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softjeon · 6 years

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Through the Veil | Pt. 6

• Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Fluff | demon!AU (→ Gifset Trailer) • Words: 9k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol and violence / death / graphic content

↳ Jungkook is pretty sure that he is a normal human being, but he is also sure that this book, he got from his grandma, is a cookbook. So when it turns out that the words he's reciting are not to cook some tasty meal but to summon something from the depth of the underworld - then maybe there are a few more suprises for him in stock. « previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

He had flown faster that he ever had before but you couldn't just transport yourself to hell like you could do on earth, so he had no other choice. He was gasping, coughing, lungs burning and clothes soaked with Jungkook's blood when he stumbled onto Persephone's forecourt, collapsing into the dirt and wings tumbling into a mess of feathers and dirt.

“Persephone!” He yelled, not even caring for decency or addressing her properly or for the hellhounds that could be around, just waiting to attack any unwanted guests. The goddess had noticed the return of her demon right away, had felt his presence. A smile appeared on her lips, as she closed her eyes, listening to his pleas. She followed his call slowly, walking down the stairs of her palace with mindful steps, taking her sweet time until she stood right in front of her demon.

“I see you have returned,” The goddess said and kneeled, to look at the bleeding boy right away. Just when she reached out for him, wanting to push a strand of hair aside, to take a closer look Jungkook gasped loudly, coughing and curling in on himself. A painful scream escaped his lungs and his breath came in short pants. Jungkook couldn’t focus, couldn’t see what was in front of him as he tried to pull himself closer to Yoongi, stammering his name quietly.

Out of a sudden a loud yowling sound came from one of the hellhounds around and the goddess looked up, feeling the air getting thicker around them, the temperature cooling down. “Death is coming,” She whispered, turning her head to Yoongi again.

“Help us! Please!” He was beyond begging, desperation laced through every word. He was holding onto Jungkook so tightly as if he could keep him alive if he just held him together. Or as if he himself would fall apart the second he let go. “Please, I’m sorry for vanishing, I couldn’t - I’ll explain everything, I’d do whatever you ask later just please, please, keep him safe! Don’t let death have him! It’s not his fault! It wasn’t his time - I - I’m sure I fucked up his timeline somehow just please - do something!” Yoongi shuddered violently when he felt death approaching.

They had crossed paths before, not like this, but Yoongi had seen him from afar, from the safety of the distance and an aerial point of view. He had seen the hood, the dark cowl and the blackness underneath, first thinking that it was shadows covering up deaths face. Until it had looked up. Even from that far away Yoongi had felt the cold creeping into his heart and making it clench. There were no shadows or darkness covering death’s face. Its face was the darkness. Just like its voice was the silence. Not just any silence and definitely not the comfortable one. You would know when death spoke because it was a silence so thick, so potent you felt like you had gone deaf during those seconds, until he stopped speaking and you remembered what hearing was again. Yoongi had been scared, he hadn’t admitted it to himself back then but he admitted it now. But he was only scared for Jungkook, scared of losing him. Not for his own safety.

So he stayed where he was, holding Jungkook tight, gently rocking him back and forth as if he was an injured child that just needed comfort to get all better, all the while trying to feed the younger all the energy he had. It didn’t work. It was as if the connection between them was brittle and full of holes, most of the energy trickling away uselessly. And his source wasn’t endless, he only had that much to spare before he would start dying himself. Also his energy was that of a demons and it was like trying to run a car with a wrong fuel, one could maybe dilute it with some other source a little, but as soon as the real source of fuel would go below a certain level or the percentage of the wrong fuel was too high - then it could mean damage beyond repair.

Persephone cocked her head to the side, looking from her servant down to the boy, who was shivering. She felt the love that Yoongi was radiating, the fear and the hope he had in her. The goddess had seen where Yoongi had been the last weeks, had observed him closely, seeing the way that angelic boy made one of her strongest demons fall in love. She had never imagined it to be Yoongi out of all people. He probably didn’t even knew it himself, yet.

A smile appeared on her lips and she nodded. “You are in my debt, Yoongi,” She stood up and turned around, just when death stood in front of her. The goddess greeted him with a bow of her head. Yoongi shivered, the presence of both a goddess and death itself too much for his own being. He couldn’t imagine how Jungkook must feel.

Jungkook weakly blinked his eyes open, his bloody hand reaching out for Yoongi when he felt a snap and a painful ache. He wasn’t aware of his surrounding, nor did he notice who was standing next to him, because Jungkook was using his last strength to focus on the demon. “Yo- your wings, Yoongi,” Jungkook stammered, his whole body shaking, “-are dirty, ‘cause of me.” Another snap and Jungkook screamed out, before nothing else but whimpers escaped his body. “I…I can’t feel...y-you,” Jungkook coughed up some blood, “Don’t…don’t leave me.”

“Shh.. sht..don’t worry, it’s alright, baby... it’s alright…,” His voice was trembling so much and Jungkook looked so far gone that he was certain the boy wouldn't hear him at all. But he still kept talking, still kept trying to soothe him even though he had no idea what he was even doing or if there was the slightest chance of being able to save Jungkook.

Persephone turned around and with a whip of her hand she made Yoongi tore his gaze off Jungkook and look up at her, “Death and I, we came to an agreement. So it is possible to safe your little friend.” The word ‘friend’ had a certain tone to it that made pretty clear that she knew how important the angel-boy was to Yoongi. Which made her next statement so much more cruel, “But I am not quite sure why I should ask death to do as you asked. I mean it’s not like I care about him anyway. Tell me, why should I do it exactly? What are you offering me in return, demon?”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide when his heartbeat went into tumbling from the pure joy of knowing that he might be able to safe Jungkook from certain death to the sheer horror of maybe losing Jungkook nonetheless. “I.. I can…,” His mind was utterly blank. He couldn't offer himself because he was Persephone’s anyway, her servant once and for all. He wouldn’t offend her by offering her what she already owned. But he had no idea what the goddess might want. He knew that Jungkook’s time was running out, he could feel it in the way Jungkook lost blood faster than he could feed him with energy, slowly but surely the sand in Jungkook's hourglass came to an end. “No matter what it is you want, no matter what you want to have. I promise - I swear that I will do everything , anything within my power and beyond to get it for you! I don’t care how or what or when, I will get it for you if it's the last thing I’m doing. You know me. You can always kill me if I try to wrong you. There’s nothing you can lose from this, just...just winning. Just...please. Please make him stay alive!”

Persephone smirked at Yoongi’s willingness to do anything to save his love. “I want the angels book!” The goddess ordered and when the demon nodded, she walked around to him and let death do his part. Jungkook had fainted over and over again, holding onto the last bit of strength he had, when he noticed the cold air and he instinctively wanted to scoot closer to Yoongi, seeking for the warmth but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Persephone put a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and spoke softly, “You have to let him go or else death can’t help you. He will be okay, I promise.” Despite knowing he needed to act fast and that he had no other choice than trusting the goddess and her deal with death blindly he couldn’t get himself to let go of Jungkook. His fingers trembled, heartbeat stuttering like a broken engine at just the thought of leaving Jungkook in deaths hands he was unable to move until Persephone placed her hand on his shoulder. His muscles went lax immediately, as if they weren’t his to control. He watched in agony as the dark figure took over from him, cradling Jungkook in its arms and handling him like a rag doll. Jungkook’s head fell back, baring his throat and Yoongi whimpered pathetically. His body was slowly turning numb from the cold that came with death’s closeness and irrational he wanted to put a jacket over Jungkook to keep him from being cold too - while there were greater risks for the boy’s life than that right now.

Yoongi watched as death leaned over the lifeless boy, the darkness under the cloak swirling as if it was alive - and then it enveloped Jungkook's face. With dread the demon realized that death was kissing him, pushing the soul back into his body or breathing the life back into him he didn’t know. He only hoped that what he just witnessed wasn’t the creature sucking the soul right out of Jungkook or else he was swearing on his soul he would lay the underworld in ashes to take revenge for his love.

“Oh, he will eat him,” A croaky old voice said and danced around Yoongi, followed by another who was swirling around on one foot, singing a song way out of tune. A third one appeared under Yoongi’s wing, her eyes were hollow, and she screamed as if she was the one aching. Yoongi had jerked violently when the voice had appeared suddenly out of nowhere so close to his ear. He hated the witches with a passion but it made sense that they were here. They had been around for practically forever, so whenever something interesting happened they made sure to experience it first hand. And apparently they were mostly excited by pain and suffering. So Jungkook in his half-dead- state must seem like desert to them. “So tasty,” One whispered in Yoongi’s ear, while one was looking up at death in awe but she had no eyes either. “He will take him, he will take him,” She repeated over and over again, when suddenly a bright light was illuminating the scene, making them flee as fast they had appeared. Even Persephone was shielding her eyes.

The goddess gasped, watching how Yoongi screamed out out of a sudden, clutching his heart in pain. Suddenly everything was too loud. He could hear the giggles of the grey witches in the distance, Jungkook’s scream, the pain and the love. He could see everything flash by his eyes, every little detail, every moment up until he had seen him for the first time. The bond was repairing itself, making itself stronger and was pulling him back in. The demon felt like a plaything, tossed around between greater powers that he had no idea how to deal with. Nonetheless he stayed were he was, ignoring his own helplessness and pushing down the fear because he would go with anything as long as it made Jungkook better.

Persephone watched in interest before walking over to death, who offered Jungkook over into her arms. Watching how the boy was glowing made her smile. This was powerful magic, and she wondered how the boy had been able to work this kind of powers. Despite all the blood on his clothes, his skin was full off color again, his cheeks were rose dusted, and she could hear how the heart was trying to beat again. Walking over to her demon, she carefully kneeled again. She gave Jungkook over to Yoongi and observed carefully. She had never seen a bond quite like this.

When Persephone allowed him to hold Jungkook again he immediately latched onto him, doing his hardest not to start snarling with death still around and the witches somewhere near. He was too afraid to check for the boys pulse, still shaken with how he had sensed it fading before so he kneeled there awkwardly, body trembling from everything, the emotions, the sensory overload, just too much in general, until he could feel Jungkook breathe again.

Jungkook gasped forcefully, his eyes wide in fear, choking on the first deep breath he took. His heart was beating wildly against his chest and his mind was racing. He screamed out, wanting to get away from whoever he was holding, not realizing it was Yoongi only seeing the pain and the fear in front of his eyes. But he was so weak, couldn’t even try, couldn't understand what had happened. Jungkook screamed out for Yoongi, his vision still blurry making him feel dizzy. He screamed out for him to help him, to not leave him but even his voice was too weak, and it was reducing him to a shivering, crying, cold mess.

“Jungkook..Kookie…,” When the younger didn’t listen, didn’t see, him although he was right in front of him and still holding him to his chest his heart ached painfully. There was confusion written all over Jungkooks face, the panic and pain literally blinding him and so Yoongi took unusual measures to calm him down. He leaned over him and started to kiss his face, just a brush of his lips but he hoped that it would pull him out of his shock and help him come back to his senses. Maybe the underworld was what was making him shake so much or it was the contact with death or the almost-dying but Yoongi swore that he would make it better, that he would help the younger be ok again. He had crossed so many lines tonight there was nothing else holding him back anymore, no caution, no fear or insecurity. He would do whatever Jungkook needed to make sure that he felt safe and loved and as alive as he still was.

Jungkook stilled, closing his eyes on instinct when he felt the familiar warmth on his cheeks, nose and then his lips. His breathing got a little calmer, though his heart was still beating hard against his chest. Jungkook snapped his eyes open just when death disappeared, and Persephone turned her back on Yoongi, strolling back into her palace.

Jungkook stammered, the words not really coming out, his whole body shaking as he reached out for Yoongi’s face, “Wh- what happened?” The tears were falling down his face so quickly, there was no time to stop it, so Jungkook curled in on himself, his arms tightly wrapped around Yoongi’s neck. “I’m…scared,” Jungkook whimpered weakly.

“Sh...shst, it’s fine you’re safe, it’s okay, you’re ok, Jungkookie,” He let the younger cling onto him although the tight grip was painfully digging into his neck. “Take a breath, just breathe through it, baby, I’ve got you. Nothing will…,” His voice broke, how could he tell him that nothing would happen to him as long as Yoongi was around when he had let Jungkook get stabbed about twenty minutes away from the apartment?

“Nothing can hurt you any longer. I’ve got you. You’re safe here...now,” He was keeping his mouth shut about where exactly they were on purpose and also what had been done to keep the boy from dying. There was no point in shocking or traumatizing him further, he would tell him where they were later when he was better, calm and stable enough to not risk getting heart failure from pure stress. He couldn’t imagine what he body must have gone through. But the blood on his clothes still spoke for itself. “Can I pick you up, sweety? I’d like to get you to another place where I can clean you out. Would that be okay? Or do you wanna stay still for a little while. I’m not sure if you’re dizzy...How are you feeling, Kookie. Is it...can you talk?”

Jungkook nodded, his voice only a whisper, “Y- yes.” He could feel how Yoongi wrapped his arms a little closer around him, lifting him up and Jungkook hid himself in the demon’s neck. He felt so weak, not really able to move a muscle. Jungkook was sobbing quietly, feeling so utterly helpless. The warmth of Yoongi’s body was keeping him warm and he was soaking in it like a sponge. Jungkook had lost so much blood and even though death had fully restored him, his body needed to get back into its normal state. He could feel himself drift off a little, his head nodding away but Jungkook jerked up again only to let his eyes fall shut again.

When Yoongi realized how weak the other was, drifting in and out of consciousness he was cradling Jungkook closer towards him, stabilising his head like one would do with a little child so that he couldn’t strain his neck. He softened his steps, trying to balance out his movements as much as possible so Jungkook could sleep. Flying wasn’t an option. He had lost too much energy when trying to heal Jungkook, he could barely walk. But he tried to not let it show. And the pure relief that he felt over Jungkook being still alive and with him helped him push through the exhaustion. Still he was incredibly glad when he finally reached his cavern. It was dark until Yoongi stretched out his wings as far as he could, activating the bioluminescent lichens that covered most of the walls. Of course there were also homes that looked more like human houses or palasts in the underworld - Persephone's place was light and bright and completely like the temple she had lived in on the surface - but Yoongi’s had this cavern like forever and he didn’t mind living in it. He hoped Jungkook wouldn’t be horrified by it. Especially because the water in the lake in the inner part of the cavern was cold and deep and dark like a subterranean lake in the human world would have been.

Jungkook woke again when he noticed the darkness surrounding him and he panicked for a second, jerking up before he relaxed again, feeling Yoongi’s presence still around him. He blinked his eyes open, focusing on the new surrounding. “Wh-where are we?” Jungkook murmured, wiping away a few off his tears when he suddenly had a really bad thought that he didn’t dare to speak. Instead he sobbed against Yoongi’s shoulder, crying out because everything just hurt, and he felt so dirty, letting Yoongi move him like a doll.

“We’re home. At...at my place. I know you’re not used to live like this but it’s convenient and…,” Jungkook’s silent tears fell onto his skin and he stopped when the younger started sobbing, “What is it? Are you in pain? Are you hurting? I can try to heal you...or at least numb the pain. Just let me got you to the bed, I will take care of it, hold on, please, just a little while longer. Can you do that for me please? I know you are strong so...please hold on for a little while longer.” There was no way that he would be able to take away Jungkook’s pain completely or else he would have done that already, he had lost too much energy. But if he wanted to continue to carry Jungkook he needed the last bits of his strength. If he wanted to take care of Jungkook then he couldn’t lose what kept him conscious. But he could clean the younger up, then let him sleep - and then form his dreams. Not to feed but to send him beautiful, relaxing and comfortable dreams that would have him resting under perfect conditions.

“N-no I’m not hurt…anymore,” Jungkook said, still not understanding himself how that was possible. He gulped heavily, gazing back at Yoongi when he spoke up, “Am I dead? Is…is this why I’m here?” Jungkook sighed in relief when Yoongi shook his head, repeating his words and telling him he was in the demon’s home. Jungkook let his gaze wander around when Yoongi carefully put the boy back on his own two feet. He was struggling a bit at first, but Jungkook got back his footing and held onto Yoongi’s shoulders to keep his balance only letting go when Yoongi made him do so to pull the shirt off of him.

“I will tell you everything in detail after you’ve rested for a bit. You’re really exhausted, aren’t you? Let me just take care of everything else,“ He opened Jungkook’s pants, carefully pulling on the material that had almost become completely stiff and crusted over with dried blood. When he had managed to pull both Jungkook’s pants and boxers over the boys narrow hips he guided him to sit so that he wouldn’t fall over with standing on his own and Yoongi could remove all of his clothing more securely.

