ached as you clambered to your feet. God, you were tired. A grave sort of determination trickled into your mind, though, at the thought of getting away from this. It didn't seem like there was much other choice anyway.

#4—SURVIVE THE NIGHT.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THE CAR pulled into the motel parking lot. Your ass was on fire from the long drive, and your mind hazy from sleep deprivation. Fear kept you awake for the entirety of the eight hour trek between home and nowhere. You would have worried about Changmin in the driver's seat, but considering you found out he was a supernatural being literally eight hours ago, your worries consoled themselves.

"This was the best out of the selection," he murmured, barely audibly, as he put the car in park. The glow from the motel lights was the only light for miles, and the red-violet from the neon sign washed over Changmin's sharp side profile like a grungy teen thriller show.

A yawn stretched out of you and you reached for your seatbelt. "Wasn't complaining."

He sent you a pointed look. It was a silent "Really?" You pointedly ignored it.

The two of you clambered out of the car and you massaged your back and butt with reprieve. Your hand reached for the red ruby settled beneath the fabric of your T-shirt, the warm stone solid and present between your fingers. Changmin slammed his side of the car closed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, and you were swift to follow his lead.

Your fingers drummed against the side of your pants just as the main office came into view. There was someone seated behind the front desk with her head buried in her phone and Candy Crush on the screen. You and Changmin walked up to the counter and her head flicked upward.

Her eyes darted between you two and something or other clicked in her head. "Room for two?" She droned, already clacking away on her computer screen.

"Yes please," you sighed. You knew there was no way you were getting around her assumptions.

She smacked the gum in the side of her cheek, twirling around in her chair to reach for a key on the wall behind her. "It'll be thirty bucks," she said, sliding the key across the counter, "and we don't have condoms."

You and Changmin both coughed, heat rushing to your face. "None needed," he muttered as he slid a twenty and ten dollar bill over to her.

You collected the key and checked for the room number. Sleep crept into the corners of your eyes again and they were starting to sting from dehydration.

Changmin eyed you from his peripheral vision and nodded his silent thanks to the girl. He swept an arm loosely around your shoulders to guide you back out to the night beyond the main office. The room you were assigned was on the second floor of a building just a little ways down the complex. It was outfitted with a single queen-sized bed and bathroom, and the lights fortunately worked well enough. You couldn't decide if it was a good thing that you were too tired to assess the cleanliness of this room, but you made a beeline for the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower," you announced, already closing the door.

The last thing you heard was his grunt from the other side.

You dumped your backpack on the lid of the toilet then braced your forearms on the sink counter. The lights in here were a dull gray and made you look sickly in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath your pinkened eyes—the receptionist probably thought you were drunk or high. Exhaustion hit you like a bus, your limbs sluggish and heavy.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours.

You ripped the shower curtain back and fiddled around with the shower until cold water spouted from the top.

Changmin was a demon. He was Hellspawn. You'd messed around with the idea of him being a pain in the ass before, but you never expected his demon-ness to be true.

When the water warmed as much as it could, you stepped beneath its drizzle. The ruby pendant from your sister sat on your sternum, safe and warm, and you watched it pulse with a glowing scarlet beneath the stream of water.

Your sister.

A few weeks ago, you watched her body lowered into a ditch in the ground. A little before that, you were told her death had been an accident. Now, you were on the run.

From who or what? You weren't completely sure. That was what Changmin was here for. Well, technically he was here for the necklace your sister left with you, but after what happened at your apartment that caused the two of you to go on the run, here you and the necklace were. Plus, the note your sister left explicitly instructed that the necklace be kept with you—on you. (You still weren't too certain of anything.)

When your fingers began to prune, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower to slip on a new set of clothes from your backpack. You went through the motions of getting ready to sleep, too, mind fuzzy and unable to make sense of anything.

You wrestled down a sigh and desire to cry. You were tired, for fuck's sake, you were so tired.

But when you opened the bathroom door, flicking the light off, you paused. The room was dark.

Your breath hitched in your throat and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. Heart pounding, you took a step into the main room.

"Chang—" A palm closed around your mouth, another cupping the back of your head.

Panicpanicpanic—

A warm breath by your ear. "Calm down. It's just me." Changmin.

Fucking Hell.

You found his eyes as yours grew more accustomed to the dark. His head twisted over his shoulder to the window by the door where you could see silhouettes walking past, silent and stalking.

"Someone's here," he exhaled as he slowly removed his hand from over your mouth. His dark bangs hung in his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line. "They can sense the pendant, I think."

Your heart thundered against your ribcage—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

Changmin's head whipped back toward you and he fished something out of his pocket. He reached for your hand, closing your fingers around something cold and metal. "Slowly put your backpack down and barricade yourself in the closet over there," he instructed quietly, finger pointing in the direction of the sliding doors just to your left. "If it comes to it, use the knife, Yn."

You bit your tongue to keep your breathing as steady as possible. Your hands shook around the switchblade he'd passed to you, and under his sharp eyes, you carefully lowered your bag to the ground without making as much noise as you could. Then, with his go-ahead, you crept as quietly as possible toward the closet.

Just as you reached for the slot in the door, all Hell broke loose.

The window shattered open, the door kicked off its hinges. Your entire body tensed as you dropped to the floor behind the bed, clutching the knife in front of you.

Changmin swore, nice and loud.

Shadows pummeled him to the ground until he was tangled in darkness, like nightmares brought to life. You saw a flash of claws in your view, your scream caught in your throat.

"You."

A blur of shadow whisked across your vision and your eyes went wide.

The creature crawled over the bed and pounced toward you—you rolled away from him, blade held out in front of your body. Oh, there was an awful wave of déjà vu coming over you.

"You are a difficult being to find, pet," the creature hissed. You were beginning to make out its features now—dagger-like eyes, claws that could easily rip flesh apart like cloth, and a maw of knives for teeth. Shit straight out of nightmares.

It cocked its head at you, crouching on the floor a few feet away. Why hadn't it attacked you yet?

"Curious," its scratchy voice croaked. "The master will be pleased when the asset is brought home to her."

The asset? It must have meant the necklace.

You heard a snarl from your right, and in horror, noted the thick, dark liquid splattered all over Changmin's clothes and body. When he snarled at the demons holding him down, you spotted the gleam of fangs.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled, returning back to your main problem. The necklace sat warm and present, the pulses matching your racing heartbeat.

The creature released a sound like grating metal, something akin to a laugh. "Your guardian is more dangerous than he appears," he said instead while tilting its head to the side. "Clever being, that one. Master will be pleased when we bring his rotted corpse home."

You didn't anticipate how quickly it would move. You screamed as the creature dove for you and you swung out of the way. Its claws dug into the meat of your thigh, clinging to the flesh there with all of its might.

Fear struck painfully through your chest and you desperately twisted around to stab the blade into the side of the creature's neck.

It screeched. You drew the knife out to impale it in the back area, messily splattering an arc of its black blood everywhere.

You sucked in a sob as you scrambled backward. Its body dragged along the ground from its claws still sunken into your leg. The body was limp, but your nose wrinkled from the acrid, hot smell reeking from the corpse. It smelled burnt.

You peered at the blade in your fist with new eyes. The silver glowed gold in the darkened room; you shouldn't have expected anything less. Why did you think a mortal weapon could defend you from demonic creatures?

"YN!"

Too late.

Claws sunk into the sides of your throat and trapped your voice there. You thrashed around; panic stabbed your chest. Pathetically, desperately, you reached your arm back to try and drill the blade of your knife into the creature behind you.

Hot blood squelched down your throat—you were losing feeling there. Numb numb numb—it hurt, oh fuck, you were going to die—

All at once, the pressure subsided.

Breath could only flood into your lungs as quickly as blood spilled from your throat. You were choking, eyes wide up at the ceiling.

This was it, this was it. Maybe you'd see your sister in Hell.

A face appeared above you, sweaty but familiar. Your blurry vision couldn't make out the emotions on his face, but you could hear him… boy, could you hear him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, rustling around and adjusting his position above your body.

His rough palms cupped your face. You could hear your heartbeat slowing in your ears. Ba-boom… ba-boom… ba… boom.

"Stay with me," he panted. His left hand pressed against that side of your neck to staunch the blood flow. He sucked in a breath and he ducked out of your view.

You felt a different wet sensation over your open wound. His tongue was rough, yet soothing as he lapped and sucked on the gouge in your throat. Feeling sparked in that area; you could feel your skin physically stitching itself together. If you could squirm, you would have.

He was swift to switch to your other side and copy those actions there. He groaned low against your skin, one hand cupping the side of your head to hold you in place.

Oxygen rushed through your lungs and you gasped. You tore your neck away from his mouth to dry retch. Blood dripped from the side of your lips to the dusty carpet. You had been asphyxiating on your own life force.

You flopped back onto your back, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gestured wildly at the steaming demon carcass still attached to your thigh. "Ple-please," you whimpered. "Please, get it off."

Changmin crawled onto his arms, sliding down toward your leg. "Yeah, sweetheart. I got it."

He looked up at you as he dug his fingers into the creature's skull, ready to pry the thing's claws from you. Something dark was smudged over his face—his nose, cheeks, across his eye. "It's gonna hurt," he warned, voice hoarse.

You moved your head in a microscopic nod.

Tears pricked at your vision, and your leg screamed. Blood filled your mouth even more from the force you used to clamp down on your tongue. Changmin was swift, but gentle as he removed each claw from your thigh, then tossed the body somewhere behind him. He lowered his face to your leg to carefully lap at your wounds like he'd done before.

When he was done, he flopped onto the floor with you, his sigh filling the awful silence.

You could feel everything. It was pulsing all over your body. Your skin, threading together, tingled and ached and throbbed. Your cheeks were damp with tear tracks and your fingers finally loosened their grip on the switchblade. Your mouth was coated in the metallic iron taste of blood.

The only familiar feeling was the pendant on your sternum. The bane of your existence.

"So you have magic spit?" You croaked, your voice scratchy from your sore and bruised throat.

You heard his huff, the closest thing you'd ever heard to a laugh from him. "It's regenerative," he exhaled deeply.

You snorted, then winced when it hurt.

If you could look up, you would've seen the corner of his lips twitch.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

You heard a soft shuffling sound as he clambered upright to lean against the wall. His head thumped against it, eyes fluttered closed. "I don't drink blood, sweetheart."

"I didn't say you drank it."

You grimaced as you struggled to swallow. Reality was swooping in on you like a vulture above a carcass. Doom swirled in your stomach—you almost died just now. You choked on a sob, and you reached up to your face to brush away your tears.

Oh god, everything hurt.

"I want to go home," you whispered. It wasn't even to Changmin, just to whoever could hear you. Homehomehome, but where was home? They could find you anywhere.

A beat passed.

"I'm sorry." Changmin's head hung, either out of exhaustion or genuine regret. "I promised your sister I wouldn't get you involved."

You still couldn't move your head much, so you kept your gaze on the speckled ceiling. "What?"

"I have… had sisters."

You didn't hide your surprise. You didn't think you would ever get anything personal out of this guy, let alone the fact he had family. But his confession planted a seed of sympathy in you… maybe he was human before, or maybe he wasn't at all, but he had family. That had to count for something.

He released another haggard sigh. "So that was one of the few things we could agree on—keeping you out of this unless necessary."

Necessary. You should have never put on the necklace, should have never touched the cursed thing. Now, you were literally chained to it and its fate.

He went quiet again and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he rose to his feet. Taking slow, careful steps, he made his way over to your body.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he murmured as he tucked his hands under your armpits to haul you upright.

You cursed under your breath at the ache and the blood rushing to your head. Your left leg was pretty much useless, and he had to cup the nape of your neck to his shoulder so you could lean on him.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his breath by your ear again.

You shook your head, pressing your mouth against the muscle of his shoulder. He smelled like demon blood, and you shifted to lean your cheek on him instead, holding in a gag at the wretched stench.

"Okay. Hold on a second."

He helped you sit down on the ledge of the bed, before going around the room to collect things. He plucked up your backpack from the floor, then his own bag, hoisting them both over his shoulders before returning to you. From your vantage, you could see all the limp demon corpses lying on the ground, unmoving. You wrestled down the bile creeping up your throat and looked away.

Changmin scooped you up in his arms with a grunt, and you looped yours around his upper body, tucking yourself into him. "We have to get out of here before someone comes to check this shit out," he said to you as he exited the room.

You gave a nod. "Aren't you tired? Hurt?" You asked, guilt and fear twisting something horrid in your chest.

"Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?"

His lips twitched. "Oh, so you care about me now?"

You closed your eyes against his shoulder. "Don't be an asshole."

