#abyios

Lucille hadn't necessarily aske where you had been, but her withheld smiles and knowing stare said more than her words needed to. Every time she gave you that look, heat rushed to your cheeks as you scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t seem suspicious, but that feat was nearly impossible without just telling her about who Hoseok was.

It was your last day in the Doeidyads before your boat was to depart that evening, and you weren’t going to spend it defending yourself from Lucille. But her stares only became harder to shake when Hoseok was adamant he join the two of you on your excursion around the city. And gods, he was everywhere.

Everywhere you turned, he was there, somehow always close enough for you to accidentally run into. If you looked at something for a bit too long at a stall, he was behind you, chest nearly pressed to your back to run his hand over it, pretending the proximity wasn’t strange. Like he was supposed to be that close.

And when you had boarded the boat just before the sun was due to set, he walked in step with you, the backs of his knuckles just ghosting against yours. It was driving you crazy.

You had felt him. Felt the touch of his hands on your skin, your hips, your waist, your mouth–and now it was like he couldn’t stop forcing the memory of him into your mind at every passing second. It sent you reeling, how so abruptly he had gone from awkward hovering to nonchalant and overbearing. A line had been crossed on this trip, a line neither of you had the guts to acknowledge; because doing so would mean admitting that perhaps what had happened last night on the shore or his balcony had meant more than it was supposed to.

Being near him was stifling, yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Your mind constantly pushing and pulling you in two different directions, wanting be as close to him as possible and wanting to get as far away as you could. The tension was becoming unbearable and you hadn’t been the one to build it. You just couldn’t figure out the reason as to why he would change. There must be something in it for him, a reason you hadn’t been made aware of yet or benefit you weren’t seeing.

The sun was nothing but a fading streak of orange against the oncoming navy, and you watched its retreat from the comfort of the deck that was mostly empty, for most guests had gone below to partake in the provided meal. Not you, for your stomach was too twisted to eat anything at the moment. You weren’t even sure what you wanted: privacy? To grab Hoseok by the collar and demand he tell you what kind of game he was up to? To kiss him?

Shuddering at the thought, you buried your face in your hands, inhaling the smell of salt water and wet wood like it would calm the endless flow of thoughts.

“Are you not going to eat?”

Great. Just the man who was the catalyst for your mental breakdown.

You kept your face hidden behind your palms, worried that looking at him might betray your inner thoughts. After all, you hadn’t the slightest idea as to how his divine powers worked. “I am not hungry at the moment. But you and Lucille are more than welcome to go enjoy yourselves without me.”

“I do not need to eat,” Hoseok said it like he was scolding you for forgetting something obvious, coming to stand beside you. “And Lucille is resting.”

You dragged your hands down your face with an exasperated sigh. “Then I guess you are free to do whatever it is you do when no one is around.”

Hoseok didn’t make any moves to leave, if anything he made himself more comfortable, grabbing onto the railing and taping two of his fingers against the wood.

Stealing a peek through the cracks of your fingers was a bad idea, and yet you still did it; tracing over his profile that had your heart clenching in a way that made you frightened. His tongue ran over his lower lip, just a quick subconscious act to stave off the dry winter air, but that simple move had your temperature rising enough to have sweat accumulating on the back of your neck.

Your mind must have escaped you, because for a few horrifying seconds the only thing you could think of was kissing him. Staring at him hadn’t been intentional, but you simply couldn’t look away, your thoughts repeating like some cursed prayer I want to kiss you over and over again.

Hoseok’s fingers moved faster against the wooden railing–like if he could he would pummel straight through it. The noise was getting under your skin, the tension becoming so strained it would surely snap at any second.

Just as you were about to shout at him, he spun to face you, stopping anything you had to say in its tracks.

“I want to try something.”

You jerked your head back, startled. “What do you...What is it you want to try?”

Hoseok looked at you like you were the one to make such an unexpected confession, honing his attention in on your face. “If you could just…” He took a slow step closer, then another. And another. Until your back hit the wall of one of the cabins and he was so close you could almost taste him. “Just hold still.”

His hand shook as he brought it up to rest on your cheek, studying every little twitch, the quick intake of breath, a nervous flutter of your lashes–nothing had gone unnoticed by him. He brushed his nose against yours, and your hand shot up to fist in his sleeve, an embarrassing quiver in your voice betraying just how affected you were by his proximity.

“What are you doing?”

He scoffed. “What do you think?”

That was the problem. You couldn’t think of anything.

Especially not when he brushed his lips over yours, so soft it could barely be considered a touch at all. Your body betrayed you next, chasing after his mouth for something real. Something deeper. And when he gave it to you, you couldn’t help but sigh, your free hand coming up to threat through the hair on the back of his head, bringing him closer even though there was no where else for him to go. It was messy, but not because of the intensity–but because you were both out of practice. A clash of lip and teeth with no plan, just a conquest toconquer the other.

Hoseok pulled away first with a wince, as though what he had to say pained him. “You should go.”

“What?” You opened yours, unsure if you had misheard him.

“You should go eat,” He clarified, though the hand that came up to hold your chin still like he was going to dive in again said the opposite.

“I already said I’m not-”

“Go. Eat.” Hoseok finally opened his eyes, narrowing them in on you with a warning. “Now.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his command, and you slipped out from under his arm and hurried down the rickety steps to the dining area in a daze. As you ate, you couldn’t even begin to reckon with what had just occurred, the memory of his lips on yours making you dizzy with need. Surely tonight you would ask him what it meant–what everything this past weekend had meant. What you staying in his house for almost two months meant.

But that answer never came.

Not when you returned back to his home. Not in the day after that. Not in the week after it either.

He gave you nothing.

During the day, he would go to the butcher shop and you would wander down to Treseyna’s Vale and hover around the shop like a ghost, and when the sun would set he would have dinner prepared, a plate for you and a plate for the cat that he so vehemently denied had grown on him, even though you knew he had. (If how many times you had caught Wes curled up in Hoseok’s lap or the sudden increase in fresh chicken he scooped onto his small plate was anything to go by). He spoke very little since the incident, and the silence killed you.

But that pain was child’s play when held up against the absolute madness you felt about the other times he had kissed you.

Each time it happened it was quick. Quick enough for you to convince yourself that it might not have even happened at all. And every stolen kiss happened during the night: a hurried peck of your cheek when you padded past him to your room; a wispy press of his mouth to yours when he stood up from beside you on one of your late night porch visits; a brush of his lips on the back of your knuckles when you weren’t looking. Each one occurring just when doubt would start forming in your mind, like he could sense when you were beginning to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t real and felt the need to spin you off course again, leaving you completely lost yet starved for more at the same time. And of course he never spoke of it, putting on this stoic facade of ignorance like he didn’t notice your quickened breath or sweaty palms. Like he hadn’t been the one to touch you.

You distracted yourself from his mixed signals by planning your father’s service, which took more effort than you had initially anticipated. There was a rapid influx of people reaching out to you requesting information about when and where it was to be, some of which you had never even heard the names of until their letters showed up on your doorstep. You were at your wits end with just how big of an event this was becoming–and so was your empty wallet. The money from the city was beginning to trickle out, and planning a gathering as big as this one was becoming would take a lot more than you could afford.

The first week of march had thrust itself upon you as you paced about the guest room, marking the count down of the final days until your lack of a funeral service started to look less like grieving and more like a failure on your part. And that poor guest room had suffered your wrath–your belongings scattered on every surface, clothes discarded on whatever knob or ledge could hold them, and a pile of wood chips from your late night coffin etchings swept into one corner that you kept making note to toss when you passed by but never got around to actually doing it.

Looking at that damn pile yet again, you kicked yourself for letting it sit there for so long. If Hoseok were to see this place he would surely kick you and Wes to the curb. Well, perhaps not Wes. Wes was getting much too comfortable slinking in and out of Hoseok’s room at night instead of yours, looking back at you haughtily as he did so with apathetic flicks of his tail while you begged for him to come lay on your bed.

“Traitor…” You muttered to yourself bitterly, shaking your head at the memory of it.

Suddenly an idea was born from the thoughts of Hoseok and Wes curled up together, more so from the image of Hoseok than the cat.

You could ask Hoseok for help with the cost.

Instantly you panicked, clenching your hands into fists at your sides until the nails dug into your palms. Not once outside of your paycheck have you even considered asking him for money. While he had so readily given you plenty of it, the thought of walking downstairs and just shaking him for a large sum felt forbidden. If not by him, by your own moral compass and shame. Your father’s funeral was your responsibility, not his. But what other options did you have?

So you hatched a plan, pacing frantically in front of Wes from his cushioned throne on the freshly washed sofa, his eyes tracking you lazily, blatant boredom written all over his stretched out limbs and exposed belly.

“If I just offer to work for him–say for a year perhaps? No. What if he doesn’t need my help for that long?” You spun on your feet, speeding back towards the right side of the room. “Maybe I will give him the chance to choose how long I work. Yes, that sounds better. He likes when he makes the final decision...” Biting your lower lip, you circled back to the left again, pointing to Wes like a victorious politician. Halfway back around you froze, hands coming up to drag down the sides of your face with a garbled groan. “Oh, but what if he thinks I’m insulting him again?!” You whirled around, dropping to your knees and slumping your upper body over Wes to squeeze him to your chest. “Why must this be so stressful?”

Wes struggled his front legs free, using them to spring board off your arms and launch himself across the room, putting as much distance between you and him as possible. Without so much as a second look, he stalked off into the kitchen in search of a pre-dinner snack, aloof and not even remotely apologetic. You let your forehead drop onto the couch with a frustrated groan. Not even your cat wanted to listen to your troubles anymore, all he wanted was his dinner.

Right. Dinner.

Hoseok should be returning from the butcher shop in less than an hour, where he would find you making a mess of yourself on the living room floor.

You closed your eyes, pressing your palms into them until you saw vibrant bursts of color, siphoning in a few measured breaths. “The worst he could say is no,” You reassured yourself.

That was a lie. You knew first hand that he could say a lot worse if he wanted to. While unlikely, it wasn’t impossible to think that he could surprise you; accept your offer and give you the helping hand you needed–that is, if he decided to speak to you at all. And the only way to find out would be to ask him.

There was no way you were going to let this eat you up inside, nor were you going to settle for his sudden silent demeanor when he returned for dinner. You wanted answers from him, if not for everything then at least for this.

You leapt to your feet with determination, telling yourself all the while that it was just a question about your father’s funeral and nothing more. Taking the short path in stride, you were at the door to the butcher shop before you knew it, hand gripping the handle so tightly that the skin of your knuckles stretched thin over the bone.

Just one question, nothing more, nothing less. Giving yourself one final nod, you wrenched open the door and stepped inside, feeling the confidence you had built slowly crumble into dust when you found the counter empty.

“Hello?” You called out, taking a few trepid steps towards the counter. The lights were harsh and unflattering to the gray lifeless room, and you scanned the front for any sign of him. With no response, you swallowed the nerves that had begun to rise and walked forwards to press your palm against swinging door to the abattoir. This room was strictly off limits, and you knew that. Having no interest in potentially setting him off before you even started, you stood just in front of it, calling for him again.

“Hoseok? Are you in there?”

There was a dainty metallic clinking sound. The rustle of some kind fabric. A creak of a floor board. The squeak of a leather shoe. Sounds so soft you could almost explain them away as a trick of the mind.

“You can come in.” Came his response.

Your heart jumped to your throat as you pushed the door open.

The abattoir much dimmer than the store front, a square room with concrete floors, some parts of it stained more than others. Two identical metal tables ran parallel in the center, one of them spotless and untouched, the other strewn with fat trimmings and a splatter of animals blood that Hoseok was currently sopping up with rags.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” You shuffled in, keeping close to the door. “But I wanted to...I needed to ask you something.”

Hoseok didn’t look up from his work, tossing the soiled rag on the floor and plucking up a new one. “And what was so important that you could not wait the thirty minutes until I returned home?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Fear was getting the best of you, stealing your voice and your breath, taking your resolve and stomping it out on the abattoir floor.

At your silence, Hoseok finally looked at you, scanning over each of your features carefully. “Is something the matter?”

“Not quite...I...I wanted to…Wanted to….” You wanted to punch yourself in the face for sounding so stupid after all of your preparation. A simple question. You just needed to ask him one question. Yet the person inside of you that had spent so long relying on only yourself was resisting the vulnerability it would take to lay your troubles out to him. Perhaps you should have just prayed…

Hoseok’s sniffed, his head ticking to the side as a sign of his dwindling patience. But instead of saying something sharp, he dropped the rag and folded his arms over his chest, rounding the table to lean against the clean one before you. “If praying would make this go faster, feel free to do so.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly. Had he heard you? Was just the mere thought of praying to him something he could sense?

“Yes,” He answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It is.”

The world might as well have disappeared from beneath your feet right there and then. “H-how?”

Hoseok sighed, chewing on his cheek as he debated whether or not answering your question was worth his time. “It is the intention of it. When you think of something with the intention or wish of me hearing it, I will. Whether or not the intention is conscious or subconscious is mute.”

Your mouth ran dry. Just how many things has he heard you think? Shaking your head, you steeled yourself with a deep breath. Panicking now would only make your situation worse. But saying what you needed from him was too horrifying–so you took his suggestion and ran with it.

While watching him closely, you made a request in your mind, opening your thoughts up to him for just a moment.

I need help.

“With?” He cocked his head to the side–and if you had the time to think about it, he almost looked worried.

“Money,” The word leaked from your mouth like a secret. And the second it did, you felt the overwhelming urge to flee and pretend it hadn’t.

