bangtan sorciere

Jungkook huffs out a laugh as he stands in front of his own punching bag beside you, making it swing on it’s stand until it begins to tip from the force behind his punches. He conjures a shield to put it back in its upright position.

“So, yes.”

You roll your eyes and jab at the bag again. “Piss off.”

You and your Second have been going back and forth since he joined you in your team’s gym. What started as a session of you chewing him out for slacking the night prior had somehow turned into him grilling you about your own whereabouts once you walked away from the Cypher.

“A boyscout got too comfortable with me.” You grit your teeth and took a swing at his head, only for him to duck and throw an uppercut towards your stomach. You barely had the time to brace your elbows together to block him. “It was infuriating.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. You let a Ling get under your skin?”

You think it’s ironic how much the figure of speech Jungkook used actually applies, because yes- Jimin implanted a sliver of his umbra in your skin so that he could track you. The reminder of it makes you suddenly aware of the shape that consistently lashes out at the shackles of your umbra trapping it in place, desperate to return to its whole.

He referred to Jimin, one of the many new recruits, as the gang’s slang word for a hatchling and you simply rolled your eyes at the notion, already annoyed with the subject. 

Jungkook took your moment of distraction to throw a left hook of his own. His glove skimmed the top of your head as you ducked below it.

With your low position, it was too easy to raise your elbow into his chin and knock his head back with the force. Although it inflicted a dull ache in your arm, he stumbled back and cradled his chin with a look of shocked anger in his eyes so funny that you began smiling.

“Stop talking and fight me, idiot.”

After another twenty minutes of tussling with each other, you found that you were evenly matched and conceded to a stalemate. Now, you’ve been whaling on the punching bag to release the rest of your tension while Jungkook dances and prances around his.

He raises an eyebrow at you, piercing glinting with the movement, after you accidentally let some of your umbra slip into the last punch. It cut a small slit into the leather.

“Easy, Ghost.” He says. “Don’t wear yourself out before the TI today.”

Although Jungkook is right about you not wearing yourself out before the Tactical Initiation session, you find that you cannot heed his warning because of his choice of words. You hesitate before your next punch because you remember the way Jimin said the same thing to you last night.

“Easy, Ghost.”

He spoke to you as if attempting to calm a wounded animal and you hated it, but a part of you felt something when his voice came out soft and careful. His inflection was tender and gentle in a way that caressed your insides and- in the moment- you wished for nothing more than to curl in on yourself and let him talk like that forever.

You throw another punch at the bag without thinking to control your umbra, yet when it lashes out at the bag and splits it even further to let the sand come pouring out, you stagger to one knee as part of the shackled protection around Jimin’s mark breaks lose and allows a lone tendril of shadow into your belly.

“Come to me.”

His mark cries out in your body, weakening your knees and driving your heart to your throat. Your breath comes rushing past your lips in a gasp so loud that Jungkook comes to your side quickly.

“Y/N!” He drops to his knees next to you and raises a hand to your shoulder. “What happened?”

You try to respond to your Second but find that speech is difficult whilst you attempt to containthe mark of another Exspiravitian. The single shadow that escaped the crack in your protection turns into two thinner shadows, curling into your flesh and pulling at your blood like a living thing. It whispers in Jimin’s voice, a throaty moan of need and desperation that settles into the deepest reaches of your soul.

It’s movement is much too active for it to be of its own accord and it only means one thing-

Jimin is actively controlling it.

Similar to how you fought and failed to encompass his umbra in the bathroom, the shadowed tentacles that flay out into your body writhe with a freedom that cannot be contained by your own power. You already struggle to keep the rest of the mark under control, yet it makes it no easier when he manipulates it to torment you.

Stretching thin like bow strings, Jimin splits the shadows in two different directions. One curls up into your chest and lays itself across your heart, resting as it molds itself to adhere to the beating organ, and your hand flies up to smack against the area of skin right over it.

It stops moving after a moment as if comforted by the beat and stills so quickly that you wouldn’t even notice it was there. He must like it there.

Before you can even process the sudden thought of Jimin against your heart, being put at ease by the rhythm, the other tendril moves and your hand flies to your lower abdomen because Jimin writhes into position just inside your clit.

“Ah!” You squeeze your eyes shut and double over, clutching your stomach and chest harshly, and press your forehead into the mat below you when you can’t use your preoccupied hands to hold you upright.

You feel Jungkook’s hand on your back then, concerned and worried, as your body trembles with such tension that you feel your muscles beginning to cramp.

And then, the second tendril begins vibrating.

You pant, open-mouthed onto the floor as you tighten your legs around the sensation, and you have just enough control over yourself to not moan in front of Jungkook.

“Y/N,” He calls. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t tell him that Jimin’s parasite has made a home inside your body; you can’t let him know that your body has been compromised by a Ling. It would make your position as First Protector crumble at its foundation.

“My…” You keep your forehead pressed to the ground and your eyes squeezed shut as you hold back another moan. “My cra-amps are h-horrible.”

As quickly as Jungkook came over to you, he snatches his hand away from your back. It’s as if your body is as hot as a stove top.

He stutters. “O-oh damn. Uh… sorry about that, dude. Do you need help with anything?”

You briefly turn your head to the side to look at him and find his eyes wide with shock and his cheeks pink with mortification. He looks to the side and twiddles his fingers together nervously.

“No.” You groan and press your hand to your chest as Jimin’s voice seems to whisper to you from the shadow. “I’m good. Can you just leave for a bit?”

“Sure.” Jungkook responds much too quickly, obviously thankful for the opportunity to leave you and your ‘problems’ behind.

You’re left alone to process the living thing inside of you with a scrambled brain and throbbing body. You still have some sense to reach one of your own shadows to the door and lock it.

Jimin groans, throwing an arm over his face as he uses his shadow to move throughout your body. It gives him a brand new perspective of how your body feels around his shadow- around him- yet he doesn’t need the shadow to remember how it felt to have you soft and pliant in his arms mere hours before. It’s hard for him to believe, but he’s already felt every inch of your body.

His breaths are harsh as his umbra pulses with a need to merge with yours. He drives himself into his other hand, his palm and fingers not doing your welcoming body any justice, and the effort of his need excretes from his pores in sweat.

His lips lie open and he lets his eyes flutter closed as he digs his head further back into his pillow, spine coiling tight as he remembers having his dustri in your grasp. He rises his lower half from the bed as he hears you panting through the wormhole of his shadowed connection.

But it’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough if it’s not you.

“Come to me.” He whimpers.

Jimin knows that you can hear him as he openly begs for you in the privacy of his room. It’s dark, almost pitch black because of how his umbra grows and amasses until it frustratingly grumbles against the paint of his four walls, and he has the curtains drawn closed to keep it inside. 

But he can feel the formation of your body as if it was his own, his shadow allowing him the minuscule glimpse into your presence. He’s made himself into a perfectly wrapped gift so that you can have the easiest access at getting to him to see him too.