Jungkook whimpered when he felt Yoongi pulling down all off his clothes, a blush creeping up his cheeks, but he was too much in a daze too fight it. All off his clothes were soaked in blood anyways. Jungkook looked up at Yoongi with big, vulnerable eyes, wrapping his arms around his chest, not noticing the dark marks that adorned his skin where the knife had stabbed him. All he could feel was the dirt, the dried blood and the fear in his bones.

As a demon Yoongi didn’t really have a concept of ‘decency’ the same way Jungkook had and so he didn’t think Jungkook could have something against being naked considering it was a non-sexual context and all Yoongi was doing was cleaning him. While Jungkook had stood up for the demon to better get a grip on his body and hoist him up Yoongi himself had only gotten rid of his shirt - not because he wanted to cover himself up but because he would have time to clean himself properly later when Jungkook was asleep and getting the other to that point as quickly as possible was his priority right now.

Jungkook hid in Yoongi’s neck the moment the other lifted him up again, carrying him into the water. Yoongi warned the younger with whispered words about the cold, letting him adjust to the temperature. While it held the risk of lowering his blood pressure it also could help to numb the pain a little so Yoongi didn’t try to heat the water up like he otherwise might have done. Jungkook whined nonetheless when Yoongi let him down, the cold creeping into his skin and Jungkook was seeking the closeness of Yoongi instinctively. Jungkook bit his bottom lip to try to stop the twitching and keep himself from shaking. He let out a deep breath, his eyes met his dark, intense ones. The younger one let Yoongi wash most off his body, his hands carefully caressing over his face, removing every bit off bloody detail.

When Yoongi had cleaned Jungkook of blood and dirt he carefully tried to clean the stab wound itself who had healed over quickly but was still visible in the form of a deep scar right where the knife had sunk in. Around it were some ugly dark lines and Yoongi tried to cleanse the skin with pure water over and over again until he realized that it wasn’t dirt. The marks had seeped into Jungkookies skin, staining it permanently. A shiver ran through his body as he figured out what it probably was.

‘Touched by death’.

He had heard about this, about people having marks when they had gotten too close to death but he had thought it to be the kind of rumors that even mythical creatures liked to gossip about. Just that it wasn’t that, a rumor. It was painted sharp and clear into Jungkook's skin. Yoongi was only glad that Jungkook was too out of it to notice anything but he dreaded the moment when he would have to tell him what had happened and that there were visible signs left on his body. Even with him having a little bit of angel in him, Jungkookie was still mortal after all.

Yoongi had taken care of Jungkook so carefully, as if he was scared the younger one could break any moment again. The cold water had waken Jungkook up a little more and he reached out for the towel himself when the demon had wanted to dry him up. “Please,” Jungkook whispered, “Let me…let me do that. Can you…get me some water?” When he saw the hesitation in the other’s eyes, he tried a faint smile, “I am okay, please…I just need a moment and I am thirsty.” Jungkook really was, it felt like his throat was burning, making his voice raspier than it normally sounded.

Yoongi was hesitant to let him alone but as Jungkook kept on asking he thought that doing as he wished and getting him some water couldn’t be as dangerous as stressing him out and upsetting him if he continued to refuse him a few seconds for himself. He regretted that decision right away though. When Yoongi came back, the demon found him covering his face with his hands whole body shaking with his sobs. He had put on the pants the demon had laid out for him and when he had wanted to pull over the shirt, Jungkook had noticed the scars. The black marks making them even more visible. He sunk in on himself, only gazing up when he could feel Yoongi right before him. “I feel…so weak,” He stammered, “I’m so tired, I am so sorry. I can’t...”

Yoongi felt the tears prickling in his eyes at how broken and completely lost Jungkook looked and he tried his hardest to appear calm and collected. Jungkook needed him for support and as someone to lean onto. He could break down later when he had made sure that Jungkook was okay but for now there was no time for letting himself get overwhelmed with emotions.

“It’s ok, Jungkookie, I know it’s a lot right now. But try not to think about anything, please. I’ll explain everything later and you can ask or tell me whatever you need. Really, I will answer all of your questions and try to ease all of your fears, I promise. But for now let's get you to bed, okay? You’re gonna drink some water, I’m gonna get you a fluffy blanket and then you’re gonna fall asleep, safe and sound. You’ll feel stronger when you wake up. That sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?” He tried to be as convincing as he could, gently pushing Jungkook in the direction of the room that held his bed, following deeper into the cavern.

Jungkook stumbled along, nodding absently but so thankful for the presence of the demon. “I trust you,” The younger one stammered, meaning every word of it. He did. He knew that the demon would tell him what he wanted to know as soon as he was rested. Jungkook could feel it in his heart. When Yoongi stopped in front of a stone ledge, the younger one cocked his head to the side. He took the water from Yoongi, not minding that it was in a little bowl and drank it before he said something. “It’s stone,” Jungkook simply stated but sat down nonetheless. It felt rough and nothing like his bed at home. “Yeah, it’s stone,” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, half trying to defend his living conditions, half feeling guilty for it and apologizing. “The under…,” He bit his tongue “Where I life getting a comfy home isn’t a guarantee and I don’t mind it. I will try to get you something better for tomorrow or create it if I have to. So you won't have to sleep like this for long.”

“Will you stay?” Looking up with his doe eyes, Jungkook’s voice was pleading for Yoongi to keep close to him, “I don’t want to be alone.” Yoongi’s eyes grew soft when Jungkook asked him to stay, voice small as if he wasn’t sure Yoongi would actually do it. “Of course I’ll stay if you want that. I’ll have to get up later to clean myself too but apart from that I plan on staying the whole night with you and making sure that you’re okay. So, don’t worry. No one can get to you. Not tonight. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jungkook simply said and made himself comfortable as much as he could on the cold stone. His mind was drifting off the second he had closed his eyes, that’s how tired he felt, not even waiting for Yoongi to get next to him. Jungkook pulled his legs in further, his hand under his cheek as he was starting to dream, but before any nightmares could sneak into his mind, Yoongi was next to him, making sure all he felt was warmth and safety. Jungkook sighed snuggling in closer to the demon’s chest and since he was laying next to the other in his dream as well, right in the middle of a beautiful, blooming meadow, with the blue sky surrounding them, the boy didn’t even notice when the demon slipped out of ‘bed’.

Yoongi waited for Jungkook’s breath to even out before he gently took a look into his mind. It was incredibly easy to manipulate him, mind as vulnerable as his body right now. It made him hesitate to leave the younger alone because if he could do it as easily then someone else would be able to do that too. Someone who might not have an interest in sending Jungkook calming, relaxing dreams that made him feel better and forget the pain but...Incubi maybe. Or Night-mares (not the bad dreams, but their embodiment, the one with a physical form, that sat on your chest and who gave ‘bad dreams’ their name). But he was feeling horrible with Jungkook's blood on his skin so he took a deep breath and sneaked off to wash himself in the cold lake. Jungkook turned on the cold stone, feeling a bit restless without the demon and the normally comfortable mattress that he had at home. He pulled the blanket a little closer over his body as he was missing the warmth of Yoongi’s body next to him.

Yoongi cleaned himself quick and roughly, scrubbing at the skin until his former pale complexion was red and raw. But no matter how often he cleaned himself he still felt as if the warm blood that had been seeping out of Jungkook's wound was running over his skin constantly. He shivered from the cold when he got back, taking the next best clothes to get something warm and then cuddling himself under the covers with a few inches between him and Jungkook to not scare him off or awake with the cold. Jungkook felt his presence nonetheless, cuddling closer as if Yoongi was what he was searching for in his dreams. The dream kept him safe though and he was happily picking flowers, making a little flower crown to keep himself occupied in his own dream. Jungkook gazed up when Yoongi stepped next to him again and he smiled innocently. When Yoongi kneeled down beside him, Jungkook put it on his head, surprised that the demon let him do so willingly, because even in his dreams the other was mostly hesitant or at least gave him a comment about something, making the flowers wither, but not tonight.

When Yoongi laid down beside Jungkook again, the younger one reached out for him, whining quietly in his sleep mumbling something about wanting to be closer. Just when Yoongi was pulling him in and on his chest, Persephone appeared right next to the bed out of thin air. She was hovering over the ground, not there but just a projection of herself, a ghost-like form that she used sometimes. “My demon,” Persephone said in a whispery sing-song tone, “I see you have your companion back.” She let her hand hover over Jungkook’s body, and the young boy instinctively hid his face in Yoongi’s chest. “Tomorrow,” She said gazing at the demon, “Bring me the book and your debt will be settled.” Reaching out for Yoongi this time, she let her hand caress over his cheek and leaned in to kiss the demon on his hair. Yoongi could feel the energy rush through his veins and he bowed in faithfulness. “You’ve been very brave today,” She whispered before she disappeared again.

Yoongi was caught between exhaustion and relief, sleepiness and too much adrenaline in his system. Persephone's visit seemed like a dream and only when he felt her ‘gift’ replenishing his life energy did he realize that she was actually there, checking up on them with the kind of curiosity that was entirely her; child-like wonder, devoid of moral rules and entirely unpredictable in its manifestation. Yoongi tried to stay awake a little longer, in case she came back and wanted to see what exactly about Jungkook was so special but now that his body was healing and warm and relaxed there was no way he could fight sleep.

Jungkook didn’t know for how long he was sleeping and he didn’t care. His body needed rest and the time to fully heal. He only woke up from the uncomfortableness of the stone beneath him and jerked away when he remembered parts of what had happened last night. Jungkook carefully got out of Yoongi’s embrace without disturbing the other’s sleep and got up, looking up in awe as he saw the beauty of the cave. It was far more mesmerizing in daylight and Jungkook let his gaze wander over all the stalagmites and stalactites that were decorating the cavern.

He kept wandering around, seeing the lake shimmering beautifully under the light. Jungkook kneeled to dip his hand into the cold water, before he walked further where the light was coming from. At the opening of the cave, Jungkook gasped when he saw over a beautiful landscape. His mind still couldn’t comprehend where he was and maybe Jungkook just didn’t want to say it out loud... though it was very obvious.

It took Yoongi about as long to wake up as it took for his subconscious to register that Jungkook had left the bed. He pushed down the terror that attacked his senses immediately, refusing to let his mind wander down ‘what-if’-lane (What if death got him after all? What if Jungkook got scared and ran out blindly, being picked up by the very next creature who had him as his next meal? What if...) He had scrambled to his feet, throat too tight to even call out for the boy, walking to each and every place inside of the cavern that he had been to yesterday with Jungkook by his side, meaning the younger might have remembered it and went to it alone for some unknown reason. The longer he searched, the faster did his heart beat against the inside of his ribcage and the quicker he was walking, almost running, around. Finally, at the end of his wit and ready to go and search for Jungkook in the whole underworld he saw a dark, Jungkook-shaped silhouette standing at the entry of the cavern, faceless against the bright light that came into the darker cave. He relaxed visibly, taking it slow, now that he knew the boy was safe, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing there.

Jungkook was looking up at the sky, or what supposedly should have been the sky when someone or rather something was flying close over the cavern, letting out a screech that was painful to his hearing, making Jungkook jerk back in surprise bumping right into Yoongi, which made him scream out in surprise. “Yoongi!” Jungkook said a little out of breath as he took a few measured steps away from the entry. Jungkook looked at the demon with big eyes, “Am…am I in hell? Is this hell? You said this is your home, right? Am I dead?” He was panicking the moment he had said it out loud and he reached out for the demon, “Why am I here? Where am I?”

Yoongi placed his hands left and right on Jungkook's shoulder and tried to keep him still because he seemed awfully panicky. He had no idea what high blood pressure would do to his wound and if death would come to save him again if it got serious. Probably not.

“No, you are not dead. And you are not in hell. Technically. Not...really. It’s the underworld. Hell is like...how should I explain it…it’s like one floor below? Just with energy levels? It’s not nice there. Here in the underworld - like you don’t need to die to be here? While it’s necessary if you want to go to hell. Except if you are a demon. Or use magic. Or… well, it’s complicated. But I can definitely tell you that you are alive and safe and with me. I didn’t lie when i said that I’ve taken you home with me. This is my home.”

Jungkook gulped heavily, trying to comprehend everything Yoongi had said. The thought of being in the underworld felt a little bit unsettling and Jungkook moved a little closer to Yoongi. “What happened yesterday?” Jungkook asked carefully, the memories off the pain and fear flooding his mind, “Why didn’t I die? I couldn’t feel you anymore? Why did you bring me here?”

Yoongi bit his lip, contemplating how much he could tell Jungkook without shaking him even further. Although his voice was stable his widened eyes and the light tremor in his form gave away how fragile Jungkook was right now. Yoongi had no idea if there were any specific aftereffects of almost-dying but he was pretty certain that it would fuck with your mind and body alike. “Why don’t we sit down first, hm?” He didn’t want to prolong Jungkooks state of confusion so he plopped down right where he was, reaching out for Jungkook's hand and gently pulling him down with him. If Jungkook was sitting he couldn’t faint - or run - that easily. Who knew how he would react.

“The short version is: You got stabbed. I don’t know why they chose you or what they wanted from you but whatever went down in their crazy heads it doesn’t matter anymore. They can’t hurt you ever again. They’re dead. Your injury was...pretty serious-,” Maybe if he avoided words like ‘fatal’ or ‘deadly’ he could make it sound less serious, “- and I couldn't heal you on my own so I took you here. I never told you what exactly I did before you...before I met you. I was in service of Persephone…you might know her as a goddess, there are lots of stories around her, about her relationship with her mum and Hades and pomegranates - just don’t ask her anything about that if you meet her, please, she can be sensitive about that stuff. No one likes to be reminded of your mistakes. Anyway, I asked her to help me save you. And she did. But she asked of something in return. And even though it wasn’t really my place to say yes I did. Because I was afraid of losing you. You understand that, right? That I didn’t do it to hurt you but to save you?”

Yoongi had hesitated to say it out loud because he knew that Jungkook had loved his grandma deeply and still did and that anything of her that he still had was special to him “She wants to have the book. With which you summoned me. You...can’t really do anything with it anyways now that it’s gone blank, right? And...I’m sure you can... I don’t know...look at it? While we’re here? Maybe?” He was rambling but he dreaded Jungkook’s reaction, afraid the younger might start crying or yell at him or tell him he hated him for what he had did. And he hadn’t even mentioned death and its involvement in all this yet. When exactly had he started to care for Jungkook's opinion so much? Since when was he more afraid of hurting Jungkook than offending Persephone? This was a dangerous development and he sure needed to watch his steps.

There was a lot for Jungkook to take in, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously while he listened to everything the other said. Jungkook had heard of Persephone before, had read about her in school but it never crossed his mind that someone like her exist. Well, he hadn’t thought either that demons did exist or angels for that matter. Jungkook didn’t notice the tears that were falling until they fell on his cheek and he hastily dabbed them away, bringing up his shirt in the process. He saw how Yoongi’s eyes shifted downwards for a second again and it reminded him of the scars that he had seen last night. Jungkook got on his knees so he could look at his stomach more closely, letting his finger trace over the dark mark. “Is this… is this why I have this? The dark mark, I mean?” Jungkook shook his head, the memories flooding back into his mind. It could be the only explanation, while he couldn’t remember a third person with him. He couldn’t remember death, was too far gone to notice him in that moment. Only remembering the feeling of being so cold, feeling so utterly helpless had made itself a home in his heart. So, the only explanation he had was that it had been some kind of dark and strong magic.

When Yoongi told him what he had promised Persephone, he just nodded his head. Of course he was sad, but he had other things that reminded him of her. He wasn’t mad at the demon, there was something else on his mind that bothered him way more. “Yoongi, you could have been free?” Jungkook said with big eyes, shifting a little closer to his demon. He reached out to cup his cheeks, making him look up, “You could have just let me die…and be free… You’re a demon! You….,” Suddenly the tears came fast and Jungkook was searching Yoongi’s eyes, his voice barely a whisper, “Why?”

Yoongi was taken back at Jungkook’s suggestion. And then he realized that the younger was right. Not that long ago he would have done anything to get free and was even considering getting Jungkookie in dangerous situations to get him harmed and possibly break the bond with that. But then, when he had actually watched him dying the bond hadn’t even crossed his mind. Only the horror about the younger one ceasing to exist had filled his senses and he had known for sure that he would do whatever it took to stop that from happening.