Hoseok’s expression pinched downwards, a crease forming between his brows as he started to stand.

“I will pay you back,” You blurted out, trying to cover up your hasty delivery and save the spiraling direction the discussion was headed. “I can work here again for free. Or if time is not a concern, I can start repaying you once the shop is back up and running. Whatever you would need me to do, I’ll do it. It is for-”

“I’ll give it to you,” Hoseok’s countenance smoothed over once more, and he settled back against the table. “There will be no need to pay me back, and I care not what you use it for.” He surveyed your wide eyes and slack jaw, gesturing for you to continue with a wave of his hand. “Is that all this was about?”

You didn’t know whether or not you wanted to slap the attitude off his face or kiss him until you couldn’t breathe. And he wasn’t making the decision any easier when he looked at you like that. Jaw tight. Hair messy. White shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hidden behind the leather apron tied around his waist that you envisioned pulling undone with your teeth. A challenge behind his eyes that you craved taking.

Your eyes trailed down his forearms, stopping at his hands that flexed under the harsh lighting, and you gulped when you could feel them on your throat, slipping over your jaw. Feel his thumb prod at your lip. Gods what you’d do to feel it right now.

No.

That is not what you had come to ask him about.

“That is all.”

Looking at him was making your blood boil and your knees shake. Irritation, lust, hunger, gratitude–you couldn’t tell what you felt anymore and it pissed you off. Turning on your heel you started back towards the swinging door, tasting freedom the farther you got from him.

“Wait.”

Your shoulders scrunched up to your ears and you stopped in your tracks at one word from his stupid mouth. The same stupid mouth you wanted to feel again. Hoseok glided right past you, shoulder brushing against yours as he escaped to the store front, the sound of running water enough to tell you he was washing his hands. Why were you waiting for him? Were you that desperate and weak to just listen to him so easily?

There was no time to change your plans, for he was already stalking back into the room, wiping his hands dry on the apron he had crumpled, tossing it onto the pile of rags behind you. Again with his goddamn silence that hooked into your nerves and ripped right through them.

You were at your wits end with him, whirling around to find him using a clean rag to wipe down the already spotless table closest to you without making any move to explain himself. That sent you over the edge. “What?! Are you really making me waste my time here for you to not say anything at all? If so, I will be taking my leave.”

Hoseok tensed, looking up from table with narrowed eyes pointed straight at you. Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he balled the rag in his fists and hurled it onto the floor, stepping over it to stalk closer to you at an unbearably slow pace. Your breath hitched when his nose ran over yours, hovering there just out of reach.

He sighed, the sound sudden and sharp, breath fanning over your cheeks and collar bones. His lips grazed over your mouth once. Then twice. Never letting them fully touch. “Use that tone with me again, and I won’t help you.”

You swallowed, the sound slicing through the deafening silence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He gave a coy tilt of his head, nudging your nose with his to force you to look at him. Hands skimmed over the outside of your thighs, stopping to play about with the seam of your pants near your hips for what felt like an eternity. “Do not play dumb with me. I can hear you.”

Every bone in your body ached to give in to whatever it was he’d give you, but you resisted, fighting to save what dignity you had left. You would not be the one to break. “That is quite funny, because I haven’t said a word.”

The movement of his hands ceased, his thumb just starting to dip into the waistband near your stomach. He pulled back, muscles of his jaw ticking as he looked down at you like you were both a nuisance and something he couldn’t look away from; one moment away from bursting.

He retreated quickly, taking a stand in front of the barren table and gesturing to it with his chin, speaking to you with such indisputable authority. “Sit.”

You felt like you were going to faint; head spinning while sucking in hasty shallow breaths, the want to listen to him growing harder to ignore. “No.”

And when he looked at you this time, like he could see through your petulant games, unraveling your resolve with a purposeful run of his tongue over his lips. “Do you want to try that again?”

“Fine,” You huffed, stepping up to the metal table and hopping up to settle atop it. “Is this what you wanted?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth twitched upwards, a subtle display of satisfaction that told you he had expected you to listen, that he was pleased with himself. It made your skin hot to the touch.

He closed the distance, hands planting themselves on either one of your knees and using little force to tip them open wide enough for him to stand between if he would just take one more step. But he didn’t. He just held them like he might, looked at the space with subdued pride. He gave one of your thighs a sudden squeeze, a surprised gasp escaping your chest against your will.

“Is this what you wanted?” He repeated your question back to you.

You were at a loss for an answer. A weak shake was all you had to give him–not because you didn’t want him to touch you, but because you wanted more than this.

“Then what is it that you want from me?” The hand on your thigh inched upwards, digging deeper into the soft flesh, a tentative brush of his thumb on your inner thigh leaving you a shuddering mess.

You pressed your lips in a thin line to keep any embarrassing noises inside. “Nothing.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully, drawing his hand even higher, pinching at the apex of your thigh hard enough to make you jump. “Liar.” He soothed the residual sting with his fingertips, running them in gentle circles over the tender spot. “Tell me what you want.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of anything but him. Anything but the warmth that flowed straight downwards at the littlest touch of his hands. The smell of him standing just out of reach. The radiating heat from his body hovering along the inside of your knees.

You definitely didn’t mean to think of his hand sliding up your hips and guiding your pants down your legs. His finger on your lips. His touch on your waist. The way it might feel if he buried his fingers inside of you. It was terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. The ropes tying you back from what you wanted starting to fall away, leaving you defenseless and squirming on the table top.

He took up the empty space between your thighs, hands following the very same imaginary path you had envisioned. Up the curve of your hips, down to the button of your pants and running his index finger over it, letting the action linger–giving you enough time to change your mind.

You wouldn’t dare.

Not now.

Not when he was so fucking close.

You tipped your head to the side with the intention of capturing his mouth with yours, but he jerked his to the side with a condescending click of his tongue, your kiss landing messily on the side of his chin. His free hand came up to grab the base of your jaw, keeping it at a centimeters distance from his.

“No. You don’t get to kiss me with the mouth you just disrespected me with.” He flicked your the button undone, not once breaking eye contact with you, a pathetic whimper trickling through your slight pout. He shook his head, lightly smacking your mouth. “None of that. This is what you get when you choose to run your mouth. You will take what I give you and you will not complain. Now,” He angled your face upwards so he could look down at you, “I am going to touch you however you want me to, but you will not touch me. The moment you disobey, I will stop and leave you here to clean up after yourself. Is that understood?”

The anticipation was killing you, your thighs going to squeeze around his hips but stopping with one warning look from him.

“Is. That. Understood?” He asked again, letting each syllable roll off his tongue like a threat.

You nodded, and he released your face with a pleased grunt. “Good.”

Just like you had imagined, he shimmied your pants down your thighs and let them fall to the floor at your feet, keeping your underwear in place. He dragged his index finger over the hem, your hips jerking up to meet each slow circle. “Take these off.”

Swallowing the sound you almost made, you hesitantly pulled at the fabric, nerves starting to get the best of you when you pushed it just below your pubic bone. He spotted your pause from a mile away, fingers brushing yours aside so his could hook his in their place and drag them down the rest of the way, monitoring your expression carefully.

A rush of cold air smacked against the sticky mess that was now exposed to him, and on instinct your hands rushed to hide yourself from him.

“Stop that,” He chided, slapping at the back of your hands with two fingers. “Do you want me to touch you or not?”

“I do,” You stuttered out.

“Then move.” Despite the harsh delivery, he was quite gentle as he pried your hands away, a juxtaposition of soft and rough that had heat pooling onto the table below. “Better.”

He took two of his fingers and ran them over your folds, the slick that already built up offering him little resistance. And he didn’t wait, dipping them in to start tortuously slow circles over your clit, his touch cold against your heat.

You gasped, hands shooting up to grab for his forearms so you wouldn’t fall back, but that only caused him to freeze, his fingers stilling.

“What did I say about touching me?”

You trembled, hips shifting closer to the edge of the table in a chase for friction. “I’m sorry. Please-”

He scoffed, pinching the collar of your shirt and pulling it back nice and taut before letting it snap back to your chest. “If you want to put your hands to good use, get rid of this.”

Your hands struggled for the edge of your shirt and started to pull it up to your ribs, getting distracted about halfway through when his fingers picked up speed. You got it up to your shoulders when you caught sight of his expression: mouth partially open and eyes glazed over as he ravished your exposed skin, scouring over every inch of it like he was starved for you.

An idea struck you, and you began to gradually lower your shirt back down, letting the hem skim the bottom of your breasts. His fingers moved even faster when he looked up at your smug expression, his eyes going dark with disapproval.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I am testing something.”

Hoseok slowed his pace again, and you had to force your hips to keep still, breathing going ragged. “What is it you are trying to test?”

“How long I can leave it like this before you will take it off. It looked to me like you were enjoying yourself.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily with the remains of his tattered patience. He ripped his fingers from you and yanked the shirt off with one swift movement. Your inflated ego lasted only seconds before you cried out in pleasure, his hand skipping straight over your clit to plunge two fingers right into your aching hole, keeping them still.

“Try something like that again,” He brought the seem of your sleeve up to his mouth and tore it clean off with his teeth, snatching up the long piece of fabric before it could flutter to the ground to dangle over your face. “And I’ll use this so you can’t use those wandering eyes and cunning mind to conjure up anymore ideas.”

You should be mad that he had just shredded one of your favorite blouses, but all your desperate mind could think of was him tying it around your eyes just like he had promised. The threat landing more like a challenge.

Grinding your hips onto his hand you whimpered, the pressure so deliciously sweet but his lack of movement driving you mad. Then leaning as close as you could without touching him, you looked up to him through your lashes, whispering the words directly into his mouth.

“Is that a promise?”

His dragged the pads of his fingers against your walls up until only the tips of them remained, skimming around the rim of your entrance with gradually increased pressure, a blissful stretch that set your nerves on fire.

You tested the waters, images of him tying the flimsy fabric over your eyes before fucking his fingers deeper than before, eyes boring straight into his to see what he would do about it.

“Fine. If that is what you wish.”

In seconds, he took his hand away again and threw the cotton sleeve over your eyes, tying it tight enough to dig into the apples of your cheeks. All you could see was the faintest outline of his shadow, and the vague glow from the light, but nothing else.

You core fluttered in anticipation, for with every passing second, your mind began to run wild with what he would do next–the inability to see him doing away with the last of that little self-conscious voice in the back of your head. It was freeing, being so constricted. Unable to let your mind wander and search for the control it craved. You had no idea what was coming, and for once you relished in that.

Something warm and wet laved over the space where his hands had been, swirling circles around the bundle of nerves at the top in a way that made you ache for more. A broken moan peeled from your throat, hands splaying out on the table behind you to keep you upright. He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating against your clit. His chin dropped lower, giving him enough space to press his tongue into you, the action rough and unforgiving, coasting the muscle around the entrance much like how his fingers had done, stretching it wide but never feeding into your desire.

Every sound was heightened; wet, filthy and obscene, alternating between the squelch of his tongue against your entrance and his hungry gasps for air. You couldn’t decide which one you liked more, the suction of his mouth locking around your clit or the way the sensation burned a path up your spine and made the muscles in your abdomen spasm. Your hands gave out, falling back to lay flat on the table at his mercy.

Pressure was building fast, winding tighter and tighter until your arms flailed aimlessly across the table in search of something to hold onto–running over your bare chest, up your neck to grasp at the roots of your hair, wandering down to the tops of your thighs to dig into the skin with enough force to bruise.

Everything stopped, his mouth gone and his hands slipping from the backs of your thighs. You nearly sobbed at the lack of contact, clenching around nothing like the action would call him back if you begged for him enough.

He shushed you, hand clamping down over your mouth, body hovering over yours. “I’m going to need you to be quiet for a minute. I’ll be quick.”

You made a sound against his palm, some kind of confused and desperate plea or perhaps a curse against his lineage, you couldn’t tell.

It was then that the bell above the storefront door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer in the next room over. You froze, whine lodged in your throat.

“Don’t move. If you do, I won’t let you finish.”

There was a sound of rustling fabric and running water, followed by his quick steps out of the abattoir and the door closing behind him.

You could hear his muffled voice through the wall, faint and oh so frustrating. You felt ashamed that just the sound of his voice had you craving him even more. Hating the way that knowing he would come back to you and bring warmth to your cooling skin had wetness trickling down onto the table.

If he was going to make you suffer here by yourself, you might as well play with him too.

The darkness from the blindfold gave you all the space you needed to imagine more. Your hand traveling down your stomach and slipping two fingers inside of yourself. Your mouth on his, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Taking his fingers into your mouth when he finished with you. Wrapping your legs around his waist and sneaking your hands up his shirt, lifting it off his head to lick a stripe down his chest. Kissing him like he deserved to be kissed–like he deserved to be ravished.

Through the wall his tone grew shorter, his words clipped. You smiled, thighs rubbing together at the thought of how angry he’d be when he came back.

You heard the bell jingle again, signaling the customer’s departure. The click of the door locking. The twist of the lamp being turned off. The door to the abattoir opening again.

He was on you instantly, tugging you forward by the backs of your legs until you were flush against him. His hand found the column your throat snug against the base of your jaw, not tight enough to constrict your airways, but enough to tell you he was in control again.

“Get up,” He barked, guiding you up with his grip, caging you against the table with his body. “You just can’t control yourself can you? Always have to get under my skin?”

“Always,” You sighed, barely getting it out before he added more pressure to your throat. Your eyes rolled back, his hold just enough to make each breath a bit tighter, but nowhere near painful. It was divine. “Please,” a hand hovering just over his forearm. “Please touch me.”