"Sure, sweetheart." He made it to the car and instructed you to reach around his back to get the car key hanging from his bag strap. Changmin managed to get the car door open and deposited you in your seat. Your body molded into the material, exhaustion settling once more into your bones and joints.

In a blink, the two of you were back on the road.

Changmin carded a hand through his damp hair as he pulled out onto the barren street. You rolled your head to the side, eyes drinking him in. There were scratches over his exposed skin, barely there, but still present as if they had healed over already. His clothes were splotched and stained, as well as ripped in other places. And of course, there was the blood smeared all over his face, his neck. The bastard didn't even look fazed.

Right, demon. What did that even entail?

Your eyelids were beginning to droop, yanked down by the force of gravity and the human necessity to sleep. You didn't want to sleep though; you didn't want to be attacked a third time. Though most of the adrenaline had dissipated, your shoulders were still tense, your senses alert and unable to relax just yet.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "You should sleep."

You moved your head. "Can't," you rasped.

He reached over then, his palm warm against your head, as he gently brushed his thumb over your eyelids to coax them closed. "You're safe with me, Yn," he promised. You were reluctant to believe him, but after what just happened, at least you knew he could take care of himself and you.

Sleep was already coaxing you into its jaws to devour you, and the pendant under your shirt pulsed to a steady beat to encourage your descent. "Morning will come soon."

All you could do now was trust him.

#5—THE ANGEL BLADE.

THE DINER OFF THE INTERSTATE was like the ones from the movies: red, vinyl seats that squelched when you scooted over them; blind fluorescent lights that flickered every time a fly died against them; people minding their own business as they hunched over grainy coffee and burgers that looked a little too good to be true. You sat across from Changmin, hands laced over the white table surface while he had his arms braided over his chest.

Another eight hours had passed since the motel. You'd found a rest stop to clean up and change clothes on the way, but when you could no longer deny your need for food, Changmin made the executive decision to feed the monster that was your stomach. Executive decision meant he was driving you somewhere to eat something so you wouldn't pass out from stubborn, self-induced hunger.

You're not gonna die if you want fries and chicken tenders, Yn, he'd said with a roll of his eyes.

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the target of every other supernatural being within a fifty mile radius. Perhaps by association, but still.

It was fascinating what a few hours of rest and magical demon saliva could do to help the human body. All of your wounds had pretty much closed up—albeit a tad sore, but nothing as awful as the pain you were in when being clawed in the moment. It was even more fascinating how alive Changmin looked despite literally not being alive. And the fact he hadn't slept a wink within the past day at least.

You, on the other hand, looked like a dumpster fire. Your hair was a bird's nest, eye bags more expensive than Louis Vuitton. Your stomach gave another whining growl; you'd ordered not five minutes ago with a middle-aged woman in too-bright red lipstick and a blue collared dress uniform.

"Are you sure you're not like, a vampire?"

His face dropped into a deadpan you'd seen before. "Oh my God."

"You can say His name?"

Your lips curled into a self-indulgent smile at the way he rolled his eyes so hard, he could probably see his brain back there. (If he had one.) "Sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said, eyebrow arching. "Do you have any real questions?"

Your hands shifted to your lap as your gaze moved to the window next to you. The sky was an ugly, sickly shade of gray-green. It reminded you of the lighting from the first Twilight movie, and you gagged at the thought. The bright red and neon of the diner clashed horridly with the sky, too. All of it was a little disconcerting.

Back in the car, when Changmin was first introducing you to the real world, he'd given you the short version of the supernatural who lived amongst oblivious humans. He hadn't gotten down to the nitty-gritty, just the shit he needed you to know so he could justify hauling you across the state, and to understand all the supernatural creatures after the little pendant resting beneath your shirt collar.

Two mugs of coffee were set onto your table, the dark liquid sloshing over the sides to stain the white below it.

You reached for your mug first, gently cooling it down with a breath. When you took a sip, gingerly, you grimaced. You somehow managed to wrestle the liquid down, but the searing bitterness was enough to make you push the cup away and reach for the sugar packets at the end of the table.

Changmin watched you in amusement, tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you ripped a Stevia packet open. "What're you laughing at?"

"M'not laughing," he shrugged. He picked up his cup of coffee, clinked it against yours for good measure, then chugged the cup of shit in one sitting.

You watched in ill-concealed disgust, horror, and… maybe you were a little impressed.

When he set the drained cup on the table, he wiped his smug mouth with a napkin from the aluminum dispenser.

It was your turn to deadpan. "Show off," you muttered, stirring your artificial sweetener into the dark brown brew.

He shrugged again. "What? Like it's hard?"

"Oh my god, you can be funny."

Your chicken tenders arrived. Steam wafted from them and you closed your eyes to inhale the beautiful smell. Happiness on a plate, you liked to think.

Changmin thanked the waitress who had also delivered him a plate of blueberry pancakes. He eyed you quietly as you inhaled the food on your plate, despite the dull throbbing in your throat.

You caught his gaze, stopping mid-tender. "Want some?" You asked after swallowing the bite, gesturing to your fries.

He shook his head and began buttering up his hotcakes. "Nah. Have at it."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate your separate meals. Changmin had told you before that demons didn't need all the typical things humans needed to "survive" or "live." Technically, since he was undead, there were only a handful of ways he could die. Eating and sleeping were necessary for human life, but they were more so preferences for him. If he wanted to eat, he could eat. If he wanted to close his eyes and dream, he could try.

The thought had you waving a fry at him. "The switchblade," you began, drawing his attention and pancake-stuffed cheeks, "what was it? It definitely wasn't something human-made."

Changmin swallowed his bite. "It was an angel blade."

"You're kidding," you drawled in disbelief.

He challenged your stare. "Believe it or not, it was. Forged up there." He lifted the prongs of his fork up toward the ceiling, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. "So the Big Man Upstairs does exist?"

"I mean, I don't really know. I've never met him if he does. I just know the angels are ruled by the Seraphim," he told you. "Lots of hierarchical bullshit I didn't care to pay attention to."

He impaled another piece of pancake. "Angel blades are one of the few things that can kill a creature like that."

"A demon?" You asked.

"Yes. Lower level demons are easier to kill, especially with a blade like the one I gave you." He shoved the bite into his cheek to continue, "That's why I was able to take on multiple at once."

You made a noise of indignation. "So you're telling me you're a higher level demon?"

His shoulders fell in a half-hearted shrug.

"Helpful," you muttered as you washed your meal down with bittersweet coffee. You paused for a moment, cleaning your fingers off with a napkin. "The… the licking thing."

Changmin's eyes could not meet yours. "Mhm."

"Do you… do you do that often?"

"No," he said curtly. "That party trick only works on humans and I don't really enjoy the taste of blood."

You pursed your lips at his rather clipped response. "Oh." You recalled the sound he'd made as he cleaned your blood up with his tongue at the motel… maybe it was something out of disgust. You suddenly felt out of place, like you had made his shoulders tense up and the air crackle. You racked your brain. "I—thanks, by the way."

With a cough, he murmured, "Welcome. Couldn't have you dying on me."

You nursed your coffee cup, reaching up to absentmindedly fondle the pendant under your shirt. "Yeah."

"Have you ever met an angel?"

The car was quiet as Changmin peered over his shoulder to switch lanes, the blinker tick-tocking away until it was turned off. "Yeah."

You stared out the front windshield to count the white colored cars on the highway amongst you. "What're they like?"

"They're like every other species," he said, unenthused. "Some are more asshole-ish than others. You'll find good ones and bad ones." A sigh. "The ones I've met have largely been the latter though."

"Oh." You weren't sure if you were disappointed by that answer.

The diner had been less than half an hour ago and you were back on the road again. Yours and Changmin's ETA to your sister's safehouse was supposedly another five or so hours. You couldn't believe she owned safehouses. For fuck's sake, she lived with you for majority of the time before she went to study abroad… she probably wasn't even abroad all those times, you realized anxiously.

It was like he could sense your change in mood from bored curiosity to tense overthinking. He dug around in the pocket of his pants and handed you the pommel of the switchblade from the motel. Angel blade, he'd called it.

You glanced at him in question, but he only pushed it into your palms.

"Get comfortable with it," he said. "It's a decent size as far as angel blades goes, since those fuckers don't really like to give them up. It's good for self defense."

The blade looked like something one could buy at a gift shop, slim with some heft, painted a shiny white color. There was no logo on it, but if you looked at it from the right angle, it shimmered. You unlocked it and let the blade whip out of the slot. The blade was shaped like any other box cutter you've seen before, but the underside had a serrated edge for extra ease in slicing through tougher materials. Your finger ghosted over the glowing metal, silver warming to a yellow-orange, but only if you didn't blink in the daylight.

You killed a demon with this. The blade burned the creature.

"How'd you get this if they don't like giving these up?" You asked as you figured out how to put the blade back into its sheath.

His fingers drummed against the wheel. "Won it in a poker game," he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"

You swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Seriously."

With nothing better to do, you flicked the blade in and out, in and out. You'd only ever really held blades in the kitchen and when opening packages. "Do you have a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Yeah," you said, shifting slightly in your seat as an ache crept into your spinal cord, "y'know like the fantasy books where they name their blades." You inspected the switchblade again, rotating it in your hands. "Looks like a Clyde."

Changmin let out a huff from his nose. "Clyde?"

"What? Got any better ideas?"

"How about we don't name dangerous utilities for murder," he drawled.

"I can't believe you didn't just say 'weapons.'" When he didn't answer you, you made an indignant little noise you hoped annoyed him and admired the angel blade in your hand in a new light. Clyde. Hi, Clyde. You're pretty.

"Don't tell me you're communicating with it," he said to you.

You ran your finger over the flat side again with a fond smile—just to annoy him. "It doesn't give me lip."

A sigh. He tended to do that a lot. "How's your neck?"

Your hand lifted to your throat and massaged it lightly. "It's doing alright. Does it still look bruised?"

You tilted your neck so he could take a good look at it. He eyed the span of flesh there, his dark irises taking on a strange tint. The corner of his mouth curled downward as he turned his focus back to the road. "Yeah."

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore, if that's any better."

"I guess," he grumbled. "Humans are so fragile."

"Hey man," you huffed, "is it my fault that I don't have magic spit or my skin doesn't heal fast—"

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's not magic spit. That's just how human biology reacts to demon saliva." Changmin tapped the back of his hand on the steering wheel as a vague gesture.

You shifted in your seat to look at him and so that you could take pressure off one side of your back. "I have a question. Why does demon saliva have healing properties when usually lore says that you guys are opposite in nature? Actually, that kind of sounds prejudicial," you thought aloud.

"It is prejudicial," he replied. "Well, mostly. It depends on the demon, but we're just like any other species. It's just that most pop culture depicts us as evil. Demons and vampires are derivations of each other in that—"

"So you are a vampire!"

He didn't even try to counter you this time. "Both species have saliva that can heal wounds, not large wounds, but you can probably imagine that vampires use it to seal puncture marks post-meal."

That made sense to you. "But why do demons need it?"

"Human blood…" he trailed off for a moment as he narrowly missed a car zooming past, his glaring eyes trailing after them, "...is like our saliva. It regenerates us. It's kind of like an energy drink, so it's not a necessity, but more so like a luxury or privilege."

You swallowed and you could've sworn you heard a soft huff from his mouth like a laugh. The thought of your blood being like an energy drink for him—and he'd literally licked your wounds clean at the motel that night. Was that how he was able to heal so quickly? It was a marvel he hadn't drunk you dry. But then again, he'd also said blood wasn't his taste…?

"Are you sure you don't like human blood?" You asked, sounding like a broken record, but more apprehensively this time.

"Sweetheart, you really think you'd still be here if I did?"

Touché.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Changmin stiffen. His hands tightened the slightest amount around the steering wheel, his eyes darting from the front windshield to the rearview mirror.

"What?" You asked, taking a look through the side mirror on your side. "What's wrong?"

Changmin's face washed over in a careful blankness. "We're being followed."

Your whole body tensed and you had to physically restrain yourself from twisting around in your seat. "What?"

"Hey, stay calm." He flicked his turn signal on casually as he exited off the freeway.

"Why are you telling them where we're going?!" He was literally signaling to whoever was following you exactly your next move.

"Just because we're on the run, doesn't mean we shouldn't follow basic driving safety."

You sent him a very emboldened stink eye. "Out of all the times, you choose now to have a sense of humor and to be an upstanding citizen?" Where was this during the entire road trip thus far?

Changmin made no other comments as he turned right onto the street leading further away from the freeway. You sat quietly for a moment, monitoring the cars behind you from your side mirror. Your knee started bouncing as you took note of the white sedan following behind, not tailgating, but its intentions were clear enough where even you could pick it out.