“I.. I don’t know?” He stumbled over his words and then realized what he had just been saying and that Jungkook, poor, sensitive Jungkookie could take it wrong way so he added, “ Of course I know why I saved you, I just wanted to make sure that you don’t… I mean you haven’t… I wanted…” He had wondered before when exactly he had started to care about the boy so much but it was even more difficult to explain that to Jungkook. Because if he was honest he didn’t understand it himself. He wasn’t supposed to care that much. And especially not for the reasons he did. Maybe if he had saved Jungkookie to get to taste his soul himself, that would be a demon reason to save him. But he would be lying to himself if he said that this is why he had done it. Suddenly his world revolved around Jungkook as if it had always been like that. When he woke up his first instinct was to look for him and when he fell asleep and Jungkook wasn’t with him he was aching to feel the youngers body by his side. His warmth. The comfort it brought to simply know that he was there. Jungkook was...so much more than just some random human being. And not because the angel blood thing made him special. To Yoongi he was the most extraordinary person anyway, angel blood or not. In the end he just looked at Jungkook a little sheepishly, confessing, “I guess I was scared about how it would feel to be without you. So, you could say I saved you for entirely selfish reasons.”

Jungkook let one hand caress down Yoongi’s neck while he wiped away the few tears that had still spilled over away, “Well…I’m glad that you did.” Biting his lip, he averted his gaze putting his hands back onto his knees as he tried to look everywhere but Yoongi. “You can take the book. It’s okay, I am not mad, really,” Jungkook reassured the demon, kind of wanting to fill the awkward silence between them two. Yoongi liked him. Jungkook’s heart was skipping a beat and he almost forgot how to breathe.

Before he could think about it too long, Jungkook jumped into Yoongi’s embrace with that much enthusiasm that it made the demon fall over and on his back. Jungkook hid his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, trying to fight the urge to cry again. Instead he placed a soft but quick kisses on Yoongi’s collarbone, then his neck, jawline and cheek before he smiled at the demon beneath him.

Yoongi couldn’t just watch Jungkookie cry like this so he was about to reach out when the younger chose to hug him that exact moment. Yoongi had made a surprised little sound that broke off when he landed on his back and the breath left his lungs because Jungkook landing on him made it a little difficult to breathe. The kisses he got made up for it though.

The demon didn’t dare to move a muscle while Jungkook kissed him in a way that could have been considered sexual or teasing if the younger wasn’t as utterly innocent as he was. Yoongi knew that he shouldn’t read too much into it and that it was just Jungkook’s way of seeking skinship and closeness, no intention behind the kisses but to show Yoongi his joy and gratitude. He shouldn’t act on it. Like at all. But he only had so much self control. So when Jungkook was about to pull back he kept him from moving away with a hand in his hair and another one placed on his lower back, pulling him back in gently and kissing him like he had wanted to for a while: on his lips, insistent, with as much pressure that the younger opened his mouth a little and let him in.

Jungkook sighed, loving the taste of Yoongi’s lips way too much. He felt like he was getting addicted way too fast and he couldn’t control anything anymore. He was Yoongi’s to do with as he pleased. A moan slipped from his lips and Yoongi gracefully pushed Jungkook around, caging the younger one in. Opening his eyes, Jungkook let his hands wander up to Yoongi’s chest, biting his lip in excitement this time. Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle when the demon leaned in again, kissing him so hungrily and the boy felt like he couldn’t breathe and Yoongi had the air he needed to survive. He needed him. Close. Way closer. The pleasure rippled through him way too easily, making his cheeks flush red. The bond was pulsating between them, sending sparks through their veins.

Yoongi groaned low in his throat when Jungkook kissed him back, giggling and carefree as if it was a game to him. It was difficult to resist him when he was initiating skinship - but it was kinda impossible when he reciprocated Yoongi’s kisses so eagerly. The demon was trying to hold back as much as he could and still he wanted more and more...

“Don’t do that Jungkook...don’t kiss me back when you don’t want me to seduce you properly. Someday I might not be able to stay rational and then I’m gonna show you what pleasure feels like. The kind of pleasure where you’re gonna end up in ecstasy,” He closed his eyes for a second, suppressing a shiver at the thought of Jungkook below him, arching up against him, heady with lust and arousal, looking so sinfully perfect like this, willing and needy…

Jungkook was breathing heavily underneath the other, pulling him in further. “Maybe I want you to,” His voice was barely audible and Jungkook closed his eyes, when he couldn’t help but giggle again, hearing the desperate groan coming from Yoongi. It sounded so low, so breathy, so…so hot. “Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered his name against the demon’s lips, feeling dizzy from the pleasure and the heat. When the demon kissed down his neck, letting his tongue trail over his sensitive skin, Jungkook jerked his eyes open, moaning and arching his back into Yoongi’s body.

“Fuck!” Yoongi couldn't help but curse under his breath when the hard planes of Jungkooks body pressed against him like that. How could someone be so utterly sweet and oblivious to what exactly he was doing to Yoongi? Who allowed him to act like this and handle his body so unreservedly sexy when Yoongi knew damn well that the absolute most Jungkook had done with anyone before was making out behind some school building? Except this here of course. And if he wasn’t careful then Yoongi was about to broaden Jungkook’s horizon a little and…

The second he felt another magical presence appearing he stretched out his wings, shielding Jungkook with both them and his body, rather risking to get injured himself than watching Jungkook bleed again. When nothing happened he only warily disengaged from Jungkook, turning around to see who had appeared at the entry of his cavern. With an amused look on his snout there was one of underworld inhabitants standing leaned against some stalagmit and waiting for Yoongi to get up and properly greet him. Yoongi growled at him and deemed that proper enough.

“What do you want?” He spat at him and only then noticed the confused look on Jungkook’s face. Right. Jungkook probably didn’t see jackal-headed-creatures on a daily basis. The creatures fur was a shiny black with some lighter fur pattern around his eyes and throat. They looked friendly and amiable but Yoongi knew better. They had claws just as sharp as his and those jaws could rip a persons head right off if they wanted to. That’s what made them Persephone’s favoured messengers; they were easy to send and easy to talk to but if something went wrong they could handle it just as casually. “Don’t worry, he won’t harm you,” He whispered as quietly to Jungkook but from the amused glint in the creatures eyes he had heard him anyways - and they both knew that if Persephone would decide to change his mind Jungkook was a very easy prey for someone like him. Jungkook’s heart was beating wildly and he had reached out for Yoongi on instinct, having a tight grip on his shirt. He nodded anxiously, still lying underneath the demon.

“I’m coming to tell you to get the book. Preferably an hour ago. Her majesty is waiting,” It was strange to see human words coming out of the furry snout. Normally they spoke the universal language all the creatures in the underworld spoke but apparently Persephone had told her servant to show consideration for Jungkook and speak the boy’s language. Honestly Yoongi prefered the rough barks and dog-like jips that suited the jackal-headed creatures the most. The human body they sported couldn’t be blocked out then but at least the language matched the face.

Jungkook looked up at the creature with interest and fear simultaneously, before patting Yoongi’s chest, as he motioned for Yoongi to sit up, feeling quite uncomfortable to look at the other from down there. He quickly cleaned the dirt off his pants, but still kept close to Yoongi. “We can go and get it,” Jungkook whispered quietly, looking up at the demon, “And then you can travel back here, bring the book to Persephone and…and then come back home?” Jungkook was asking carefully, not really sure if his suggestion was something that Yoongi was considering as well. He wasn’t sure either if the bond was strong enough to manage the distance for a little while if he was at home watching a movie until his demon would come back from the underworld, but before he could think about it further Yoongi crushed his dreams of simply going home right away. “What- what do you mean I can’t come home with you?” Jungkook’s eyes flickered from Yoongi to the Jackal, fearing that he would have to stay with the creature.

“I’m sorry Jungkookie, but you have to stay here. You don’t remember but passing through the entry of the underworld is not like walking from one room to another. You were closer to death than to life anyway so your body didn’t really mind. But leaving it, you will feel it. And it won’t feel nice. I would prefer for you to be entirely healed up before you do that. And...I guess Persephone wants to take a look at you too. I wouldn’t…we shouldn’t just go like this. Would be impolite, you know? She’s a queen in here after all. We should do it the right way. Let you get better, let her check up on you and then I’ll accompany you back to your world and your home safely. How’s that sound, hm?” He really hoped Jungkook wouldn’t start to panic now that he had practically told him in nice words that he was trapped here before Persephone let him go. But it was a safety and precaution thing. Everything would work out perfectly fine. He was sure of that.

A/N: I think mondays are now my preferred update day for this story lmao. Thank you again for reading. I know we always say the same things, but we are so honored and sooooo grateful that you keep up with the story and all our stories in general. It keeps us motivated and going!! Thank you so much! Now...let’s see for how long Jungkook has to stay in the underworld and if they finally can have some peace...or not. ;)

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televinita · 6 years

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Either the scratched library disc or the old DVD player are conspiring against me to ensure I do not finish watching Pitch Perfect 3, and I can’t help but think they are just trying to save me from my own destructive tendencies, because I have been stewing in sourness and grumpitude basically since it opened and at 55 minutes in I have a long list of grievances. In no particular order:

(Disclaimer 1: I loved the sequel even more than the original, so I am hardly your typical "they need to stop” complainer.)

(Disclaimer 2: I knew going into this movie that Jesse and Beca, a.k.a. this franchise’s heart and soul and my reason for being in its fandom, were gonna be broken up for some nonsensical reason, and after much soul-searching I decided that I could handwave that lying falsehood* for the pleasure of more awesome musical performances I could declare to be AU. But that is not helping my attitude.)

Why were Jesse and Beca still trying to be in a long distance relationship though. And why would you give him a new girlfriend “with a cat” so that now my headcanon has to choose between him getting back with Beca, and being a person who would either leave a cat or take a cat away from its other owner.

Beca and Fat Amy’s ~ super awesome best friendship ~ still sucks (yes I am still mad about Beca cuddling with her instead of Jesse in the last film).

*turns out I cannot handwave it as easily as I thought

Amy’s lines are as gross and awful as ever

I love the very charming brunette soldier from Chicago**; he is one of about two non-awful things in this movie, but if this movie is blowing everything else to hell, why not at least finally feed the rabid fandom by giving Chloe a girlfriend*? (preferably not Beca due to my own shipping priorities, but then again, what did you have to lose besides the dollars of homophobic countries? ...yep just answered my own question there)

*Random boob groping does not count. The hell was that.

**oh wait. he’s the part of Timeless I don’t like (based on people’s wrong shipping notions for Lucy, even though I have only ever seen gifsets and not the actual show). Well, fine, now he’s canceled too.

WHY THE HELL is Beca making eyes back at some new loser. If this isn’t at least about Beca flying single and fabulous, what even was the point of breaking her relationship up?

I cried at the non-reunion at the aquarium and it was legitimate sadness crossed with recognizing that exact feeling of longing for when being a part of something made you special (#clumsy Glee reference #self five). Why would you reduce them to such sad and unfulfilled young adults. No plot reason justifies this.

I only caught a glimpse of Young Amy’s My Little Pony shirt but I am pretty sure it’s anachronistic, and that personally offends me.

John Lithgow’s “Australian” accent is a nightmare.

So is Amy’s bizarre attempt to imitate Sean Paul’s Jamaican accent for some reason on part of Cheap Thrills. Why??? Cynthia Rose was handling it fine, thanks.

“Evermoist” (why would u take the very most enjoyable thing about this movie so far and give them that name)

Why did this movie start with a dumb action sequence. I hate when movies do this; now I’m just wondering how the hell they get to that point and can’t concentrate on anything else.

I can’t tell if I like the music yet or not. The music has always been near perfect to me, whether I liked the originals or not, but I’ve experienced a nonzero amount of “I hate this song so much no version is acceptable” as well as “this is Not As Good as the original and I do not like its mangling” with a side of “why would you squander this awesome cover on a few seconds in a riff-off.”

(that said: I do love the riff-off, musically and visually. I was excited to see it as a sneak peek and I am glad that is what they released, because it is by far the best scene in the movie, at least up to this point)

At least frickin’ Bumper isn’t in this movie (I hope?).

Another rare positive: my delight upon recognizing Background Bella Jessica this time around as Janice from Scorpion knew no bounds.

Now, off I go to view my “otp: singing dorks” tag and either cry a lot, or find some comfort in the obvious canonness of the AU gifsets.

#pitch perfect 3 #I FEEL OSCAR THE GROUCH IN THIS TUMBLR TONIGHT

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hookedonapirate · 6 years

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Handprints On My Soul

Summary: Leaving home and a career as a roller coaster engineer on a whim with his six year old daughter was one of the last things Killian Jones wanted to do. But after falling in love with someone he’d met online to find out he’d been catfished, it seemed like the best idea. It seems even more appealing when Emma Swan, musician and bartender at a charming Irish Pub, enters his life… even if his brother and daughter have to be the ones to help him realize it.

Rated: M for a dash of salty language and a pinch of smut.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death resulting from labor and mentions of abandonment and emotional and physical abuse. Deals with catfishing/scamming over the internet.

AO3 FFN

A/N: Oh gosh, after four months of working on this little story, I am thrilled to be able to present it to you. In the beginning, I struggled coming up with something that would meet the word-count requirements, so there are some people I would like to thank who helped me, inspired me and allowed me to burden them with this thing while offering an endless amount of support.

First of all, I wanted to give a shout out to all of the moderators of @captainswanbigbang for putting this project together and for always being responsive and helpful throughout the process. And thank you for blessing me with a fabulous artist @shipsxahoy who I really enjoyed working with. Thank you so much, Bianca, for the perfect artwork to accompany this story, including the fic banner above. Please check out the other piece she made for the story and be sure to reblog!

Gifset

I also have to thank @irishswanff for this prompt that helped me get this story rolling, taking on a life of its own. I can’t say too much about the the actual prompt though, because bits and pieces of it are slowly revealed throughout the story. Then there is @resident-of-storybrooke who came up with Killian’s former occupation when I was struggling to. A shout out to @distant-rose who’s as sweet as a cupcake and looked it over, offering a bit of her cultural knowledge and setting me straight on some things. She is the reason Killian’s daughter has an Irish accent, although she is also the reason I had cut out most of my original smut scene ;-)

Last but not least, I have to thank my wonderful beta-reader and dear friend @rouhn for all of her suggestions, for always getting me to see things from a different angle, for her encouragement and allowing me to bounce ideas off of her and for always being my biggest cheerleader and support. Thank you so much for sticking with me Lydia!

I am open to all reviews, even if you don't like the story! Thank you all for reading and for your support and encouragement!

The raindrops pitter-patter on the windshield as the wiper blades swoosh left and right in a continuous motion, permitting visibility of the road ahead. The day is on the cusp of morning and afternoon, and the sky has grown grey and murky, unleashing a monotonous downpour over the streets of Storybrooke. Killian hadn’t seen a drop of rain since his arrival, so it hadn’t occurred to him to bring rain jackets before he’d left that morning.

He’s not even sure exactly why he’s here; he basically picked this place randomly on the map; or at least, his brother did.

After Killian’s heart shattered into a million pieces yet again, he needed to flee from Ohio. Actually, the reasons are more complicated than that—Killian Jones didn’t typically flee at the drop of a hat. His education consisted of mathematics, mechanical engineering and physics; he’s a man of science—a man with a vision and a plan. In high school, his whole future was mapped out before him, down to every last intricate detail—the university he chose to attend, the degrees he required to achieve, the job he dreamed of attaining and the type of woman he desired to marry.

And everything went according to plan, until he took a trip to Ireland and met Milah. Of course, having a wife and starting a family completed the puzzle, but everything he’s worked for, every dream, every drop of sweat, every tear and every part of his carefully crafted plan rose in flames when Milah died from giving birth to their daughter, leaving an empty hole in his life and his heart.

From that point on, he had to live from day to day, figuring things out as he went. When he moved back to the States with his daughter, his older brother helped him as much as possible, and perhaps that complicated things. Liam wanted to do anything to help Killian pick up the pieces of his life, and for once, Killian placed his faith in something he couldn’t design, construct or control. He couldn’t implement safety features or predict the outcome based on statistics or experiments or the laws of physics. He’d poured the fate of his (and his daughter’s) future into something he couldn’t spend months or years carefully envisaging.

He put his faith in a dating site.

Liam said it would be good for Killian to do something in which he’d no idea what the outcome would be. His brother insisted on it, begged him until he relented. Liam wanted him to be happy and hated the fact that Killian had to raise his baby girl on his own, but in Killian’s eyes, raising Raven alone wasn’t a curse or a burden. It was and still is a blessing.

Nevertheless, Killian conceded to his brother’s insistence and created a profile. Within days, he started chatting with someone he discovered had a lot of things in common with him. Little did he know what a disaster that would be.

It’s a shame, really, because he actually thought he could marry this woman. But, boy was he wrong. He was a bloody idiot for trusting someone he’d met on a dating site.