“Or what?” He challenged, bringing his face closer to yours.

Your lips slipped into a syrupy grin, drunk on the energy of him. “I’ll do it myself. I have no need for you if you won’t.”

You thought that would surely piss him off, perhaps even make him punish you with the retraction of his touch; make him force you to prove you would. And you would–you would do anything at this point to sooth the throb between your legs whether it was his doing or yours.

“No,” he hissed, tearing his hand from your throat to seize both your thighs, dragging your body forward until you body was flush to his front. “Only I can do that.”

His right hand forced its way between your bodies, finding your soaking center and thrusting three fingers in, knuckles disappearing with them. His pace was brutal, curving just so, hitting the spot that weeped for his attention. You let out a high-pitched cry that bordered on a scream, the pitch dying down further and further until it was nothing more than a guttural groan.

Your legs shook. Everything shook. Your body writhed against him an effort both to run from how good it felt and to press more of him against the cold surface of your skin, his warmth addicting.

Your hands hovered over his shoulders, fists clenching with the effort it took not to grab him. “Can I…” You broke with a gasp, his fingers going deeper until it ached in a way that had your toes curling. “Can I please hold on?”

He yanked the makeshift blindfold off and let it hang on his wrist, momentarily blinding you from the sudden influx of light. “Hold your hands out.”

You did as you were told, and he wound the ring of fabric expertly around your wrists so they couldn’t budge.

“Go ahead.”

Hoseok ducked as you hooked your arms over his neck, hands trapped together behind his head unable to wander anywhere else. He was so close that all you could feel was him, the cold metal table long forgotten when his hips began to roll in gentle circles, nudging his palm against your clit in a manner much too light for your liking. Your orgasm was already building again, faster and more powerful than before, but still you needed more.

“More,” You said through a breathy moan, becoming delirious from the pressure. “I need more please!”

“I thought you didn’t have any need for me, hm?” He brought his mouth just over yours. “Told me you could handle it yourself. But is that what you really wanted? To make a mess of yourself instead of just being patient? Instead of simply listening to me?”

“I want you, I’m sorry” You cried helplessly into his shoulder, your forehead falling forward as tears brimmed your eyes. “Please–I just want you.”

“Look at you, finally behaving.” He sneered. “Head up. Look at me.”

The muscles of your neck protested the action, but you listened to his command, picking your head off his shoulder and locking eyes with him. He dipped down from view to trail open-mouthed kisses over your collarbones and shoulder, finding the softest spot to sink his teeth into, a dull ache pulsating from the spot that he eased with another handful of kisses. Stars dotted your vision as your sounds grew more desperate, more unrestrained and careless. Then Hoseok’s grip was back on your throat, bringing your lips so close to his you could taste him.

“Who takes care of you?” His index finger slipped to rest above your pulse point, your heart beat growing erratic beneath his touch. “To whom does this body and soul belong to?”

“Y-you,” Your vision was starting to blur, the pleasure on the brink of exploding, and you clenched around his fingers like that would slow down the inevitable crash. “Only you.”

“Good girl.” His hand crept off your neck to cup the back of your head crashing your mouth onto his so he could devour anything else you tried to say. Not that you were coherent enough to say much else. His thumb moved to press in time with the thrust of his fingers and you screamed into his mouth, fingers fisting the back of his shirt and hips moving frantically to follow his movements.

The tension burst in a flash of overwhelming heat and bliss, your body convulsing against his, kisses melting into a messy dance of tongue and lip. He slackened his pace, following the thrum of your fluttering walls to bring you down from the high that dripped down into his palm.

Everything felt weak and brittle from the aftershocks, your upper body folding against his. Your moment of reprieve was brief, for he was already slipping his hand from between your thighs and untangling himself from your embrace.

“I am going to get you something to wear,” his voice was low as he spoke. “Your shirt is ruined.”

Before you could protest, he had ducked out from beneath your arms and strode out of the abattoir, leaving you alone with your thoughts, still bare and vulnerable on the table.

Reality set in, the weight of what had transpired tumbling down on you, leading the way for fear and shame to settle low in your stomach. What if he pretended this didn’t happen just like the first time he had kissed you? What if whatever this was would be over the second you were back home, and you would be left to deal with it alone?

What if he didn’t come back at all?

A ball wound itself tight in your throat, mind running a mile a minute in search of something to cling to, a hope or a mindless thought that would stop the build up of salt in your lashline. Oxygen was getting more difficult to find, unsteady hands finding purchase on the tops of your thighs and digging into the skin there like the sting would bring you back down.

You blinked, and there he was again–hair a mess, face flushed, and slightly out of breath. A new shirt folded over his arm that he offered out to you. He took one look at your face and seemed to panic. “What happened? Shall I get you water?”

Latching onto the arm closest to you, dragging him close, throwing your arms around him. “Don’t go!” You pleaded with him, your voice breaking and your hands clawing at his shoulders. “Please stay! For just a minute, please.”

Hoseok stilled, his breath hitching. Arms hovered awkwardly over you, unsure what he should do like he wasn’t just knuckle deep inside of you.

You hooked your leg around his waist to bring him in closer, flattening your cheek on his shoulder. “If you could just...hold me for a minute.”

His movements were robotic, arms circling your waist to cradle you to his chest. This felt more intimate than anything the two of you had just done. Your breath flowing naturally, your eyes dried, hands fiddling with the hair along the back of his neck; this was soft. This was vulnerable.

“You’re cold,” He observed, fingers drawing a gentle path along your bare back. Without asking, he threw the shirt over your head, guiding it down your torso and pulling your arms through the holes one at a time. It touch was tender. Careful. Deliberate. Like helping to clothe you was an act of reverence.

You giggled to yourself at the sight of him crouched before you, focused intently on doing up the button of your pants.

He stole a quick glance up at you, frowning. “What has you laughing all of the sudden?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, a shy smile stretched out over your lips. “You’re just being sweet.”

“Would you prefer I be mean?”

“No,” You shook your head. “Well-I suppose sometimes…” Your face flushed with heat at the admittance, one of your hands coming up to comb through his hair. “Though I like this version of you too.”

His face didn’t give you much to go off of, but he didn’t shove your hand off or push you away from him, instead letting it drop naturally when he rose back to his full height, gaze flickering to the door a few times. “We should go home. It’s well past that wretched cat’s dinner time and I’d prefer to keep my sofa intact.”

“Right,” you curled inwards once more, nervously playing with the ties on the side of your shirt while he turned out the lights of the shop, dreading the possibility of him going silent again. His hand came to rest over yours, pulling it from the strings to run his thumb over the back of your knuckles.

“Come on. Do not think that I will let you skip dinner tonight just because you are tired.”

_________________________________________ 

To say things in the house were better would be partially inaccurate. While he acknowledged his affections more than before–a quick look after his lips met your cheek, an arm spread out behind the sofa when you sat besides him and Wes, the way he’d almost hold your hand when he walked you to work–he still refused to say anything about it. To say what it all meant out loud.

Not that you really needed him to, but it would definitely lift the tension off your shoulders; the voice in your head quite loud about its hesitations towards him. After being so alone for so long, letting him in felt dangerous. There always seemed to be some kind of catch to everything that kept you scared of letting your walls down entirely. Everyday you woke up in his bed, but alone. When you thought of kissing him, he made the first move, but only when you asked him to. He spent part of his nights with you, tucked into the sofa while you finally got back to that book Jimin had given you, or reclined on his porch with a candle–but only when you lit the candle with the request for his company.

Each morning you held your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop for this whole arrangement.

Today heightened that sense of foreboding, your father’s funeral had been set up and paid for with a rather hefty sum, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it meant something different. For while you wanted to say it was because he cared for you, he never said those words–never said why. And the answer never felt more important to you now, then when looking at all of the extravagant decorations, the excess of guests, and the overflowing banquet table of food to feed all of them. Because this felt far too grand for someone like you.

You told yourself it was all for your father, and that helped ease the worry for most of the service. Every flower, every candle, every plate was for him. Not you. The hundreds of guests–some devout customers or kind neighbors, others long lost acquaintances from his many adventures–strolled in and out of the city’s cemetery hall to pay their respects and celebrate his life with shared stories, or to add a flower to his offering table. The sight of everyone coming together on such short notice to honor him making your heart swell.

When it came time to climb the stacked vaults to his designated space, the cheers of well wishes in the after life as you slipped it into place next to your mother’s brought a smile to your lips, not tears.

Hoseok helped herd guests about the event even if it looked like he wanted to be doing anything other than chaperoning elderly women around the towering halls of coffins, listening to them lament about their passed on loved ones and blow their noses into delicate handkerchiefs.

“Do you even know any of these people?” Hoseok grumbled, fixing the sleeve of his black dress shirt.

“No,” You shrugged. “But they seemed to know him. And that’s all that mattered.”

He muttered through gritted teeth at your honesty. “That seems dangerous. A hoard of strangers being welcomed into your space.”

“They are just old friends of his,” You rolled your eyes, giving his shoulders a stiff shove towards a small family that was holding up the line at the banquet table. “Can you handle that one? You are much better at it than I am.”

“That is because you are too nice.” Hoseok cut back, starting towards them with a bit too much pep in his step. “I will handle it.”

“That was not me giving you permission to be rude!” You called after his retreating figure.

Hoseok pretended he hadn’t heard you, elbowing his way through the crowd to the poor family in question.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “He is going to tear that family to shreds, I know it.”

“Pardon me–Are you Y/n?”

You lifted your head up, greeting the next guest with a polite smile and an extended hand. “I am–a friend of my father’s I presume?”

The man before you blinked down at your hand, looking caught off guard by the motion. “I knew of his work.” Your hand remained suspended between you, and he furrowed his thick brows down at it, prodding over it like a puzzle meant to be solved and tugging with the collar of his thin blue tunic. One that looked far too thin for the early spring chill.

“You are supposed to shake it, like this,” Jimin’s sweet voice swept in from your left, palm meeting yours and giving it a firm shake. “Apologies for my friend, he does not get out of his house nearly enough.” He shot a pointed glare at his “friend” who seemed anything but.

You shook your head, nodding to the stranger. “It is no worry, really.”

The lull in conversation was awkward, strung high like a rope about to fray. Jimin planted himself beside you, his usual kind smile crinkled at the edge with too much tension. Opened wide to show too much teeth. The other man couldn’t be bothered to continue the discussion he had started, too busy running a finger over his lip and watching you shrivel under his stare. An unsuspecting mouse cornered by a slinking cat.

The walls began to close in, eyes darting in all directions for any place to escape to. “Well if you’ll excuse me, I have something I must-”

“Your dance was impressive,” The mystery man commented, his tone flat and anything but impressed.

Your smile faltered. “Excuse me?”

“I bore witness to it on the beach. You put on quite a spectacular show.” He fixed his eyes on yours, and for the first time you noticed their color, one of them a deep indigo like the ocean after sundown, the other a milky white. “I have not seen him dance with someone like that in near centuries.”

“Stop talking,” Jimin coughed into his fist over the latter half of his companion’s words, the sound loud and sudden, but not nearly loud enough, no covert enough for you not to hear what had been said.

“Who are you?” You couldn’t figure out who to look at, Jimin or the strange being before you. “Do you know him?”

“Namjoon,” A deep, lilting drawl ground out behind you, the words dragged upwards at the ends with an accent unfamiliar. “Pleasure to see you out and about as always.”

“Yoongi? Never would have guest it’d be you I see today.” The man before you–Namjoon–grinned, the curve of his mouth devoid of any warmth as he addressed the new stranger. His teeth sharp. Too sharp.

“Let’s not do this here,” Jimin hissed, tugging you further away from the two men.

You finally got a look at the second man referred to as Yoongi; shorter than the first with hair that waved down to his chin, tucked behind one ear. He was much better dressed for the occasion if just a bit untidy, a thick fur-lined cape draped over his shoulders, boots scuffed and worn, his dress shirt tucked messily into his trousers that were buttoned wrong, much like how a young boy would when wearing for the first time. If he wasn’t making your skin crawl at the moment, you could almost say the look was endearing.

“I am not doing anything but accompanying my wife to a service.” Yoongi gave a pointed look towards Namjoon. “As for him, I do not know.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I am doing my job.”

“Since when did you care about any of that?” Yoongi challenged.

Jimin pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t you start. Not here, and not now. I said enough–both of you.”

Never before have you seen your friend so volatile. His anger radiating off his body in tangible waves, spreading out into the room and making it spin. Your instincts kicked in, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms and your hands starting to quiver. Reflexivity, you scoured the room in search of any sign of Hoseok, a hushed prayer of his name falling out between shallow breaths.

“I meant no harm,” Namjoon slid his eyes back to you, gesturing to you with his chin. “I simply wanted to pay my respects. The same as each of you.”

This time when your eyes met, your body seized.

You knew what this felt like. You knew what they all felt like.

Never before had you been so sure that you needed to run.

With one twitch of his jaw, he pilfered the air from your lungs entirely–and for a few unbearably long seconds, they wouldn’t inflate at all. Their interior burning, itching, screaming out for air with no relief. When you did manage to choke in a breath, it did nothing. If anything the oxygen rushed in like water, sinking like a weight in your chest that kept expanding to take in more of it.

You clawed at your throat, stumbling back from Jimin–back from the group of men that seemed to tilt the earth out from beneath your feet. Jimin tried to reach out for you, but you wrenched your hand free of him, no longer sure if you could trust him either.