"What're we gonna do?" You murmured.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "We're gonna be fine. We just have to lose them."

"No shit."

"And you say I give you lip?"

Without any forewarning, Changmin jerked the car to the left, practically zooming across the intersection to catch the yellow light. Your whole body sailed across the center console, and before you could give him a piece of your mind, he was sending you crashing into your doorway from another sharp turn. You glared daggers at him, but turned to peer out your window.

The white car was still following after you. They must have run the red light then.

Changmin's sharp eyes sliced across the rearview mirror, and his foot lowered on the gas pedal like a challenge. His eyes whipped back and forth for somewhere he could go next, brain working double the speed. "Hold onto something, sweetheart."

"I don't think that would—HELPPP!" You sputtered and yanked on the handle above the door, hugging yourself to that side of the car.

You could hear the tires of Changmin's car burn rubber and squeal as he zigzagged through streets. You were pretty sure half of this was residential, you thought as the landscape blurred past.

"Do you even know where—" You swore as your body flailed around from another one of his god awful swerves, "—we are?"

He shook his head and floored the gas. "Nope."

Great.

It was about fifteen minutes of this supposed drag racing before his driving finally began to even out. You were seconds from hurling up diner food when you realized…

"Where the fuck did the trees come from?" You asked, lowering your tense form from the door handle.

You pressed your nose against the window to gawk up at the towering trees on your side of the vehicle, all dark green and beautiful. A light fog clung to some of the leaves, making the sunlight streaming through them look like golden strands of gossamer. The road you drove on held to the side of the mountain, but from what you could tell, Changmin had officially lost the white sedan.

Changmin visibly relaxed. "You might wanna pull up a GPS."

You reached over to your phone in the cupholder. But you pretty much tossed it right back. "No bars. Where did you take us?" You didn't even realize there was so much forest in this area. How come you hadn't seen it from the highway?

He gave a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Shit."

The car sunk into silence. Changmin could do nothing else but follow the road until you hit civilization or some kind of sign as to where you two were. You hadn't been in this part of the state before, so it wasn't like you could point out any landmarks. But as you both continued along, you settled into a sort of calm—the trees here were beautiful, untouched by man. Even from inside the car, you could feel the serenity.

Your finger pressed down on the button on your door to lower the window. You stuck your head out, hair flowing behind you. With a great inhale, your mouth broke into a smile. It smelled just as gorgeous as it looked. Fresh and clean and—

"You've got to be shitting me."

You pulled yourself back into the car and raised the window back up. "What?"

Changmin's mouth was set in a firm line, a dimple pressing deep into his cheek. "Wolves."

Your brows knitted together. "Huh?"

"We're in wolf shifter territory."

Just as he said this to you, the car rounded the side of the bend and revealed a large green sign that read: WELCOME TO MOONSTONE CREAK! Population 276.

The sign following it did not make you feel any better: CAMPERS! BEWARE OF WOLVES.

#6—BEWARE OF WOLVES.

AT THE FIRST SIGN OF WOLVES, you sunk low in your seat. You'd made eye contact with one of the furry creatures hidden in the brush, their sharp predator eyes narrowing at the sight of a foreign entity in their woods.

"By wolf shifters," you said quietly, holding onto Clyde in your lap, "you mean like… werewolves?"

Changmin's eyes stayed on the road ahead, but every once in a while, you would catch him scanning the forest, too. "Those aren't the same things. Werewolves are the things you read about in lore, half-man and half-wolf. Wolf shifters can change completely from man to wolf and vice versa."

"Oh." Well, that cleared some things up. "I'm guessing they don't take kindly to trespassers?"

He bit his lip. "I mean, it depends on the pack. If my hunch is right about where we are though, we shouldn't have to worry."

You gulped. "And if you aren't?"

"Well, I told you to get used to that angel blade, right?"

The trek further into the forest and mountains continued. The scenery around you was still as stunning as it was before, and you thought to yourself how dangerous a beautiful thing could be. Every time you peeked out of the car window, you saw a flash of something in the woods beyond the road. There had to be a reason why they hadn't attacked the car yet, right? If this was a pack of wolves who didn't like trespassers, then why were you and Changmin still alive?

Maybe they wanted you in a place where there was no chance of outsiders hearing you scream…

Your intrusive thoughts were getting to you.

There was a dead end, a near broken road sign and fence directing all passers-by that this was the end. Changmin was forced to take the off-road path, beaten into the dirt as it wound through the forest. If you didn't have signal up on the main road, you definitely would not have any here.

It was a few more minutes of traveling down the path that two wolves appeared before the car. Changmin brought the vehicle to a slow halt. The wolves were relatively large, spanning about six feet and about as tall as the bottom rim of the car door window. One of the wolves had black hair like a raven, and the other had hair like a field of grain.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as the wolves stared right at you. "Changmin…?"

He met their staring contest with little intimidation. "It's… it's fine. I think they recognize me."

After a moment, the two wolves broke their strange staring contest and trotted off to the side of the road. They were back so quickly, you almost didn't realize what had happened. Like magic, they had transformed into two toned young men, both nicely built with their lean upper body on display. They must have had a strategic stash of shorts hidden behind a tree for after they shifted to their human forms. One had cropped black hair, the other blond. Well, at least that made sense.

Changmin slumped in his chair, relieved. The corners of his mouth curled upward in an almost-smile, as the two wolf shifters came over to greet him at his window.

The brunette bent his head down to the window with a broad smile, the kind that made your stomach fill with butterflies. (Not to mention the eyeful of abs you and Changmin were getting…) He leaned his arms over the top of the car window, eyes flickering from the demon to you. "Long time no see, Changmin. Who's your friend?"

"That's Yn," your demon guardian said, clasping one of the man's hands in greeting. He reached for the second wolf shifter. "Haknyeon, nice to see you, too."

"Good to see you, Changmin" said the blond.

Oh, so he knew them.

Changmin gestured to the two men. "Yn, this is Kevin and Haknyeon. They're with the pack."

"Not that we're unhappy to see you," Kevin drawled, "but how did you find us?"

Okay, wait. If Changmin knew them, then why wouldn't he know the location of their pack? You sat quiet, waiting for someone to explain it to you… or just explain everything to you.

"Someone was following us and I lost them," Changmin told them, "but I managed to get us lost, too. Coincidence that we ended up here. I'm glad it's you guys and not another pack."

Kevin's eyebrows flew up. "Yeah, for sure. Well—" he turned his head up toward the treetops and scanned the skies. They were beginning to bruise like your skin as the sun sank somewhere amongst the trees and into the horizon. You hadn't even realized how dark it was starting to get. "—sun's already pretty low right now. Why don't you guys shack up with us tonight and then we'll help you out in the morning?"

"That would be great actually." Wow, really? You kept your surprise at bay. "Lead the way."

With no further discussion needed, Kevin and Haknyeon disappeared behind the same large tree trunk from before, then re-emerged as the wolves from before. Kevin, the one with black colored fur, pointed with his snout in the direction the path would take you. The two wolves began to trot down the path, and Changmin waited for them to get somewhat ahead before he flicked his headlights on and followed.

It was a curious act of consideration, you thought.

You watched as the wolves began to pick up speed, your eyes flickering to the speedometer. "So…" you drawled, "what the fuck just happened?"

A sharp huff, his version of a laugh. "They're old friends," he said.

"How'd you not know this was where their pack was if they're old friends?"

"I met them out of the pack," he explained. "It was somewhere in the New England area, and we just happened to be hunting the same thing."

Hunting? Oh, bounty hunter. Right. "And the—the shifting thing."

"What about it?"

You made a face of frustration. He always made you pull teeth when you wanted background information. "Everything."

He glanced at you. "I think it'd be better if one of them explained it to you. Better to have one of their own say it right than risk me getting something wrong."

That was, unfortunately, a very fair answer.

Instead of pushing on the wolf topic, you had more questions that he could answer. "So what now? Are we just gonna stay the night? Is it safe?" What if that white car found a way in here? Neither of you could see who the driver was, and so how could either of you be sure they weren't trying to perhaps get you both here? And if they also had the means to come in here without being marked as trespassers?

"It's safe," he said with such confidence that you arched your brows. He saw your expression, making a soft turn along the road as the wolves had, the pads of his fingers lifting off the steering wheel for a second in gesture. "I know what you're probably thinking, but it's safer than sleeping out in a motel off the highway, alright? Packs usually don't drive cars, and they have maybe one or two for convenience sake. They can smell trespassers from miles away, and they usually have people on watch all the time, which is how they found us so quickly."

You supposed that made sense. The forest here seemed denser, and with the quickly fading light, it made it all the more unnavigable. If you were to try to run… good fucking luck.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. As the car rounded the bend, yours and Changmin's faces illuminated with the glow of light.

The town was laid out flat before you, not over a ridge, not over a mountain, but a path that led into a central meeting place with wooden buildings all around it. The lights were all from candle-lit lanterns rather than the LEDs and fluorescents of the human world. There were a mixture of both wolves and people milling about, an air of warm cheeriness that you could feel even from the car. You felt a fuzziness manifest in your chest at the sight.

Kevin and Haknyeon directed Changmin toward a back road to the right behind a row of buildings. It was most likely to avoid getting in the way of the pack members, you guessed. You kept silent as you averted your eyes from the void-like darkness of the forest beyond to your right.

Up ahead, you saw the two wolves trot into a small paved area with one other car parked along the walkway. It seemed to be like a makeshift alleyway of sorts between two blocks of buildings. With some maneuvering, Changmin managed to parallel park into the space that was just big enough for his vehicle.

When he parked, he gestures for you to follow his lead and get out of the car. "You should be safe to come out with me. We'll probably meet the pack alpha and get everything settled—" His head tilted to the side, "—hopefully."

Your eyes shuttered. "Hopefully?" You echoed. Pack alpha? What the fuck did that entail? From what you remember in the books and shows, you thought to yourself as you clambered out of the car and stretched your sore limbs, wolf packs had an alpha that would lead everyone. You weren't sure if you would have to go through some kind of cult initiation or something to be granted permission to stay the night.

The angel blade sat tucked into the pocket of your pants along with your phone, and you slammed your car door shut. From here, you could peer down the alley and see out into the glowing atmosphere of the town center. It sounded like fun, actually—all of the chatter and laughter. You hadn't been anywhere so lively-sounding in awhile.

"Yn right?"

You startled a little, whirling around to find the brunette—Kevin was his name—smiling at you sheepishly. He was back in human form with a pair of shorts and a plain white T-shirt on. "Sorry I snuck up on you," he said.

"Oh, it's totally fine!" You laughed bashfully, smoothing a hand down your hair. "And yes, I'm Yn. You're Kevin, right?"

Man, he was so much prettier up close…

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Changmin says this is all pretty new to you." He gestured loosely to the world around him, an all encompassing notion to the entire world you had just unearthed beneath your nose.

Your eyes darted behind Kevin where Changmin and Haknyeon were gathered on the other side of the car, pulling yours and Changmin's bags out the backseat. Changmin caught your eyes, lifted his eyebrows, then returned to his conversation.

So he was just gonna leave you in the hands of the very handsome wolf shifter? Cool.

"Yeah, it's kind of a crazy story," you mused. Understatement of the century. "Thanks for taking us in, by the way.

"It's no worries," he chirped. "Changmin and us? We go back pretty far, I'd like to think."

"Oh, cool! He mentioned something about that… and something about meeting the pack alpha?"

Kevin's eyes flickered to something behind you, and you turned around to see what or who it was on instinct. "It's nothing to stress about—he's coming this way, actually."

You felt his hand, warm and large, gently settle between your shoulder blades to guide you toward the two men making their way down the alley toward you both.

One of them… well you could feel the subtle shift in the air. It was as if molecules in the air moved for him. He boasted a powerful sort of stature, with dark hair parted neatly to frame a carved face. For a moment, you didn't know if you were supposed to bow or something, but then he smiled, and you nearly fell over from that alone. He wasn't so scary once he smiled.

The man next to him was a lighter brunette with a cheery expression engraved onto his face as if that were his default setting. There was something about him, however—you thought he glowed a little in the dim light. The angel blade in your pocket seemed to warm slightly at the sight of him.

(So was everyone just super attractive in the supernatural world?)

"Changmin-ah," greeted the man with darker colored hair. He clasped his hand with Changmin's in greeting. "It's been awhile."

"It has," your demon counterpart agreed. "Thanks for taking us in on such short notice. I wouldn't have intruded had I known."

The man brushed the thought away. "It's okay, really. Nice to have a couple new faces around."