He can sense that you’re in the Don’s main house a few miles down the road from his apartment because of the mark he left embedded in your flesh.  Your heart beats through his soul, a melody that resounds in the furthest recesses of his mind, and he finds so much comfort in your song that he sighs in content and relaxes for a moment. 

But he can’t stop now. He must court you as all young men in Velum do. 

Rather than approach with hasty annoyance like the men of the Revelatur dimension- the Revealed dimension- he must make you want to come to him. It is the female that makes the decisions and leads the people, after all.

The men are warriors- soldiered pawns in the brawn of an army- that the women use as pieces in their respective games of power. The woman is the queen of strategy and utter sovereignty; the woman reserves the right to pursue what she desires.

And he reserves the right to make you want to pursue him.

He cannot risk exposing the connection between the two of you by being brash anyway. He thinks it would be too easy for the gang to ensure dustrial soulmates stay separated since they are considered a distraction from the mission. Jimin doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that at all.

So he left his door unlocked for you. He wants it to be as simple for you to get to him as possible. He can picture it now; you’d stride in with his name on your lips, the needy heat between your legs, and the doors to your dustri flying wide open as you crossed the span of his room to get to him. To get into his bed and let him have you over and over again. To become Tota with him.

His people value the bond of Tota more than the other principles they hold dear. With the need for true democracy more than ever, Velum enrolled voices of reason and wisdom to ensure the stability of peace that has been maintained for the past decade. They cannot afford a repeat of Summa Tenebris.

The Tota hold high positions in the court because of their inability to think only for themselves. Their opinions are valued and held with the highest level of priority because of the fact that their bond requires them to take into account the opinions of at least one other person. Such a bond with another makes thinking about others the norm and broadening horizons for change a necessary part of the decision-making process.

It also enacts an unfair advantage when running for positions of power in the court.

Jimin likes to think he is a fair man. He abides by the law not because he has to, but because he respects it. He got into a small amount of trouble as a teenager, but most young men do when battling the Evolution. It coincides with puberty, making for a difficult element of raw rebellion that the council is forced to watch closely.

The Gate of Velumus opens once a year, allowing the shadows within to awaken the umbras of the children who come of age. Typically, the young boys get their umbras first, an evolutionary fingerprint of his kind that likely results from males being fighters. With Exspiravitian society becoming more open to female warriors and male leaders, it's easy to foresee that the evolution of Exspiravitians will go through neoculturation. He sees the change as a good thing.

He lays in his bed with his cock in his hand, thinking of how much having you in his life would change things. Not only would you change him as a person, but you would change his influence over his people. You would change his entire perspective on the world. You would change him and he knows it.

Your body shudders around his controlled power and he thinks it’s the best thing he's ever felt in his life despite not actually having physical contact with you. Jimin had the same train of thought when you shuddered around his length as he pulsed his seed into your body. He also shuddered when he felt how deeply he was able to plant himself inside your flesh.

The head of his cock had snuggled up to your insides perfectly. Your walls had massaged his cum from within him like it was suckling it needily. It basically begged for his cum to be pumped inside of your womb. Jimin has no problem giving your greedy cunt all that it could ever ask for.

He can’t even imagine what it would feel like to overtake your body whilst he overtook your soul. Maybe his life will end when he finally gets to possess your dustri in his dominion. He doesn't know how he would survive the ordeal.

Jimin cums from the thought. Instantly.

His movement falters as his seed spurts from his dick and lands on his stomach. The next spurt is a little weaker and dribbles down the back of his hand, but he’s needy as you moan and feel his climax through your temporary bond. He gives himself another stroke to simulate your pussy moving around him, the addition of his cum on his fingers acting as the delicious syrup of you, and his slide is made much easier. He shoots another string of cum into the air and he wants nothing more than to have it pumped into your belly.

Jimin’s still moving his limbs within you, dick still painfully erect and breath much too short following his orgasm. His chest heaves as he attempts to regulate himself while he comes down from his high.

You whimper as he shows you what you’ve done, allowing you to see the ungodly amount of cum that you've allowed him to waste on his body. He’s never ceased to provide a generous load, something he had never truly been proud of before, but now, he bristles under your rapt attention as you struggle against the floor of wherever you are.

“You want my cum?” He lowly asks. Then, he moves his hand down his cock again and it’s so oversensitive that it hurts in the most beautiful way possible. “You want my seed inside you?”

He can feel your legs trembling because of the fact that he can give more attention to controlling his shadow in your clit. He can also feel that your shame and reservations are quickly diminishing the more you get turned on.

He breathes out a huff as you place your fingers against your heat and touch him through your flesh. He feels the caress of your hand all the way down to his toes and it’s like your hands are all over him. Gliding over his chest, squeezing at his thighs, milking his dick; your touch is addicting and he can’t get enough.

“Come on, me solum. Tell me you want me.” His head is clearer now in the aftermath of his orgasm. It allows him to more consciously ensure that you cum. “Tell me you want my dick between your pretty thighs.”

Your resolve must break quickly at his words because you’re almost screaming out yours in the next breath.

“I want you!” You sound like you’re about to cry. “Oh g-gods, I want it!”

Jimin’s eyes almost roll back into his skull from the sound of your aroused state. His eyelids flutter and his ears turn hot as his blood rushes through his body. He’s so fucking turned on that his hand scrambles to pump his dick at a faster pace. He’s oversensitive but fuck it- he wants to cum for you again.

“Come and take it, baby.” His voice is broken and he’s so desperate that he can’t think clearly again. He has never wanted anything so bad in his entire life and he thinks his cool guy persona will slip soon because of it. Are those tears in his eyes? Fuck.

And maybe it’s because he’s not thinking clearly that he mindlessly tries to give you his dustri through the bond of his shadow. Jimin’s never tried to do anything like that before and he would’ve thought it impossible, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to give you everything he could possibly give.

He knows that his dustri empowers you. He knows that it was how you were able to bring him into your dimension; he just wasn’t thinking of the possibility that something would actually come of him doing so when he gave his energy to you and that’s why he lets out a sound of shock when his back phases through his bed and drops into Summa Tenebris. He doesn't spare himself another moment to be taken off guard though.

Your body is on him. It’s on him and he’s growling.

The possession of you drives him to such a state of primal obsession that he doesn’t remember sitting up and digging his fingers into your tights to rip them from your body. All he knows is that, somehow, your pussy is bared to him and quickly sinking down on his dick in a fraction of a second while he claws into your skin to keep you fused to him.

Your scent overrides him as he licks and sucks into the skin of your neck and he’s so far gone in whatever basic state is in his mind that he uses his own shadows to bind your hands behind your back. He needs to make sure that, even if you wanted to take control of the situation, there’s no feasible way you can.