Stumbling back towards the main room of the cemetery hall, the intricate patterns on the marble floor no longer looked beautiful, but like churning seas of color and shapes that pounded around the insides of your skull to mush. You heart started to slow. Limbs growing weak. You felt like you were going to die.

“In here, quickly!” Clammy hands grabbed your forearms, lugging you away from the lights, the colors and the commotion of the service into the solitude of one of the bathrooms.

You recognized the cool toned skin and dark flowing skirts to belong to Safiya, her melodic voice guiding you to lean over the edge of one of the toilets, the heal of her palm whacking the tender spot between your shoulder blades. Something rattled in your lungs with each hit, and after another three thumps of her hand you were gripped the edge of the toilet, hacking up salt water and everything you had gotten the chance to eat that day.

You heaved your first real breath, throat raw and sore. Her palm switched to soothing circled over your back, cooing whispered words of encouragement into your ear. The black clouds crowding your vision dissipated, and you fell back against the wooden stall.

“T-thank you,” You wheezed, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand.

Safiya gave your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Friends help each other, remember?”

You nodded, only vaguely listening to her, still reeling and frightened. All you wanted was Hoseok. You had a hundred questions to ask him.

The first one being Where are you? And why didn’t you come help me?

“Is something the matter?” Safiya read your shift in demeanor quickly.

“Can you find someone for me?” You asked weakly. “I was looking for him...I just want him here.”

She nodded earnestly. “Of course! Who is it​?”

“Jung Hoseok,” You brought your arm up to cough into your elbow. “The butcher.”

“Oh….” Safiya’s entire body seemed to deflate, taking on a pettish yet aloof demeanor of a child with something to hide as she fiddled with the edge of her skirts.

You eyed her curiously. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all!” She rushed to assure you, wide eyes avoiding your face. “It is just…”

Dread grabbed hold of your earlier doubt and squeezed it with an iron fist, letting seep through its fingers and into your voice. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if he will come.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your voice grew defensive. Small.

“Well I am sure with this whole celebration that his debts have been paid.” She snorted to herself. “That and all of those payments to the city. I imagine those will stop soon too.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “What debts?”

Her face scrunched up in bewilderment. “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Oh dear...Just as I feared….” Safiya retracted her hand from your knee to play with her own fingers. “Do you know that he is a...a…”

“A god?” You took the chance, not caring anymore if she didn’t already know.

“Yes,” She answered. “Well, gods have obligations. A duty to their worshipers. If a family, or an individual gives and never takes–well that debt builds. It hangs over the god’s head like a thorn in their side until they pay them back. If they don’t, the other gods up on Kalios must get involved. It’s like an obligation. They can not say no if you ask for something.”

Your ears began to ring, your mouth going dry. “How do you know this?”

“Because I used to worship him too. And he did the same thing to me. Strung me along until his obligations were fulfilled. Then he left me–ruined me.”

Hot tears burned the back of your eyes. “No…”

She gave you an apologetic frown, leaning forward to capture both of your hands in hers. “I know it is hard to hear, but you must believe me. Look I can prove it–” Upon her hands grew bubbling mushroom caps, bouncing up and down her forearms, he skin taking on a deeper shade of blue. “Look what he did to me…”

Slats of mushrooms, mold, and fungus emerged from her flesh, splitting it open until they bloomed to their full size. Everything, her cheeks, her chin, her fingers–all of it mottled and rippled with gills and caps.

“Saprorro…” Her name was but a gasp from your mouth, and you pressed your back further into the stall.

“I did not mean to lie to you,” her eyes glistened with tears, “but you had danced so beautifully for me, I just wanted to meet you. To save you from my fate.”

“But you...you wanted this…” You whispered, a fresh tear falling from your cheek.

“I wanted eternal life, not eternal punishment.”

“In the myths–you are friends. Allies-”

“The myths are just that. Stories told in favor of whoever they want to make look like the victor.” Her frown twisted into a snarl. “I spent my life devoted to him, and when I needed him the most, he made me beg like a dog for what I rightfully deserved. He let my mind melt out from my nose, my bones snap, my eyes bleed–let my body fail me. Then with all of that, he made me dance for him, knowing I could never win in the state I was in.” Safiya stuck her chin high in the sky, eyes shinning with pride. “But I won. And he couldn’t stand it.”

You shook your head in a weak protest. “He...He wouldn’t…” But your confidence was already cracked. Because you knew he could. You had known him before; cruel and selfish, with a ruthless tongue he wielded like a sword to cut down anyone he thought unworthy. Which was everyone. The change in him had been too quick. Too sudden. You thought back to that night on his porch when he had said how your father had never asked for anything. How after your father died, his kindness increased tenfold–like you had inherited his karmic wealth. Your chest started to implode in on itself with how many emotions tried to claw for the top spot of your mind, your limbs going cold and numb.

“I know it is hard to believe, but I am trying to save you. To help you.” A black tear ran down her cheek, and she leaned forward to caress the side of your face. “If he had really cared for you, why hadn’t he come when you called? When Namjoon was filling your lungs with the sea–where was he?” She dragged her index finger down your cheek, saying your thoughts allowed as they came. “And where is he now?”

A sob tore through you, callous and thoughtless for the pain it left in its wake. How had you been so stupid? The job. The dancing. Walking you home. Letting you live with him. The gifts, the trips–touching you. All of it was merely an obligation. A chore. Something he only did when you asked him to.

“I need to go…” You scrambled to your feet, unable to bear being in the same building as him. Hear vague reply urging you to reach out if you needed to garbled in your ears. Each decoration you passed, each piece of cheese or fruit scarfed down by an oblivious guest, every candle that burned–all paid for by the man you never wanted to see again.

And he had told you. He had tried to tell you when he was helping you at Treseyna’s Vale and you were too naive and ignorant to know what he was trying to say. He had warned you of what this all was and you still played into the palm of his hand, asking yourself day in and day out what all of it meant.

You were halfway across the hall when one of the men from before–Yoongi you think–was in front of you, stopping your retreat.

“There you are, Jimin has been searching-”

“Get away from me!” You took a trembling step back, hands held up between you. “I respect what you are and I am sorry if I have offended you in anyway, but I am not interested in getting involved in any other god’s games.”

Yoongi ignored your outburst in favor of giving a quick inspection of your form, the puffy face, dry lips, shuddering bones; and grew visibly concerned. “You look unwell. My wife is a talented healer, shall I take you to her?”

You dragged your palms down your cheeks with an exasperated groan, their surfaces coming back wet. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said? Leave me alone!”

Then you felt him behind you. The scent of cinnamon, chamomile and citrus that once used to comfort you curdled in your nose, acid churning in your stomach and bile rising to tickle the back of your throat. His hand curled around your forearm, thrusting himself between you and Yoongi, teeth bared and hackles raised.

“Do not get near her beast. Leave, before I skin you of your pelt and hang it above my fireplace!”

Yoongi let Hoseok get in his face, keeping calm in the face of wrath. “I am allowed to be here. I was invited. Forgive me for feeling quite apprehensive towards letting my wife come near you alone.”

Hoseok laughed, a cynical sound that scraped against your eardrums. “ I care not why you are here. If you choose to stay in her presence after what you have doneI will have to choose to rip your head from your shoulders. Or you and your wife can leave unscathed. The choice is yours.”

“I will make the choice easy then,” You hissed, ripping free from his grasp. “I am leaving.”

You sped around them, streaking across the headache-inducing tile and out the door. Rage seemed to be winning the internal battle, second to only humiliation and shame. Hot tears flowed freely down your cheeks, only growing more frequent when your embarrassment flared high whenever an onlooker paused to watch you walk by.

Vision blurred and legs still weak from whatever had happened with Namjoon, you only made it a couple blocks before you collapsed in an alley, hands splayed on the brick like it was the only thing keeping you from unraveling into shriveled threads on the cobblestone.

Hands gripped your shoulders, forcing your to turn around and face the one person you never wanted to see again.

“What happened? What has he done to you?” His eyes blazed with unrestrained fury, voice dropping dangerously low. “Did he hurt you?”

That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it had. Because you wanted his concern to be real. Wanted everything to be real. You hated how quickly another sob broke through. “Don’t touch me!”

He jerked back when you smacked his hands away, but not far enough. “What is this? Tell me, and I will fix it!”

“Of course you will,” You jeered. “Always in time to fix, but never really there!”

His nostrils flared, eyes going darker than you’d ever seen them. “What did he say to you?”

“He said nothing! He did nothing! He didn’t have to.” You gave his shoulders a stiff shove. “This is all you.”

Hoseok stared for you again, hands outstretched to gather you close but you wouldn’t have it. Couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you again. All of your rage poured into your hand as it met his cheek, hard enough to leave a red mark blooming in the shape of it.

“I told you, do not touch me!”

His eyes blew wide, hand coming up to soothe the sting. “How dare you?”

“There you are,” You laughed, delirious and cold, bending forward at the waist when it nearly knocked you off your feet. “Angry, merciless and cruel. I never would have thought I could have missed this, but I would rather have that than a liar.”

Hoseok was breathing heavily now. “I am no liar.”

“But you are! Where were you when I called for you? When I prayed for you to come help me?”

“I was being called-”

“And when I was near death, begging for you to come to my aid? Where were you then?”

Hoseok had never looked so dangerous. “I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t hear you. They had done something–all of them–they are working against me. I couldn’t see where you were!”

“Typical for a man, blaming everyone but himself. Was as it that you could no longer hear me, or did it just not benefit you anymore to listen?” A nearby trash bin felt the heat of your rage, a swift kick to its side knocking it on its side. “That’s what this was all about, Gods I’m so naive. I knew this entire time that something was wrong. That there was something off about the way you seemed to change in ways that were too good to be true. That out of all of your thousands of patrons, you would choose me–a simple coffin builder wading through poverty and so painfully ordinary. Drowning under the pressure of it all. Another scuttling roach beneath your shoe. A nobody…” Your voice broke, cracking through your ribs. “But it was nothing more than a job. A chore to tick off your endless to-do list. Some pitiful thing to save so you could give yourself a pat on the back and then dust your hands of the responsibility after your awards were won.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are screaming about!” Hoseok shouted back. “Whatever he told you was a-”

“The debts Hoseok!” You threw your hands up in indignation. “What you owed me? Does that not ring a bell?”

His argument died with his rage, breaths growing erratic, eyes daring to glisten. “That isn’t-” he broke off, shaking his head slowly. “That does not mean what you think it does…”

“It doesn’t? So you miraculously hiring me after my first prayer. All those times you walked me home while hating every goddamn second of it. Showering me with gifts and bringing me on trips. Doing my laundry. Letting me live with you after I begged the heavens for someplace to go.” You fell back against the wall, hands coming up to wrap around your middle and fist at your shirt like it would soothe the ravenous ache that ate through your ribs. “When you kissed me for the first time after I had stupidly thought of doing it. When you...when you touched me after I had imagined it–just like I had imagined it.” You tasted your wrath, chewed it up where it simmer on your tongue and spit it out with a scream, your body shuddering and unsteady. “It wasn’t because you wanted to or because you cared. It was because you had to. It was a job. Something you were getting paid for. And I just let you use me like that.”

That seemed to wake him up from his stupor, his fists clenching at his sides until they shook. “That is not true. None of this is true.”

“Is that so?” Stepping closer to him, hoping to convey as much of your hatred in the twist of your mouth and the glower you set upon him as you could. “Then say it. Say that it meant something else. Tell me right now what it all meant to you if it was not this.”

Hoseok opened and closed his mouth, his defense melting down into the spineless man he was. “I...I can’t.”

There is was. The other shoe had finally dropped, and with it it took whatever sanity you had left.

“I thought as much.”

You left him there. Left him standing alone in the alley way to deal with all that had transpired. And you couldn’t deny that a small part of you relished in getting to make him feel a fraction of how he had made you feel: small and betrayed.

_________________________________________ 

The word home could not have been a more terrible descriptor for the room you entered. Home felt faraway. A mythical place in some far off land that you weren’t meant to find.

Most of the night was spent sopping wet from a cold shower, curled on the bathroom floor to wallow in the endless pit carved through your chest.

Not only had you lost...whatever he was to you–you had lost a friend. A religion. A family. A tradition.

A purpose.

What loneliness you had thought you felt before held no weight against the beast of total isolation that towered over you, breathing over your shoulder and spearing you with its talons.

There was no god to pray to to ease the pain. No candle to light. You couldn’t even find solace at your father’s altar knowing just who was waiting for you on the other side. Even Wes was still probably curled up in his living room where you had left him, content and undoubtedly happier than he had ever been with you.

The world was ending in the worst possibly way–by spinning onward like some sick joke while you withered to nothing, forgotten about and left behind. Your biggest fear come to life.

Days ticked on like seconds on a clock, fast and easily misplaced.

You worked–because of course you did–hands nicked and splintered more than they usually would. Designs rougher, and harder to find in the grain. A dropped treseyn. A snapped plank. Checks from the city piled on your bedside table, left to rot now that you knew who that money was really coming from.

When you walked the streets, you only went to the market and home, no longer as bothered by the gathered protesters in the square or the marches through the streets to argue against the beginning of Harvest celebrations. You couldn’t find it in you to argue with them, simply turning a blind eye as you pushed your way through their lines to get to where you needed to be.

Unrest was growing, and you had thought you would have been the final defense against it, but now, you didn’t know if you could dare defend what had been done to you.