"Speaking of new faces," drawled the second man. He beamed a pretty smile your way, waving. "Hi, little one."

Something warm blossomed in your chest. "Hi," you said softly. You weren't certain of etiquette—if you were expected to speak for yourself, to bow…

But it seemed Kevin had your back. He clasped his warm hand on your shoulder. "This is Yn. She came in with Changmin."

"Nice to meet you, Yn. I'm Sangyeon." This was the man with black hair, who felt like the tangible version of power. He must have been the pack alpha. He had to be.

The other man placed a hand on his chest. "And I'm Jacob!"

"We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Changmin piped up. He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes shifting over to yours.

"Well, why don't we head over to the pack house and we can talk about all the details of a plan," said Sangyeon. He inclined his chin in the direction of where you assumed the pack house was. Then his eyes, you watched their keen movements, latched onto Kevin's as if they were communicating silently. "Yn," you nearly jolted when you realized he was addressing you. "Kevin's gonna take you to the small inn we have here. It'll give you a little more privacy, and I'm sure you've felt pretty overwhelmed."

It didn't sound like he was asking you, but there was a warmth to his smile. You couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.

Changmin's head went on a swivel. "Wait, she's not coming with us?"

Haknyeon and Jacob were already rounding on either side of him to guide him in the opposite direction Kevin was leading you. Something in the back of your head made you turn over your shoulder to look at him. Was being separated such a bad thing?

Haknyeon suddenly tossed Kevin your backpack, the latter shouldering it.

"Come on, Yn," Kevin chirped, angling his body as he nudged you along so you could no longer see Changmin. "There's a lovely hearth in the main lobby, and the auntie who runs the place makes the best cookies ever."

You nodded slowly as your brain struggled to think of any reason why they would separate you from Changmin. And why did he sound so surprised? Your hand drifted toward the pocket that hid your angel blade. "Oh, really? That sounds nice."

They didn't drug them, did they? Your shoulders tensed at the idea.

Why did they separate you and Changmin—

The inn was the building right outside the alley with a porch that spanned the front facade. The architecture reminded you of an upscale cabin with large oak logs piled atop each other to make up the structure. A warm light emitted from the front windows and glass doors, and you swore you could smell the cookies from here.

When you and Kevin entered the building, he called out a greeting to an older woman stationed behind a reception desk in the back corner. She greeted the both of you with a cordial smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Her head tilted curiously at you, however, her eyes zeroing in on…

Your attention was drawn away and you were directed toward the seating area on the other side of the lobby.

"Can I get you any water or anything?" Kevin asked you as he motioned for you to take a seat in the armchair adjacent to him. He set your backpack at your feet for you.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat, hand reaching for the pendant beneath your shirt—you stopped short. Could he sense the power of the pendant? Was that why they separated you from your demon bodyguard? Oh fuck—

"Hey, hey," Kevin suddenly said softly, face morphing into an expression of concern. "No need to get panicked, okay? You're safe now."

Wait. What? You wrung your hands in your lap, heart still throwing itself up against your ribcage. "Safe? What do you mean safe? Safe from what?"

Kevin considered you for a moment, but the gentleness from his voice and body language never left. "You're safe from Changmin."

"Safe from Changmin?"

"Yes," he affirmed patiently. "The bruises on your neck—"

Your hand went to cover the side of your throat where it had been pierced by the maw of a demon, but not Changmin.

"—does he feed from you? They look fresh—"

You immediately put your hands up to gesticulate in wild opposition. "Oh, no, no, no. He—he didn't feed from me; he saved my life, actually. We were attacked by other demons and I was bleeding out, and he just closed the wounds. He… he isn't, uhm… yeah."

Kevin's posture changed, and his smile became relieved—sheepish even. "Well, shit. I'm sorry for assuming, Yn; it's just that a lot of people end up here because they're in unhealthy relationships, and I saw the marks on your neck and just assumed the worst." He cupped the back of his neck. "This must have been really confusing for you. Sorry about that."

Okay, now that made a lot more sense. Your adrenaline was slowly teetering out and the tension left your shoulders. "No, please, that's honestly really nice that you would help victims like this. It did give me a little scare, but… yeah no, this wasn't Changmin's doing."

"That eases my mind a lot," he chuckled. Then he turned and nodded to the auntie behind the reception desk. You watched as she disappeared out the doors of the inn. "She's just gonna let Sangyeon know that everything's good."

"I thought you said you and Changmin go way back…?" Did they not trust him?

Kevin leaned back in his armchair. "We do. It's just protocol, you know? Whether or not we know them, it doesn't matter."

That was good for victims, you thought. Though, you couldn't imagine what they were really discussing with Changmin then… "So Changmin…"

"Sangyeon, Jacob, and Haknyeon would have taken care of him if I told them he was harming you," he replied, lips pressed together. "They really are talking about how you both ended up here though—that, and plans for the morning."

It was like he could read your mind.

A lot had happened just now, and you were still reeling from the fact that you didn't need to prepare to run. Though, you were still hyperaware of Clyde's warmth in your pocket.

Kevin noticed your far-off expression. He leaned forward onto his knees, that kind smile of his curling onto his face and making you feel some sort of woozy. "I know it's probably been a lot for you. Do you have any questions for me?"

He was so different from Changmin. While with the demon getting information was like pulling teeth, here was Kevin offering you information. They were polar opposites, really. You wondered what it might have been like if Kevin had been the one to take you on this quest instead—your mind shuttered. What a strange thought. Changmin might have been a pain in your ass in the beginning (and still now), but… it wasn't like he hadn't protected you. You didn't know.

"I guess," you started, "what's gonna happen now?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, uhm, I think we're both gonna find out once Changmin gets back. See what they've all decided on. But for sure, you and he will be able to shack up here for the night."

You gave a slow nod. "Is Sangyeon the pack alpha? Kind of a stupid question—"

"It's not a stupid question at all," Kevin said. "But yes, he's the pack alpha. You can just consider him as a community leader, essentially."

"And you're all wolf shifters?"

A nod, then he paused, tilting his head. "Yes, but Jacob's not a wolf shifter; he's an angel."

Your eyebrows flew up. Everything was suddenly making a lot more sense. "An angel? So he and Changmin aren't, like, mortal enemies or anything?" You hadn't noticed any wings on him…

Kevin laughed. "Oh, you're cute. No, thankfully they are not mortal enemies. Jacob's too nice to have enemies."

"Even someone like Changmin?" You jested.

"Even someone like Changmin," he said, humoring you. "Speaking of the demon, you two aren't…?"

You sucked in a breath. "Definitely not. We're not together or anything. It's a long story, but our meeting and traveling together is just because of a common goal." You couldn't tell why the thought of you and Changmin being an item made your heart cartwheel. Perhaps it was simply the anxiety of being thought of as Changmin's significant other that made you want to jump to correct that assumption. Yes, that was it.

Kevin bit his bottom lip like he was trying to hide a smile. "Ah, I see. That's good to know."

"And why's that?" You asked.

You could have sworn if he was in wolf form, his ears would have been tucked against his head. "Nothing!" He insisted. "It would just be a shame to not take a chance when it's presented, you know?"

You weren't quite sure what he meant by that, but for some reason, you were eager to find out.

It was late still when Changmin knocked on your open door, lingering on the threshold. You had just stepped out of the shower in the private en suite your accommodations had, a towel settled upon your shoulders to act as a barrier between your wet hair and dry clothes. He didn't look any worse for wear—then again, he never did.

"Everything okay with Kevin?" He asked, clearing his throat. You felt his eyes on you, scanning your body as if searching for any signs out of the ordinary.

You were searching for your phone charger in your bag. "Yeah, it was good. What—what happened with you?" You asked and lifted your eyes to meet his as you fondled the cord between your fingers.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Well," he drawled, "Sangyeon offered to send a small group out to scout for any signs of our pursuers from today. In the meantime, we're invited to stay here to recuperate for a couple days. If not, then they'll restock our supplies and help us out of here."

"I'm guessing you already made a decision." You paused when you realized there weren't any outlets in this room. Anywhere. A curse fell from your lips and you dumped your cord and dead cell phone into your bag.

"I figured you could use the rest," he said.

Your head whipped upward.

He arched a brow at you. "If that's alright with you."

Was he really asking you? No buts, no ifs, no snark? "Yeah, that's fine with me."

"Maybe a couple days here will be good for your frail, human body anyway."

There it is. You rolled your eyes so far back, you swore you saw your brain waving at you. "And maybe some fake demon sleep will make you less grouchy."

You thought he smiled. It could have been a trick of the light or sleep deprivation. "Whatever."

Just when it seemed like he was about to turn and leave, he stopped. "Kevin's taken a liking to you."

You stilled, attention piqued. "Really? How could you tell?"

Changmin gauged your reaction, and again, you couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. "You need to sleep."

"Wait, you're just gonna ignore my—and he's gone." You huffed and collapsed onto the bed. It was awfully comfortable.

Leave it up to Changmin to leave you high and dry like that.

You rolled over the surface of the bed to close your door. Quietly, you went around the room to close the knobs of the lanterns to put out the lights like Kevin had showed you earlier. The only light now came from outside the window, the campfire and lanterns in the pack center streaming through the shutters to create an elongated stripe pattern along the walls and floors.

You climbed into bed—it was a strange, but welcomed feeling.

Only a couple days without a bed, yet it felt like years had passed. You could only hope you didn't wake up to a demon at your throat this time.

#7—THE ONLY ONE.

WOLVES BEAT EVEN THE SUN from her slumber, you came to find out. The next morning, you rolled out of bed to hear the sound of muffled voices outside your window. Your body ached in places you didn't even think they could ache, and you stretched your arms up over your head as you opened the shutters.

Just a little off from your window stood a small gathering of creatures, both in human and wolf forms. You recognized Kevin as one of the human ones among them. It was the noise of your open shutter that had him turning his head up toward your window. He saw you there, and a smile blossomed on his face, bright and easy. He wasn't wearing a shirt again, as was the other man standing beside him. The other two in their group were wolves.

Kevin waved at you, catching the attention of the others with him. The man beside him beamed and waved, too.

You chuckled to yourself and returned the gesture.

Kevin beckoned you down with his hand.

You searched the window sill for the latch, muttering in triumph when you managed to notch it open.

He had walked over to stand directly below your window by the time you stuck your head out. "Good morning!" He chirped. "Good sleep?"

"Good morning, and so far I think so," you mused, unconsciously smoothing down your hair. You hadn't even checked the state of your bed head. Yikes.

"There's breakfast in the pack house if you'd like," he offered. "I can walk you over?"

You leaned your cheek against your fist. "Sounds great. Give me some time to get ready."

"Take your time!"

You locked the window back up, dropped the shutters, and hurried to get changed. It occurred to you, as you were getting yourself prepped and primed to face another day in a new world, that you hadn't felt so giddy in awhile. And about a boy nonetheless. The skip in your step was crazy to you, and—did you even have anything nice to wear?

You just managed to yank one of the nicer of your graphic tees over your head when you heard a knock at the door.

"Just a second!" You called, carding your fingers through your hair and separating into three so you could braid it out of your face.

You ripped the door open. "Hi."

Changmin stood on the other side looking slightly refreshed with his dark hair damp and plastered over his forehead. His eyes narrowed slightly at your lightened countenance, the way you actually cared about how you were doing your hair, the… everything. He sent you a look. "Breakfast is in the pack house, but I have a feeling you already knew that."

"Yeah, I was just headed down, actually." You stepped out into the hallway with him, closing your bedroom door behind you. Clyde sat in your pocket, replacing where your phone would have been stashed had it any use.

He cocked his head to the side. "You seem a lot more…" He made a gesture with one of his hands. "Alive."

"Well, considering I don't have magic regeneration—"

"Forget I said anything," he said, shaking his bangs from his eyes and beginning to walk down the corridor toward his room. "Go get sustenance, Yn."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You watched him disappear into his room before you made your way to the stairs.

Kevin was waiting for you in the lobby, perking up when you appeared on the stairway landing and made your descent. He took a couple steps to meet you in the middle, and you noticed that he had found a shirt to put on. Damn. "Hope you like waffles," he said as the two of you fell into step beside each other to head out of the inn.

"Love 'em."

It seemed that the entirety of Moonstone Creak was awake, even at such an early hour. The sun had yet to even clamber up above the treetops, leaving the sky a soft mesh of purple and orange. The air was as fresh as it had been yesterday, cool and pure, washing your lungs and waking you up some more.

"Is everyone awake so early?" You asked him, inhaling as much of the peace as you could.

Kevin nodded. "Pretty much, unless you're just coming back from a night watch. We usually encourage the pups to come out and exercise with us."