“You’re gonna take my cum.” Jimin’s whisper into your ear is just shy of a command as he suppresses another growl in his chest. He presses his dick into you so hard that he can feel the pressure of your insides fighting in instinctual protest against his violation. “You’re gonna enjoy it.”

You’re wet and warm around him, grip so god damn tight that he wishes he could grow his dick to fill more of you and feel more of your welcoming body taking in his flesh. He injects himself into your pussy with such domineering ferocity that his shadows respond in kind to his intentions by wrapping around your body and pulling you impossibly closer, looping around your thighs to spread them further apart, and pressing to the small of your back to arch you deeper. They manipulate you like a doll on strings so that he can achieve the greatest depth anyone could ever hope to reach all the while ensuring that you have no means of retaliating.

And he doesn’t even know that you don’t want anything else.

Your eyes flutter shut and you cry out into the void as his dick clears its own path to your most fragile point and your nails dig into your palms with anticipation when it begins to pulse. Your mind has devolved to a simple and quiet state, ensuring that you can do nothing but allow yourself to be overtaken by your solum. It’s an instinct so old and permanent that you can feel the nature of your bond overlapping with your personality and making you complicit to how much you desire him.

But when you’re about to moan again, his shadows plunge into your mouth and block any more sound from leaving.

His shadows travel down and fill every curve inside your body. They balloon to learn everything there is to know about your anatomy, painting your arteries and bones and muscle and sinew in midnight. He pays special attention to your womb, licking into it and prodding it’s walls to claim all there is inside.

Because it’s his. He needs you to know that.

Jimin peels his hips back once- you scramble eagerly for him to return but he’s holding you so tight that the choked gasp you produce is from the frustrated desperation of being unable to- before he’s returning his dick where it belongs and he’s cumming again. 

He’s cumming in hot pulses and he’s never had such a powerful orgasm in his existence. His thighs tremble from the force he uses to press himself into you, his arms and fingers ache from how tightly he holds you, and his breath ceases in dumbfounded ecstasy. 

He digs his nails into your waist and back, keeping you as close as possible so that you can’t shift in the slightest. The tip of his dick is placed perfectly against the gate of your womb- he can feel the tight ring basically suctioned on him- and all the cum he pulses torrents against it on such a way that there is no doubt in his mind that he is successfully flooding your womb like this. He can’t risk you ruining that because his entire purpose is to do what he does now. He’s in love with you and there is nothing you can say nor do to keep him from fulfilling his purpose to you.

You feel him filling your body, his flesh pulsating within the tight grip of your pussy, and you let out a muted cry as your climax overtakes you. You break your arms from his bindings and encircle his neck to crush him into your chest. An instinct to have him in your soul.

And then Jimin’s inside you. His umbra is inside your dustri and your eyes roll back and your mouth gapes open wider to allow more of his shadows to take over you while your body allows his to sink just that much deeper. Somehow, you lost just enough control over your defenses that he was able to worm his way inside all while your pussy lips and clit got crushed against his skin.

“Y/N.” He snarls into your neck, teeth bared and eyes squeezed shut. “Me solum.”

And now he knows your name. He’s taken the vital piece of information with the access to your dustri.

His cum is powerful as it overwhelms the gate inside you, your orgasming pussy sucking it in eagerly and convulsing when he does not have another drop to give. In such sexual mania, you shouldn’t find it so surprising that his dick is still hard, but you do. He’s cum twice now. In the span of the last twenty minutes or so, he’s orgasmed plentifully for you yet still remains primed for more. Your roll your hips into him as he throbs threateningly.

Slowly, his umbra recedes from your limbs. It remains planted inside your chest though, sucking steadily on your energy as a newborn would his mother’s teat. Like an umbilical cord to keep him attached to you in every way possible.

“You asshole.” You breathe out the accusation as you come down from your high. “You weren’t supposed to fucking do-” You gasp as his umbra pulls a sliver of your dustri into him. “-that.”

“Why?” He pants the question into your collarbone, grip trembling from how long he’s been holding it.

The abyss around you churns with your grip on his dustri, steadily drawing his power from him like his core is a battery.

For a little, you do not answer him. You let all of the horrible ways this could go wrong dance around your thoughts while his body stays rooted inside you. How do you answer his genuine and resounding why in a way that will make him understand?

His tongue is hot when he laves it over your skin in your silence, soft and loving, but his grip on you never falters from the harsh strength of his desperation. He’s keeping himself inside you like a plug to prevent his bodily claim inside your belly from escaping. Like you will pull away and disappear from him once he lets you go.

Before you can come up with an answer, he’s speaking again.

“I do not care what rank you hold in this whole fiasco. No power can get in the way of the Tota.”

You laugh bitterly, letting your head tip back while your eyes close to take in the disbelief of his naivety. It’s surprising how innocent he seems in these moments, almost like a starry-eyed child learning of the Tota for the very first time.

You remember learning of them when you were barely old enough to remember anything. Your parents told you of the legend of Daeun and her journey for her solum, seeking her Tota bond to ascend her throne and lead your people into the future. 

The mighty shadow dragon, Vulcanus, sought to strike her down and oppress your people so that he remained in power. He was a zealous creature that fed off of the souls of mortals and Daeun needed the throne to gain the power from the Gate so that, when she ultimately met the enemy of Velum, she could destroy him and establish peace for your people.

But both he nor Daeun were expecting the unexpected during their first encounter.

Their standstill allowed Vulcanus to evaluate what existed between himself and the mortal woman in front of him. It led him to the discovery that the existence of the bond gave him the ability to become mortal if he so chose to be. He could choose between a life of chaos and destruction as the mighty dragon or a life of unending connection and warmth by Daeun’s side. The mighty Vulcanus had all of the power in the multiverse, yet was never given the choice to be mortal.

Until her.

He had to take his solum into mind when evaluating his goals and had no choice but to align his decisions with hers. To protect her, he had to protect her people. He ultimately chose the life of the mortal man beside his solum.

And peace was brought upon the land. It was the Tota that saved your people.

In the wake of Jimin’s innocence, you remember the story. It’s a bedtime story. A fairytale to tell children when they’re bored. The notion that he holds such high value in the Tota is endearing yet saddening. You don’t want to be the one to crush him, but it’s about time he grows up and opens his eyes.

“Jimin,” You whisper his name and he shivers beneath you at the sound of it. “The position I hold… we can't..."

He's shaking his head vehemently and craning his head up to meet your lips with his, pressing a hand to the nape of your neck to pull you down to him. “No! Don't you dare say we can't!” His words are open-mouthed, sloppy kisses in between. “We must!"

You look down on him then. His blue hair is a reminiscent, shaded echo of his umbra as it is just barely long enough to reach his pleading eyes. His brown orbs are adjuring- begging- for you to understand. His sharp eyebrows are turned down, concerned and utterly beautiful, while the post-orgasm glow slowly recedes from his face. The piercing on his bottom lip twinkles as his lip trembles with what looks to be saddened fear.