Taehyung’s visits never picked up again, and when you stopped in to see him, his workshop was empty, a layer of dust accumulating on the tables and tools. You kept Lucille at arm’s length, having no idea how to even begin to explain to her what had happened. Jimin tried to reach you through notes taped to your door that you didn’t bother reading before throwing in your fire place, small gifts wrapped in twine and brown paper that you tossed in a closet unopened, or a shadow outside your front window when the sun was setting, hands cupped on the glass and fist tapping urgently.

When that didn’t get your attention, they switched gears.

Birds diving head first into you windows. Foxes screeching wildly in the alley behind your house. Dreams plagued by frenzied hunters, galloping wolves, grazing cows; vast open worlds with starry lakes and milky way clouds.

And worst of them all was him.

The checks doubled in frequency. All of the Incense smoke that haunted empty rooms with no explanation for how it arrived. A note attached to Wes’s shiny new collar that you tore into thousand pieces and burned with one of the candles from the altar just so you would know he’d see it.

But nothing would have prepared you for tonight.

Your day had been awful–the city was a mess, impossible to travel through due to the spring equinox celebrations so you had arrived to the market too late, empty handed without the ingredients needed for your dinner. And then when you had finally gotten back to the shop, someone had come to complain that their treseyn wasn’t the correct shade. Your final straw was when you were sanding an order and your hand slipped, cutting the side of your hand on the nearby table saw.

Blood pooled from the gash that was no more than an inch long, but it seemed intent on ruining both your day, your clothes and the coffin your blood splattered onto.

While bandaging the wound, you heard it: a soft chuffing from the window that looked out to the alley.

“Not now,” You muttered to yourself. “Now is not the time.”

The sound paused if only for a second, before returning louder than before.

“I said,” You smacked your hands down to the sink’s edge. “Not. Now.”

Its shadow loomed just beyond the frosted window, lurking. Searching.

It pissed you off.

Without thinking, you flung the window open, coming face to face with a massive buck, much to tall and burly to be anything other than a divine message–that and it had no business being a such a cramped and damp alley.

You glowered at him. “Go. Away.”

The deer sniffed, a gentle prod of curiosity that felt nothing like you would have expected from Hoseok.

“Where have your creepy eyes gone? Have you finally had the sense to stop looking so frightening, or is this just to try and win me over?”

He blinked, ear’s fluttering when you spoke.

You dug your fingers into the window ledge until it stung. “After all of this, you still choose to say nothing…”

The creature huffed, head shaking off your anger. Then it leaned forward, snout just crossing the threshold to tickle the skin of your cheek.

Red. All you saw was red.

“Fine. Then I imagine you will not have anything to say about any of this.”

It may have been an overreaction to someone else, but to you it was the only appropriate way to react–to scream.

You screamed until your throat hurt, shouting curses at yourself, at the world, at Hoseok; tossing the stained coffin to the floor and swiping your tools to the ground. Next came the candles. You picked up the one you had used to burn his note and snapped it down the middle, letting it roll from your hands and clatter to the floor. Then the next. And the one after that until the only one left was the one for Rey.

The beads you had won in the Doeidyads were your next victim, scattered across the floor or flung over your shoulder to land who knows where.

While you were completely deranged in your fury, you still couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the altar your father, and the generations before him had built–but that didn’t mean you had to see it anymore.

You opened your father’s old closet, still stuffed with his clothes and old boots, and crammed the entire thing in it, closing the door and putting a chair in front of it for good measure.

Tears moved embarrassingly fast, dripping down your chin and flinging off your face with every harsh grab and shove. You raced back to the window, throwing yourself over the ledge to come face to face with the buck.

“Do you have anything you want to say now? Or have I made myself clear?”

It grunted low in its belly, indifferent and unphased by your show, then floated out towards the mouth of the alley, its steps light and measured. In a blink, its shadow shifted to that of a man, cloak thick and heavy drowning out most of his shape. You couldn’t see his face–nor did you care to–but you still shouted at him.

“Saint Hickory and Oak can you just leave me alone?”

He didn’t budge.

You bent down, scooping up a handful of beads and candle shards, and hurled them at him to emphasize each word. “Leave. Me. ALONE!”

They clambered at his feet, and when he bent to pick one up his hand caught in the light from the window, wider and more pallid than you remembered.

But seeing that was enough to send you over the edge again, and with one more frustrated groan, you slammed the window shut, locking it for good measure. With the passing of your rage came the sadness. That same desolate darkness you couldn’t find an escape from.

You crumpled back on the bathroom floor beneath the window, the place you spent most of your time anymore, and cried.

Cried for so long that your tears ran dry, but your throat still gargled and whimpered, face stuck in a permanent frown.

And that’s where you fell asleep, cheek pressed to the tile, eyes swollen shut, listening to the frantic beat of birds wings and the relentless badgering from the foxes all vying for the attention you couldn’t care to give.

You didn’t have anything left to give anyone anymore.

Dreams were far and few in between. Gray churning masses of nothing. Distant screams, the smell of smoke. Voices that toed the line between real and imaginary.

“Wake up!”

You stirred, licking your lips that had grown too dry.

Another shake.

“Hurry! You must wake!”

Swatting at his hands with a groan, you rolled over onto your other side, waving away the smoke that had crowded around your face.

“I command you to wake!”

Trying to yell at him felt like raking your vocal chords over shards of glass, and your hands coming up to claw at your throat, finding it soaked with sweat. In his hand was a crystal blue vial, empty with its cork tossed to the side. Some kind of healing potion you could vageuly recognize. You looked up to him again and saw that it wasn’t dirt on his face, it was soot.

And wasn’t the lamplight that reflected in his eyes–it was fire.

“Y/n, you need to move!” He smacked at your cheeks drawing your eyes back to his. “Now!”

You launched into action, letting him pull you to your feet and shove a soaked rag to your mouth, guiding your hand to keep it in place.

“Hold it like this okay? We are going to get you out of here.”

Nodding frantically, your eyes stung from the smoke that billowed in clouds, the room unrecognizable.

“Whatever you hear, whatever you see–you must not leave our sight. Do you understand?”

Your response was muffled by the rag, but he didn’t stop to decipher it, nimble fingers making quick work of the latch on the window and shouldering it open.

“Are you ready for her?”

There was a guttural roar from the other side in response, and Jimin offered you his hand.

“You first.”

He helped your shaky legs to straddle the window, guiding you over the lip and down the few feet drop to the ground below to where a hulking shadowy mass waited for you. A bear, no shorter than seven feet, swayed impatiently on his haunches, egging you forward with a nudge of its snout. Awestruck yet terrified, you started to listen, trudging away from the window with the creature as your guard for only a few feet.

Reality set in, your voice making its hoarse return with the help of the potion. “W-wait! Wes!”

Jimin poked his head from the window. “What?”

“My cat!”

He swung one of his legs over the edge. “He is already out.”

You grabbed his arm, still mentally foggy from the smoke inhalation. “My mom! Her treseyn…it’s in my room! So is my father’s!”

Jimin shouted out in frustration, falling back into the room and pointing to the bear. “Get her away from the house, I will be right back.”

“I’m coming with you!” You cried, already halfway over the window.

The bear dropped a heavy paw on your back, stopping you in your tracks.

“No you will not! Go!” Jimin’s demand echoed into the sky, rattling your soul to attention.

With its long snout hooked under your arm, the bear herded you through the narrow alley, letting you lean your weight on his neck as you shuffled besides him. Upon approaching the mouth of the alley, you saw just what you were up against.

A wall of flames ate at your walls and crumbled the storefront inwards, devouring everything inside of it. The glass was shattered, scattered over the roads and sprayed into the streets where a large crowd had gathered, chanting in unison in front of the blaze. Each one of them holding up signs with scripture you didn’t recognize, their eyes nothing but fiery pits of malice and hatred as they scorned the ashes of your home.

A wail of despair ripped through you, tears of rage and horror blurring your vision. You started forwards, ready to claw their eyes out with your bare hands and rip their throats out with your teeth. Your cry alerted them of your presence, their voices now directing their mindless incantation to you; slinking towards you in mass.

With a bone rattling roar, the bear leapt ahead of you, drool dripping from pointed teeth and curling lips, the hair on its back standing straight into the air.

“See? This is what we must end!” A woman shrieked, pointing at you wildly. “She is fraternizing with devils!”

The crowd grew to near hysterics, closing in on you and the bear with mouths hungry to eat. One took a step too close, swung a string of beads to near to your head–and you snatched it straight from his fist and shred the string holding it together with your canines, pelting his face with what was left of it.

“Fuck you!” You seethed.

His mouth set in a hard line, hands shaking with rage as he lunged for your throat.

He never quite made it, fingers just ghosting your neck before his arm crunched between the cavernous jaws of the beast besides you. The bear snarled, ripping the limb from his torso with an effortless twist of his neck and tossing it aside in a mangled piece of flesh, teeth and jaws stained crimson that he snapped in warning at the rest of the crowd. A promise for what he will do if they come any closer.

Hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, turning you towards them. Jimin looked at you with wet eyes, skin streaked with soot. “I’m so sorry Y/n–I could not find them.”

You broke into a blubbering mess, hands clawing for his shoulders while you screamed out incoherent curses into the night sky,

“I know, but we need to get you out of here. We need to-”

One of the windows exploded, raining glass down from the sky onto the protesters, any onlookers ducking back into the doors and windows to hide.

One of the protesters let out a gurgling scream, blood pooling in in her mouth and dripping down her chin in rivulets, and then she collapsed, convulsing on the ground at your feet. A man followed next, falling to his knees and digging his hands into his chest with agonizing screams before falling lifeless on his side.

A shape emerged from the broken window, a figure shrouded in black robes that singed at the edges, the skin of his face and arms burnt and blistered, still sizzling from the licking flames. He took the ground by storm, demanding respect with each step, instilling fear in the hearts of all that dared look upon him. The fire still feasted on his skin, the smell putrid and winding up from a trail of smoke he left behind, but he did not slow. It did not effect him at all.

It never would.

He stalked right up to the woman who had shouted at you before, black leather gloves grasping her jaw.

“You can not harm me! I am protected by-”

A swift jerk of her head and she was gone, buckling at his feet.

The streets broke into a frenzy, onlookers and protesters alike trampling in all directions to flee from the figure, a few stopping to fall to their knees with their hands held up to the god that stood before them, in awe of his ferocity. He looked upon everyone, nothing but flaming embers and bone, sacred beads untouched by flame; a display of holy horror.

He splayed his hands out to his side, palms to the ground and arms sweeping wide in a smooth arc. On their command, the last of the remaining protesters skin bloomed with welts and blisters, wounds bleeding out into gaping holes of flesh that revealed muscle and bone. He held them there, letting them suffer, letting the wounds ache and their lungs spasm for breath; then he brought his hands down, fast and merciless, their screams cut short and bodies dropping like flies.

An eerie silence rang through the streets, no one daring utter a word over the crackle of burning flame.

The god spun in a slow circle, surveying whoever was brave enough to remain. He brushed his hands over the heads of his worshipers, slipping past them to stop before you. From his pocket he unveiled two tiny orbs, one purple, one an ethereal swirling blue. Both of them safe and untouched by flame.

He said nothing as he dropped them in your awaiting palm.

You looked at his face, the features unrecognizable, yet so unbelievably familiar.

“Thank you,” you croaked.

His glove hovered over your wrist for a beat too long, then with a growl he spun on his heal, stalking after those that had run from him, a promised threat he intended to keep.

Jimin’s hand circled your wrist, tugging you softly away. “Come on, we must go.”

You nodded, turning to follow him when you noticed the bear had frozen, peering off into the growing crowd of panicked townsfolk with wise watchful eyes. Following his line if sight, a chill ran up your spine, the taste of salt and sea washing over your taste buds with the memory of him, brought forth by the sharp-toothed smile he offered the bear before vanishing into the bustling bodies without a trace.

Like he had never been there at all.

_________________________________________ 

Hoseok’s house hadn’t changed since you had left it those two weeks prior.

The same mug you had used the day of your father’s service left on the kitchen table, untouched, stained with the remnants of your morning tea. Your breakfast plate tossed haphazardly in the sink, still caked with dried honey and moldy fruit you had eaten.

“This way,” Jimin led you up the stairs to Hoseok’s door, pushing it open with his foot, just missing Wes who was circling the base of the door and meowing up at you.

You burst into tears at the sight of him, wrestling him to your chest and pressing a hundred little kisses to his tiny forehead, each one making him more irritated than the last. “Okay, I shall let you go…” You laughed pathetically at yourself, letting him jump to the floor with a loud thump.

Jimin smiled softly at the sight, herding your further into the room towards Hoseok’s bathroom, holding the door open for you. “The tincture should work by morning, but I still suggest you wash up tonight and prioritize resting. We will be waiting for you downstairs when you are finished.”

You nodded, feeling gratitude for him swell in your chest. “Wait! Jimin…”

“Yes?” He stuck his head back through the crack in the door.

“Was this what...was this what all of that pestering was for?”

He frowned. “I tried to warn you, but it is not your fault you had no interest in listening. I can’t say I would not do the same if I was in your place.”

“Thank you,” You sighed, the urge to cry returning. “For not giving up on me.”

Jimin’s eyes twinkled in the low light. “Always, my friend.”

Being in Hoseok’s bathroom stung, but not enough to stop you from jumping right into the hot shower and letting the warmth wash you of the soot and ash, the water mixing with the tears of what you had lost, what was to come.

Were you safe anywhere in town? Had Hoseok’s wrath made things worse? What did that Namjoon guy have to do with all of this?

You switched the water to run cold when it felt like too much, the heat too close to the sensations of being trapped in a stifling bathroom. It felt like ice on your skin but it was a welcomed burn.