As Killian rolls through the deep puddles scattered among the road, he seeks out a decent place to eat and remembers his brother recommending a small Irish pub and their famous stew when he sees the establishment up ahead. It’s a quaint bar nestled in between a couple of shops and accompanied by a few tables and chairs perched underneath a charming red awning embellished with gold letters reading The Hanged Queen. Killian wonders when exactly his brother has ever been to this town, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t recall.

Nevertheless, his belly’s growling, and he has a wee lassie to feed, so he parks in front of the small pub to his right and cuts off the engine. Turning around, he smiles at his daughter, who’s sleeping soundly and breathing with her mouth slightly opened.

Raven is six years old with porcelain skin and dark, thick tendrils of hair on her head like her mother. When he’d held Raven in his arms for the first time, he made a vow to her; he would make sure to always shower her with love and give her everything she needed. It’s been more difficult than it should’ve been, but he enjoys his role as Papa all the same.

Since he’s currently staying in a small inn until he can find a permanent place to live, his lunch options include this pub or one of Storybrooke’s finest restaurants, including Granny’s Diner, due to the lack of fast food chains in this town. Honestly, he can go for a hot bowl of stew right now, but he can’t bear to wake up his daughter nor does he wish to leave her alone in the car.

Settling on a decision, Killian unfastens his seatbelt, removes his jacket in the cramped space of his seat and scrambles out, lifting the coat over his head to use it as a shield. The rain is relentless, unforgiving, as he hurries around to his daughter’s side, opening the door and unbuckling her from the seat. She begins to stir, disturbed by the noise of the rain as he leans in and lifts the hood of her beige jacket, pulling it over her head. Carefully scooping her up in his arms, he can hear a quiet whine from her mouth as he pulls his jacket over Raven to add more protection from the rain.

“Shh shh, little love. Just getting us some food,” he whispers, making sure her face is burrowed in the crook of his neck and secured under her hood. Kicking the door shut, he feels a shiver skating down his spine as the rain rolls off of him in sheets. He cradles his daughter, holding her closely as he races inside the pub, not caring that he’s getting completely drenched as long as his daughter stays dry.

Killian sucks in the warm air as he enters the pub, wiping a wet brow with his free hand and rubbing his feet against the welcome mat, letting it sponge up the water from his boots. He pulls down his daughter’s hood and kisses her head, panting lightly through the dark locks of hair as he recovers from the small sprint and the brisk air he’d endured.

Taking a wary look around, he’s surprised by the interior of the establishment; it’s a bar but somehow has a cozy feel, with walls painted in a warm red, chestnut table settings, family photos scattered over the walls and soft music pouring from the jukebox on the other side of the room. The smells permeating from the kitchen are undeniably enticing, and Killian is amazed the place isn’t buzzing with patrons at this time of the day, even if it is a bar. It couldn’t possibly compare to the ones in Dublin, but a comforting bowl of Irish stew sounds amazing at the moment.

There’s one other person in the entire joint—a young woman—who’s sitting at the bar. The first thing he notices about her is the pair of red, knee-high leather boots she’s wearing over her skinny blue jeans; her top leg is crossed over the bottom one, slowly bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the music. Quickly tearing his gaze away, he looks behind the bar, seeing no one working.

Killian glances at the woman again, taking in her entire figure. She’s wearing a white turtleneck sweater, and her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. He can spot a pair of red, thick-framed glasses, but he can’t see her eyes or her face because she’s turned away from him. He’s pretty sure she hasn’t noticed his presence yet because her face is buried in a book, completely lost in it.

“Excuse me, lass,” he says timidly, catching her attention. Her lips are pressed together firmly as though she’s still consumed in her book and he’s merely a rude intrusion, pulling her back to reality. He can’t blame her though. He’s spent many countless hours using the pages of a book to steal him away from his troubles. “What does a lad have to do to acquire some service around here?” he questions in vexation.

“Depends,” she replies with a shrug. “What do you wish to barter with?” When she turns her head, seeing the young girl in his arms, her features instantly soften, and Killian’s heartbeat staggers, catching the emerald sparkle behind her spectacles. In normal circumstances, he’d be enamored by the sight of a beautiful woman, but considering what he’s been through, he chooses to ignore any changes in his breathing or his pulse from looking at her. He can’t think about having any other lass in his life right now. The only one he needs is his true love, and she’s currently in his embrace with her arms curled around his neck and her dark hair sprawled across his chest.

“I come bearing American dollars,” he clarifies, dragging his hand through his wet, matted hair. “Or does this place take Euros? I have those too.”

She flashes a sarcastic smirk and removes her glasses, setting them down on the counter along with her book as she stands. When she maneuvers around the bar, tossing him a glance, he can’t help but notice how perfectly her face is framed by the long, wavy bangs of hair or how much greener her eyes are without those glasses.

“Judging by the accent, I’m guessing England?” she asks, towing Killian from his deep musings as she grabs a terry bar towel, throwing it over her shoulder.

“That’s where I was born, but I haven’t been there since I was a young lad. The Euros are from Ireland—I lived in Dublin for a few years. Have you ever been?”

“I’ve only visited,” she replies, sauntering over and planting her feet behind the bar, the palms of her hands bracing against the edge of the counter. “I have relatives there whom I didn’t even know about until recently.”

Killian wants to comment or inquire further, but he’s too overwhelmed with shock; he wasn’t expecting her to work here. “Ah, so somebody does tend the bar. I’m relieved it’s not self-service,” he teases lightly.

She dazzles him with a sardonic smirk. “Well just so you’re aware, I don’t serve alcohol to minors,” she throws back. “Regina would kill me if she lost her liquor license because of me.”

Killian gives into a faint chuckle as he hoists Raven up in his arms, securing her more tightly to keep her from sliding. Peering down at his daughter, he sees her eyes blinking open as she nestles her head deeper into the little nook of her Papa, which she always uses as a pillow whenever he’s carrying her around. “No worries. The wee lassie has already drunk her share of rum today.” He means it to be playful, but the blonde’s staring at him with a blank, unfathomable expression, and he’s not so sure if she thinks he’s being serious or not. “It was a joke, lass.”

Her features transform and a smile is curving her lips again as she emits a light laugh, a dimple denting each cheek. “Right, I knew that.”

Killian chuckles as she deposits a menu in front of him and he doesn’t even need to catch a glimpse of it before knowing exactly what he wants to order. “We’ll just take some of your Irish stew.”

“Very good choice. Although, it’s not mine; Regina’s the one who works the magic in the kitchen. I just stand behind the counter, serve drinks and look pretty,” she remarks whimsically, fluttering her eyelashes.

Killian nods and tosses a grin; he can’t exactly argue with her statement. “And read Hemingway when no patrons arrive to bug you about the service of the joint,” he adds playfully, handing her money for the food.

“Exactly,” she laughs, accepting the cash and securing it in the till. “I’ll go put your order in so you can take your young one home. It looks like she’s tuckered out. In fact, why don’t you two go wait in the car and I’ll bring it out to you once it’s done.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden—”

“Nonsense,” the woman cuts him off with a small wave before wandering away from the bar, “it’s not a problem. Besides, your arms must be tired of holding her.” She disappears into the back and returns with a wool blanket. “Here, you both must be freezing; I would offer you a raincoat but it looks like the sun’s starting to peek out,” she points out, looking towards the front of the bar where the light is streaming through the windows.

Arching a brow, he’s rather surprised by her kindness as she approaches and spreads out the blanket before wrapping the two of them into a cocoon. Killian’s breath catches from the close proximity as he watches her tuck the end of the material under one of his hands to secure it in place.

“Thank you. I do appreciate that,” he says graciously as he glances up, catching her gaze. His heart races as he captures a close up of her face, but before he can admire the exquisite features, she’s turning and heading for the door.

“It’s not a problem,” she assures, grabbing the handle and hauling it open for them.

Composing himself quickly, he strides to the offered door and pauses when he reaches it, turning his head as she keeps it propped open for him. “Your service isn’t so bad after all,” he compliments with a dim smile. “although, I do have to say you’re mistaken about one thing…”

The woman knits her brows in confusion before presuming what he could be referring to. “Oh? Is she not yours?” she asks, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

“She is mine…” he quickly affirms, his voice low and gentle, “but I never grow tired of holding her.”

He catches a glimpse of the warm, apologetic smile crossing her face before he peels his gaze away, proceeding out the door.

When he reaches the outside, it’s still raining but it’s barely an unsteady drizzle, and the sun’s shining brightly, reflecting off every raindrop as it falls. The blanket is keeping him warm as he opens the car door to the backseat and ducks inside, gently peeling his daughter off of him and securing her in the seat. The outside of the jacket is drenched from the rain, so he tosses it in the seat next to her for now. Raven’s long lashes flitter open, showing the gorgeous, bright blue irises hidden beneath her sleepy eyelids.

“Did you have a nice nap, apart from all the moving around and nasty rain?”

She nods, smiling up at him. “Yes, Papa. I didn’t mind it,” she replies, her Irish accent thick with sleep.

He smiles, dropping a delicate kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad.” Tearing himself away, he shuts the door before making his way to the driver side. Once he is in his seat, he immediately starts the car, cranking up the heat before fastening his seatbelt.

“Papa?”

“The food will be out in a minute, Sweetheart,” he promises, turning around to flash a small smile; he knows she must be hungry after her nap. “Then we’ll be on our way home.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I was going to ask about.”

His brow rises curiously. “What is it then, little love?”

“I’m not little, ” she corrects with a scowl. “I’m young. ”

“My apologies,” he titters, mentally reminding himself to break that habit. He hates when his brother calls him little as well. “What did you want to ask me, younglove? he tries again, and that’s when a grin crawls across her lips. It’s also when he knows he’s in deep trouble because her smile and eyes are tainted with mischief.

“Do you like her?”

And there it is.

Her words are laced with an innocence which is the polar opposite of the expression on her face and causes his cheeks to flush. He should’ve known it was only at a matter of time before she asked him that. When Raven was younger, she asked him why she didn’t have a Mum; like all children, she wanted a Mum and a Papa. Since he explained what happened to Milah in a way Raven would understand (one of the most difficult things he’s ever done), his daughter has always been his tenacious little matchmaker trying to help her Papa find love so she can have a Mum.

Killian can try to play dumb and pretend to not know what she’s talking about, but he knows his daughter’s far too savvy for that. “I just met her, but I think she’s nice for letting us borrow her blanket, wasn’t she?”

Raven bobs her head up and down. “She’s very nice… but you didn’t answer my question, silly,” she teases, and there’s a playful chime in her tone as he braces himself for what’s to come, and at the same time, looks at her sternly for calling him silly. “Do you like her?”

Killian’s face is flaring with red as he scratches behind his ear, not sure how to respond. When his little songbird concocts something in her head, there’s typically no way to reverse it. She’s a stubborn one, much like her uncle Liam. “I could say no, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me if I did; am I right?”

He swears her smile only grows wider, if that’s possible. “Yup. Wanna know why?”

“Why’s that?” he asks, but he’s uncertain he wants to know the answer, because, while he tells himself that it’s impossible for him to toy with the possibility of being affected by someone he’s just met, he knows his daughter is quite perceptive for her age. He knows she can detect a fib from a mile away.

“Cause you got all nervous when you talked to her. You’re even nervous now.”

Killian raises a brow, curious as to how she’d come up with this conclusion. Is he that transparent? “And how can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause, you’re blushing and scratching behind your ear. You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“If I’m nervous, it’s only because my six-year old daughter’s bombarding me with questions, like I’m being interviewed for a job.” Honestly, the last thing he wants to think about is having another woman in his life, but he won’t tell his daughter that. He only hopes she doesn’t have to go through anything like what he’s been through. He hopes that she will never be deceived by anyone; he wishes he can be at every turn to protect her and make sure nothing bad ever happens to her.

“You know I’m right, Papa.”

Before Killian has a chance to retort, the door of the pub swings open and the blonde dashes outside with a paper bag in her hand. He and his daughter are silently watching her round the car before she approaches the driver’s door, and he turns in his seat, rolling down the window.

“Thanks, love,” he says appreciatively, gracing her with a smile as she hands him the bag of food.

“It’s no problem.”

“Here, let me give you a tip,” Killian insists as he begins to turn around in his seat, noticing that his daughter has her eyes closed. He stifles the laugh rising in his throat at his little rapscallion and her mischief-making ways as he reaches for his jacket to grab his wallet. He’s abruptly stopped by the gentle hand gripping his arm and he loses a breath from the contact as his eyes dart over to the blonde, who’s gazing at him warmly. He tries not to let her touch affect him, but he’s finding it increasingly difficult to do so.

“No need. Just doing my job,” she murmurs, searching his eyes with hers.

He’s taken by surprise that she’s declining his offer as he tries to peel his gaze away, but her emerald depths have pulled him in like the waves of the ocean on a windy day.

“Please. I insist.”

She’s the first one to break the stare as she relinquishes his arm and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she insists with a smile. “You can use the money to buy your daughter some ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream? I want ice cream, Papa!”

Killian laughs, observing Raven’s face and the excitement dancing in her big ocean blues. “After lunch, Sweetheart,” he promises before averting his gaze to the bartender.

“I see she woke from her nap at the opportune time,” she teases playfully, her eyes peeking inside towards the backseat.

“Aye, she did,” he chuckles.

“Hello, bar lady,” his daughter greets brightly from her seat.

“Hi there,” the bartender replies with a wave before whispering to Killian, “Now I know she’s definitely yours; she has your eyes and the exact same smile too.”

His cheeks are flushing as he turns his head to peer at his daughter, who’s holding a big, devilish grin on her angelic face. “That she does,” he agrees smugly.

“Well, I have to go back inside now before Regina realizes I’m gone and wonders where I wandered off to. Hope you both enjoy the food.”

“At least let me give you back the blanket,” he proposes remembering it’s still wrapped around him as he cranes his neck to face her, but before he can, she’s already walking away.

With a small wave, she again refuses one of his offers. “Don’t worry about it. You can bring it back some other time.” She doesn’t give him a chance to give a response, seeing as she’s already on the other side of the car, heading towards the sidewalk and waving them goodbye.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your…” Killian begins as he watches her disappear inside the pub, the door shutting behind her, “…name.” He’s not sure what happened or why she raced off inside—it’s not even raining anymore. Emitting a sigh, he peers down into the bag before setting it in the passenger seat. “What do you say we go back to our room, love?”

“Okay, Papa. Don’t worry; I’m sure you will see her again.”

Killian nods as he roars up the engine and pulls away from the curb, thinking it’s better this way. It’s better that he doesn’t know her name. It’s better they stay strangers. Although he’s not sure exactly how long that’ll last considering how small this town is.

Crossing a bridge, he’s staring at the road ahead of him, looking forward to eating the Irish stew in the cozy room at the inn when his daughter yells out, “Papa, it’s a rainbow!”

As his eyes wander over the bridge, he catches the brilliant colors cascading across the water, and it’s clearly a sight to see, but the mechanical engineer in him can’t help but envision a Zip Line running across the creek. The idea’s enticing, and perhaps one day he can make it a reality, but for now he just needs to focus on procuring an apartment since he guesses this town is a suitable place to live.

Emma finishes her shift for the evening, craving something the bar doesn’t have; a grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings. She sends a text, making sure Granny’s is an acceptable dinner option to bring home. After receiving a confirmation of approval, she calls ahead and places her order before leaving to pick it up.

Expelling a weary sigh, Emma leans against the front counter, her eyes wandering around the diner as she waits for her food.

It’s the typical crowd of customers, apart from two people sitting across the room at one of the tables. The father’s back is facing her, but Emma can see the side of his daughter’s face as she chews her fish sticks, and she immediately recognizes them from two weeks ago when they came into the pub. The man is gorgeous with soft-looking, dark hair and a nice build, and he also has those amazing blue eyes. Who could possibly forget a man like that or an adorable young girl who gets her looks from her father? And how charming are their accents? The dad with his sexy British lilt and the daughter with her thick, recognizable Irish one are enough to make her melt.

The two of them share a laugh and it’s evident in their body language that they’re enjoying each other’s company. They appear to be a happy little family, but Emma has to wonder where the mother is—perhaps in Ireland? (She’d noticed the lack of a wedding band in the pub.) Not that Emma cares. She doesn’t. She already has a man in her life—her ten year old son. He’s all she needs.

Nevertheless, it’s sweet how the man across the room looks at his daughter and seems to care for her. It’s a rare thing, at least where she’s from, but maybe that’s because she’s been burned by men who pretend to care about her until they discover she has a son. She’s sick of low-life scums who only want one thing, and will do anything to obtain it, even if that means pretending to be someone they’re not. She’s grown utterly exhausted of frauds, so she relinquished the idea of being with a man in any shape or form. She’s concluded it’s impossible to end up burned by someone when she doesn’t give them a match to light the flame.