The inked teardrop on his cheekbone takes on a new meaning. He’s an innocent child with hopeful yet heartbroken eyes that shed a permanent, singular tear. The heart of the world has let him down and his disappointment resides on his face as his heart is worn on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you raise yourself from him, afraid that he’ll pull you back in and keep you from leaving. It’s already difficult enough to resist the temptation of his eyes. Your escape must be fast and efficient so that you can sever the bond quickly.

He scrambles to keep you physically connected to him, but your plan works out too well and his flesh comes sliding out of yours. The loss of his presence is painful to process.

You’re back on your mat. Naked from the waist down and extremely exposed to any eyes that might be in the room. There’s a certain, horrible revelation of the things that just happened and the deeds you’ve just committed.

The light of the Revalatur dimension is a sharp pang against your eyes as you regard the return of physical surroundings. You crouch on shaky legs, fatigued from the passionate and intense fucking you just received, and feel the essence of your forbidden lover beginning to dribble out of you in globules onto the insides of your thighs. You clap a hand down onto your sex to prevent it from spilling onto the mat below and the feeling of the warm fluid threatening to escape your fingers sends a shiver up your spine. How much is inside you right now?

Sound comes back slowly, a side effect of the absence of it in your oblivion, and it reminds you of swimming to the surface of water after being submerged for so long.

When you break through the proverbial surface, it’s overwhelming and deafening. Your ears ring from such a rapid change in your senses whilst you try to identify the noise.

People are banging on the door that you locked. Their voices echo loudly in the large gym.

“Hey! Who’s in there?”

“Yo! Open the fucking door!”

“Dude, let’s just break it down.”

You panic from the last statement, drawing your shadows over your exposed, fatigued legs whilst you get up off the floor and sprint towards the locker rooms as best as you can with a hand between your thighs. It’s not hard to imagine how much more dangerous this would have been if you didn’t learn how to manipulate your umbra in the light of the Revalatur dimension. The scene of you running with your lower half unceremoniously exposed to the room would be one that you think you’d have to kill others to get rid of.

The locker room is cold as you barrel through the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind you while you breathe heavily with relief. In your chest, your heart races and your lungs contract and retract rapidly because of the adrenaline. Maybe it’s because of the mind-blowing, soul-ascending orgasm you just had, but you feel that there’s more to it. You feel like the adrenaline could also be due to the fact that you had your dustri mildly corrupted for a short period of time.

Who’re you kidding? It was more than a mild corruption. Jimin invaded your dustri and took your name. He got exactly what he wanted without asking. You can't even deny that you liked the sensation because no one can take in another's dustri without being allowed; no matter how much you want to deny it, you allowed him access.

You make a beeline for your locker, wrenching out your gym bag to grab the shorts you changed out of at the beginning of your session with Jungkook. Although they're not the best for the TI, they'll have to do.

After a handful of frustrated huffs, a couple baby wipes meticulously swiped between your legs to collect the astounding amount of cum that was shoved inside, and the baggy shorts spitefully wrenched up your legs, you stride out to the main room of the gym with your head held high and your shadows pulled away from everywhere except your face. Your body needs to be visible to them so that you can give them the demonstrations they need.

The small group of Lings that already had their tattoo appointments sport slightly swollen, freshly-inked necks that are covered in Saran Wrap. They stand awkwardly, some rubbing the backs of their heads in confusion, whilst they speak among themselves.

“Who the fuck could it have been?” A blonde member speaks up.

One of the brunettes exasperatedly throws his hands up. “You fuckin’ tell me, man! You were the one who got to the door first!"

The six of them, stood in a semi-circle, have their backs to you- a poor position on their end- and do not realize that you approach them from behind. It gives you the perfect cover to even your steps and become silent because it’s the perfect way to kick off their first lesson.

It also gives you time to realize that Jimin, a Ling, is supposed to be with them. His mark trembles within its protective prison, yet you can feel its lack of excitement because of the lack of energy from its master. It’s only been ten or so minutes since you left him covered in his own cum on his bed; because he was so distracted by your supposed Tota bond, it seems he was unable to make the TI.

You decide to ask Jungkook about the Ling’s absence once the session concludes since he was the one to ensure the muster of the proper personnel. The thought makes the vengeful part of you excited for the Ling’s reprimand.

Without your shadows in the way, it should be easy for the newest members to sense you, yet they are so befuddled by the locked-door situation that none of them have the situational awareness to detect your presence.

Ever so slowly, you make a finger gun with your hand and raise it to the back of the blonde's head.

Bang.

You wait for a few moments as they continue to scratch at their chins and furrow their eyebrows like cartoon characters. Its only by chance that one with raven hair has the bright idea to take a quick scan of the room again. He catches sight of you and jumps visibly, shouting.

"Fucking fuck!"

At his outburst, the others jump away from where he looks and turn to defend themselves on instinct, however, you catch the one you already mentally killed with a hand wrapped around his neck before he can get away.

His instinct is to grab for your hand and pull it off, but you quickly subdue his advance by grabbing onto his hand and pulling it towards you with your free hand. Because of the unexpected momentum and awkward imbalance it causes, his body twirls in your grasp. Then, you shove at the back of his neck downward. The kid is so busy trying to correct the twirling momentum that he is wholly unprepared for your new force and goes to his knees with two heavy thunks. To add insult to injury- and to prove a point- you shove until his cheek presses into the mat.

The entire exchange lasts hardly more than the blink of an eye.

“Rule number one,” you say, looking up at the remaining five. Each of them stand, frozen and wide-eyed, as you render one of their peers defenseless. He struggles against the weight you use to hold his face to the floor. “Maintain a constant bearing of your surroundings. At all times.”

All of the new recruits hold their breaths in the beats that follow. It seems that their shock has turned them into deer in headlights.

Eventually, one breaks the trancelike silence and speaks. She looks more dumbfounded than the rest and her eyes glow a distinct silver as she uses her dustri to look at you. Just like the others, though, she fails to see your face past the mask of your umbra.

“The Shadow.”

Her words are said in awe. Briefly, you are shocked by the fact that she knows what you are and let the surprise from the realization that you have a Taster to train raise your eyebrows. Then, you school your expression and mentally get back on track so that you can have an effective lesson.

Her revelation of who you are only strengthens the obvious intimidation written all over the groups’ faces.

The door to the gym swings open and Jungkook strides in with a blank expression on his face. The two Lings who you set to spar, Vittoré and Gaum, immediately cease their fight to stand pin-straight once they realize he’s entered the room.

“That’s enough for today,” Jungkook says. “Run along now, younglings.”

They scramble to pick up their things and leave. In passing, they nod their heads in respectful acknowledgement of their First.

“Damn,” your Second chuckles with an arched eyebrow once their speedy escape takes them out of the room. “You scared them that much, huh?”

You shrug and turn away from him to grab your water bottle. “Just establishing the ropes and boundaries of their ring.”