When finished and dressed in the night clothes left for you on the sink, your skin was still cool to the touch, your airways much clearer, and your voice almost back to normal. The loss of adrenaline left you exhausted though, dragging your feet across his burgundy rug to the bedroom door pulling it open to find Hoseok already on the other side.

“I’m s-sorry,” you stuttered, taken aback by his presence. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Not at all,” He whispered with a shake of his head, keeping his eyes locked on your face.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Apprehensively, as though scared to break this moment of serenity, you lifted one hand to ghost over one of the remaining sores on his cheek, the skin still not fully healed from the fires he had trekked through. You followed the singed edge, trailing up his cheek bone, then down to sweep over the edge of his jaw, the skin soft and lightly scarred. When you closed in on the edge of his mouth you dropped your hand back to your side, heat flushing back up your neck and cheeks.

You should hate him still, not feel safe being back in his home; back in his bedroom like it was yours. Like you actually belonged there.

“Jimin said he would be waiting for me downstairs.” You brushed past him, ignoring the tingle of electricity that twirled up the arm that touched him and taking the stairs one at a time, legs wobbly at the knees. His bedroom door shut and you felt like you could breathe again, hurrying towards the hushed voices that congregated in the living room.

Yoongi, the man from the service, sat perched on one of the living room chairs with Wes stretched over his lap purring loud enough for you to hear from the entrance, soaking up the soft run of his fingers through his fur. Jimin was on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of freshly brewed tea held up to his lips, clothes fresh and skin clean.

They both looked to you as you entered, Jimin hastily placing his cup back on the end table to pull you over to the sofa next to him. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Much,” You beamed up to him. “Thank you again.”

“Do not just thank me,” He chuckled, nodding to Yoongi. “Thank his wife. She brewed it for you.”

You turned your smile to him. “Please extend my thanks to her.”

Yoongi nodded once, a flat almost-smile on his face and his chest puffed out with pride. “Of course.”

Turning back to Jimin, your smile turned sheepish. “So I gather that you are not the witch I thought you were.”

“No,” Jimin’s eyes tucked into sweet little crescents. “I am not.”

“Who…” You started, unsure whether or not it was appropriate to ask.

Jimin tapped his index finger to his temple. “I trust in your intelligence to figure that out.”

Furrowing your brows, you tried to wrack your brain for what you knew of the other deities, names and long woven tales filtering through one after the other. “That book you got me wasn’t just a solstice gift, was it?” You quirked a brow up at him.

His shrug was coy, and he lifted up his mug again to take a sip, words echoing in the cup. “Care to put that to the test?”

You sighed, deciding to switch gears and think of what you knew of Jimin more than what you had read from the pages of a book. Mysterious. Cunning. Persistent. Kind. Involved in the occult.

Magical.

A god of magic and mysticism came to mind; a man of the night sky, ruler of the stars and oh so involved in human affairs. Nosy and a bit mischievous, often finding a way to write himself into almost every myth, whether as a footnote or a main character it didn’t matter. A man who danced on windowsills, blanketed the sky and twinkled down with whispers of what was to come.

“Musyatim?” You gave the name a try.

His face lit up with unbridled glee, tipping his head in a grand bow. “At your service~”

You flitted your eyes over to Yoongi, the answer growing increasingly obvious. “Were you perhaps that Bear?”

He nodded, eyes glimmering back to you with the light from the hearth. “I was.”

“Then you must be-” You paused, eyes going wide and voice dropping to a whisper “-Am I allowed to say it?”

“Be my guest.”

“Fenlyn,” You breathed out in awe. “God of the forests and the trees.”

He hummed, like the sound of his name was a wine he was mulling over on his tongue, hand smoothing a stripe over Wes’s back. “Most that know me choose to call me Yoongi, but I will answer to either.”

Footsteps cascaded down the stairs and came to a stop just at the entrance to the living room, Hoseok hovering back, hair damp and skin still glistening. The two of them shared a look leaden with words unsaid, tensions forming and snapping with each slow exhale.

“You surprised me today,” Hoseok spoke first. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you would have it in you to draw blood if the need arose.”

Yoongi scoffed. “I am a forgiving god, but I am no pacifist. Lest I need remind you of what I have done.”

“Forgive me for having doubts, you have gone quite soft as of late.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes on him, casting a pointed look in your direction. “As have you.”

Hoseok took up the chair opposite of Yoongi, leaving the couch free for you and Jimin. You pretended not to be disappointed.

“As we were retreating,” Yoongi began, voice a low grumbling sound that came up from his chest. “I managed to catch a glimpse of Namjoon. I could see not who he was with.”

“My personal guess is Saprorro,” Jimin offered, hugging his tea to his chest as he lowered himself besides you. “After her lovely visit to our friend a couple weeks ago, I can not think of who else it would be.”

Arms encircled themselves around your waist. “How do you know about that?”

“I had a feeling after the event. Her energy was strong enough for me to return for a reading after she had fled.”

Hoseok’s nose twitched, a sign he was holding back a scowl and something harsher than what was coming out of his mouth. “Yet you can you not see it now?”

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose. “Need I remind you two of all people that I am forbidden from engaging in godly disagreements.”

“War,” Yoongi corrected him. “You are forbidden from engaging in war.”

“Those are one in the same,” Jimin muttered, hiding behind his teacup.

Yoongi’s chair creaked beneath his weight as he leaned forward to address Jimin, head cocking to the side slightly. “Is there something you would care to share with us, soothsayer?”

Jimin shakily lowered his cup back the saucer, the base clinking against the plate. “Take my answer as you please. I am forbidden from saying otherwise.”

“Then what are you still here for?” Hoseok cut in.

“If all of you would just have a shred of patience,” Jimin rolled his eyes, taking a few calming deep breaths, “I would be able to finish my tea and you could have the answers you seek.”

“Is that allowed?” You piped in, shrinking under everyone’s attention. “Reading the tea leaves to us regarding what has transpired.”

Jimin hummed. “To them? Technically no. But I am quite good at tiptoeing around rules when I want to get my way.”

“Blessed be, we have found something we can all agree on.” Hoseok fell back into his chair, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of you laughing at his jab, but your chuckle caught a second too late, his eyes finding you instantly, drinking up our laughter with his hungry gaze.

In accordance to his request, the room fell quiet enough to let Jimin finish his tea, the crackling of the fire and the security being in a room full of otherworldly beings who appeared (for at least tonight) to have your best interests in mind only increasing the speed in which you melted into the couch.

“Here we are~” Jimin’s voice startled you back to life, jumping to his feet to precariously place his cup on the coffee table. “Now if we just…” Jimin surveyed the room, eyes pacing between you and Wes. “Perhaps the cat would work. But If Y/n wouldn’t mind-”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok was on his feet next, hovering far too close to Jimin. “I am sure reading my tea leaves is not forbidden.”

“With the question I brewed it with–yes, it is.”

“I am sure I can handle whatever it is you need assistance with,” you shook the sleep from your eyes. “If it will help you, I will do it.” You didn’t dare look at Hoseok. “I owe you for saving me.”

Jimin clapped his hands together. “Perfect! Come here,” He beckoned you over with his hands, guiding you onto the floor before the cup. “Now I just need you to close your eyes and hold the cup. I will read it.”

“Should I think of anything in particular?”

“There is no need, I already asked the question for you.”

Hoseok grunted, displeased. “Of course you have.”

Jimin smiled up to him, sweet enough to give anyone in a ten mile radius a terrible stomach ache. “It is almost like I knew who I was going to ask, and who was going to say yes.”

“Meddling imp.” Hoseok hissed down at him.

“Cantankerous thief.”

“I am trying to think,” You scolded the two of them. “If you would please…”

Hoseok huffed, dropping unceremoniously back into his chair. Jimin placed his palms over where yours cupped the mug, staring down into the mouth of it with a sudden intensity that startled you.

“Close your eyes,” He ordered, “Whatever I say from here on out, take it as you will. Only Y/n may ask me for clarifying questions.”

You did as you were told, eyes falling closed, fighting to keep the memories of your eventful evening at bay and out of the way.

“I see…” Jimin’s voice layered over itself, a haunting flow of many voiced weaved into one, so powerful it made your teeth buzz and your breath catch. “Two women. One vengeful and bitter. A reality twisted. A traitor. The other wild and untamed, a collision of forces. Struck match meeting slick oil. A chain wound tight, a chain broken. A chess board with no order, colors traded for the other…” He trailed off, syllable slipping from quivering lips. “Another has come, stiff a rigid. A pen to paper, a flick of the wrist. A departure most important.”

Hoseok crouched behind you, breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he whispered into it. You kicked yourself for squirming in your seat.

“Ask him of the departure.”

“And…” You swallowed down the shakiness from your voice. “And what of the departure?”

“A mortal. A trade. An ending and a beginning.”

Hoseok’s whisper grew more urgent. “Is it you?”

“Is it me?” You parroted him instantly.

A pause.

“Not yet.”

Hoseok’s sigh roared in your ear, chest coming so close to your back it almost touched. “The chess board. Ask him.”

You floundered over your words for a moment, flustered.

“Today if possible.” Hoseok chided, tutting down at you softly.

“A-And what of the chess board?”

“A fight for freedom.”

Yoongi piped in next, tone bordering desperate. “A baby–please, ask him if he can see a baby.”

“A child–a baby–do you see them?”

Jimin clicked his tongue, voice started to dip back into is normal one. “I did not drink with that in mind” He dragged out the last word like he was singing, “That would have been useful information had it been shared... ”

“Do not act like you did not already know,” Yoongi grew more frustrated, that same overwhelming energy from your father’s service returning, except this time your body was too weak to handle it all.

Your hands started to shake, exhaustion crashing over you harder than before. Your head swayed, arms growing tired of holding onto the cup, body teetering to the left.

“Enough,” Hoseok stole the cup from your hands, your eyes fluttering open to meet Jimin’s.

“Did I do a good enough job?” You asked him, words beginning to slur together.

Jimin pat your cheek lovingly. “More than enough, thank you.”

It took everything in you to not let yourself lean back onto Hoseok and succumb the droop of your lids, his warmth so tempting and familiar. But every time you thought of doing so, you remembered your argument in the alley, the pain, the betrayal, the despair–and now here he was–trying to stake claim over you once more with whispered words and ghostly touches. Offering you nothing in exchange for everything.

You stood, pushing yourself away from him.

“I am tired.” Your voice cracked as you tracked over to the stairs, the path now second nature. “Goodnight to you all, and thank you again for tonight.”

“Of course,” Jimin bowed slightly. “We have time to discuss more of this later, that I am sure of. Please, rest. We will be back when we need to be.”

You nodded to each of them except for Hoseok, his face far too painful to look at. “I will be waiting.”

_________________________________________ 

Your dreams were clouded with smoke and soot. Stalked by flames with hungry laving tongues and howling cries, preaching of your demise and worshiping your bones that they sucked clean of flesh. Swallowing all of you.

Waking with a scream that wouldn’t stop, a heat that wouldn’t leave, you stumbled blindly from the guest room in search of the bathroom, resisting the nagging thought of crawling to Hoseok’s door and begging him to let you in–to let you be naive and oblivious for one more night.

Finding the little tab for the bathroom lamp, you twisted it on, fingers slippery from sweat. One look at yourself in the mirror brought forth a pitiful sob that you caught in your fist. You couldn’t recognize yourself anymore.

The self-sufficient, hardworking, strong person you had fought so hard to be nowhere to be found. All you saw was someone broken and lost, in a bathroom they shouldn’t be in.

You peeled off your clothes at lighting speed, tossing them off like they were what seared your skin. Yanking on the faucet to run as cold as it possibly could, you stepped under the flow, muscles contracting and gasping for air from the shocking temperature change.

The sweat was washed away, but the ache stayed. Only exasperated by the cold that chilled you to the bone. You just wanted rest. You wanted to feel whole again. To have something special that was only yours.

You wanted him.

Wanted him so badly it hurt.

Because while he was anyone’s god, he was yours. A secret you kept. A connection others could only dream of.

You screamed again, bringing your fists down on the tiled wall until the cut reopened, and the edges of your palm bruised. Sliding down to fold into yourself at the bottom of the tub, you hugged your knees to your chest, the cold starting to hurt. Your shoulders shook, the first prayer you had said since wriggling free in a way that was far too easier than it should be.

“Where are you?”

You waited.

A footstep beyond the door. A creak of the floorboards under his weight. His hand curled around the knob.

The door swinging open.

There was no embarrassment to be found when he looked down at you, dressed in fanciful robes that covered almost every inch of his skin–you shivering and naked on the floor of his bath.

“Fix it.” Your teeth chattered, eyes narrowed on him. “Please.”

He looped his arms under yours, helping you to your feet with little care for his soiled clothes; wrapped you in one of his towels that was too luxurious for its own good, walked you back to his room, one hand holding the door open, the other ushering you in. Fixing it like he always did.

Wes circled your feet in small figure eights, like he had been waiting for you to join him again.

You didn’t bother with clothes. Curling up on his silk sheets with your towel held closed with clenched fists felt much better. Less permanent. A visit with no commitment to stay.

He took his time to peel off the layers of beads and draped cloth, each movement controlled and methodical.

Ritualistic.

“Is that purposeful?” Your question sounded small in your own ears.

Hoseok didn’t need you to clarify, he had probably heard the thoughts you sent his way. “It is.”

“How so?”

He sighed. “I put them on and remove them in a specific order. Those that have worshiped me the longest go on first and are the last to be removed.”

“And the robes?”