“He’s cute isn’t he? Even from this angle.”

Emma is yanked from her thoughts and narrows her eyes at her friend, Ruby, who’s joined her at the counter, wearing a buoyant grin on her face. “Who is?” Emma asks, feigning cluelessness; she knows exactly who Ruby’s referring to.

The waitress rolls her eyes as Granny emerges from the kitchen with two plates of food. “Order’s up, Ruby. What have I told you about standing around and chatting with your friends?” her grandmother chides as she winks at Emma.

The brunette turns around, tossing a snarky smirk. “That I should do it more often?”

“Nice try, Ruby. We have a full diner to run so I need your A game.”

“Yes, boss,” Ruby answers in a patronizing tone, sliding the plates onto her tray. Granny disappears into the kitchen as Ruby offers an impish smile. “You know exactly who I’m referring to; the new guy with his daughter… or should I say DILF?”

Emma arches a brow at her friend. “DILF?”

“Yeah; Dad I’d like to fu—”

“Okay, I got it,” Emma cuts her off, blushing as Ruby shrugs.

“Well, quit pretending to be oblivious and I won’t have to say what you’re thinking out loud for everyone to hear.”

“You mean what you’re thinking?”

Again, Ruby rolls her eyes. “Come on, Emma, we both know you’re thinking the exact same thing. You have trust issues, but that doesn’t mean your vagina’s dead,” the waitress asserts, leaving Emma with her jaw on the floor.

Ruby’s definitely wrong. Emma’s not thinking about this man in that way. She looks at him and sees a kind, loving father who would go to the ends of the world for his daughter. She does not picture him getting a babysitter for the night so they can spend one passion-filled night together. She’s definitely not thinking about that.

Granny returns to the counter with a to-go bag, and Emma turns around to pay for her order while glancing over at the British man and his enchanting daughter. Emma wishes she had a father growing up, but instead she zigzagged between foster homes with never as much as a father-figure in her life who didn’t hurt her physically or emotionally. Even her son grew up without a father, but that’s an entirely different story. Emma thinks she’d be a different person with a male role model in her life. She thinks maybe she wouldn’t be so closed off—so broken.

The dad leans into his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Emma regards them with admiration. The view is a beautiful sight to behold and planting an idea in her mind. Peeling her eyes away, she looks at Granny again, who’s waiting patiently at the register with a concerned expression on her face.

“Everything alright, Buttercup?”

“Yeah.” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip as she takes out the cash she’d made from her tips that day, to pay for her and her son’s meals. When she pulls out the bundle of dollar bills, she starts counting them and pauses when she reaches the amount that will cover the bill. Handing it over to Granny, she peers down at the remaining cash in her hand. Maybe she’s in a giving mood or maybe witnessing this man with his daughter and how he treats her—as though she’s the queen of his world—is what triggers the strings pulling at her heart, but either way, she makes a decision.

Emma peers up at Granny, who’s counting the change back to her. “Actually, can you…?” The words cause Granny to stop what she’s doing and glance up at Emma questionably. “Can you keep the change and add on that man’s bill—the dark-haired man over there with his daughter?” she asks, nodding in his direction while trying to be as subtle as possible. “I’d like to pay for their dinner.”

A telling smile tugs at Granny’s lips as she peels her gaze from Emma, eyeing the man in question. “Sure thing. I’ll let Ruby know.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” Emma laughs while regretting her decision; she’s afraid that she’ll never hear the end of it, or that Ruby will rat her out.

“I think you’re right,” the elderly woman agrees.

“Just make sure she knows it’s anonymous.”

“Sure thing.”

Granny tells her how much Killian’s tab is so far, so Emma hands her enough money to cover it, plus dessert, or at least an estimate of what she thinks it will be. Emma has memorized Granny’s menu like the back of her hand, so she figures forty plus a twenty percent tip will be enough.

“That’s awfully generous of you, Emma.”

She shrugs, grabs a pen from the counter and flips the receipt over. “The guy’s new in town, and he looks like he could use some generosity.” Tapping her chin with the tip of the pen cap, she stares at the blank slip of paper, pondering what to write before scripting it down and passing it to Granny. “Make sure Ruby gives him this?”

“Of course, Buttercup.”

“Thank you.” Emma claims her to-go bag and quickly glances across the diner to catch one last glimpse of the man and his daughter before fleeing through the door to avoid being seen by them.

As she drives home, she can’t help but laugh, thinking about what Ruby’d called him. She can’t deny the guy’s not bad to look at, and now she’s certain that every time she sees him, she’ll be agreeing with Ruby in her mind, yep, definitely a DILF.

Killian is enjoying a delightful dinner with his daughter as they celebrate the fact that he’d made a deposit on their new apartment. He’s also started his new job as a design engineer at Gold Technologies, and Raven has started her classes, has made many friends and is happy with her teachers. Overall, things are flowing smoothly.

Raven has finished all of her fish sticks and fries, so he orders a slice of Granny’s homemade apple pie to share. When Ruby hands him the check along with a small silver tray and walks away, Killian takes one last sip of his water before retrieving his wallet to pay for the bill. He takes the slip of paper from the tray and brings it in front of him, scanning it over. His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion when he discovers he’s not looking at the bill, but a receipt—his receipt. This must be a mistake, he thinks before spotting the arrow at the bottom, pointing to the right edge of the paper. Flipping it over, he sees the note on the back.

I hope you don’t mind me spying, but I saw you out with your date and couldn’t help but notice what a great dad you are. From someone who grew up without a parent, it’s refreshing to witness such a special bond between father and child. Hope you and your date have a lovely evening.

Dinner’s on me tonight.

Killian is stunned and also intrigued by the note as he blinks a few times to make sure he’s reading it correctly. Lifting his eyes, he looks around the room to see if anyone is looking in his and Raven’s direction, but of course whoever this kind person is has already left; he’s certain of it. “Excuse me, lass,” Killian calls out as the waitress approaches the table. “Ruby is it?”

“Yeah, what else can I do for you?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

Killian’s eyes dart between the receipt and Ruby. “Can you tell me who paid for our dinner?” He’s not exactly sure why he’s asking; he barely knows anyone in this town.

Ruby shakes her head as she clears the plates from their table. “I’m sorry, I can’t give that information away.”

He gives her a small smile before looking at the receipt once more. “Okay thanks.”

The waitress leans over the table, speaking in a whisper, “I can give you a hint though.”

Killian arches a brow, enthralled as he glances up at her. “You can?”

“Well since you’re cute, I will,” she says with a smirk, making Killian blush. “The woman who paid for your meal will be at The Hanged Queen this Friday night. And she’ll be singing on stage.”

So the kind person is a woman and she’s a musician? Hmmm… Killian’s interest is highly piqued. “Is that so?”

“Of course it is, I wouldn’t lie,” the brunette assures, and she almost appears to be offended by his words. “She’s in a band.”

He mulls over her words carefully. What if there are backup singers and she’s one of them. “How will I know it’s her?”

Ruby laughs. “Because she’s the only singer.” She leaves him to dwell on his thoughts as Raven gives him a pointed look.

He has to stifle a laugh because he knows his sweet little songbird is reading his thoughts. Killian reaches out and swipes her long hair behind her shoulder so it doesn’t fall in the pie as he slides the small plate over to her. “Eat your dessert, Princess.”

“Yes, Papa,” Raven sighs and does what she’s told, picking up a clean fork, cutting a piece off and taking a bite as Killian does the same. He wants to meet this mysterious woman who’s paid for his meal. He doesn’t like being a charity case, but his curiosity has gotten the best of him, and he wants to meet her so he can return the favor somehow.

Killian leaves the diner with his daughter, toying with the idea of going to the pub on Friday, where not only the bartender will be, but the woman who generously paid for his bill.

He’ll have to find a babysitter and doesn’t know anyone in this town. He doesn’t know if he can trust anyone to watch his baby girl. There’s the owner of the diner who goes by ‘Granny’ and lives across the hall from him; she seems trustworthy enough, but she’s still a stranger.

Maybe he shouldn’t go. Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe he’s not ready to go searching for things he doesn’t actually need. The last time he did that, it got him in trouble.

Killian sighs. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him to journey out and meet some new people. He needs to return the blanket to the bartender whose name he has yet to learn.

He drives home, thinking about what he might wear; he’s not sure. But most importantly, he has to find someone trustworthy enough to watch his Raven.

When Friday arrives, Killian can’t believe he’s talked himself into this, or maybe Raven persuaded him into it; he’d seen the pleading look in her eyes, lips formed into a pout, and he didn’t have the heart to resist her. She wants her papa to “go out and have some fun”, and convinced him to let Granny babysit her, assuring him she’ll act nothing short of an angel. It turned out, Granny happily agreed, raising Killian’s suspicions at how enthusiasticly she accepted the job. The whole thing became suspicious, as though it’d been planned. Raven assured him she wouldn’t make a fuss in the mornings when he tries to usher her around and prepare her for school, and that she’ll allow him braid her hair as he enjoys to do. She’s a crafty little lass. She may or may not have gotten that trait from him.

Either way, he’s in his good pair of denims and a black V-neck, wearing a light amount of cologne and his hair is neatly combed as he steps into the establishment, carrying the folded blanket in his hand that the bartender lent him while in this bar almost three weeks ago. At least, he thinks it’s the bar he’d been in the other week. It doesn’t seem like the same place, however. There are so many people this time, a stage he’s sure wasn’t there before and loud music playing by a band on said stage, instead of the jukebox. He takes stock of the employees standing behind the bar counter, not seeing the blonde there, only a skinny brunette standing next to a man with light brown hair, a beard and his hand around her hip as they both watch the performance on stage. Honestly, Killian is disappointed, but he has to convince himself she is not the reason he’s here.

Anticipation is coiling in his stomach as his eyes sift through the crowd, reaching the stage as he hopes to find the woman who’d left the note the other night. His eager gaze falls upon the lass who’s making the enchanting sounds, and she’s not only singing but also playing the guitar. He’s no musician, but he doesn’t have to be to know she’s playing it well.

His vision is unclear because of the dim lights and, even with the lighting on stage, he can’t make out her face, but he can hear her sing and he can hear the notes she’s strumming as she sits on her stool. Her voice sounds like an angel—delicate and sweet—and the tune emitted from the guitar is soft and light. Her music’s a wonderful melody to his ears as he shuffles through the crowd to contrive a better look. When he shortens the distance, capturing a close-up of the musician, the outlines of her face and the familiar smile, he realizes she’s the bartender!

He has to admit, as unexpected as the revelation is, he’s glad this woman is her. If only he can keep this information from Raven, which he knows will be a difficult task because she can read him like an open book. She’s his daughter after all.

Killian continues to maneuver through the audience, never taking his eyes off of her. She’s breathtaking on the platform, her long golden curls flowing over one shoulder like a cascade at sunrise as she strums the guitar and belts out the lyrics in a heavenly way; it makes his spine tingle. Before he’d arrived in Storybrooke, blondes weren’t his type, or at least not to his knowledge. However, this golden-haired goddess is undoubtedly a temptation

As he nears the stage, the woman happens to look his way, and her eyes begin dancing, lips curving into a simper when she spots him. Maybe it’s the beat of the music, the way she’s beaming at him over the crowd or the way her fingers take a brief pause from the strings of her guitar, using the opportunity to wave at him, but his adrenaline is pumping and his heart is racing.

Killian’s lips crack into a wide grin and he waves back with the blanket in his hand, showing it to her. She laughs silently before falling back into her routine as she moves her fingers across the strings of her guitar. Killian is actually relieved and glad he came tonight, and he can’t wait for her to finish the number.

He’s watching the beautiful blonde and getting caught up in the music and her alluring smile when he remembers that she is the one who’d left him the note. She is the one who paid for his and his daughter’s meal, and just like that, he feels a cloud of warmth surrounding his heart. Just like that, the friendly exchange of smiles and stolen glances turn into yearning gazes.

When the song ends and the man from behind the bar gets up on stage, grabbing and lifting her hand in the air, encouraging boisterous cheers from the audience, Killian’s stomach becomes swarmed with butterflies of excitement.

Until the man on stage announces her name.

“Ladies and gentlemen… give it up for the beautiful and the talented, Emma Swan!”

Killian freezes in his spot, his face turning white. He can’t believe it. Hearing that name is like hearing nails on a chalkboard; it makes his ears bleed, and all of the other noises fade out in the distance.

Emma had become excited when she saw the British man enter the bar; her heart flip-flopped when she caught him watching her on stage. He seemed surprised to see her there. He seemed perplexed.

She has to wonder if he came to see the woman he knows as the bartender or if he came in for an evening out. Either way, she can’t deny the delight swarming in her belly.

When she finishes the song, she looks over at him, a wide grin overtaking her face as the crowd cheers for her. Robin is on stage announcing her name before it dawns on her that the stranger she’d met in this bar a few weeks ago, now knows her name. Well, perhaps it’s time for her to learn his as well. Emma turns around and heads to the back of the stage, putting her guitar away before taking a sip of water from her bottle. She screws the cap back on when she’s finished and sets it down before scurrying off the stage.

Making her way through the crowd, a smile is permanently fixed upon her lips as she scours the entire room for him. She gets bombarded by Ruby and Regina, who hug and congratulate her on an amazing performance, but her eyes continue to seek him out. When she reaches the entrance of the bar and turns back, getting another good look around, her face falls in disappointment.

He is gone.

He sits at the airport, fidgeting fervently in his chair, unable to stay still. He can hardly contain himself. His stomach is full of knots and his heart’s thumping wildly in his chest. Today is an important day for Killian. He’s finally going to meet his online girlfriend in person. The pair had been talking via private message on Facebook and Instagram for about a year now. It all started when she contacted him after seeing his profile on ‘EHarmony’. Killian curiously responded, and they hit it off immediately. She’s funny, witty and beautiful. Her eyes are a dazzling blue and her hair’s a chestnut brown, flowing around her face in long, loose curls on her profile picture.

It’s insane that they hadn’t met over the year, but she lives in Texas, unable to afford a flight that would take her to his home in Ohio. So he’d sent her the money to do so. Now that they both had free time, his beautiful girlfriend will be standing in front of him as soon as she gets off the plane. He would’ve never imagined doing something like this over a year ago, but his brother convinced him to take a chance for once in his life. He’s glad he did.

When Killian’s phone vibrates, he quickly checks it, thinking maybe she couldn’t wait to message him as soon as the pilot permitted the passengers to take their phones off airplane mode, but he sees the message is from Liam. His brother is watching Raven and sent a picture of them making goofy faces at the camera. Killian chuckles and puts his phone back into his pocket, tightening his grip on the bouquet of roses he’s holding in his other hand. He takes a deep breath and fixes his tie, feeling as though he’ll break a sweat if he doesn’t compose himself. Maybe he’s dressed a little too formal for meeting her at the airport, but it doesn’t matter; he will be meeting the (second) love of his life (the first one being his daughter) in approximately —Killian checks the screen to see what time she will be here—any moment.

Finally, he sees the passengers from her flight start dispersing into baggage claim to wait for their luggage at the carousel. Killian stands and starts adjusting every piece of clothing he thinks is out of place before staring at the terminal she’ll be emerging from. What will he tell her when he sees her? Marry me? No, he doesn’t have a ring for her. Besides, that would be moving way too fast. He hasn’t even met her in person yet.

Killian waits, swallowing thickly, and the anticipation is building so high he thinks he might burst. Five minutes turn into thirty, and with every passenger who appears, the smile he’s worn for days becomes weaker until it’s a disappointed frown.

She never appears.

Killian ends up throwing the bouquet of flowers into the trashcan before leaving. It turns out, no passenger arriving at the Cleveland airport went by her name. He tries to contact her after that, thinking there’s some sort of misunderstanding or explanation, but it turns out all of her social media profiles have been taken down.

It turns out he’s been swindled.

Killian goes home that night with his tail between his legs. He’s so embarrassed and humiliated, he can’t look his brother in the eye when he walks through the door.

“How did it go?” Liam asks with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

Killian doesn’t have it in him to tell his brother the truth. He doesn’t have the strength to tell his brother this was entirely his fault. If Liam hadn’t been so insistent on goading him into creating a dating profile, this never would’ve happened in the first place. Killian would’ve been content living his life like he’d been once he was able to cope with Milah’s death.

Killian doesn’t say anything to his brother; instead he glances at him with a gutted expression as he shakes his head, hoping the gesture will express everything he can’t say in words.

It seems to work, because Liam’s features fall, his eyes filling with apology and regret. “I’m so sorry, brother.”

Killian still doesn’t say anything; he only saunters to the dark hallway, and makes his way to his daughter’s bedroom, feeling like someone has thrown a punch at him, knocking the wind out of his body. All the color is draining from his face; he feels sick and hurt and as though he’d been standing on solid ground until someone pulled a carpet from underneath his feet.