Jungkook laughs again. “Sounds like that’s a ‘yes.’”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and raise the bottle to your lips to take a swig.

“You can never go easy on them, can you?” He asks.

“Easy isn’t in my job description, man.” You turn back to face him. “Why would I go easy on them when I don’t go easy on you?”

His black hair slightly sways as he looks to the floor and shakes his head. “Well, I won’t go easy on you when I tell you this, then.”

“Hit me.” You arch an eyebrow expectantly and bring the bottle to your lips again.

“Jin’s ordered you to train your little Ling, the Exspirivitian, privately.”

You choke on the water that you were swallowing as he says the words. Your eyes water and your throat clogs as you struggle to breathe past the shock. After a few coughs to clear your throat, you look at him incredulously.

“Fucking what?“

It seems that your reaction is precisely what your Second was expecting because he smiles and its almost sadistic.

“You heard me.”

You shake your head and grit your teeth, balling your fists with frustration. “I think the fuck not.”

He holds his hands up in surrender and looks at you with pleading eyes. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“I’m not going to shoot the messenger.” You growl, storming out of the gym without caring to go back to grab your bag. “I’m going to shoot the fucking boss.”

You weave through the hallways of the Don’s mansion, fuming and angry, and your umbra eats up the space until hallway lights slightly dim through the veil of your power. Jungkook knows not to follow you when you’re angry. He learned from his mistake years ago when he got a lung-full of umbra down his throat and choked on the negative energy that fills it.

After standing in front of the metal Cypher door for exactly three seconds, you look up  expectantly at the camera that you know the security team uses to see your face. In the surveillance room, Jung Hoseok most likely looks down at the screen that displays you in the foyer of the Cypher offices with a scowl on his face. The last time you spoke to him, you borrowed a pair of shorts- the shorts you currently wear- and you have yet to return them to him.

“Jung! Let me in!” You throw up a hand as you say his name, hoping to speed up the process of him buzzing you in to speak to Seokjin- or Namjoon.

The speaker on the side of the door crackles to life. “And why the fuck would I let you in when you’ve proven to be unreliable?”

You cock your head and look at the camera again to simulate looking in his face. “The hell do you mean?”

“How dare you come to my door, wearing my shorts that you’ve had for literal weeks, expecting yet another thing from me? You promised to have them washed and retur-”

“I’ll bring them back to you, I promise. Now will you let me through the fuckin’ door? It’s urgent.”

“I’ll think about it.”

You fume and you think you’d have steam billowing out from your ears because of how high your blood pressure is getting.

“Jung, I swear on everything you love, even that stupid ass acorn pouch you carry arou-”

The door slides open. “That’s enough.”

You falter at the sound of Yoongi’s low voice. Shit shit shit shit. Panic sets in as you turn to look at him.

His black hair falls in his face but you can still see his eyes through it because he’s using his dustri. Just like Patchel, the female Ling you just trained, his eyes glow silver. Those silver eyes are not amused. In fact, he looks bored- borderline annoyed with the slight tick at the corner of his mouth- and his stance conveys that he’s not impressed. You’ve never liked the way he looks at you. 

The others in the gang, despite being able to see your body, avert their eyes away from you out of respect for your culture. Even though you practically grew up in the light dimension, you were accustomed to the notion of allowing a person their right to privacy, as is the norm in the shadow dimension. It’s considered rude to look at someone unless you are close or plan to have a confrontation and you think that that was one of the reasons you were so quick to react negatively to Jimin’s curious actions.

Yoongi does the same as the irritatingly handsome Ling, but he doesn’t look at you out of curiosity. He takes the fact that he doesn’t care for your cultural customs to another level.

He blatantly ignores the form of respect because he feeds off of the dustri of others. He digs through all of the information he receives to gorge on the juiciest bits and licks his fingers when he’s done by displaying all that he’s learned in such a short period of time. His unique skill of being able to identify a person’s deepest, darkest secrets just by Tasting their dustri is what makes him so intimidating- and creepy. You can’t ignore that his power makes for a great interrogator and enforcer.

You learned a long time ago that, because of his unprecedented affinity, Min Yoongi, the Taster, is a fucking menace.

“What is it?”

You shift uncomfortably in your spot, hoping to avoid him digging too deep by strengthening your umbra over your dustri, and look away from him. You weren’t expecting to see him so soon after your run in with Jimin and you can’t risk him discovering the fact that you’ve been compromised. “I need to see Seokjin.”

A pregnant pause rests between the two of you as he takes in your request and processes it, buying his time to Taste you. Your hand curls into a fist and you hold your breath as you attempt to withstand the knowledge that you weren’t prepared.

“Huh.”

The sound he makes is one of realization. It’s closer to a hum with his lips barely parted and its so soft that you barely hear it, yet the sound cuts you so deep with fear that you freeze.

When you look at him again, his head is tilted and his eyes are more visible than they were before. It allows you to see the minuscule twinkle of excitement in his eye. It’s small, barely there, but a dramatic change from the usually dull look he always offers you.

You gulp anxiously. He’s detected something.

“What?” You try to bite back the snarl in your voice because of how much hatred you have for his ability, but you only succeed in lowering the word to barely above a whisper.

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his eyebrows. “There’s a leak.”

Your breath falters and your blood runs cold at the statement. He’s found Jimin’s mark. He’s found it and you’re fucked. Undoubtedly, royally fucked.

“What are you talking about?” It’s above you how you’re able to muster a voice.

For a beat, the man says nothing, leaning against the doorframe and allowing a small smirk to lift his lips to the side. Then, he speaks.

“You have a leak in your dustri. I can practically taste the blood of your victims.” He closes his mouth, swallowing, and then lets it fall slightly open again. “The despair is incredibly sour.”

Then, as if in a moment of panic, Jimin’s mark disappears. You feel it detach from your skin and fizzle away from reality like a bandaid being ripped off. A pressure in your head you hadn’t noticed before disappears with it and, like losing an adamant parasite, you suddenly feel like you can breathe freely again.

“Oh, there it goes.” Yoongi facetiously laments. “And here I was thinking you were going soft on me for a second.”

With a sigh of relief, you roll your eyes. “Are you going to let me see Seokjin or not?”

“Come on in, Ghost.” He steps off to the side and gestures you to enter. As you walk forward, you glance at the camera watching you.

Then, just as you’re about to pass the Taster through the threshold, he grabs ahold of your bicep and roughly squeezes to pull you through the door and into his chest, away from the view of the camera. Your heart picks up it’s pace as he leans into you with a stern look on his face.

His voice is a tight-lipped whisper.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”

Well… shit.

A split second of terrified realization cuts through your relief and smugness before you’re manning the fuck up and biting back.

“As much as I’d love to see you try,” You wrench your arm out of his grasp. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Don’t play me as a fool, Y/N. I know what you Taste like and that thing was not you.”