"Us?"

"The pack's primary watch," he clarified. "You probably saw me talking to a few of them earlier."

"Ah," you hummed. "That's nice though. You're all such a lovely community… It's refreshing."

His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you. "Thank you. I like to think we're a really big family."

You could see as much. By the way Kevin greeted all of his fellow pack members, a part of you wondered what it might have been like to grow up somewhere like this instead of always chasing after safety and security.

You and your sister had always got by somehow, but it had never been like this. With your parents gone so early in both of your lives, you only really had each other to rely on, besides the occasional aunt and uncle who took turns caring for the both of you until your sister turned 18. And now with your sister gone?

For some reason, it felt like you were still taking care of her in death. But perhaps that was the cost of seeking closure.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when they said pack house, but what you saw was about what it sounded like it was going to be. It was similar to the inn and many of the buildings around the area with its log cabin likeness, but this one was much, much larger. You could hear the squeals of children from out here, and there were smaller wolves chasing each other's tails around the wraparound porch. A few stopped to sit and cock their heads at you as you passed, their tails tick-tocking behind them.

It was strange seeing wolves carry around infants and toddlers in their hulking jaws, too, and Kevin chuckled when you almost stopped in your tracks. "It's no harm to them, don't worry."

"Yeah," you laughed nervously, fingering the pendant at your sternum. "It'll take some getting used to. Are you born as a wolf or as a human?" You asked him as the two of you stepped up the front steps of the porch and walked through the entryway.

"Depends—woah, hey guys. Careful!" Kevin clicked his tongue as he caught and lifted one of the younger boys off his legs just before he accidentally knocked over a table holding a vase of flowers.

The kid and his friend giggled as Kevin put him down away from the table. "Sorry Kevin!" And they were gone, out the front door.

He shared a smile with you, cupping the back of his neck. "Where was I?" He gestured to your right down a hallway; you could smell the sweetness and buttery goodness of breakfast. "Oh, right. It depends: since wolves and humans are mammals, giving birth is a little easier than other non-mammal shifters."

"Non-mammal shifters?" Your eyebrows shot up. "What other shifters exist?"

"Any you can think of, to be honest," he said. "All pups learn about their own growth and development though, especially since learning to shift and stay in touch with both their animal and human sides is so integral. It would probably be better if I connected you with someone who identifies as female to talk about birth specifically though," he admitted.

The kitchen was painted a pale shade of yellow that reflected the golden rays of sun and made the whole room much warmer and brighter. There was a mishmash of wolves and humans milling about the central island where a buffet-style breakfast was being served. The variety of food before you was enough to make even—as you liked to think—Changmin's mouth water. (He didn't need to eat, your ass. You saw the blueberry pancakes on the far end and wondered if he had some yet.)

Kevin passed you one of the plates stacked at the end before grabbing one for himself. "Lily, thank you for breakfast!"

Lily, you identified, was the woman leaning against the sink with a pale blue apron tied around her waist and baby bump. "You're welcome! Haknyeonie helped out, too."

Haknyeon's blond head poked in from where he was partly hiding in the butler's pantry, his cheeks stuffed with food. "Hm?"

You laughed to yourself as you started off by transferring a waffle to your plate. "Yes, thank you so much for breakfast. It looks delicious."

"Oh, no need for that," Lily beamed as she came over to the island across from you and put more food onto your plate. "Take more, please. We have so much to go around."

"Oh," you blinked, watching Kevin start to pile things onto his own plate. "It's so much; I don't want to take more than I can finish—"

"I'll help you finish," Kevin offered, shoving a strawberry into his mouth. "I'm sorry if it seems like we're pressuring you, though. I guess we're all just used to making sure the other is fed around here."

You could melt like a slab of butter between two warm hotcakes. "Thank you—I appreciate the thought."

Kevin ruffled your hair as the two of you continued around your tour of the island. "Of course."

From the entryway you had just come in, Sangyeon arrived whistling an offhanded tune under his breath. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning!" Chorused around the kitchen at differing intervals as everyone greeted their pack alpha.

Sangyeon beelined around the island and over to Lily, the two of them exchanging fond touches and a warm kiss in greeting. "Morning, love."

"Good morning," Lily said. "Eaten yet?"

The dots connected in your head and you nudged Kevin as the two of you finished up at the island. "Lily and Sangyeon—?"

"Yeah, she's our alpha female," Kevin confirmed. "Six months pregnant. They celebrated nuptials about a year ago."

"Ah." You didn't mean to stare, but they were such a beautiful couple. Though you thought Sangyeon's smile was warm, it was nothing compared to the one he saved just for his partner.

He must have felt your eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to yours while he held one of Lily's hands. "Yn, sleep well?"

Your eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yes. Yes, thank you."

"All of your accommodations are to your satisfaction, I hope?"

"More than satisfied," you stammered with a sheepish smile; he was talking to you, right? Everything was way beyond what you had been living with for the past couple of days. A demon-infested motel or this? Well, no competition there. You could still feel the impression of Changmin's passenger seat in your back.

Sangyeon nodded. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. I was hoping to speak with you and Changmin after breakfast about your situation. It'll be with myself and my closest advisors, plus the two of you."

"Yes, of course," you said. "Does Changmin already know?"

"I'll have someone run and let him know."

You and Kevin were dismissed to go forth with breakfast. The two of you settled in a room next door to the kitchen fitted with a long dining table that reminded you of a cartoon rich people banquet table. You sat adjacent to each other, Kevin at the head, and you with the seat to his left.

You smeared butter over the slots of your waffle. "Do I have to worry about what Sangyeon's gonna talk about at the meeting?"

Kevin shoved his bite into his cheek. "To my knowledge, no, but if you're worried, Sangyeon's advisors are a pretty cool crowd."

"Oh yeah?" You asked.

His lips turned up as he chewed. "Mhm," he hummed before swallowing, "I should know since I'm one of them."

Sangyeon had an office deep within the first floor of the pack house. It was tucked away somewhere between the living room in the back and the door down to the wine cellar. (Kevin joked that the first pack alpha had planned the layout of the first floor deliberately.)

Following your hearty breakfast, you found yourself seated in one of the armchairs in the leader's office chambers, amongst Changmin (in the chair next to you) and the other members of the so-called inner circle. Kevin lingered nearby, leaning against the office's hearth with his arms and ankles crossed idly. It seemed that the advising board included not just Kevin, but also Jacob, Lily, and someone named Juyeon. You learned that he was out on night guard when you came in last night, so you weren't able to properly meet him until now.

Sangyeon stood next to the office chair seated behind the grand, mahogany desk; Lily was automatically given the chair because of her pregnancy, and because she'd been working all morning. "Concerning the white sedan you said was trailing after you two yesterday—" he said, "—none of our scouts could follow a solid scent past the freeway entrance. It was interesting, actually."

Changmin leaned forward onto his forearms. "How so?" He asked, eyebrows creasing.

Sangyeon nodded to Juyeon, who filled in, "Well, we couldn't figure out what their scent is."

"How is that even possible?"

You blinked, brain whirring into overdrive. There was something you were missing yet again. What was the context here?

Kevin stepped over to your side and murmured to you, "We can usually pick apart scents to identify the layers, so this is why it's… concerning."

"Ah," you nodded. "Thanks."

"It was distinct for sure," Juyeon supplied with a vague gesture of his hands, "but it was nearly impossible to tell what species they were. It was easy enough picking apart the entity from the car smells—" Exhaust fumes, metal, seats, you assumed, "—and we could follow the smell as far as the entrance to the highway you guys came from, but…" He shook his head. "No-go. In all my years, I've never come across anything like it."

The helplessness that settled into the grooves of the room made you squirm, and your fingers fondled the red pendant at your collar again. Here was a space of the all-powerful, and yet, something as simple as a scent was throwing them all for a loop. You couldn't begin to wrap your head around the implications, because, well—you didn't know the implications.

(Dark. You were always sitting in the dark.)

Changmin passed you a glance, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking, as usual. "There has to be a way to somehow analyze it. Could we consult a witch?"

"I've already called an old friend," said Lily. "They're on their way over presently."

"Could I see the pendant?" Jacob's voice carried out into the room. Though he himself was soft-spoken, one could not mistake his volume. Everyone's attention cut over to you, and you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth beneath your feet. "If that's okay," he added. "It feels familiar."

"Feels?" You echoed, gripping the stone in your hand. The chain dug into the flesh of your neck as you anxiously yanked on it.

Changmin's eyes darted from the stone to you. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" You were overwhelmed; that was what you thought. You fisted it in your hand, suddenly reluctant to part with the thing that had caused you so much trouble as of late. You felt… an uncanny urge to keep it in your possession. "Uhm… you can see it, but I won't take it off."

Your devilish counterpart narrowed his eyes slightly, cocked his head to the side, at your behavior. He didn't say anything though, as if this truly was just all your decision. Perhaps this was because he knew that you weren't exactly buddies with these people yet. In retrospect, they were still strangers, and thus, potential threats to you.

Jacob took easy strides over to you from where he was standing by the desk. He passed you a reassuring smile as he knelt in front of you, close enough that you could see the eyelashes brush his cheeks. There was something warm radiating from him, and you swore you saw a flash of gold in his eyes.

Angel, right.

He rose up on his knees, holding out his hand, but not touching you. "May I?"

You pinched the part of the pendant attached to the chain and stuck it out toward him.

Jacob's eyebrows knitted together as he touched the pendant with only the tips of his fingers. You held your breath throughout the entirety of his assessment. When he finally leaned back onto his haunches, you blinked away whatever angelic warmth still lingered. "Juyeon, come smell the pendant."

Your eyes widened. "Uhm—"

"Hold on, what?"

"Wait, Jacob."

The latter two responses came from Changmin and Kevin, respectively, the two startling at Jacob's request.

There was a swift exchange of glances between everyone else and the alpha wolves in the room.

Lily said, "Yn?"

"Why are we sniffing the pendant now?" You asked, finding your voice.

Jacob looked up innocently. "Sorry, I probably should have explained myself. I think it might smell like the scent Juyeon was trying to track."

Something in the room shifted. You glanced down at the pendant in your grip and the questions in your head accumulated and accumulated and accumulated. What in Hell did you get me into, Sena?

"Okay," you said, "you can… smell the pendant."

You weren't sure why he couldn't smell it from where he was, but he took a couple steps over to you and replaced Jacob's position. Changmin's hand appeared on the arm of your chair as he leaned forward slightly.

Juyeon took a cautionary sniff, and his eyes widened. "That's it. It's—it was slightly different, but similar enough where it has to be the same entity." He looked up at you. "Is this the only one of its kind?"

You met Changmin's eyes.

He looked away first. "No."

Your gaze became earnest in his direction, and if you could, you would burn twin holes in the side of his head like a snakebite. More shit he hadn't told you. Were you surprised?

No? What did he mean no?

"We need to talk," you forced out of gritted teeth, gripping onto the arm of his chair now.

He passed you a glance. Later.

"Well, we can only really assume that the person following you was most likely after the pendant," Jacob said plainly as he stood from the ground and dusted off his pants. "But now that we know the origin of the scent, per se, it'll make the hunt a little easier."

Sangyeon gave a bob of his head. "Kevin, you're leading the search party for the day."

Kevin's head perked up, hand on the back of your chair. "But—"

A single look from his leader made his mouth snap closed.

"Yes, sir," Kevin murmured with a shallow nod of acknowledgement. He gave the back of your chair a small pat, then departed without another word from the office. You thought you could feel his presence leave your side, from the room. All of this feeling… was this how the supernatural operated? Was this what a sixth sense entailed all along?

"Juyeon—" the man in question raised his head, "—go find where Haknyeon and Eric are." Sangyeon scratched his temple with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like exasperation. "Grab them and round up the pups."

Juyeon brightened. "Are we taking them down to the creak?"

Lily nodded her approval. "Ooh, nice idea. Yn and Changmin, you're both free to join us. It's lovely down there."

You forced your hand to fall away from the pendant, but not before tucking it back beneath the collar of your shirt. It felt too exposed out here, sitting on your sternum for all to see. You nodded though, trying for a small smile. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sangyeon patted the desktop. "Excellent! The two of you can continue to make yourselves at home."

Though this was a physical conclusion to the meeting, your stomach continued to sit uncomfortably. This conversation should not have been over so quickly… right? Was there not more to discuss? Perhaps not now then. Maybe it was better to take your time letting this all sink in.

"Ah, before the two of you go join the little ones," Jacob cut in. He shot Changmin a pointed look. "You owe me something."

Changmin roughed a hand through his bangs, but you could have sworn his lips curled up with a smile. "Aish… your memory."