He feels small and stupid, and begins to question everything; every single line he’s ever written to anyone on the internet. Every response and every little conversation seems so far away.

Funny enough, when he enters Raven’s room and sees his little angel lying in her bed, sleeping peacefully in the moonlight through her window, he feels much calmer. He’s able to become more at ease when he thinks about it; when he thinks about the consequences of his actions.

Raven’s eyes snap open and she gasps, looking frightened. “Papa!”

“I’m right here, love,” Killian assures his baby girl as he scurries over to her bed and climbs in beside her. He’s scooping her up in her his arms and kissing her forehead when he realizes that there’s only one thing in life that matters to him the most, and that one thing is lying in his arms, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck and whimpering from the nightmare she has woken up from.

As she draws energy from him and the way he’s there for her and comforts her, nothing else matters—he knows that is a lie, but for Raven, he cannot think about the incident or about how he still hopes there’s a reasonable explanation or a message which comforts him. Although, from now on, he will question everyone he ever talks to over the internet or the phone, because who knows who’s sitting on the other side of the line, or who’s hiding behind the monitor or phone display?

Killian rushes home, bursting through his door and slamming it shut before he whips around, leaning his forehead against it. The anger is building inside of him, and it feels like all the air has escaped his lungs. Pounding his fist on the door, he closes his eyes, trying to breathe—trying to subdue his temper—but it doesn’t work. All of the rage and emotions that have been simmered deep inside of him are rapidly flooding back, washing over him like a strong current suffocating him and carrying him out to sea, drowning him slowly and painfully.

He can’t believe the bartender’s name is Emma Swan.

He can’t believe she has the same name as the person who’d catfished him!

He knows without a doubt now that coming to Storybrooke was planned; he knows this town was not some random place picked out from a map. Liam must’ve known an Emma Swan would be here, because there’s no way this is some huge coincidence. To verify his suspicions, he gets on his Mac Book and searches for ‘Emma Swan’ and sees her Facebook page at the top. Sure enough, when he clicks on the link and looks underneath her profile picture, he sees the words ‘owner/bartender at The Hanged Queen’, ‘singer/songwriter/musician’ directly underneath, and the page also mentions where she lives—Storybrooke, Maine. Killian curses under his breath, staring at her profile. He knew his brother had never been here or tasted the pub food from The Hanged Queen. He knew the wanker concocted all of this for whatever reason, and Killian is more than willing to call him out on it.

Without any logical thinking involved, he pulls out his cellphone and calls his brother.

“It’s about time you called. How do you like Stor—?”

“You planned this didn’t you?!” Killian demands, cutting his brother off.

There’s a brief, unsettling pause before Liam answers in a sarcastic tone. “Well, hello to you too, little brother.”

Killian grits his teeth. “Don’t you ‘little brother’ me, you git!” he snaps brutally. “Please tell me you didn’t persuade me to come to this town so I would run into her.”

“Who’s her?” Liam asks in a tone Killian believes to be fake confusion.

Tightly clenching his jaw, he squeezes the phone in his hand. “You know exactly who ‘her’ is. Don’t play dumb with me. Believe me, I’m not in the mood. I just found out how easy it is to find Emma Swan on the internet.”

His brother lets out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Look Killian, I only suggested you drive to Storybrooke so you would have a chance to meet someone you might possibly have a connection with.”

“I did have a connection with someone—someone who doesn’t actually exist!”

“Look brother, I know you did, but guess what? There are other fish in the sea. And this Emma Swan is real. She’s not some made-up person out to trick you.”

Killian feels like he’s been stabbed in the back; he cannot believe his brother’s actually trying to justify his actions. “Why her? Why would you do this to me?”

“I don’t know, Killian. I just saw how heartbroken you were. It was my fault that you got screwed over in the first place, so I felt obligated to fix it,” Liam explains, and Killian can hear the regret in his voice, but he doesn’t buy it. Why would his brother think this would fix everything?

“You call this fixing it?! I don’t believe this! How can you expect me to want to be with someone who reminds me of the very person who deceived me? How do you expect to me forget that she has the same name? How do you expect me to just forget about everything that happened and move on?!”

“Killian—”

“No! You tricked me into coming here just like I was tricked into falling in love with Emma Swan and getting ripped the bloody hell off!”

“Killian, will you just calm down? Let’s just talk about this, hmmm?” Liam’s voice is calm, but it doesn’t put Killian any more at ease. In fact it makes him angrier.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you!” With that said, Killian hangs up the phone; he’s furious, the anger inside of him bubbling under his skin. He can’t believe his brother is so surprised that he’s less than enthusiastic about this! He can’t believe his brother did this to him!

On Monday, Killian yawns before taking a sip of coffee at his desk. He hadn’t slept a wink all weekend. He couldn’t; not after that night. He’d been so perturbed that the bartender/musician’s name was Emma Swan, he couldn’t bear to see her. He couldn’t face the woman who reminded him of the person who’d spent months deceiving him—the person who tricked him into buying her a plane ticket because he thought she was the one, but it turned out Emma Swan didn’t exist; not the one he thought he knew.

This Emma Swan from Storybrooke is not her. She’s not the one he’d envisioned. He knew Emma’s personality, her likes, her dislikes and he knew everything about her. He’s seen pictures of her and her family, or people he thought were her and her family, but it was all a lie. It was all some fantastic charade that someone did for kicks and for money. That person probably wasn’t even a woman at all.

Killian hates that this imaginary person still has an effect on him. He hates that he’d been so deceived and so blinded by love. Never again will he let another person worm their way into his heart. Never again. He’s better off without them.

His phone chirps for the millionth time since he’d hung up on Liam and he stares at his brother’s contact photo, but he doesn’t answer it. He sets it down on his desk, and it’s not until he picks up his daughter and ignores his brother’s call again when he realizes this has upset his daughter.

“Why are you avoiding Uncle Liam, Papa?”

Killian lets out a heavy sigh as he drives through Storybrooke, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m not, I just don’t feel like talking to him right now.” He’s informed Raven what had happened with his fake online girlfriend, filtering out the gory details, but she doesn’t know the woman who broke his heart went by the moniker 'Emma Swan’. He’s glad because when someone wrongs Killian, she holds grudges like nobody else. She’s unforgiving when it comes to people being mean to her Papa. That’s why he’d kept Liam’s name out of the entire conversation. As furious as Killian is, he doesn’t want Raven to be mad at her Uncle Liam; he doesn’t wish for her to miss out on bonding time with his brother.

“Why not, Papa?”

Killian doesn’t have the right answer to supply her with, and when he looks in the rearview mirror, she’s wearing a sad, heart-breaking expression on her face, and it guts him deeply… so he relents. As soon as they arrive home, he calls his brother.

Listening to the music from the jukebox, Emma cleans up the bar with a rag, adrift in her thoughts as she’s swaying her hips to the beat. The British man stubbornly refuses to vanish from her mind, and she can’t stop wondering why he’d left Friday night. An undeniable spark had ignited between them—something she hasn’t felt in a long time with anyone. Ruby had told her she exposed Emma’s whereabouts the night she’d paid for his dinner, so maybe the gesture or note offended him somehow? She doesn’t know, but Emma can’t shake the unsettling feeling in her gut, and can’t help but believe he’s upset for reasons she can’t comprehend. She guesses it’s a good thing because she doesn’t want to become involved with anyone.

What bothers her, however, is the fact that he’d entered the bar with the blanket in his hands, showing it to her, and yet he left with it too. Not that she cares about the stupid blanket, but it’s the fact that he’d suddenly left. She guesses some sort of an emergency took place. Maybe he’d gotten a call from his daughter’s babysitter; maybe something happened to her. Emma’s heart aches at the thought. She’s upset, to be honest, but she hopes his daughter is okay.

Emma attempts to evade all thoughts and maintain focus on her task while scrubbing down the bar counter. And when she begins singing along with the lyrics, continuing to move her hips, it’s finally working and she gets completely lost in the music.

“You can dance, too? That’s quite impressive, love.”

Emma practically jumps out of her skin at the sound of the British accent over the music. Spinning around, she sees the man who’s been invading her thoughts since she’d seen him and his daughter for the first time, and he’s holding a smug smile on his face, as though he’s proud of scaring the living bejesus out of her. She presses her hand to her racing heart, trying to slow her rapid breathing.

“I like a lass with many talents.”

Emma intakes a short breath, trying to ignore the comment, especially the word he used—like. “You scared the hell out of me,” she rasps out, her eyes meeting his deep blue ones. She wants to be mad at him for frightening her, but God, he’s gorgeous. She wants to kiss that cocky smile right off his lips.

He holds up his hands in surrender, clutching the blanket she’d lent him. “Apologies, love. I come in peace.”

Emma manages a small laugh as she steps up to him, accepting the offered blanket. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring it back.”

The man shrugs, his smile growing softer. “You also didn’t have to loan it to me, or foot my bill last week either.”

Emma’s dubious, wondering if he’s only saying that to be nice, and didn’t appreciate the gestures, or if he’s actually thankful for them. “About the note… I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t mean to offend you—”

His features drop, as if he’s not sure why she would say such a thing. “You didn’t, love.”

Emma arches a brow in bewilderment. “I didn’t?”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Not at all… in fact, I thought the note was lovely.”

Emma sighs in relief as the man scratches behind his ear, his smile transforming into a coy simper. She throws the rag over her shoulder and their eyes never break away, but he seems to become more nervous, the apple of his cheeks flushing with a light shade of pink.

“Although… I am hoping you’ll let me pay you back by buying you dinner?” he asks, his voice cracked with apprehension.

Emma’s heart flutters due to the question and the soft glint in his eyes, and she’s not sure how to respond. “I didn’t do it expecting you to pay me back.”

He tilts his head and steps closer, shortening the distance between them so they’re merely a few inches away from each other. “I know, but perhaps I want to,” he murmurs with a smirk, and she’s pretty sure he’s flirting with her.

Emma folds her arms, uncertain about whether she should agree to dinner or not. She still has some unanswered questions. “Before I agree to that, tell me why you left Friday night. Why did you arrive with the blanket and leave after my song ended?”

Guilt is washing over his features as his smile fades, and there’s a certain look in his eyes she can’t quite place her finger on, but she guesses it’s something of betrayal or abandonment. She knows because she witnesses the same look when she stares at her reflection in the mirror every day. “Because, I—it’s kind of a long story… but you remind me of someone… or at least your name does. So when it was announced on stage, I panicked and fled.”

Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Her brow lifts in bemusement. “You had a girlfriend named Emma?”

“Something like that. Only not simply Emma—Emma Swan.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say to that. She’s never heard or known of anyone with the same name.

“Let’s just say she didn’t turn out to be who I thought,” he explains, his voice weak as he stares at the floor between them, “but my brother, Liam, has reminded me that just because one person betrayed me, it doesn’t mean everyone is a fraud.”

Emma nods in agreement. “Yeah, Ruby tells me that all the time.”

His eyes dart to hers, staring at her in shock. “Ah, so I take it, you know what it’s like to be deceived?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Emma replies, but she doesn’t want to disclose of all of the tragic details of her past relationships to this handsome-looking stranger, so she changes the subject. “Does your brother live here too?” She shakes her head as soon as she asks the question. “Probably not; I’d remember a name like that.”

“He lives in Ohio, where I came from,” he clarifies with a chuckle.

“And you left there?” she asks curiously.

“Aye, it was the best thing to do at the time. Like I said—long story.”

“Well, maybe you could tell me sometime? I enjoy long stories, as you already know,” she says with a springy laugh.

His lips break out into an easy smile, and the gloominess of the conversation instantly disappears. “That I do. So, does that mean you’ll let me take you out on a date?”

She holds up her hands, her smile never fading. “Whoa whoa whoa, who said anything about a date?” she asks in a breezy tone.

He chortles, and she can sense his nervousness as he takes her hand in his. She gasps at the unexpected contact as he smooths his thumb over her knuckles. “Look, Emma, it sounds like we’ve both been burned in the past, and normally I’m not one for taking chances, but… I’d be willing to if you are.”

Emma looks into his eyes, seeing the genuine admiration there, and she can’t find it in herself to turn him down. “On one condition,” she offers in a challenging tone.

He lifts a brow, his eyes lighting up with intrigue. “You name it.”

“I get to pick where we go.”

“You’ve got a deal,” he replies with a wide smirk.

Emma purses her lips, ruminating their options before deciding that maybe they could do something that involves their kids too; the annual carnival Storybrooke holds every year is fast approaching. “How about this?—Storybrooke is having the town carnival starting this weekend. Maybe we could go? Of course, if we do I’d have to bring my son. He’d be sad if I went without him, so you could bring your daughter too?”

His eyes are buzzing with surprise, and she’s not certain if it’s a good thing or a bad one. “You have a son?” Judging by the tone of his voice, she’s guessing good?

Emma nods, and she’s hoping this essential information doesn’t scare him off. Although she doubts it will, considering he has a daughter, which is why she’d felt confident enough to suggest something that would involve her having to tell him about her son. “I do. His name is Henry; he’s ten.”

He appears apprehensive again as he scratches behind his ear, which she guesses is a habit of his; something he does when he’s nervous. “So, you’re… I mean… I don’t have to worry about any angry fathers coming after me, do I?”

Emma laughs and shakes her head. “No. If you did, that would be a miracle. Henry’s father doesn’t know he exists, and I plan on keeping it that way. There are no other men in my life; only my son.” This seems to put the man much more at ease as he expels a sigh of relief. Now it’s Emma’s turn to be nervous as she toys with his fingers, peering down at them and pondering the question she wants to ask him. “So, is this Emma Swan… is she the mother?” She glances up at him skittish about what his response will be, and to her relief he shakes his head, although he seems perturbed by the question, like she’s hit a nerve.

“No… uh Raven’s mother… she died,” he replies quietly.

There’s a pang of regret twisting the inside her stomach as her features fall, words laced with apology. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. It happened a long time ago. Raven never got the chance to meet her.”

A small, audible gasp leaves her lips, her heart squeezing. “Oh my god, I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

He gives a soft shrug, his mouth curved into a feeble smile, trying to conceal the emotions he buries deep inside. “I’ve learned to cope, but it still stings occasionally.” His eyes are dark, and Emma senses the pain enshrouding him and can’t bear to cause anymore turmoil, although she’s hoping it’s not some charade, and he’s not only saying these things for his own personal agenda. But the look on his face is unmistakably real, and either he’s being truthful or he’s a terrific actor. Seeing as he’s a single father with a daughter to look after, she doubts it’s the latter. Personal agendas tend to get tossed to the wayside when kids are in the picture. Unless Raven’s not actually his daughter, and he’s feeding her some bogus story so she’ll take pity on him. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s used those tactics on her.

Emma needs to stop. Not all men are frauds, Ruby’s words run through mind. “Well, you know what—how about you pick the date?” she suggests, gently squeezing his hand.

His smile fades in return. “That’s okay, love. I don’t wish for you to take pity on me.”

Her response is quick, leaving no room for doubt. “Then, it’s a good thing I’m not.” Emma’s voice and features are firm to assure him she’s being sincere.

Her words seem to appease him, his lips cracking into a small grin. “Well actually, I think the carnival is perfect. May Raven and I pick you and your lad up at six on Saturday?”

“Sounds like a date,” she seals their plans with the accompaniment of a warm laugh before grabbing a pen and a napkin, scribbling down her address and handing it to him.

His eyes light up with excitement and his cheeks turn red as he looks at it briefly before slipping it into his back pocket. He encases her hand in both of his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “Alright, we will look forward to it then. For now, I’ll let you return to your dancing and singing while you clean,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

Emma blushes and laughs. “Okay.” She’s not sure how to say goodbye; she’s not used to being asked out in her bar by men she actually likes. Although, even if she uses the basic, customary “goodbye, (insert person’s name)” she doesn’t know his name yet. She has agreed to go on a date with a guy whose name she doesn’t know.

The man seems to be as unsure as she is when he awkwardly releases her hands and slowly backs away engaging her with one last lingering stare before turning around and making his way towards the door.

“Wait!” Her call causes him to stop and turn around, arching an expectant brow. The shade of blue in his eyes mixed with a look of hope and possibly longing, even from across the bar, makes her fumble for words. “I—I just—it occurred to me… you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

A slow satisfied smile crawls across his lips. “I thought you’d never ask. The name’s Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Phew,” Emma lets out a mocking sigh of relief, “I’ve never dated a Killian Jones, so that’s good to know.”

He laughs. “Aye, it is, love.”