You scoff and play off his concern, stepping away from him, but he follows to maintain proximity and continue his interrogation. “It was on you and then it was gone.”

“Then I guess whatever it was is no longer a concern.”

You’re poking the bear- you know you are- but poking the bear when it’s Yoongi is just too enticing to resist.

When he raises a hand towards your neck like you expect, you grab onto his wrist and twist it away, maneuvering his arm so that he’s forced to twist his body away from you and keep his limb from breaking. You shove his chest into the wall with his hand raised to the middle of his back, threatening to pull it further if he moves by keeping the tension tight.

“Do not fuck with me, Min. I am not in the mood to fuck around right now.”

“Y/N.”

You crane your neck to look at Namjoon who stands just outside of his office door, having just come from it, and there’s a scowl on his face. Damn it.

“My office.” He quips the sentence out and turns back inside. “Now.”

For a bit, you weigh your options whilst Yoongi grunts in front of you. Should you go in confident? Or should you keep your head down and take the bite of the Don?

In one movement, you release the Taster in front of you and push him away so that he can’t pivot on you and try anything funny. He stumbles away from you with a grunt, grumbling under his breath, before fixing his disheveled clothes and stepping away, stalking down the hall. As he walks, he turns his head to side-eye you with the most menacing look you’ve ever seen on the man’s face.

Once he’s gone down the corridor, you turn your body to face Namjoon’s door and take a calming breath before you approach it. You need to be levelheaded to get your point across with the Don of the Cypher.

It’s easy to forget that the man who owns the room is the Don of a gang who moves products covered in blood. The walls are a honey beige and plants line the ledges of the narrow window where the backyard grass outside can be seen just barely peeking through the glass. Dark brown shelves, lined with rows and rows of colorful books, stand to dominate the side walls. Your think you can smell a subtle note of the pages in the room.

Namjoon’s desk, treated to match the bookshelves, is the centerpiece. It's bathed in the sun rays piercing through the windows and reflects the golden glow back up into the room. The green that pierces through the leaves of the plants adds that necessary tinge of life into the room.

The dark blue of Jimin’s hair stamps itself into the comfort-

Wait.

You narrow your eyes on him with a scowl that you can't help but let surface as he turns to face you. His eyes, the same ones that seemed to have the ability to see through your umbra, are the only things that could potentially give you a hint of what's going through his mind since you've detached from him.

The sight of him sitting there, looking at you with those big, gorgeous eyes that feign innocence and yet another blue shirt- what the hell is it with him and blue?- pisses you off. Because he's sitting there at the chair in front of your Don's desk, staring back at you, as if he hadn't just rocked your shit a couple hours ago.

“Y/N.”

You snap your attention away from the Exspirivitian to look at your Don, his white dress shirt clashing against the dark colors both you and Jimin wear, and watch as he walks behind his desk to sit down. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone and his suit jacket lays draped over the back of his chair, leading you to infer that he was in need of tension relief. Your mistrust from last night resurfaces as your instinct to protect your Don takes over.

You haven't moved from the doorway. You didn't realize you stopped walking at the sight of Jimin, but when Namjoon calls your name again, you're forced to snap out of your defensive-but-horny haze. 

"Relax, Second. He won't bite." 

You scoff internally. Because he does bite.

Cautiously, you move to sit in the other seat that's placed in front of the Don's desk- next to the Ling.

"So, YIN,” Namjoon begins. "I was just explaining to Mr. Park here that you are also a Ghost.”

"Is that so?" You decide to play along. For now. "Have you been talking about me for long?”

"Not too long. He just got here about ten minutes ago. Prior commitments and such."

You resist the urge to look over at the other Shadow in the room, feeling his eyes on the side of your face, and you know that he looks at you smugly because you were his prior commitment.

"Well," you brush him off with a shallow grin. "All bad things, I hope."

Namjoon chuckles. "Not in the slightest. You're one of the best and the power that the two of you share is outrageously useful to the Cypher. We could use another like you to double-down on safeguarding the Don."

You lean back in the chair and fold your arms over your chest, already fed up with his cheap attempt to butter you up. What he wants is preposterous.

"Joon," you say, cutting the bullshit. "He needs to train with the rest of the Lings. I don't do special treatment just because we share some common ground."

When you finally turn to look at Jimin, a small, smug smirk on his lips catches your eye. Suddenly, you get the vibe that he's proud of himself. Why?

Namjoon sighs and pulls his lips into a tight line, sensing that the cordial moment has passed. "Unfortunately, this isn't debatable.” He looks up at you with his eyebrow quirked and the corner of his lips following it- his signature ‘I’m the boss’ look. You know what he’s about to say and you clench your jaw in annoyance.

“Don’s orders.”

Namjoon doesn't have to big-dick you often. For the most part, you agree with his decisions. He's wise, noble, merciful yet vengeful, and a just leader.

On rare occasions, though, he can be a little... slow.

And on rare occasions, you disagree with him.

When it gets so bad that even you see that you’re going way above your pay grade, he big-dicks you with his title and you’re shoved back down to personal bodyguard where you’re supposed to be.

You know that he doesn’t enjoy pulling rank on you, but it’s the only way to make you step back in line when you become so ferociously involved in the politics of the Cypher that you’re unable to pull yourself out. Namjoon already has two advisors- Seokjin and Yoongi; he doesn’t need another one.

“Understood.”

He sits back in his chair, satisfied, and clasps his hands together. “Perfect. I understand that you just finished a TI so I’ll give you the rest of the day. Jungkook will take care of the other Lings while you regiment this one.”

The clench of your jaw is a result from the track of this conversation not going the way you wanted it to. You came in here hoping to get your way, but you were shot down and stiff armed into submission.

You won’t forget this next time Namjoon asks for a favor.

With a nod of your head and a brief glance at the cursed man next to you, you make for the door to escape how uncomfortable everything feels. It’s time to be alone for a bit.

“Show him your face!” Namjoon calls after you as you leave. “I know you haven’t yet. Don’t think I can’t feel your dustri right now.”

You only have enough energy to groan in response to his bidding.

You’re barely out the office door when Jimin calls after you, but you’ve no time for his foolishness and continue walking while you roll your eyes. You were done with his fuckery the moment he first spoke.

But when he grabs onto your arm, your body turns into a live wire ready to fucking explode.

It’s like your entire being bursts into a ray of light, lighting up in a fire so hot that your dustri shies away from where it radiates in your arm. It’s so hot that it reaches between your legs and makes your blood rush intensely.

“Let me talk to you,” he says.

His words sink deep. Deep in your bones and in your gut, bubbling into a request that forces you to remember that he just might be your solum. His words batter your will and unexpectedly tame your red hot fire with…

Blue fire… 

You think you hate the color blue now.

Even though you roll your eyes in annoyance, your body still adheres to his request by turning to face him. 

Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is just how it feels to be in another Ghost’s presence. It’s been more than ten years since you last came into contact with one and you were still in such a volatile state when that happened. Who’s to know if this is just how it feels to touch one of your own race? You think this reasoning is what keeps your mistrust marching onward.

But what if he actually is your solum?

“What do you want?”

He closes Namjoon’s door behind him. Just before it closes all the way, you see Namjoon looking at you with an eyebrow arched. Shit.

Jimin has a sheepish smile on his face. The smile is world’s different from the charismatic and confident persona he seemed to be channeling in your Don’s office.

“I just wanted to ask you a few things.”

With a huff and irritated close of your eyes, you allow him to proceed. “Then ask.”

Jimin splutters at your response and his eyes turn into saucers, obviously shocked by your willingness to speak. Of all places that the two of you could talk, outside of the Don’s door is probably the safest to have a conversation since there are no cameras within the Cypher common room. Still, anyone could walk in at any moment, so you decide to allot him a single question.

And suddenly, there’s a giddy look on his face while he opens his mouth.

“How old are you? What’s your last name?” His grip tightens the more he speaks. “What’ve you been doing since you left Velum? Why do you ha-”

“Too many personal questions for the house.” You state, shrugging his hand from your arm. You turn to walk towards the door. “Follow, and don’t speak.”

Without questioning anything you’ve just ordered, he adheres to your command.

You can feel him following close behind you as you walk, his shadows teetering towards the edge of your personal bubble. You can feel them hesitating, curling away when they get just a bit too close before trying to get close to you again. 

Your shadows surround your body while you walk like they always do, reminiscent of protective wards, but they’re closer to your body than usual. Like the shell around you has become smaller because of who prods at the protection. Ever so subtly, you clench your fingers into a fist and your shadows stretch out a little more to reestablish some space around yourself.

The two of you walk in silence. As you walk down corridors and step through doorways, countless members of the gang greet you timidly.

You're their Second, yet they know very little of you because of your efforts to conceal yourself. For them to see you walk the halls now, during the day, is incredibly rare. In one way or another, you trained them and garnered the respect that is due to a brother or sister in arms, but they know not to acknowledge you past a slight nod of the head. To them, you are invisible. They shouldn’t know anything besides the way your body looks.

Jimin watches as you greet all of the gang members that stride through the halls on their own tasks and there’s a sense of pride that radiates off him. A sense of ownership that you can’t shake. He’s proud of the fact that you are so pronounced and respected by the varying ranks and it impresses him. You feel slightly off from the secondhand pride that resides within you because of his watchful eyes. Are you proud of yourself or are you proud that you're someone's to be proud of?

He follows you to the gym, all the way to the locker room where you stop him outside the door so you can grab your bag- you couldn’t have him follow you inside because you didn't trust your ability to resist him despite the watchful eyes throughout the house- and then he takes up his position behind you the moment you step out to exit the property.

The sun is bright in the sky when you finally make it outside and you immediately feel its weakening effects on your power. Your body sags with every step because of how much light fills you, washing away the safety and serenity of the darkness completely. Although you learned to maintain it in this dimension, the bane of your power is the Sun itself.

Jimin falls into step behind you. You can feel how close he’s getting with the pressure of being in the eyes of the family house slowly getting relieved. Usually, you find comfort in the gaze of the gang, but right now, you want nothing more than to get away and hide what’s beginning to fester in your chest as the moments spent with this stranger go by.

You make a beeline for your car in the cul de sac of the driveway, the long and winding stretch of pavement cutting through well-tended grass until it pools into a large circle at the front porch of the mansion. Luckily, you parked at an angle so that it would be easy to get out from the collection of other cars.

The silence between you is comforting, but it seems that it's too quiet for your suitor.

"I'm excited to work for Don Jin." He says this as you pull your keys out of your bag. Your only response is to scoff at how stupidly endearing his innocence is.

"Oh, you poor thing." You shake your head and look down at your key fob to thumb over and press the unlock button. "You'll be doing more than just working. Now get in the car.”

“What?” Jimin’s head cocks to the side as you grab open your door and he opens his. Once the two of you are sat inside, he elaborates his question. “What do you mean I’ll be doing more than just working?”

You mean to answer his question- you really do- but your senses go haywire the moment you realize you’re alone with him in a semi-private space. The smell of him fills the car as soon as your car doors are shut and the small space is enclosed.

It’s silent. The sound of Jimin’s elevated breathing is so close to you and its reminiscent of only hours ago. His shadows stick to his body like yours do, uncertain of what actions should be taken in such a small space, but his dustri leaves the trail because he allows it to show you that he is still willing to bare himself to you. It’s mildly enticing.

Get a grip. Your thoughts are loud in your head, warring with each other as you pine for the man sitting beside you yet attempt to resist the connection.

“I mean-” Your throat is dry, a result of your distracted state, so you swallow to whet it. Then, you start the car. “- the Don will have you doing more than just working for him.”

“And again, what do you m-”

His hand is on your knee. You were too slow and distracted to stop him from putting it there. Instead, you find your hand on his forearm in instinct, gripping hard yet frozen at the sensation of him touching your bare skin and you touching his. It’s like a zap of lightning shoots up your arm and jitters your dustri and you assume it’s the same sensation for him because he stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

Your heartbeat is loud. Your breathing too. You can’t seem to calm yourself because of how alive your body feels at the touch of his hand. It’s like you got a shot of adrenaline straight into your heart and now you can’t stop the trembling of your fingers that dig into the crevice of his forearm muscles.

You can’t meet his eyes- you won’t meet them. Instead, you look to his hand on your knee and continue your sentiment.

“He will make you murderer.”

For a moment, it seems as if Jimin hasn’t heard you. Silence continues in the car, so quiet that you can hear a slight ring in your ears, and you realize that the man next to you has stopped breathing. It’s concerning and you feel a slight twinge of guilt for laying it onto him so bluntly.

When you finally muster the courage to look at him, he has a grimace on his face. Is that wry amusement? You can’t tell. His eyebrows are furrowed and his full lips are pulled into a tight line, the same face that Namjoon made when he was disappointed not even twenty minutes ago.

Suddenly, you realize that his dustri is no longer open to you. You didn’t realize how hard it would be to understand the way he was feeling without access to his most inner place. People have too many emotions for so little genuine facial expressions.

“I already am.” He says lowly.

Despite the dark topic, you can’t help but let your eyes flicker down to his lips distractedly. He says the words with such conviction- such seriousness- that it somehow makes him attractive. This entire time, he’s been an oblivious and naive child in the great big world, but with his statement, said in a way that you have no choice but to believe him, you find his experience in your specific field of work eye opening.

You can’t stop looking at his lips, knowing what they are capable of. “You have killed in the name of business?”

The man’s eyes flicker down and back up to yours. “Yes.”

There’s depth in his eyes now. You never noticed it before, believing him to house a shallow and simple personality, but when you look back at his eyes and see them completely exposed, you understand that he hid the life he’s seen behind a thick mask.