“An end and a beginning,” He recited, unraveling the sash around his waist. “Grief.” He tugged off the criss-crossed vest-like piece over his chest. “Hope to hold on to.” A second belt, a woven rope of gold and black that held the satchel upon it. “The unknown.” His hood slipped of his shoulders.

He turned, hands closing and opening, gloves still on. “To give and to take. Mercy and condemnation.”

It was then that you noticed the leather was singed, charred around the fingertips and the base of his wrist.

You sat up, brows furrowed and hands outstretched. “May I see them?”

For a moment he didn’t move. A timid tread across the carpet to stand in front of you, hands splayed out for you to inspect.

Your brain switched from wallowing to work in seconds, sizing up the damage, surveying the stitches, stilling over the embroidered lettering along the bottom. For Eternity, R.H.

Swallowing down sympathy you didn’t want to give him, you spoke. “I can fix these, if you’d let me.”

He recoiled. “I do not need them-”

“They are broken and tattered because of me. I may still want to rip my own eyes out of my skull when I see you, but am not heartless. I know how important these are to you.” You grabbed his wrist, stopping his retreat. “I have worked with leather before. I can do it.”

His eyes closed. A shaky exhale through parted lips. “Okay.”

“Okay,” You whispered, pinching the tip of his gloves and gliding it down, exposing the healed skin beneath it. “I will take good care of them, I promise.” Freezing mid movement, you fell back on to the bed, another wave of grief crashing over you just when you thought you had felt it all. “My tools…”

“I will get you new ones,” Hoseok answered softly.

You glared up at him. “No you will not.”

“Then I will give you the money and you can go purchase them yourself.”

“No. I don’t want that either.”

The two of you were at a standstill, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed.

“It is no problem-”

“I don’t care about how much it costs, or how much of a problem it is.” You cut him off. “I care about why.”

“You know why.”

“I do. That is the problem.”

Hoseok ran his hands through his hair, falling besides you on the bed with his head in his hands. “No. You do not.”

“Please do not treat me like I’m stupid. I already know. Saprorro told me-”

“Saprorro is not under any circumstances to be trusted.” He groaned into his palms. “She is not a victim. She is not a woman scorned. She is a god that clawed her way into divinity through sheer will power. I warned her what her life would look like. That there was no telling what her dominion would be, especially with the mind she had.”

You grit your teeth. “And you let her suffer for it? Spent up her worship and left her dry?”

“Everyone suffers!” He exploded, huffing to his feet. “I am death. I can not save everyone that just because they have asked. I have reaped the souls of innocent children slain by their fathers and mothers. Waded through churning seas to heave the dead from sunken ships, bodies crushed by pressure and shredded by predators. Newborns with only minutes of life lived. Old women with no wits about them, a shell of who they once were, their lives forgotten by those around them who couldn’t care enough to listen. Victims of violence and hatred.”

He was pacing now, growing more volatile by the second. “And she was no exception! She was sick, but she wanted power, not life. She craved a control I couldn’t give her. It is not just my choice to make when a soul gets venerated. Every god in Kalios must agree to it. It is never to be taken lightly. Never to be given freely.

She stopped worshiping me when I wasn’t going to give her the power she wanted. Her perseverance was admiral, if even aggravating at times, and I gave her a chance. We can not venerate a living soul. They must be on the verge of death, finished with their mortal life before stepping into the next. I wasn’t making her suffer because I wanted to, that is how things work.” His steps halted in place with a shuddering groan. “Do you think if it had been up to me, that he wouldn’t be here with us, right now?” You followed the direction his finger pointed, the tall dresser where Rey’s treseyn was kept on its stand.

You soaked in his words, turning each one over like stones by a brook, looking for cracks or inconsistencies with what you had learned from your book. “But what of your debts? You have not denied those.”

“They are mute.” He waved away your question with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Not to me they aren’t,” You shook your head with indignation. “Not when you had hated me so. Not when you used me.”

“I have done many things, but I have never used you,” He pointed an accusation finger your way. “Never.”

“Then why will you not just tell me what is going on? What it all means?”

“Because I am scared!” His voice boomed over the room, his mask finally falling off in jagged pieces, leaving the mess of a man it had once shrouded. Eyes glistening, uncertain. Frightened.

You scoffed in disbelief. “Of what?”

“Of you!” He seethed, anger rolling of him in shaking waves. "I hated the idea of having to make room for you. Every time I looked at you I knew I was doomed; my hands tied between loving you and loving him. I waited. I watched. I hunted for anything that would give me the excuse to despise you. But you never gave me one.” He fell to his knees at your feet, collapsing in on himself, hands grasping for your knees.

“You-you taught me that there is space for more. You never once asked me to throw him away for your sake. Instead, you hung his memory in your home. Worshipped him. Loved him as I do. And when I handed you to him after we danced, you spoke to him in ways I couldn't–held him like he was sacred. " Hoseok's breathing was ragged, each breath scraping the lining of his throat as it entered his mouth. His hand came up to grip at the back of your head, bringing your foreheads to bump together. 

"No matter how hard I have tried to fight it–how violently I shove you away; I can't seem to stop myself from coming back to you. My responsibilities? Have only been to you. Every day spent at your shop, every candle I came to, and every prayer I answered–was because it was your lips the request had fallen from, not some… some transaction!" The word fell like poison from his tongue, a vile condemnation for the word. "I have let the debts I owe you grow to insurmountable heights, because after the second night I had to watch you stumble home drunk, I had realized that if given the choice, I would follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping you by my side. Let this debt form a mountain over my shoulders to have a reason to be near you. And it terrified me. Horrified me in ways I can’t explain with words as to what it would mean to have something so beautiful again when I know how it ends. I know how it always ends.” His eyes were blossoming with unshed tears, a few falling so thick they skipped his cheek and landed straight on your thighs.

“Even here with you now, I can feel the heart I don't need, beating like it might fail me-"  

He grabbed your hand and guided it to rest over his chest, letting the erratic beat of his heart vibrate your palm, "-so tell me now: tell me now what you want from me. If you want me to leave you forever than I have no choice but to obey your command. But if you have any ounce of mercy left in you to offer me, you will let me stay. Use me. Hate me. Let me be whatever it is you need. A friend, a foe, a..." his voice cracked "A lover. Live your life as you wish, but please–I beg of you–just let me be in it." 

Tears brimmed your eyes, your labored breath mingling with his, and you ran your tongue over your chapped lips as you fought to speak. 

"This debt," you began shakily, "What would happen if I renounce it? If I ask you to forget it entirely?"

Hoseok looked pained, brows furrowed and jaw tight. "It would disappear."

Taking in a slow, haggard breath; you spoke. " then I hereby free you from your debts. It is my wish for you to owe me nothing.”

His shoulders sagged, a sigh worth a hundred pounds leaking from his body "It is done then."

"And what do you owe me now?"

His response was slow. "Nothing."

"Good. For I have something I want to ask of you," you responded, letting your words hang suspended between you. Lifting your other hand from your lap, you brought it up to slide over the side up his face, holding it still. "Kiss me."

There was no hesitation this time, a sudden surge forward, lips molding together like they were meant to. Hands traveling down his throat, coasting over his chest and dipping beneath the collar, his body reacting so readily to your touch. Muscles constricting, mouth desperate and hungry.

He crawled up from the floor, pressing you back onto the bed and hovering over you, as low as he could without laying all of his weight on your body. Your hands free to roam over his shoulders, his arms, his stomach, the sliver of exposed skin above his hips. His gasps were short, a testament to his sensitivity for you, bending and pressing to every touch you gave him.

Your towel was gone before you had realized, his mouth dragging reluctantly from your mouth to its next place of worship, one of your nipples sucked in between swollen lips. You sighed, carting through his hair with tender care, back arching into him not fore more, but for what was. Him. His closeness. His body. Everything given to you so eagerly.

Clothes didn’t last long; pants half off the bed, shirt caught on the corner of his nightstand, towel laid out beneath your hips to catch what was to come.

This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t a give and take.

This was surrendering.

No more running. No more fighting. Breaths of relief swallowed up by starved adoration. A need for one another to be. Where you went he did, your head thrown back with a cry was chased by a kiss and a swipe of his tongue down the column of your throat. When you sighed, he moaned, low and proud.

Your hips met each other’s in unhurried rolls. Stalling. Dragging on how long you could partake in the fullness of being one. The bliss of freedom.

He came first, biting into the meat of your shoulder, brows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut; your touch cascading down his back, trailing kisses and whispers of praise into the damp skin. But he made up for it, thumb pressed down on your tongue to keep your gaze on him, index finger slick with his own spit, writing letters in the shape of his name over your clit while still inside of you until your eyes rolled back, coming undone below him as he thanked you for it.

And there was not a sliver of doubt in your mind when he peppered your cheeks with kisses, floating down your stomach and taking you in his mouth that when he finished with you, he would still be there. That when you woke the next morning he would be near, arm thrown over your waist or thumb caressing your cheek, rousing you for a breakfast he prepared.

That when tomorrow comes he will help you carve your own path forward, build a new store all your own and ask you about it over a dinner he served, Wes wound about his shins and begging for more.

It wasn’t clear. It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

And you would defend it to the death.

_________________________________________ 

Epilogue

Fall blew in with blustering winds and crisp leaves, the city streets overwhelmed with totems of bone and arches of flowers, carried by the mile long parade that swept through the streets from dawn until dusk. Tents of all colors propped up, doors held open for anyone who dared enter and ask of their own fate.

Of course they were there–picket signs held high and mouths foaming with hatred–but people were changing.

A god had shown himself in these streets, unfettered and bright, holy and terrifying; defending his city and his people against the violence of outsiders. An inarguable sighting previously unheard of in recent centuries. Sending a message so clear you would have to have your eyes closed and your ears covered to miss it: the gods were here, and they were listening.

Crops were overflowing. Winds cried. Trees bent and curved with warning snarls and distant hummed melodies. Seas thrashed with violent storms. Stars fell and crashed to earth. The earth humming with unrest and foreboding, a prayer to rest for what was to come.

Because they were coming.

And the people were ready to greet them, heads held high, unabashed and unafraid in their devotion, sneering at their new enemies with skull wrapped faces and bear pelt hoods.

You sat with them, grinning from ear to ear, tossing hoards of handmade jewelry and dried flowers from Hoseok’s garden’s on the hill down onto those passing by, their arms held up in earnest to take it from you. A champion. A fighter. A symbol of rebellion and community. Living evidence that devotion and determination mean something.

The shop had been rebuilt, not just with the help of Hoseok–but of them. Your neighbors. Lucille and the other bakers down the street. Taehyung. Your father’s friends from across the seas. The dancers you had met at the Doeidyads. Strangers who worshiped Abyios, come to offer their labor for free. Masks of cloth tied around their faces and skirts and boots drawn high to trump through the remains, ripping down her old bones and laying down the foundation for her new ones; taller then before, and stretched wider to accommodate the growing demand and your festering ideas.

You tossed another set of beads from the balcony of Treseyna’s vale, letting it catch on the horns of a ram’s head of an elderly man who stopped to wink at you, and then another into the hands of small girl carried on the hip of one off her father’s, her gleeful giggles still heard as they waded through the parade.

Hoards of cloaked figures watched them pass by; a sea of red, black, and white churning with excitement to catch a glimpse of Abyios, said to wander these very streets.

Too bad for them, for they were looking in the wrong spot.

But luckily for you, you knew exactly where to find him.

With your baskets empty, you retired from the celebration, walking the back alley’s and climbing the hill to your home–not without making a pit stop of course–your last set tangled around the handle of your father’s vault, and a thin threaded rope of black and gold tucked into your pocket. This little thread had been carried to you from a nearby small village where someone special was said to have been born, dropped in your basked in a hushed alley. A secret.

A gift.

Shoving open the door, Wes greeted you as per usual, trailed after by a kitten no longer than the length of your hand whom Hoseok had spotted digging through a pile of empty butcher crates behind his shop a few weeks prior, his name still argued about over shared desserts at the tavern and spilled drinks.

You were insistent on Chuck. Hoseok hated it.

“Hello you two,” you cooed softly, attempting to scoop both up into your arms but Wes had little interest in submitting. You pouted. Well at least you had Chuck.

Chuck let you cart him around in your arms, but he was more content when snuggled into a deep sleep on your lap while you worked, peaceful and laid-back. The exact opposite of how you felt, rushing to finish what you were up to before he came home. The sun was setting low, the rays of sun glowing gold and slanted when you stood to beam at your work. Signaling that it was time to set everything up.

You laid out eight burgundy place mats, dotting them with golden plates and matching silverware. Drowned the table with floral arrangements and beads you yourself had tried to string with the help of an older woman from Cheym who had come to visit your shop–and while a bit messy and uneven, you knew he wouldn’t mind. Your mental checklist was almost complete: set the table? Check. Incense lit in every room? Finished with spares at the ready. Setting up a plate for Rey?

Oops.

You all but ran to the kitchen, snatching up the extra plate and dashing back to the altar in the living room just in time to see Hoseok standing over it, palm rubbing over the snout of Rey’s bony nose pensively.

“Saint Hickory and Oak!” You cursed, stamping one of your feet. “I was sure I had timed everything perfectly.”

Hoseok hummed, his disapproval feigned. “I suppose you need to get better at counting.”

Settling the plate in the center of the altar you sidled between him and the table, linking your arms around his waist. “And I think you should get better at using doors.”

The edges of his mouth quirked upwards. “I have no need for them.”