Killian is conclusively smitten as he leaves the bar with a hopeless grin, looking forward to their date. Truthfully, he’d surprised himself when he asked her out, but after the long conversation with Liam, he recognized not all of the Emma Swans in the world are out to swindle him. And when she mentioned she also needed to be persuaded from not thinking everyone was a fraud, he was even more drawn to her.

When Saturday approaches, his stomach is full of butterflies and he nervously runs his hand through his hair because he can’t settle down, much like his daughter, who’s buzzing around the apartment like a bee and probably even more excited than he is. Once they are dressed for the occasion and ready to go, they leave the apartment, navigating to Emma’s house. Raven’s wearing a purple dress and matching sandals with her hair divided in two braids on either side of her head and Killian’s wearing a navy blue Henley and jeans. The weather in this town is quite unpredictable but it’s a comfortable temperature and forecasted to be pleasant for the rest of the evening.

Upon arrival, he escorts his daughter from the car to Emma’s front door, unable to keep his hands from twitching; he’s so nervous. Emma takes his breath away when she answers the door; she’s wearing a gorgeous pink dress, and the skirt of it sways when she moves. She invites them in for a moment while she and her son finish getting ready. Killian and Raven walk through the enclosed porch and he takes a moment to look around the old Victorian home.

The four of them barrel out the door with plenty of time to spare, and with Raven and Emma together, Killian swears he has the two most beautiful women on either side of him. Emma’s lad is quite the fetching fellow as well. He’s polite, and at first he acts shy around Raven, but once they near the docks where all of the excitement is, Killian and Emma have to repeatedly tell them to slow down as they try dashing off. Not that he’s complaining. With their children waddling ahead, Killian is left with Emma by his side, striking up casual conversation, his hand frequently brushing hers. Both of them want to be closer but neither is brave enough to make the first move.

The early autumn air is warm and thick with sounds of chatter and laughter and the alluring smells of popcorn and elephant ears as they reach the carnival, meeting up with Regina, Robin, and his son Roland. Killian is amazed by how they transformed the docks into the magnificent, enchanting place full of festivities, although it’s not as cool without roller coasters.

“Hey Killian, would you like to ride that?”

He looks up to where Emma’s pointing, seeing the ferris wheel high in the sky.

“You two should definitely go. We’ll take the children on some kiddie rides; what do you say?” Regina asks, and the children start jumping up and down in excitement.

“I’m okay with that if you are,” Emma says to Killian. “Regina and Robin are trustworthy, I promise. They babysit Henry all the time.”

Killian doesn’t doubt he can trust them with his Raven if Emma says it’s okay to; he’s simply worried what might happen if he and Emma are left alone sitting all cozy next to each other on the ferris wheel. “I’m okay with that,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Yay!” Raven, Roland and Henry begin charging ahead of Robin and Regina, and Emma and Killian laugh at their children.

“Be good, kid!” Emma calls after her son.

“Listen to Robin and Regina!” Killian tells his daughter, but he doubts she can hear him.

“Don’t worry about a thing. Just have some fun you two,” Regina says, throwing them a smirk and a wink before she and Robin go chasing after the little ones.

“Do you think they’re excited about the rides, or about venturing off without their parents?” Emma asks him as they join the ferris wheel line.

“Probably both,” Killian chuckles, although he’s fairly certain Raven is excited because he will be alone with Emma, and she’s expressed her approval several times before the date.

It’s been a while since he’s been on one of these things, and yet he’s still less nervous than Emma as they slowly ascend towards the sky with the view of Storybrooke below. The sun casts a brilliant view as it starts setting above the water, although, it’s not as captivating as the woman sitting next to him.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you, love?” he asks, even as he already knows the answer.

“No, of course not. Why would I suggest riding this thing if I were?” she asks, carefully peeking over the side of the carriage.

“I have my theories,” he boasts playfully.

Emma looks over at him raising her brow while holding onto the bar in front of them. “Oh? Please tell,” she encourages with a laugh.

Killian shrugs. “Perhaps you found out that I used to be a roller coaster engineer and that’s why you suggested the Carnival as a viable option for a first date. And you pointed out the ferris wheel because you wanted me to think you were daring and bold, and some of the other rides may have proved that more, but this one was the safest option, because judging by the way you’re looking down at the ground like you fear you might fall and meet the pavement, you’re indeed afraid of heights. But like I said, it’s only a theory.”

Emma gapes at him and he can’t establish whether she’s impressed or just plain pissed. “For one thing, Mr. Jones, I am not a stalker. Two, I thought the Carnival would be something fun we could do with our children, and three …” she pauses, her cheeks flushed with pink, and he can tell she’s all sorts of flustered, “I am not afraid of heights,” Emma protests as the carriage comes to an abrupt halt and starts rocking in place. She lets out a suppressed squeal and grabs on to his arm, clutching him tightly.

Killian chuckles, tickled pink by how adorable she is as he takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I never said you were a stalker. I only know that in a small town, rumors about the newcomers spread quickly. Especially when you work in the heart of Storybrooke.”

Emma peers up at him, flashing a sarcastic smirk as she gently squeezes his hand. “I’ve not heard anything,” she states playfully, and he knows she’s fibbing. “Okay, maybe a few things. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t know that you used to be a roller coaster engineer until after I asked you to come to the Carnival.”

He lifts an eyebrow, intrigued by her confession. “Ah, so I’m mostly correct then?”

Emma chortles. “Okay, yes you’re right. I’m terrified of heights, but I couldn’t let you know my weaknesses on our first date now could I?”

He shrugs casually, cocking his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have thought any less of you, love. I’m afraid of things too—things you would think were silly.”

“Oh really?” she inquires, elevating a curious brow. “Well since you know one of mine, you have to tell me one of yours.”

An uneasy smile is curving his lips, and he hesitates before coming to a conclusion—being up in the air in a strange town and sitting next to a gorgeous blonde has put him in a rather impulsive mood. “I’m afraid of talking to people on the internet.”

Emma tilts her head, not sure how to digest his confession. “Okay… well, that’s not so strange. The internet’s a mysterious place.”

He studies her to assess whether she thinks that’s a valid reason for such a phobia or if she’s merely being polite when in reality she thinks he’s gone completely insane. “You find it a little strange though, right?”

Emma shrugs and purses her lips. “Maybe, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Killian glances over her features again, deeply appreciating her beauty, inside and out. “I do, actually. Remember that long story I mentioned in the bar?”

“Yeah,” she replies softly, her eyes lighting up with intrigue, and there’s something pure and genuine about this woman. She’s not judgmental or closed-minded and he finds her personality to be rather refreshing.

“That’s where you will find the rather exhausting explanation… that is if you are willing and determined to hear it one day. But perhaps the first date’s not fitting for the occasion.”

“Perhaps not, but I am interested,” she confesses, her eyes meeting his so suddenly, he loses a breath. “I’m interested in knowing more about you,” she whispers before moving in closer, her gaze fleeting to his lips.

Killian’s stomach does somersaults as he eyes her perfectly glossed, pink mouth, his curiosity piquing; he wonders what she tastes like. “I was thinking the same about you,” he murmurs. “I want to know more about the owner slash bartender and singer slash songwriter slash musician.”

Emma lifts her eyes to his, arching a brow in bemusement. “And I’m the stalker?”

Grinning widely, he leans in closer until her lips are a hair’s breadth away from his. “I never said you were,” he breathes, sweeping in and gently capturing her mouth. To his relief, she lets him catch her.

Emma’s lips are soft and sweet as he breathes her in, releasing her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder to draw her in closer. Every inch of his skin is tingling as they deepen the kiss, his fingertips dancing along her jaw before cupping the smooth, delicate edge and pulling her against him. Her fingers card through his hair, lightly tugging on a fistful of locks as her tongue insistently brushes along his. He answers with a soft groan and a playful nip at her bottom lip.

A million volts of electricity are coursing through his blood, and he craves more. He craves her. He needs her. It’s been six years since he’s had this with someone—the romantic physical intimacy from an actual person rather than through an electronic device—and even a kiss is mind-rattling, life-altering and heals his soul more than he can comprehend.

Two months later…

His palms are sweating profusely, gripping the bouquet of roses so tightly, he fears he might damage the stems. Déjà vu has dug its painful claws into him, and he can’t shake the feeling. He knows it’s silly because Storybrooke is Emma’s hometown, and of course she’ll come back, but he still has that small shred of doubt anchored in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help but think she might not appear. She has family in Ireland, and could’ve easily decided to stay.

When she’d informed him she had to leave with her son after receiving unexpected news about a great aunt on her deathbed, Killian assured Emma he’d be fine. They hadn’t even been seeing each other very long, so it wasn’t his place to interfere with her plans, however unforeseen they were.

They’ve been on several dates loaded with meaningful conversations about their pasts, their childhoods, their careers and their children. She’s divulged how she started singing and playing guitar at the age of ten and how music carried her through some pretty rough times. She’s explained how she grew up in the system and was abused by one of her foster parents, and how her ex was a con-artist who lied to her, impregnated her and fled. Killian listened with kind, sympathetic ears and recounted his own tragic backstory. And every Friday he visits the pub with Raven to watch Emma perform, and sometimes they take their children out for ice cream together.

Killian is still apprehensive, but Emma’s slowly helping him conquer his fears. He was even video chatting with her on the computer during her absence, which was a huge step for him. He doesn’t even have to remind himself that Emma’s not that person who deceived him because he knows in his heart exactly who she is; she’s his Swan.

Killian exhales deeply as he waits, but remains confident. He’s wearing a grin, and the moment he sees the cascade of golden hair and the pool of forest green eyes, he’s not surprised; more like enchanted.

“Killian!” Henry shouts, spotting him through the crowd.

Killian waves as the young lad weaves through the passengers and almost topples him over with the hug he smothers him with.

Emma reaches them, smiling vibrantly, and it’s infectious, initiating the buoyant grin overtaking his face. “I’m glad you came back, Swan,” he breathes, attempting to hide all the emotions washing over him from seeing her again, his eyes never breaking their heated stare.

“Did you doubt I would?”

Apology is flashing in his eyes, and he scratches behind his ear, his lips twitching. “Honestly, I was a tad nervous, but my paranoia is my own issue,” he reveals earnestly as he takes her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, hoping she won’t take offense to his words. “Deep down I knew you’d come back to me, love.”

The way her smile never fades eliminates all his fears, and he can’t believe he was actually worried, even for one second. “God, I’ve missed you,” she confesses, drawing him into a warm hug. “Thank you for showing up.”

“Did you doubt I would?”

“Not for a second,” she giggles, making his heart skip.

He sighs in deep relief, squeezing her tightly. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” His words are cracked as he strokes her hair and kisses the crown of her head, getting caught up in her warmth. He’s so lost in her embrace, he almost forgets about the roses in his hand.

When they pull apart, he presents them to her, and she dazzles him with a bright smile, accepting them graciously.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” she says, smelling them and soaking in the scent appreciatively. “I have something for you too,” Emma informs him, and he lifts a brow in curiosity.

After retrieving her luggage, she reveals a case of microbrewed beer that’s been packed in her suitcase. “I got these directly from Darkey Kelly's—the heart of Dublin, matey,” she attempts with an Irish accent.

Killian chuckles, his heart soaring at the proffered beer and how adorable she is. “I should’ve known,” he teases, and Emma playfully rolls her eyes. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re very welcome. I also got you this…” She pulls out a dark blue wool sweater, displaying it in her fingertips.

Doing the math in his head, Killian perceives how many Euros she must’ve spent on these brilliant gifts, and he’s floored, his jaw falling agape. He swears he’s fallen in love with her all over again. In fact, if they were not in public or in front of Emma’s son, he would have grabbed and kissed the bloody hell of her then and there.

They anxiously leave the airport with Henry, but their reunion is far from over.

That night, whispered, broken curses and ragged breaths permeate the bedroom as Killian drives into Emma’s warm depths, deliciously dragging along her walls in a flawless rhythm.

“So beautiful…” he murmurs, his lips caressing the shell of her ear.

With several powerful thrusts, she shatters into a million pieces, Emma’s orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her hands fisted in his hair as she falls.

Killian seals her lips with his, swallowing her soft cries of pleasure as he follows closely behind, pouring all his warmth into her with a soft growl, giving himself to her completely. When his movements come to an abrupt halt, he hums in satisfaction and collapses, tucking his face into her neck, trying to catch his breath.

Awash with rapture, she closes her eyes, wearing a blissful smile as Killian sighs in content, holding her in his arms. One hand is cradled in hers with their fingers entwined and pressed to her chest, both of them basking in the glow of making love for the first time as they fall asleep.

One year later…

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Are you having second thoughts, love?” he asks Emma, his voice laced with concern.

“No, I just…”

“Just relax. It will be painless and over before you know it,” he soothes, giving her hip a reassuring squeeze from behind.

Emma exhales a few long breaths. “Okay.”

“Ready?” he asks and she nods.

“I’m ready, Papa,” Raven bravely assures.

“It will be okay Mom. We’re all here with you,” Henry reminds her calmly.

“I promise she’s sturdy and secure,” Killian adds, hoping to fuel the encouragement.

“I have no doubt in the capabilities of your hands,” Emma remarks, a relaxed expression washing over her face as she turns her head, offering a smirk.

When both of them are separated and strapped into their harnesses with their children in front of them and hanging on for dear life, he steals one fleeting glance at his girlfriend and her son as she flashes a tentative smile. Killian beams in return and throws a wink before giving the conductor the go-ahead, and they’re being pushed off the tower and flying over the water.

The wind rushes past his ears, and mind-numbing adrenaline has him high as a kite, the leap out across the creek stealing all breath from his lungs. He’s weightless, small against the gigantic, cloudless sky with his daughter secured in front of him, and his other true love zipping across the cable next to them with her son. Every insecurity, every worry and thought that kept him up at night staring at the ceiling vanishes before his eyes. He now has the courage to do what he’s been fully prepared to do for months.

When they’re back on solid ground again, Emma’s cheeks are red and she’s flustered, trying to catch her breath, but she has a wide, vibrant smile blooming across her face.

Killian is thinking what a vision she is as he emits a small chuckle. “You did it, love. You conquered your fear of heights,” he points out exuberantly.

“I did, and it was terrifying,” she breathes, “but also exhilarating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, love” Killian’s heart is racing as he grins, encasing her hands with his while trying to keep his own from trembling. “And I hope you don’t mind me asking you to do one more thing that may be equally as terrifying and exhilarating, if not more.”

Emma arches a brow as their children observe in contained suspense. “What’s next? You want to climb Mount Everest?” she razzes, chuffing in amusement.

Killian responds by drawing in a deep, wobbly breath before descending to one knee and pulling out a diamond ring from his pocket.

Emma’s eyes widen as she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Will you marry me, Emma Swan?”

“Yes!” she replies without hesitation. “Yes, I will marry you!” she laughs, and Killian’s heart explodes with joy as he slides the ring on her finger before standing and picking her up, spinning her around in his arms.

Their children are jumping up and down in excitement.

“Yay! We finally get to be a family!” Raven chants buoyantly, clapping her hands.

Killian sets his new fiancé on her feet and picks up his daughter, sprinkling her cheek with kisses. When he averts his gaze to Emma, she’s ruffling her hand through Henry’s hair and kissing the top of his head.

“We already are, love.”

“Indeed we are,” Emma agrees with a bright smile.

Killian closes the distance between them, kissing her softly.

“Eww!” their kids whine, faces contorted in disgust.

Killian chuckles against Emma’s lips. It’s moments like these—scratch that—every moment makes him grateful that his brother persuaded him into doing something bold; something that turned the worst mistake he’s ever made into one of the best things that has ever happened to him. He’ll never tell him that though.

#cslb #cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic #captain swan little bang #handprints on my soul #my fic

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destielmixtape · 7 years

Text

What I’m working on

@winchester-reload tagged me to talk about any WIP I have going on. Currently, I’m putting all of my focus into my third long fic, the last in a Destiel trilogy I’ve been working on since October. They average about 50k apiece. I’m 26k into the third one.

Rules Do Dis: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, whatever.

What I’m working on:

Journeys (part of the Wake Up series): Journeys is canon compliant through today with the exception of Castiel losing his wings in the fall and the arrival of Mary.

I’ve been struggling a bit with this one. So far I think it’s the strongest of the three. The first story was mostly fluff and smut. The second was more action and angst. This third one has more of an angst/mystery plot.

One thing about this series that people either love or hate is that there is a major OC that becomes a love interest for Sam. It’s her presence that really drives the plot of the second two stories.

The series focuses heavily on music for thematic guidance.

Excerpt from Chapter (7): “Whisper Tales of Gore”

Castiel sat on the edge of Charlene’s bed, next to the pile of her belongings they had somewhat successfully brought back from her apartment. He had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up like he’d seen Dean do countless times. He watched as Charlene paced back and forth, drink in hand, the now nearly empty can of taurine-infused yellow-flavored energy beverage flashing in the dim room lighting.