"It never fails me when I need it."

You glanced between the two; Changmin did owe you yet another explanation, but if there was something these two planned to settle… "What? What is it this time?"

Jacob grinned, and you definitely hadn't been hallucinating when you saw flickers of gold in his irises. "He owes me a sparring match."

a/n: i am clasping my hands in prayer for a reblog, comment, or ask. take a moment to grab a snack, drink some water, and head over to the second part! thanks for reading

read part two here (if it's not linked yet, refresh and it'll be at the top)

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @kflixnet

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #bjnet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #q x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz fanfic #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin oneshots #ji changmin drabbles #ji changmin scenarios

[alasarys]

Recommended books for the drivers from BookPeople, Austin, Texas (insta)

Daniel Ricciardo: Friday Night Lights – "... every Friday night from September to December, when the Permian High School Panthers play football, this West Texas town becomes a place where dreams can come true."

Lando Norris: Assassin's Apprentice – "Fitz ... must give up his old ways and embrace a new life of weaponry, scribing, courtly manners; and how to kill a man secretly, as he trains to become a royal assassin."

Alex Albon: My Brilliant Friend – "... a rich, intense and generous-hearted story about two friends ... a touching meditation on the nature of friendship."

Logan Sargeant: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood – "hilarious, delicious, and brutal"

Yuki Tsunoda: A Cook's Tour – "the unpredictable adventures of America's boldest and bravest chef."

Carlos Sainz: Great American Golf Stories – "some of the best classic writings, both fact and realistic fiction, that reflect the rich history, tradition, agony, and ecstasy of one of our most enduring and endearing pastimes."

Oscar Piastri: Iona Iverson's Rules for Commuting – "It turns out that talking to strangers can teach you about the world around you--and even more about yourself."

Lance Stroll: Infinite Jest – "Set in an addicts' halfway house and a tennis academy, and featuring the most endearingly screwed-up family to come along in recent fiction, Infinite Jest explores essential questions about what entertainment is and why it has come to so dominate our lives; about how our desire for entertainment affects our need to connect with other people; and about what the pleasures we choose say about who we are."

Charles Leclerc: Every Good Boy Does Fine – "[Denk] reminds us that we must never stop asking questions about music and its purposes: consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy."

Lewis Hamilton: The Boy with a Bird in his Chest – "A heartbreaking yet hopeful novel about the things that make us unique and lovable, The Boy with a Bird in His Chest grapples with the fear, depression, and feelings of isolation that come with believing that we will never be loved, let alone accepted, for who we truly are, and learning to live fully and openly regardless."

Max Verstappen: Atomic Habits – "Atomic Habits will reshape the way you think about progress and success, and give you the tools and strategies you need to transform your habits--whether you are a team looking to win a championship ..."

Zhou Guanyu: A Visible Man – "When Edward Enninful became the first Black editor-in-chief of British Vogue, few in the world of fashion wanted to confront how it failed to represent the world we live in. But Edward, a champion of inclusion throughout his life, rapidly changed that."

Pierre Gasly: Misery – "He's a bestselling novelist who has finally met his biggest fan. Her name is Annie Wilkes and she is more than a rabid reader – she is Paul's nurse, tending his shattered body after an automobile accident. But she is also his captor, keeping him prisoner in her isolated house."

Valtteri Bottas: Foundryside – "To have a chance at surviving ... Sancia will have to marshal unlikely allies ... and undergo her own transformation ..."

Fernando Alonso: The House of the Spirits – "an enthralling saga that spans decades and lives, twining the personal and the political into an epic novel of love, magic, and fate."

Kevin Magnussen: The Daily Dad – "366 Meditations on Parenting, Love, and Raising Great Kids"

Sergio Perez: Bad Feminist – "an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better"

Building on the excellent work by @vegasgrandprix and @kritischetheologie

#they really put thought into these choices #there's so fucking much to unpack in some of them #sadly we're missing george nico and esteban #i will be taking suggestions if you want to send them #(they might be behind fernando kevin and sergio) #sergio perez #kevin magnussen #fernando alonso #valtteri bottas #pierre gasly #zhou guanyu #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #charles leclerc #lance stroll #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #yuki tsunoda #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #books #cota 2023

[pinkcarabiner]

something that has been on my mind recently is that fact that so much of antisemitism within lgbt spaces and/or leftist spaces comes from people who consider themselves to be allies to the jewish community. particularly white goyim who see themselves as allies are actually unwilling to listen to jewish people because they believe they're already doing enough through simply stating they support us. i believe that most of their antisemitism is not intended to cause harm, and rather comes as a genuine attempt to do the right thing and show support another marginalized group. here are some examples that i have noticed all from goyim who call themselves allies

asking jewish people they've just met about zionism after learning they're jewish when their conversations had nothing to do with israel

continuously sharing memes/rhetoric with nazi origins even after being informed of their meaning because "the joke isnt antisemitic"

constant use of antisemitic language to discuss transmisogyny after jewish people have asked them to stop

critiquing media for only the ways it negatively affects white lgbt folks and disregarding antisemitism/islamophobia/racism/ableism etc

using the word "religion" as a synonym for christianity, often framing "all religion as bad" in conversations about religious trauma

claiming that jewish women (especially orthodox) contribute to their own oppression through religious observance

again, these all come from people who claim to be allies to the jewish community. goyim, i am not saying you're a bad person or inherently evil if you have done any of the above, but rather calling attention to the fact that your words and actions may have been harmful to jewish people, as well as other religious minorities, even when that was not your intent. if you call yourself an ally, it shows us that you recognize our oppression and will support us. when a jewish person addresses antisemitism, the best thing you can do is listen to them, educate yourself, and either change your behavior or call it out in others. allyship is an action. take the time to listen to us, don't speak for us or over us.

#literally it's 'punch nazis' until you actually have to listen to jewish people #it's not enough to hate our oppressors #you have to support jewish people and include us in your activism #antisemitism #🎀

[sapphos-darlings]

There's something I've been thinking a lot recently, about how lesbianism is truly a unique sexual orientation even among other minority ones, and how that affects our art and writing that should be about self-expression. Lesbians are so far in the margins, being first women, then a minority of women by being same-sex attracted, and then a minority of those ssa women by being exclusively ssa. That's not even mentioning other factors that might intersect, such as race or ability. This can leave us feeling isolated and scrambling for support and allies, and in my opinion, one can compromise too much while struggling to be understood, and even lose important parts of yourself in the quest for solidarity and inclusivity.

So, what I want to say to my fellow lesbian writers and artists:

Be bold.

Be honest.

Be unapologetic.

Question your motives and biases again to make sure you're not holding yourself back. Don't let yourself become your own lesbophobic call-out-poster or a narrowminded critic. Don't chew up your ideas, opinions and creativity just so some hypothetical audience would have easier time swallowing it.

Don't shrink back and lie to make your art appeal to others. Dare to prefer women and lesbians. Dare to put lesbians first. Dare to center lesbians. Dare to center lesbians like you and focus on topics that are important to you.

Personally for me becoming the loud and self-centered lesbian writer has meant that I've started to write lesbian/lesbian couples without feeling the need to "be fair" in terms of representation. I've started to write about explicitly homosexual experiences, where women love women not "despite their sex" but because of it, and are sure and happy about that.

I no longer cloak lesbian sexuality in "soft sapphic vibes" or leave it without a clear definition. I've started to exclude men from the women's stories. I've shed the need to include heterosexuals in main roles, even other women.

I started to exclude hyper feminine tropes just because I don't like them. I started writing masculine women and butches without worrying they are "too much". I create lesbian characters who are flawed, in pain, evil, complex and unlikable, and put them in thrillers and horror without worrying about crossing a line into that dreaded "too much".

I've pushed down many invisible walls by examining the ways I've people-pleased and shied away from how strong and unique the lesbian experience is.

Behind all those walls are stories I really long to tell, the kind that resonate with me, the kind I want to have in this world.

And I know no one else is going to depict lesbians like we do ourselves. No one else is going to tell our stories like we do, or paint us like we do, so let's stop wasting time pleasing others and start telling our own stories - unfiltered and proud.

#wlw #lesbian positivity #lesbian pride #lesbian safe #lesbian writers #lesbian artists #lesbian #c: Lavender

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Jeonghan: Sold (Part Three)

Characters: Jeonghan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, loooots of mentions of the black market/human trafficking, people in cages, shock collars, violence, murder, guns, possible minor character death, just a lot of bad things happening here and it's very chaotic lmao

Word count: 3,253

Summary: If Jooyeon and Baekhyun never went snooping around the black market, they would’ve never discovered the human trafficking ring and wanted to help. They would’ve never discovered you inside one of the many cages full of people, and Jeonghan would’ve never went against the alphas and demanded they help. But for you, Jeonghan would do anything, even if it means bringing back trouble from a past he never knew about.

a/n: things in bold are meant to be in english

Previous | Next | Sold Masterlist

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t do it if it were Jooyeon in there. Or Yeji. Or Soomin. Or any of the girls in this household. You’d see your mate laying in a cage, dirty, exhausted, knowing they were being sold off to a pack of mate-collectors, and you’d just let them go?”

That was enough persuasion for the pack to finally cave and agree to help Jeonghan. Those who had mates understood how it felt. The others could imagine how horrible it must’ve felt to see that, and the determination Jeonghan felt to do anything possible to get you out of that situation. 

Junmyeon’s pack was hard to persuade – well, except for Chanyeol – but they eventually agreed to help.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to overtake whoever’s behind the ring, though,” Junmyeon admitted. “We don’t even know how many people are involved.”

“Hanbin will no doubt help us,” Kyung said.

“I can ask Chris, too,” Cooper shrugged. “At least having Felix or Changbin would be helpful.”

“Either way,” Seungcheol interrupted, “we’re going to plan this from all angles. Whether we have four packs or just two – we’re going to make sure we can pull this off.”

“Our main goal is getting Blue out of there,” Jihoon added on, “but we’re gonna try to save as many people as we can.”

Jongdae stopped the explanation, “Who’s Blue?”

“That’s what Jeonghan started calling her,” Joshua explained. 

“It’s the color of her collar,” the boy in question shrugged. “What else am I supposed to call her?”

“That rhymed!” Soonyoung smiled, pointing to Jeonghan enthusiastically before taking Jihoon’s palm to the back of the head.

“Where are these captives expected to go after they’re free?” Sehun wondered. “Just…wander off into the woods? They’ll just get caught again.”

“Cooper and I worked together with an ally of mine to find some safe housing for them,” Kyung explained. “Her and her partners work under the table as werewolf doctors. Besides, the public already views werewolves as horrible creatures so I’m sure anybody would be willing to take someone in who was almost a part of a werewolf kidnapping.”

“And how long do we have to figure all of this out?” Yixing questioned.

“That’s the problem,” Seungcheol sounded a little afraid and unsure now, “...we don’t know. Which means we have to plan this and execute it immediately.”

-

You felt absolute fear watching the girl be thrown to the ground, blood covering half her face. But you didn’t scream or even move. You learned not to. You did anything you were told to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Anything to not get hurt more than you already were.

“Can you be fucking careful?” one of the other men snapped gruffly at the one who’d thrown the girl to the ground by her hair. “If they’re damaged, they’re not gonna pay as much!”

“They already paid half and it was more than enough,” another said.

“But I want the other half in full!”

You knew about whoever had bought you. The men kept saying you were going to be ‘slaves to monsters’, but you were pretty sure they were the real monsters. You’d heard all the stories about werewolves, but you didn’t feel any fear knowing you were soon going to be shipped off to a den of them. However, you didn’t trust any human anymore. Your whole life, all they’d done is hurt you and betray you. None of them were compassionate. All of them just looked for personal gain, and you were somehow always in the crossfire.

Maybe a life with werewolves would be better.

In the cage next to you, you heard a scoff. You already knew it was Saoirse. She seemed to always be doing something to get in trouble, but she was the only person there that you talked to. She was the only human you’d met that wasn’t completely horrible.

“They’re gonna be in for a rude awakening when these cages are empty one morning,” she muttered.

You scooted a little closer to the edge of the cage closest to her, “What?”

Saoirse was the only person you ever spoke to. You wouldn’t necessarily consider her a friend considering the trouble she got herself in, but she was someone that you could keep at arm's length. She’d been nice to you a handful of times, so you’ve gotten her out of trouble with her language barrier in return. You spoke to each other here and there to pass the time and relieve boredom, but that was really it.

She glanced over at you like she just now noticed you were there before she looked back at the scene in the middle of the tent, “Some creatures showed up here last night. They looked human but their eyes were something else, and they promised to get us all out of here.”