Automatically, any trust you had in him flies out the window. It’s your default reaction to being fooled.

Could he be lying about being your other half?

The thought makes you recoil from him, snatching your hand away from his skin and jerking your knee away from his touch. You don’t want to develop any more possibilities nor what ifs for him.

The look in his eyes is concealed once more, but now that you’re privy to the fact that he can hide the fact that he has taken lives behind such an innocent exterior, you know it’s still there.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

He reaches forward and grabs ahold of your knee again, giving it a little extra shake to reinforce the reality that he will hold it. Again, your body sings with the contact, but you can't allow yourself to indulge in the delectable sensation.

"Why do you keep insisting that you are my solum?”

“Because I am.” His response is automatic, tone unwavering like his statement is an obvious fact. “And you are mine.”

You laugh lightly and start the car, forcing yourself to ignore the way his grip tightens . “Yeah, right.”

You watch him lean away from you in your peripheral vision, most likely out of disbelief because of the scoff he releases. “Why are you being so stubborn? It is so plain to see- to feel- and yet you deny it to me and to yourself.”

“The only thing I’m denying is that you, of all people, are me solum. Yes, we had some fucking explosive sex, but don’t think you will catch me lacking again.” You seethe, hating that the admittance comes out of your mouth, but you can’t lie to him.

Then, he leans forward into your personal space again. Your umbra is shuddering so close to your face, but you know that he can see your eyes and lips now. You might as well be wearing a Batman mask in front of his disrespectful nosiness. How cheap.

He’s so close that you damn near stop breathing just to be able to feel his exhale glaze your lips. Your mistrust prevents you from doing so, but it doesn’t stop you from looking into his eyes. The proximity allows you to study him while you wait for what he has to say in response and you notice that he has a slightly darker spot on his left iris, a deeper brown than the rest of it.

“Let me see your face,” he whispers.

Now you hold your breath.

Namjoon’s order to reveal yourself to the other Shadow resonates in your mind, strong and true in such a way that you cannot ignore it. The man is your savior; the Don of Bangtan rescued you from the streets when you were first exiled into the Revelatur dimension all those years ago. You didn’t have to suffer the consequences for very long, your lonely banishment from your home lasting a mere week.

“Where are you going?” The boy called to you from the backseat of his SUV and through the rolled down, shiny black window, revealing his young face.

The rain was in your hair and blanketing your skin, warmer than you were expecting. You still wore the prison suit of your holding cell whilst you awaited the Judgement. After several days in the uncomfortably warm drenching of Revulatur rain, the thin clothing was ruined. You missed the cool weather of Velum.

“I’m not sure.” You murmured, spirits not nearly high enough to counteract his prodding.

“Do you live close by?”

He slowed down to match your speed as you walked down the busy street of the city. You’d barely learned any routes off of it yet, growing familiar with the diners and restaurants along it, and chose to let it remain that way because it afforded you the occasional semi-complete meal that was callously thrown into a dumpster.

You continued to look at the ground as you walked, ashamed and unsure of your way of life at such a young age. “No.”

The vehicle pulled a mild bit ahead of you and stopped, shifting into park, before you lifted your head up to see what it was doing.

The boy got out with a jacket over his head to prevent the rain from dripping into his gelled hair. He was dressed nicely, a white dress shirt and dark gray slacks adorning his body in such a well-fit way that it screamed he had money.

He jogged over to you hastily and, when he got closer, you were able to see more than just a face through a window.

Judging by his stature and slight speckling of short, stray chin hairs, he wasn’t much older than you. Maybe even still a teenager like you. Why was he coming so close to you?

He came to a stop directly in front of you, effectively blocking your path and preventing you from walking any further. You had no energy to walk around him so you stopped and let your head hang down again.

“Would you like a ride?”

No warning signals went off when Namjoon took you to his home, clothed you, fed you, and trained you in the ways of Seokjin’s family. You quickly learned that they were the foundation of a tight-knit mafia that was steadily on the rise as the years went by.

Namjoon admitted that he had used his gift on you when he first met you, but you always insist that you went along with him free-willed.

You became his closest confidant because of your undue loyalty to him, being the receiving end of constant rants about the careless activities of the son of the Don- rants that ultimately came to a resolution when Seokjin released true authority to him.

Seokjin didn’t want the responsibilities that his father did, seeking to achieve other successes outside the family. Namjoon kept you by his side the entire time, trusting his own life in your hands, while Seokjin got to live the life he wanted under the guise that he was still the Don once his father passed.

It’s safe to say that the man means a lot to you.

But right now, Jimin is too close for you to think. If you reveal your face, it’ll most likely awaken a new hunger in him that you’re unwilling to put up with at the moment. Your exposure, just like in the bathroom stall last night, would break down yet another barrier that you don’t want gone yet.

Yet?

“Get out of my face.” You growl and turn your head away from him. 

Jimin chuckles dryly, biting his lip afterwards. “I can’t even see it.”

“I don’t care. Get the fuck out of my face right now.”

It’s hard to tell if you’re breathing hard from how frustrated you are- okay, you know that it’s from the frustration- but it’s even harder to tell if your frustration is with yourself wanting to be closer or with him wanting to be closer. Why is it so god damn hard to resist?

Because he is your solum.

You shove at his shoulder for some reason. You’re angry. You’re confused. You’re scared. All of the emotions that are stirred from the intrusive thought you’ve just had are muddled together, but it’s lost on you which one was the one to push him away.

Your shadows wrap around his neck as he flies back to his side of the car, the strength behind your shove and your following umbra pinning his neck back compounds into him so hard that his head reaches the passenger side window with a dull thud.

One of his eyebrows is raised and his nostrils are slightly flared in what seems to be annoyance. You hate how hot it looks.

“Ow,” he mutters.

You coil your shadows back to your body and turn back to the steering wheel, shifting your car into drive as you do so.

“There’s an offsite gym about a mile from here. It’s reserved for class five training. I’m going to show you where it is so that you know where to go tomorrow.”

Jimin scoffs and wordlessly turns his body to face the road, putting his seatbelt on in the process of taking his attention off you. Finally, you’ve managed to strike a chord with him.

The car ride is silent. You’re thankful for the quiet, hoping to enjoy it for a bit longer before he starts talking again.

“Where did you live when you were in Velum?”

You knew you spoke too soon. Gripping the steering wheel a little harder, you answer him.

“North of Vulcanus’ Mount. Across the Shora Plateau.”

Jimin hums, knowing of the area. “It must have been cold.”

He says the words in such a soft and mindless way that you feel how genuine his curiosity is. It makes remembering your home that much easier. You can’t help the ghost of a smile on your face as you recall the nice weather, void of anything relatively close to the blistering heat here.

“It was.”

And it’s the first time Jimin has ever seen a smile on your lips. The sight makes him giddy for the future spoils of his efforts.