“Right,” You rolled your eyes. “My apologies, oh holy one. I forgot you were too magnificent for something so mundane as doors.”

His sarcastic quip died on his tongue, eyes pouring over something over your shoulder. “What is this?”

You panicked, snatching up the gift from the tables edge and hiding it behind your back. “It is nothing.”

“Nothing?” Hoseok probed further. “Then why must you hide it?”

“Because it isn’t time to give it to you yet. Can you not let me have one surprise?”

He deadpanned. “No.”

You relented with a sigh, pulling your hands out in front of you to display the fruits of your labor. “Happy Birthday…?”

His gloves sat in your hands, a beautiful swirl of dual toned leather that you had hand woven, using the scraps of salvageable fabric from his old set. The rope you had gotten your hands on today threaded through the wrist opening just like you had seen from you dream.

You swallowed audibly, growing nervous in the presence of his silence. “There was no possible way to keep them an exact replica, but this leather here-” you pointed to the darker shade, “-is the original fabric. And this is one I had Jungkook help me select. I went for a nice warm brown to even out the dark and tie in the ribbon. And this…” You flipped them over, running your index finger over the embroidered lettering. “Is the exact same. It took me a while, but I was able to cut around the edges and sew it in the same spot. It is still the original thread sewn by the original artist. I just moved it…..”

Hoseok hadn’t breathed once through your anxious explanation.

Your fear became palpable. Had you gone too far? Had you made the wrong decision?

“If you hate it, I can try and undo-”

Hoseok cut you off by slotting his mouth over yours, hands running over your waist to pull you closer to him, gloves dropped back on the altar.

“They are perfect,” he whispered, pecking at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you.”

“They are scheduled to be blessed this evening,” You rubbed your noses together, smiling with relief. “A certain witch who is coming over for dinner tonight agreed to make them fire proof. Just in case.”

“Wonderful,” He grunted, leaning back enough to pick up one of the gloves by the string, shaking it for emphasis. “Now how on earth did you find out about this?”

“A dream,” You answered.

“Of course you did,” Hoseok’s tone flattened.

“Hey! Jimin was very helpful with this whole surprise. Set up plenty of distractions for you when I needed more time.” You giggled, brushing the hair from his forehead while he looked at you dubiously.

“Did these distractions involve small creatures gnawing at my leftovers after a particularly grueling shift, or was that simply a coincidence?”

You pursed your lips. “Would you believe me if I said Chuck-”

“-Short flank.” He corrected.

“-if I said Chuck…” You ignored his interruption, emphasizing his proper name, “Was a coincidence?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then you know me too well.” You kissed him again, tilting your head to deepen it, letting yourself be pressed against the wall nearby. His hands didn’t get very far, interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

You broke free to catch your breath, lovingly bumping your forehead to his in warning when he tried to chase after you.

“There are guests at the door”

“It is my birthday, let them wait.” Hoseok shrugged, diving back in to capture your lips.

“Oh no!” You ducked out from under him, dashing to the archway between the living room and the foyer “I slipped.”

Hoseok sighed, a real smile taking up his features–a sight that was still quite rare and rather small, was growing increasingly frequent. “You are well aware that I don’t need doors. I need not even walk. Wherever you run I will catch you.”

“You need doors though,” You cocked your head innocently to the side. “For without the one behind me, would I be able to do this?” You hooked a finger around the waist band of your skirts and tugged it down revealing nothing beneath it, letting the sight before him shock him still. The guests knocked again, more persistent this time.

Hoseok narrowed his eyes in on the exposed skin. “It is my birthday.”

“And it will be your birthday until midnight.” You chirped, situating your bottoms in place and taking the last few steps to the door, pulling it open with the widest grin on your face. “Happy Abyiosia!”

You took Taehyung in your arms first, then Lucille, guiding them both past a still malfunctioning Hoseok into the kitchen to drop off the wine they had brought (Taehyung’s procured from who knows where). Jungkook arrived shortly after, a small gift box tucked under his arm and a basket of freshly picked grapes slung over his forearm, patting Hoseok hard enough on the back t knock the air from his lungs.

Yoongi and his wife took their time, but that was to be expected when she was so heavily pregnant, assuring her a hundred times you didn’t mind waiting. You never minded waiting.

The only person that had yet to arrive was Jimin.

And Jimin was never late.

You kept your nerves in check, doing your best to distract yourself by keeping the glasses full and the incense burning. But when an hour ticked by and he had yet to arrive, everyone in the room could feel it.

Something was wrong.

You were mid exchange with the sweet witch, her eyes all aglow while explaining just how she made that tincture to you when Hoseok asserted himself into the room from his place by the door, countenance serious.

“There is work that needs to be done. And I think it best you come with me.”

_________________________________________ 

Most of your guests understood, Jungkook immediately taking control of the room and leading the group to the living room to play a some sort of game with rounded tear drop shaped pieces on what looked to be a chess board, but the colors were different. You were grateful for how understanding everyone was. Because you were terrified of what was to come.

Hoseok walked, wordless and concentrated on the road ahead, hands in his pockets to hide his gloves. Your arm had looped itself through his elbow at one point or another, both to ground yourself and fend off the chill of the night air.

The stars above shined a bit too bright, their sizes too different–some massive, inspiring the kind of awe of the universe that both terrified and excited you, others small and wispy, barely visible next to their counterparts.

You had no idea where you were going, but you had a feeling it had something to do with why Jimin was late.

The edge of town was littered with more trees, the spindly finish line bidding farewell to empty streets and brick homes, saying hello to thick forests and rolling hills, winding trails leading off into the west woods of the Fenlands.

Taking a sharp right turn down a dirt trail, you stepped through a canopy of trees out into an open clearing, a carpet of dirt leading you down towards the rickety porch of a deserted home.

Your heart stopped.

An elderly couple swayed together out in the grass, the man doing most of the heavy lifting, the woman’s body too frail to hold itself upright. Beneath the stars, they looked picture perfect; an ideal love of ages that outlives old bones and changing faces.

Hoseok held his hand out for you to stop. To wait. And suddenly he was dressed for the occasion, gloves tied tight on his wrists, beads on and robes thick and heavy, pulled over his face to hide in the cavernous darkness.

They swayed still, slowing to a stop. Words shared you couldn’t hear. A kiss you couldn’t see.

Then the man lowered her to the ground, helping her lay on her back to look up at the sky, following after her with his ear pressed to her chest.

Hoseok moved.

A slow pad of feet on damp earth.

You followed, your footsteps much louder.

Hoseok knelt by their side, hand over the woman’s chest.

She was gone when her soul floated up into his hand, a vibrant lavender that pulsed like a supernova. You came to her side, hand caressing down her pillowy cheek, catching the lone tear that had slipped from her lash line.

The man was inconsolable. Face contorted with anguish, leaving puddles on her shoulder.

Then he too left.

But he did not die.

His wrinkles waved and melted down, smoothing his forehead and plumping his sunken cheeks. His lips thickened, his hair grew longer and of a shinier silver.

Jimin had never looked so defeated.

He clung to her, words a weeping croak. “I couldn’t stop it.”

“I know,” You soothed a hand over his forehead, brushing the loose strands from his nose that had begun to run. Sharing a knowing look with Hoseok, you grabbed for the woman’s other hand, holding it gingerly. “We will take care of it. I promise you.”

“No, you don’t understand!” He grasped at your wrist, clutching so tightly it stung. “I couldn’t stop it. It never mattered. No matter what I did–I never would have been able to stop it."

"I was always destined to fail.”

_________________________________________ 

_________________________________________ 

Want more?

UGH YOU HIT THE CANDLES ON THE HEAD. Candles bring this feeling of serenity to a moment. This quiet light that doesnt blind or overwhelm, but flickers low and illuminates where you light it. And it's SO mundane. It's nothing necessarily flashy and bold. It's just a part of her day and her life after a while, jist like him. And him expressing his feelings through his money is exactly what I was hoping for so THANK GOD.

THE UNIVERSE LOVES US BECAUSE WE ARE THE UNIVERSE is such a good way of narrowing down how I wanted to depict the romances. God how does it feel being so smart????

Mc loving life and community was so key to their romance. Because when building up a romance, I map out where they compliment eachother, where they differ, what they have to offer eachother in terms of relationship etc. And for him, reader offers compassion, flexibility, passion to push forwards, but also this wisdom of navigating grief that he doesn't have. They compliment eachother with their jobs, their parallel struggle with vulnerability, their dedication, and their love for their tradition and its roots. And where they differed, I wanted it to nurture something in eachother. Mc wasn't as confrontational (outwardly) until Hoseok really brought that out of her. Very quickly she went from being a people pleaser and thinking of what everyone else thought of her to being comfortable expressing her anger and her disdain. From "I'd never dreamed of being violent" to screaming curses at people and shredding their belongings. Hoseok was taught about grief, but also about making space. I never really addressed it out loud in the story, but her bringing Lucille around and him seeing her dynamic with the family at dinner/on thr trip was pivotal for him. (You want to bring this person that’s not your mom? Why? You mean it's seperate from your mom?....oh).

And REY. Him not letting go of Rey is so important, because in real life, you DONT get over your partner that's passed. It's not like a break up where there was some finality or a conclusion. Death of a lover is not only grieving what you had but what could have been. It's knowing that yeah, if they were still alive they would be who you were with, and it can be such a barrier to finding someone new that can understand that. And as someone falling in love with another who has grieved a lover, you HAVE to accept that. You have to accept that you are not only taking on your partner, but them too. You cant be jealous or territorial. And i feel like this is something not depicted in stories, let alone fanfic very often. And when i sit down to story board (anything really) I really try to focus on bringing something new to the table not only because it's what I want, but because I know there's are people out there that don't want perfection or picture perfect romances. I dont want to shy away from the uncomfortable because there is such beauty to be found there too, it just may look different than what people are used to.

Which is why her job is so important to their community, but also to him. She just KNOWS how to adjust without blinking. She knows to treat him gently, to hold him with loving hands and whisper to him. To honor the space he will take up in their lives and their home. And to FEED him. Hoseok uses the act of feeding as a way to show his deepest love, for it is taking care of ones base needs. To see her feeding Rey like it is just...natural means EVERYTHING to him.

Okay okay I'll stop soon but music is a big inspiration to me to get the feelings and mood right, and if I had to pick a song that I went back to often for how I wanted their relationship to be by the end of the story, it'd be "And Love" by Florence and the machine. It depicts love as this gentle, floating space of refuge.

Okay okay. This is getting too long and I hope it makes sense.

THANK YOU FOR RAMBLIMG WITH ME THIS HAS BEEN ONE IF THE BEST BIRTHDAY WEEKEND GIFTS EVER LOL

And in that story when Hoseok tries to kill MC for revenge, reader speaks to him saying that "He wouldn't want this". And in response, Hoseok threw her in the river after almost breaking knowing that it wouldn't kill her. If he wanted to kill her, he would've been able to incapacitate her with a snap of his fingers and then throw her in. so in his own very fucked up way, throwing her away from him and into the river was an act of mercy; a brief glimpse of his humanity trying to come through him again in any way it could. It was still uncalled for and violent, but it had him shifting focus from harming her to scaring Yoongi - his real intended victim.

And Yoongi is such an interesting character where he understands a bit why Rey was overhunting, and he sees his reasoning and the urgency of caring for the people, but he still protects his own. So when discussing Rey, it's a more practical than emotional to him. He doesn't need them, he cares for nature.

But Hoseok needs life and humans to work. He actually loves life. Loves getting to witness its complexities and the beauty in it. Loves Humans and how much they do with their chance of life.

I simply can't get into comparing him and Yoongi because I'll be here for hours and I've already probably bored you....

That's why I had him as a butcher. I shows the rotating cycle of life and death. He feeds the people and keeps them alive, but something dies in that process. He can't create life, but he can feed it. Nurture it. Like with the cows? he spends time with them. Learns their names. Plays with them. He gives and he takes in every aspect of himself.

The money from the city? Was mentioned from the beginning. That wasn't just him and the MC, that was an act of respect for her family and the work they do. I really wanted to avoid falling into the trope of "rich man learns he can share and be nice bc of his lover :)" bc I personally hate that. He has always been giving, he just is too scared to be vulnerable and open about it the way he was before .He got to feel what it was like to be on the grieving side of his work, and we will see more of how that affected him and his view of himself in real time during someone else's story.....

Sorry I'm just rambling now, but it was also my intention to make him morally gray. His actions aren't excusable at times. They aren't to be idolized or dismissed and forgotten. In my research, death has an uneven temperament. Moody, vengeful, kind, angry, merciful, morose, irritable etc. I wanted the suddenness of death to be reflected in his personality. Quick and cutting, slow and painful, looming, always there, quiet and reflective etc. Sweeter at night because of the idea of "passing in ones sleep is gentle".

AND FOR HIM TO SHOW HIMSELF FIRST OVER ALL THE OTHERS? A violent act of love for the people and land he cares for. A selfless act of protection by killing - what he does best.

OKAY I'M ALMOST DONE I'M SORRY.

But I love your dreams and ideas 👀👀 perhaps they hold some weight in my plans. Mayhaps I already know who and what. PLEASE KEEP BEING NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT BECAUSE I AM ALSO NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT. I FOAM AT THE MOUTH WHEN I THINK OF THIS STORY OR RANT ABOUT TO MY WIFE.

THE 👏 CANDLES 👏

I wanted to put more in there, but the story was so long I was worried of redundancy. Maybe I'll have to do little oneshots for them haha jk. jk.

.....unless?

Okay I'll shut up now, I love you so much and thank you for this amazing ask.