You were both speaking quietly so as to not draw the attention away from the men bickering among themselves, but you still kept stealing glances over toward them to make sure they didn’t notice the two of you talking.

“And you trust strangers to save us?” you questioned.

She shrugged, “What reason would they have to come here and find us? And why would they lie about saving us?”

“What reason would they have to save us?” you countered, looking back at her.

She tisked, “Let me have something to be hopeful for, will ya?”

“Hey!” one of the men yelled, making you jump but Saoirse didn’t even seem phased. You whipped your head around while her eyes just glanced behind you to the three men. “Do you two wanna be next?”

You quickly shook your head.

Saoirse never understood what they said, so she just muttered for them to fuck off like she always did, which then angered the men because they couldn’t understand her. Typically, they’d do something to punish her, but today, the man scoffed and waved the issue away.

“The freaks will have a field day with you,” he spat before the three of them left the tent.

“Guess lunch time isn’t happening…” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“You need to stop making things worse for yourself,” you huffed, your voice tired.

Truthfully, you were still feeling quite groggy. You always were, but you’d woken up only a few minutes prior to the girl getting beat for whatever reason the men found to do so. You didn’t want to go back to sleep but it was hard keeping your eyes open.

“I’m not letting shit like this happen to me without a fight,” she scoffed. “If I’m capable, I’ll do anything to stop what’s happening to us. I mean, those people last night wouldn’t have come and offered to free us if I didn’t stay awake.”

“We’re all going to the same place either way,” you finally snapped, sending her a glare. “You’re fighting for nothing and making it worse for yourself – and you almost dragged me down with you. Leave me out of your…righteous bullshit or whatever.”

You rarely snapped at Saoirse, but she still didn’t seem phased by it, “You need to stop letting bad shit happen to you, Girl. That’s why it keeps happening. You don’t do anything to try and fight back.”

“And which one of us have gotten beaten the most?”

Before Saoirse could come up with a snappy reply that you knew she’d have, the tent flaps opened again, and two different men showed up with stale bread. They tossed half a loaf in each cage that everyone would fight over and tear apart like animals. Some hurt each other in the process, so hungry that they were feral for every single crumb they could get, even if it meant scratching and grabbing at each other.

As always, you stayed away in a corner and watched the other six people in your cage dive after the bread tossed in, snarling and yelling and fighting over it. You didn’t get food, but at least you weren’t injured even worse.

“Hey. Girl.”

That’s what Saoirse called you. You didn’t have a name – not that you could remember. So she always called you Girl to get your attention.

You turned your head just in time to see Saoirse tossing something through the bars and into your cage. You quickly cupped your hands to catch whatever it was. A piece of bread half the size of your fist.

You glanced back up at her and she offered you a small smirk before biting into her half of the bread. Nobody in the cage dared fight Saoirse over the portion she’d managed to get because she was infamous for fighting back. They knew fighting against her would be a losing battle because she dared to even fight back against the men holding them all captive.

Maybe it was smarter to fight back like Saoirse, even if it meant worse punishments. But life had punished you so much already, and you were tired of fighting.

As you nibbled on your bread, turning so your back was to your cagemates, you decided one really couldn’t teach old dogs new tricks.

-

The locked gate in front of the flaps to the tent was no issue for Soonyoung before, but the pack needed him focused. So the question stood as the pack planned for the prison break: how to get into the tent in the first place without running into the werewolf traps set around the perimeters?

“Okay…” Cooper began slowly and softly, afraid to speak the plan she was brewing out loud because she didn’t want it to be considered bad or stupid, “what if we had someone on the inside who could unlock the gate? Like…maybe a mouse?”

“A mouse?” Chanyeol had scoffed.

Jihoon considered the idea and shrugged slightly, “I mean, that’s not a bad idea, actually. Small enough the guards probably wouldn’t see him.”

“Where the hell are you guys gonna find a trained mouse?” Baekhyun asked with an incredulous laugh.

Chris simply pointed with his thumb to the boy sitting beside him, “Perfectly trained, right here.”

“Make that two,” Jaesang said as he raised his hand to head-level.

And that’s exactly what step one of the plan was. A tiny gray mouse scurried around the perimeter of the outside of the tent, alongside a dark brown one, going up toward the black iron gate. The outside of the gate wasn’t protected this time, but Felix and Jaesang could see two men inside the gate that were a few feet away from the entrance. 

They shimmied up one of the bars to the latch and together, managed to push it up, jumping down as the gate swung open so they could hurry inside before possibly getting stepped on, knowing they couldn’t see the people who would be following right behind them.

The two guards looked up, their conversation falling silent as the gate swung open seemingly out of nowhere.

“How the hell did that happen?” one of the men asked as they both stepped up to inspect the gate’s latch before closing it. “Did the latch break?”

“No, it looks–”

The man didn’t finish his sentence as his head was suddenly thrown back like he’d been punched in the face. The other guy looked up in surprise, only for his neck to get twisted at an unnatural angle, and with a snap, he fell to the ground. His companion soon met the same fate as a human Jaesang snuck up behind him while he was distracted with the pain in his now bloodied nose.

Seungcheol and Cooper appeared behind the first man’s body, Cooper’s hand on Seungcheol’s back being removed now that they were safe to be visible.

“There’s more guys around the back,” Felix informed them as the rest of the group began rushing in through the front gate. “We’re gonna have our work cut out for us.”

“We’ve got four packs against some humans,” Jinyoung chuckled, clearly feeling good about the odds. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Just don’t get too cocky,” Hanbin warned.

“Cocky’s his middle name,” Kyung muttered before going off with her group to subdue the men keeping the people in the cages.

-

“Alright, get up! Everybody up! Let’s go!”

It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to a man yelling for you all to wake up, but this wasn’t a voice you’d heard before. This one was softer, but still sounded urgent. Your eyes groggily peeled open as you tried to sit up, your bones and joints stiff and aching. Your vision was blurry so you thought you were surely just seeing things when you saw someone grab ahold of the metal bars and pull them open almost effortlessly. You sat up completely and rubbed at your eyes, only to see someone with blonde hair, yellow eyes, and a kind smile standing right in front of you, his slender fingers wrapped around the bars. He looked like an absolute angel with his perfect teeth, pink lips, and kind eyes that looked right at you. He made your heart flutter.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said before pushing the bars apart enough to create a gap for the people in your cage to get out.

He was quick to scoop you up before the other six people in your cage trampled you to get free. But as soon as you were too close to the bars, your collar went off with a continuous shock that had you letting out a strangled yell.

Jeonghan was quick to grab the collar by the black box and rip the blue collar from your neck. 

Unfortunately for the wolves, it was chaos trying to free these people. Of course, they were panicking trying to run away and weren’t going to listen to those trying to guide them safely outside the tent and to freedom. Some were guided out and made it to those waiting at the perimeter to guide them toward the safehouses they had set, but others were ignoring all instruction and running for their lives, getting hurt or killed in the process. Some of them ran out, clutching their necks as they were shocked to no end as they tried to make their escape. 

Jeonghan wasn’t focusing on that. His only job was to get you out and get you back to the house as quickly and safely as possible. Once he had you, he was supposed to run for it, and that’s exactly what he was doing, dodging other captives and wolves as he ran for the exit with every wolf he ran passed covering him so he could make a safe escape with you.

As you were being carried out, you saw another man prying open the bars of Saoirse’s cage. She immediately leapt out and followed where the man was pointing to, running to follow after you and the strange man who was carrying you. Her eyes caught yours over his shoulder, and she seemed to brighten a little and give you a knowing smile as if to say ‘I told you so’.

The man jogged through the gates before he bolted for an escape.

“Jihoon!” he called. “Cover me!”

Jihoon stopped what he was doing as soon as he spotted Jeonghan, then his eyes looked behind him to see a guard chasing after them. His eyes glowed to life as he held his palm toward the man before flinging him backward toward the tent, his back hitting the iron bars of the gate.

You looked around, seeing absolute chaos around you as giant wolves tore apart men, and captives ran for their lives or were shot down. Then you looked behind you to see Saoirse still running behind you.

If you weren’t looking at her, you wouldn’t have known the scream that came from her mouth was hers before she hit the ground. You could see blood staining the back of her shirt, the pool of it spreading. 

“Saoirse!” you cried, reaching your hand behind the man.

He skidded to a stop, turning to see who you were yelling for. He looked over at Jihoon again, and the alpha nodded, running toward the girl. 

Jeonghan didn’t wait to see what would happen to Saoirse. He couldn’t wait. He had to get you home. He had to get you to safety. So he turned back around and continued running the way he had been.

While he was focused on your safety, though, you were fixated on Saoirse’s. Sure, she was trouble, but she was the closest thing you’d ever had to a friend. So while Jeonghan ran, you watched over his shoulder to see what her fate would be.

-

The scream cut through the tense air. Everyone had clamped their hands over their ears, eyes closing tight as if it could help drown out the scream. Mingyu’s eyes were watering just from the sharp noise.

Finally, it died off, leaving everyone to look to Eunjin standing in the doorway of the den, hands still holding a plate of food like nothing happened. But her blue eyes were locked on the girl at the end of the hallway, clinging to the back of Jeonghan’s shirt with fear in her eyes. Eunjin’s eyes were glossy and filled with tears, and the two wolves who had been left behind to take care of the mates began to panic.

Eunjin was staring at you.

“What happened?” Joshua asked urgently as he rushed over to her. He stood in front of her, gently gripping her upper arms and searching her eyes, but it was like he wasn’t even there to her. It was like she was still staring through him at you. “Eunjin? Did you hear something? Do you sense something? What is it?”

The three wolves waited for her response, but they knew her scream woke up every single mate upstairs and they would no doubt be down to ask questions soon. Immediately, they feared the worst. One of their own had died. Hell, maybe you were going to kill them. That wouldn’t have caught Eunjin’s attention like that. She would’ve sensed or heard something more significant than that.

And you were even more confused than anyone else because that was the first thing you experienced after Jeonghan opened the door.

It felt like time was frozen until Eunjin’s lips quivered and she said in a whisper, “I have a bad feeling again…”

The small group looked around at each other with a mix of worried and grim looks. They all knew what that meant. It was a feeling she got when she had met Hansol before. She screamed when she saw him, and then Jiung died and things went downhill with Kyung. 

Then three pairs of golden eyes were on you, along with Eunjin’s blue eyes that sent a shiver down your spine for reasons other than her screaming at you.

But Jeonghan didn’t care. He didn’t care if you brought death or something, if he were honest. Maybe Eunjin just sensed death associated with you because of what had happened. He’d make up any excuse in his head for you. He’d defend you in front of his entire pack if he had to. All he wanted was you to be safe, and now that he had you in his arms, he could make sure you always would be. And he’d never let you go.

»»————-　　————-««

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#k-labels #seventeen #jeonghan #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen oneshot #seventeen fic #werewolf!seventeen #jeonghan au #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenario #jeonghan oneshot #jeonghan fic #werewolf!jeonghan

[honeybeefae]

Pretty Little Tears (Rhysand x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY NINE: TEARS

Summary// He knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

(This is definitely one of the shorter fics for Kinktober as well as ending in an ambiguous way, I hope you guys still like it. I’m not 100% confident with it but I’ve edited it to hell and back so I think this is the best I am going to get. Enjoy! :))

WARNINGS:  18+, Smut, Degradation, Crying Kink, rough BJ, gagging

Your mate had been staring at you all night, the risque dress you were dawning barely leaving anything to the imagination. It was something you saved only for your visits to the Hewn City as it helped you get into your role of the wife of Rhysand, ruler of the Court of Nightmares. 

It was a part you were new to, trying your best to match Rhys’s mask. The hardest thing was watching, and sometimes participating, in dueling out punishments for the wicked people that resided here. A part of you would feel guilty hearing their pleas and cries but knowing what they did, the innocent people who they tortured or hurt, made it easier to swallow.

Tonight was no different, though you had not heard any report of trouble so far. Everyone was dining and dancing in somewhat peace. Mor was off to the side with Cassian chatting about something, Azriel dwelling in the shadows, while you danced within the arms of one of your cousins as your mate watched from his throne above.

“You look lovely tonight, Y/N.” Your cousin, Dephren, commented. He was a head taller than you, with hair just like yours, but as wicked as they came. You would even say he could rival Mor’s father, Keir, in his attempts to gain power in the court. “I am glad to see our High Lord is keeping you in good health.”

“As am I.” You said curtly, glancing at Rhys briefly as you twirled across the floor. “I have much to be grateful for from him.”

“That you do, cousin. I must ask, though, are you sure you are satisfying him?” He asked, his eyes full of cruel mirth. “I would never insult you but I do worry about my Lord, and I as well as many others truly wonder if you are the right person for him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the other vultures of the court leering at you and eavesdropping on the conversation. It must have been talked about beforehand as someone had called away Rhys so that he was not within earshot to hear the slander they were saying.

You suddenly found yourself floundering like a fish out of water, the facade you put up cracking just the slightest bit, as Dephren spun you round and round.

“I will take your silence as answer enough.” He smirked, tightening his grasp on your hands as the music finally came to a stop. Everyone started politely clapping, gearing up for another song as your cousin bowed mockingly in your direction. “I think Remia would be a better fit for him, she certainly seems to be able to keep his attention.”

Remia was the daughter of one of Keir’s closest allies and a great beauty in the Hewn City. She was also as vicious and hungry as the rest of them, willing to follow whatever orders it took to rise above and look down on the people below. You knew your family was bitter about your new life, about how their weakest child found herself mated to the High Lord himself and cut all ties to her family. 

However, you didn’t expect them to try and cast you aside so brazenly. It had you cursing at how naive you were, how you thought there was no threat to you anymore now that you were happy and loved. 

His words cut through your skin like a knife as you turned to look at your mate, mouth tightening at the egregious display of affection Remia was showering him with. Mor and Cassian had picked up that something was amiss, picking up the tail end of your cousin's words and following your eyes to Rhys.

Before you could turn around and say anything to him, Mor was at your side with a glare that could turn a man to stone. “How bold of you to say the things you do about Rhysand’s mate, Dephren.” She hissed, placing herself in front of you. “Perhaps you would like to speak louder for him to hear?”

“Mor.” He nodded, forcing a polite smile. “I meant no to disrespect to Y/N, I assure you. I was simply pointing out a concern most of us have, isn’t that one of her duties?”

She opened her mouth to lay in on him but you put a hand on her shoulder, squaring your shoulders and stepping around her to stand toe to toe with him. You could sense Rhysand in your mind wondering what had drawn the crowd but you shut him out. This was something you needed to handle yourself. 

What you said next, how you handled this test of disrespect, would dictate how everyone saw you. You needed to be equally as fearsome as your mate if you were going to rule beside him. 

“My duty, Dephren, is not for you to question.” You challenged loudly, your voice echoing off of the mountain walls for the entire court to hear. “I can assure you that your High Lord is very satisfied with the way I fuck him. Not that it is any of your business nor whatever whore you’ve sent his way to try and distract him.”

Rhysand appeared behind you, darkness surrounding him as Dephren shrunk back in fear. You smirked as one of his hands slunk around your waist and pulled you into his side, his nose dipping into your hair as you refused to break eye contact.

You had everyone's attention now and while as before you would have shrunk back from it, now you wore it like a crown. They should be the scared ones and from the looks on their faces, it seemed that they realized what monster they awoke.

As you stood straighter and held your higher you could feel your mate's approval. Not only was he proud of you but you could feel his caress in the back of your mind, and could hear the lustful thoughts that flickered through his mind as you took a couple of steps forward. He liked this version of you.

“I find it funny cousin that you call my relationship into question when I highly doubt your wife could say the same about your performance, don’t you think?” You taunted, raising your eyebrow as his face turned a fierce shade of red. 

The people behind him started to whisper and chuckle while his wife took a huge gulp of wine, trying to remain invisible. You weren’t done humiliating him though, he needed to be an example to the rest of them.

“What’s the nickname she gives you to her friends? Minute man?”  The question was rhetorical as your smirk grew, hearing Rhys’s voice in the back of your mind.

I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Y/N. This poor man is about to throw himself down the side of the mountain if you continue any longer.

Hopefully, the lesson is almost learned then. I would hate to have to repeat myself.

His fingers tightened on your hip in approval, satisfied to watch you work. Dephren was a shadow of the man he was ten minutes earlier as you left your mate’s hold to stand over him. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did but you didn’t want to feel guilty now. He deserved it.

“Kneel.” You commanded, voice velvety smooth. It was only one word but it held so much power and control you couldn’t help but feel drunk off of it. “Kneel and apologize and I might forget this conversation ever happened.”

And to your surprise, he wasted no time in complying with your request. His knees hit the floor hard as he knelt at your feet, lowering his head in submission. 

“Please, Y/N, forgive me.” Dephren squeaked. “I beg of you.”

You turned to Rhysand, tilting your head in question to see what he thought. He gestured towards you before crossing his arms over his chest and smiling darkly, enjoying the show. 

“Just remember, my dear Dephren, who I am.” You warned, your voice like ice as you glanced around at the rest of the spectators. “As shall the rest of you. I do not forget and the next person I hear, or even think, of such slander, I shall have their tongues and their minds.” 

Your skirts swished around your feet as your turned and grabbed Rhys’s hand, letting him lead you to the throne and adorn his lap as Dephren swiftly stood and disappeared into the background. There was a beat of silence before the music started back up and everyone returned to their respective places. 

It was taking all of your concentration to control your breathing and not break out in a sweat as your adrenaline came crashing down. You didn’t recognize the woman saying those things as you replayed it over and over in your mind. It was as if you had been possessed by someone else.

You were wonderful, Y/N. You had me utterly entranced with your performance.

His hands grazed up your bare legs, catching on the sheer fabric as he reached the crest of your hips. It was a delicate touch that sent the filthiest thoughts into your head. You craved more, your breathing evening out as he went higher and higher until he caressed the side of your breast. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you turned to look into his violet eyes, your face flushed with desire. You were as bewitched by him as he was with you, licking your lips hungrily as he scowled at Keir who was waiting for the two of you to notice him.

“What is it now?” Rhysand snapped, holding you tighter as you began to kiss up his neck. You usually weren’t one for huge public displays of affection but with what happened tonight, it was like you were a new woman. 

A hungry, aching woman.

As Keir began his question about one of the other people in the room you tuned him out, your sex slickening as you began to grow impatient at Rhys’s lack of attention toward you. His hand still rested on your hip, rubbing small, enticing circles as he droned on and on.

It was only after a few minutes you decided to take matters into your own hand. You did not know if you were feeding off the raw power you had just realized you held or if it was simply adrenaline, but whatever it was it had you worked into a frenzy. 

Rhys…

Though his eyes never left Keir's, he tensed ever so slightly under your touch. You knew you had his full attention. While maintaining a bored expression on your face, you began to show him all the multiple times you had pleased him. It started off with just small glimpses of skin and soft moans but as your impatience grew, you sent him much more vulgar things.

And when you whispered into his mind just how wet you were with the picture of you exploring yourself, you felt his resolve snap underneath you like a twig.

“Do I not have you here to maintain order while I am away, Keir? Are you not able to handle things?” Rhysand snarked, raising an eyebrow as you both stood abruptly. “You bore myself and Y/N with these meaningless conflicts. If you cannot control them by yourself perhaps your leadership needs to be questioned.”

Keir immediately bowed his head while muttering apology after apology. “I did not mean to bore, my lord, nor Lady Y/N. I was simply-”

Rhys clicked his tongue, silencing the steward swiftly. “And yet you continue to do so. We will be taking our leave now but I will be returning within the next few days. I suggest you make sure everyone is on their best behavior…otherwise you might find yourself on the edge of the sword.”

“Yes, of course.” He replied with gritted teeth. Mor, Azriel, and Cassian were already gone by the time you were leaving the grand room. You smiled coyly at your mate, licking your lips as he pulled you flush against his body.

“Do not play modest with me, darling. I saw every single thought in that pretty, filthy head of yours.” Rhys smirked, already half hard from just remembering them. “If you think you are getting off easy tonight you are sadly mistaken.”

“I don’t want you to be easy tonight.” You cooed, gazing at him through your lashes. “I want you to make me scream so loud that everyone in the Hewn City knows who was right tonight.”

His eyes darkened and before you could blink you were plunged into darkness, appearing in your shared bedroom moments later. You gasped when you were shoved roughly against the door but his lips smothered yours before you could say anything else.

You melted into him, your tongue dancing with his while your hands found purchase in his hair. It was soft against your fingers, which tightened into fists when he wedged his thigh between your legs. The friction was heavenly as you had soaked through your panties, your dress allowing him easy access.

“Is that all for me?” Rhys purred into your ear, biting down on your lobe before kissing and nipping his way back to your lips. You nodded, too out of breath to say anything, to which he smiled devilishly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already speechless.”

The air around you was thick with need as you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your breast, your hips rutting against his leg. “Are you just going to talk or will I see any action from you, my lord?”

Rhysand couldn’t help but grin at your words. Even pinned against the wall, pussy dripping for him, you found a way to smart off to him. It was one of the things he loved you for, the fire within you.

With one push off the wall, he separated your bodies and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take it off. Now.”

Your heart fluttered at his change of tone, fingers trembling in excitement as you started to pull down the straps of your dress. You knew that your words had awoken that dark, sadistic streak he kept carefully locked away. It was something you didn’t get to see often but tonight you wanted it. 

You wanted him to use you for pleasure, to let him so thoroughly fuck you that there was no doubt left that only you could bring him to that level of ecstasy. It seemed that Dephren’s words had indeed got under your skin but hopefully this would ease it.

Rhysand knew it as well. He had wanted to torture the greasy, traitorous man as soon as he pieced together what happened but you took over effortlessly, showing everyone in that room who you could be even though his words made you question.

His cock throbbed at the memory of you standing over Dephren, at just how utterly sexy you were at that moment. 

As you let the dress fall into a pool of silk at your feet, the cool breeze making goosebumps rise on your arms and your nipples harden, the wetness between your legs only grew. It felt like it was dripping down at this point.

“Kneel.” He commanded, beginning to undo the strings of his pants while you immediately sunk to your knees. You bit down on your lip as he put two fingers under your chin, tilting it up upwards at him. “Such a good girl.”

One of his hands gripped his thick, heavy cock while the other gathered your hair into his fist. You swallowed in anticipation, both of your hands on your thighs as you opened your mouth wide for him. Just as he liked it.

Rhys growled as he slapped the head of his dick on your tongue, coating your lips with the precum that had already gathered at the tip before he thrust into your mouth with no warning. You instinctively gagged, your throat tightening around him while your hands flew to his thighs to steady yourself.

“Just like that, darling.” He grunted as he slowly fucked your mouth, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust. 

You followed his lead as much as you could, your scalp burning as he tugged and pushed as he pleased. His cock was hard to fit fully in your mouth but you did your best, licking the underside every time he pulled out to drive him crazy. 

Drool was escaping the seal of your lips around him, running down your chin and onto your bare chest. The moonlight shone against it, catching his attention and spurring him on even more as he truly used you to get off.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” Rhys taunted, his pupils blown wide in lust as you gargled around his length. “You crave to be used like this, for my pleasure. You want me to treat you like the secret whore you are.”

A nod was all you could muster as he pushed further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and cutting off your airway. It made you lightheaded which only seemed to enhance your feelings, one of your hands dropping to your cunt so you could thrust two fingers inside.

He laughed deeply at your desperation, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe from how far his cock was in your mouth. It was almost all the way in when you started to push against his leg in a warning. You were going to have to come up for air soon.

However, he knew you could take him deeper. You were doing so well. It was taking all of your strength not to throw up as Rhys forced himself down your throat more and more, but when those tears started to roll down your face, smearing your makeup, he felt something primal stir deep inside of him. And he wanted more.

With an audible pop, he pulled himself out, your lungs burning as you coughed and sputtered. You were still slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen when two hands hoisted you up and turned you so that you were facing your mate.

“Look at you…” Rhysand praised, smearing your mascara underneath his thumb as another tear ran down your face. “Perfectly ruined, all for me.”

“Only for you.” You whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes when his hand curled around your throat assertively. 

The sight of you teary-eyed and wrecked almost made him cum in his pants. You were wrapped around his finger, ready to give him whatever he wanted without realizing that the only thing he did want was you.

“Let’s see if we can wreck you even further. Can you do that for me? Can you take more?” He asked you, wanting to make sure you were okay even if he was about to bust at the seams.

You kissed him softly while grabbing his free hand and guiding it towards your sex, jumping when he brushed against your clit before pulling back so that you were looking into his eyes. 

“I told you I wanted you to make me scream so loud they could hear me in the Hewn City. My mind hasn’t changed, Rhysand.” You smirked, letting him sprawl you out on the bed behind you and spread your legs impossibly wide. 

Rhys crawled on top of you, kissing your forehead once, before making his way down your body. “Darling, I’m going to make you cry until the skies themselves begin to weep.”

And with one last smirk, he began to feast on your body until the very ground shook from your screams of pleasure.  

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