“I think the first thing we need,” she said seemingly to herself, “is a list of the major life events that have occurred since meeting Dean. Like, the big stuff.” She pivoted and headed the other direction. “Things that changed you. Him. Both of you.”

“Could you further define ‘change’?” Castiel asked, nervousness taking a backseat to amusement. Charlene was excited, focused. Any self-consciousness he felt earlier had been obliterated by the woman’s endearing self-possession.

“Well, deaths are a good start; I’m guessing you’ve both had your fair share of those.”

The angel laughed bleakly. “I think I could make a whole tape just about the deaths. There have been more than enough.”

“Well, the deathiest deaths, then?” She turned to him and grimaced. “Your deaths, at least the ones that directly pertain to Dean?”

“Wow, this is angsty.”

She clanked the can down on the nightstand and turned toward him, clasping his shoulder with one hand. “You need the dark,” she said with emphasis. “You can’t have the light without it.”

He nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

She released him and smiled. “I told you Sam exposition-dumped all over me before, but that was his perspective of his life. I need something similar from you.”

Castiel carefully scrutinized his lap. “I am not sure how to even begin. No one has asked me about my life before. My journey.”

Charlene exhaled softly with a visible slump. Castiel looked up to see the corners of her mouth downturned in a way that looked unnatural on her face, as if she’d never done it before. “Their loss,” she said softly. Suddenly, she straightened up and leaned past Castiel to retrieve the quad ruled notebook and a pen from the bed. She flipped it open to the first page and began scrawling with a precise, slicing script. For Dean.

She leaned up against the dresser and put the pen to her chin. “Okay, Cas, let’s begin at the beginning. How did you meet?”

He blinked slowly at her and didn’t speak for a moment. Then he began, voice low, purposeful, almost proud. “It was commanded of me. Heaven needed Dean. He broke the first seal of Lucifer’s cage, and he was the only one could prevent the Apocalypse. I was sent into hostile territory as a Warrior of God. I flew through hell fire and the sound of millions of souls screaming in agony. I wrestled a knife from his hands, wrapped my grace around his soul, and dragged him from Perdition.”

Charlene’s mouth hung open as she stared at Castiel through dark lashes. “Holy shit.”

His eyes were a clear, ponderous blue, salt spray on the wind. “That’s why my wings are black,” he added softly. “Scorched by the fires of Hell.”

Her breath caught in her chest and ached for the angel. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, cheeks flushed, then scratched something down in the notebook. Complete and total badass.

“Just so you know, you’re going to have to go into great detail later regarding the fact that you have actual fucking wings, okay?,” she said, voice edged with something he could not place. She stuck the pen in the book and tossed it on the dresser, then dug into her pockets to produce a white and blue packet of cigarettes and a lighter with a picture of a groundhog on it. She slid one out with practiced fingers and brought it to her lips. Castiel tilted his head curiously at her and furrowed his brow.

“I was not aware that you smoked,” he said, rough voice taking on a tone of paternal disappointment.

She chuckled, taking the unlit cigarette away from her lips to respond. “I don’t, really. I save it in case of emergency creative endeavors regarding angels and true love and the fucking apocalypse.”

The angel’s soft lips twitched into a smile and he gave a shy shrug.

“Do you mind?”

“No, I suppose not.”

With that, she slotted the cigarette between her lips and lit it, shielding it from the wind out of habit. She took a deep drag, then pulled it away between two fingers. She leaned back into the dresser and exhaled upward, blowing a perfect and practiced smoke ring. Tendrils of white climbed upwards from her fingertips as a lazy smile opened across her face. She rolled her head back toward Castiel, who smiled.

“You ever smoke, Cas?”

“No.”

“Never? Why not? And don’t start rattling off health concerns, because I’m pretty sure they don’t apply to you.”

“It has never… come up. I do not eat or drink.”

“You’ve never drank? Alcohol?”

“I have had alcohol. But it takes quite a bit to have any effect on me.”

“How much is quite a bit?” she asked as she took another drag, this time exhaling normally.

“I drank a liquor store once,” he mused.

She raised an eyebrow.

“To be fair, I thought the world was ending,” he said, monotone betrayed by a hint of wry amusement.

Charlene walked to the nightstand and ashed into the empty drink can, then crossed her other arm over her stomach. “You wanna try it?”

He eyed the cigarette warily. “I believe this is what the public service announcements refer to as ‘peer pressure’.”

“That is exactly what this is,” she said, extending the cigarette toward the angel.

Castiel reached up hesitantly from his seat on the bed and took the cigarette awkwardly, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He haltingly brought it up to his lips but she stopped him.

“No, no, Castiel, not like that. You’re not Ernest fucking Hemingway at his typewriter. Here,” she said, sliding another cigarette out of her pack. “Hold it between two fingers, like this,” she demonstrated, holding it between her index and middle finger. “Like you’re gonna stab a dude in the eyes.”

“Do I want to know why you know how to stab someone in their eyes?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“No, you do not.”

“Very well.” He repositioned the cigarette to Charlene’s specifications, brought it to his mouth again, and then stopped. He looked up at her with lost eyes.

“Oh for the love of Pete,” she grumbled good naturedly. “Like this,” she brought her new cigarette to her mouth and lit it. “You stick it in your mouth, then pull on it like you were sucking through a straw. Do not swallow it. Once it’s in your mouth, then you inhale.” She demonstrated, and then continued on the exhale, “you inhale for about three seconds, hold it for about three seconds, and then gently blow it out. Most people cough at first, but I doubt you will.”

He nodded, took a deep breath and on the exhale brought the cigarette to his unsure lips. They pursed around the end, and he did as Charlene instructed. The sensation was strange. A slight burning, more like a tickle but inside of him. He pulled it away and held his breath under Charlene’s watchful eye. He exhaled through his nose, and then suddenly it hit him; he felt a mild yet dizzying wave of euphoria roll through his body and dissipate into the air. He scrutinized the cigarette between his fingers curiously before repeating the procedure, and was pleasantly surprised by a second wave of dizziness.

“Curious,” he muttered, eyeing the cigarette suspiciously.

“Wait, do you feel something?” she asked, leaning down to examine Castiel’s face.

“I feel… dizzy. In a pleasant way.” He made a motion to take another drag and Charlene stopped him.

“Whoa, whoa, pal. Wait a second.” She grabbed the can and brought it to him. “You have to ash that puppy, like this,” she took another drag from her cigarette and then tapped it into the can. “Your turn.”

Castiel gingerly tapped the cigarette over the can to relieve it of its half-inch head of ash. Charlene crouched into a squat, dangling both the can and her cigarette in between her knees as she stared at Castiel in fascination.

The angel was miles away as he took another drag off the cigarette. He was mildly aware that as an angel smoking should really have no effect on him whatsoever, at least in theory. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t know any angels who smoked, so he had no point of reference. This was virgin territory. He smiled at that thought, and then let himself slowly fall back onto the bed with a soft and pleasant whumph. He held the cigarette up above his head like a brass ring.

///

If this piques your interest and you want to read more, my Ao3 works page is here.

Tagging: @malicezero, @compulsive-baker, @crossroadsangelcastiel, @emptywithout and anyone else who wants to do the thing!

#fanfic #ao3 #current projects #tag game #shameless self plug

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softjeon · 6 years

Text

Through the Veil | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Fluff | demon!AU (→ Gifset Trailer) • Words: 15,9k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol and violence / death / graphic content

A drinking game with a demon didn’t sound like the best idea, but Yoongi had triggered Jungkook’s competitive sight and he eyed the drink. Yoongi had already downed two drinks and Jungkook wasn’t sure how much a demon was able to withstand. He only knew that his own limits were short.

Biting his lip nervously he reached out for the glass but stilled again, “But I don’t want to ask you things that make you uncomfortable? Because if you don’t want to talk about it…then I don’t want to pressure you.”

Staying calm wasn’t Yoongi’s strong suit and biting his tongue was probably what he should have done. But having this human sitting in front of him - someone who was just barely a fraction of his age, someone he was trying to lure into his net to feed off of him at that very moment - and being told that he was trying to be considerate to not hurt Yoongi’s feelings - it just had him furious, “Do you ever not care about others first? What is wrong with you? You would probably apologize to someone who stabbed you for getting blood on their hands! Don’t you have any kind of self-interest? How did you manage to even care for yourself till now? Or wait - did your grandma do it? Is this why you suck so bad at taking care of yourself? Because she did all that? I bet she cocked for you and cleaned your clothes and made you soup when you were sick - all that lovely stuff that people do when they think they need to help. But what good did it do? Now she’s gone and you’re lost and you can’t even care for yourself to save your life. Hell, if the bond wasn’t there you would have ended in that kitchen, right in front of the stove, eaten by the bloody demon you summoned by accident!”

“You have no right to talk about my grandma like that! I take care of myself. I just suck at cooking that’s all,” Jungkook snapped back at Yoongi, feeling hurt and lost that he was playing with his emotions so easily. He didn’t know about him, how dare he talk about what his life was before he came into it. “How do you know what it feels like to be taken care of?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow and his grip around the glass tightened. “Don’t talk about things you have no idea of!” Jungkook was aware that demons didn’t feel things like love or any kind of other emotions (probably) but he was hurt and he needed to reassure himself. He downed the drink quickly, coughing a little from the after taste before he fixed his gaze on Yoongi, “Don’t you dare talk about my grandma again and now answer my question, please!”

The emotional outburst left him completely cold. Instead Yoongi just smirked when Jungkook finally downed the drink. Bingo. One tiny little sin accomplished. He filled the glass right away and then paused for a second. He could tell Jungkook some sad sappy story about how he had been a poor mortal who had sold his soul to hell for the sake of his family or to save the one he loved. But for all of his shenanigans and the games he played he still liked to see some kind of fairness in it all. Or at least as fair as he could allowed himself to be. So instead of telling Jungkook what he wanted to hear or fabricating some beautiful lie he told him the blatant truth, “I don’t remember.” He took the glass and downed his drink easily and in one go,“Now it’s your turn. No lies, sweety. What is your greatest fear?”

“Not living my life to the fullest,” Jungkook answered honestly right away, “You know? Like ‘regret’ I guess but also I really don’t like microwaves.” He giggled cutely, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through his body already. “My turn: Can demons fall in love?” Jungkook downed another drink waiting for Yoongi’s answer. Jungkook had wondered at work already if it was possible for demons to fall in love with each other. It made him giggle to think about a demon wedding or… would they hold a blood ritual or something? Maybe create a bond like he had with Yoongi? He frowned looking Yoongi up and down at the thought.

“Micro...waves?” If Jungkook hadn’t smiled at him in his usually open and honest way he would have sworn the boy was fucking with him. In the not-like-he-would-have-wanted kind of way. The other part of his answer made sense though. Sadly it wasn’t useful to him. You couldn’t really spin a sin out of that. Well, he had half a bottle full of liquor to find something he could use. “Yes, they can. It only happens very rarely - and it kinda never ends well. So we try not to,” He answered coolly. Jungkook fired his next question before he could ask his own and he let him because it meant another drink downed for the younger. “What do you do when you’re in the underworld?” He asked curiously, this time rather taking a big sip before Yoongi saw it and ordered him to down it again. Jungkook could feel the effects of the liquor kick in and he had to concentrate hard as he listened. “Oh, we do all kind of things. That’s like asking ‘What do you do when you’re at home’. For example one thing I really like to do is sleep,” He smirked at the disappointed look on Jungkook’s face. Surely he had expected something more devilish than that, “My turn.” He poured only half a glass but Jungkook didn’t notice. If he drank less liquor himself then there was more for Jungkook to drink…

“What makes you feel shame?” The demon asked and waited. Jungkook had felt a little sad for the demons that wanted to fall in love but couldn’t simply because it never ended well, but quickly shook his head out of these thoughts again. “Shame? Hm, a lot of things I guess. I get embarrassed easily - unfortunately,” Jungkook rubbed his neck awkwardly, “If you point out my weaknesses maybe…” He sighed deeply, but tried to think about another question rather than thinking about all the situations he had stumbled into already that were shameful for him or embarrassing. “What- what was the ‘happiest’ thing that ever happened to you?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow (or at least he thought he did) hoping Yoongi didn’t said anything about ‘eating a virgin soul’ last month. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach a bloody or cruel answer right now. “Hm, that’s a difficult one,” Of course Yoongi experienced happiness, in the small, fleeting moments that happened in between his daily routine. But true, utter happiness, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your heart jump a little…

”Freedom,” He finally answered. Especially whenever he felt the wind under his wings - but he didn't add that. His wings were part of his demon form, the one he didn’t like to show that often. Horns and teeth and claws, not a problem. But his wings were private. They were his and his alone. “Let’s explore that ‘weakness’ thing a little bit further - what exactly are your weaknesses then? Care to elaborate, sweety?” Pretending to drink was even easier this time. The more Jungkook got drunk the more careless he got. And Yoongi didn’t need the liquor anymore. He got his warmth from somewhere else. A soft, gentle source that was Jungkook downing drink after drink and letting loose slowly but surely. “Oh, I like that,” Jungkook slurred and leaned onto the couch, closing his eyes for a moment, “I don’t know Lucy, I don’t think about my weaknesses much and...” He opened his eyes lazily, looking over to the bottle of liquor that was almost empty, groaning desperately, “I wa- want to go to sleep.” Carefully Jungkook got up from the floor, swaying a little before a sudden weird feeling in his stomach made his face go white. “I…I don’t think I feel so good,” Jungkook murmured quietly looking at the demon as if he could offer him some help.

“Poor boy - I guess you overdid it a little, hu?” Yoongi got up immediately, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist to stabilise him. He had been curious as to what Jungkook would tell him about his weak spots - but he would find them out sooner or later anyways so he wasn’t that disappointed. What was more important was that his hunger pains had stopped and even though he wasn’t really satiated he felt stronger. Also the night wasn’t over yet. There was still the possibility of Jungkook committing a few little sins - and if he didn’t then a lustful dream might help to awaken his desires. “I guess we should get you to bed. Mind if I help you? I wouldn’t feel comfortable to let you get ready for bed all on your own. You’re a bit out of it, aren’t you? Don’t worry about cleaning up - I’ll do that later,” His voice was soft and genuine while he touched Jungkook’s face, as if to test if he was alright or had a heightened temperature. “I eh… oh no,” Jungkook pushed himself away from Yoongi out of a sudden, stumbling along and into the bathroom. He still managed to lock himself in before he already leaned over the toilet. Why did he let Yoongi lure him in? He hated drinking too much, never was able to withstand a lot of it and it always ended the same way. He wiped his mouth and leaned against the bathtub, his eyes closed in exhaustion. Jungkook slowly sunk down onto the bathroom floor, curling in on himself. Right now, he actually felt shame. He couldn’t even have a few drinks and Jungkook could almost hear Yoongi laugh on the other side. Feeling too weak to move, he just laid there, wrapping his arms around his chest to keep himself warm. He didn’t want to go out and face the other, he rather just wait it out… or just sleep a little.

Yoongi would have taken off his hat to Jungkook with how quickly he had gotten away from him and into the bathroom - if he had worn one. It would have been so much easier to just let Yoongi handle him but instead he was still holding onto his modesty. He waited for a little while to see if Jungkook would come out on his own but when nothing happened he gently knocked on the door. “Jungkook? Are you alright? Please let me in. I’m worried,” Silence followed and because he wasn’t sure if it was because the other had fallen asleep or because he simply didn’t buy his words he continued, “You realize that I won’t judge you, right? I am a demon. I’m not exactly a morally perfect being. You don’t have to feel guilty in front of me. Not ever. Please, Jungkook, let me in.”

Still nothing. He could open that lock easily but that would have destroyed Jungkook’s trust and he needed the boy to trust him if he wanted this bond thing to work out comfortably and in his favour, “If you’re scared that I’m gonna take advantage of you while you’re drunk, then I can promise you I won’t. I won’t touch you unless you want it. I promise. You can trust me, Jungkook.” Jungkook shook his head tiredly, not capable of answering Yoongi right away. He propped himself up slowly, but sunk down defeatedly again. Jungkook wasn’t sure if whatever the other said was true and he should believe him or not. Probably not…but his good heart made him tell Yoongi to come in anyways. “It’s not fair,” Jungkook whined, feeling helpless, “You used it all against me…am…am I really like that? What- what you said, that I am not good at taking care of myself?” He looked up at Yoongi with his doe-eyes, glistening from the tears that dwelled up, “I really try, okay? I didn’t want to make you stay here with me…I… I am sorry. Don’t- don’t look at me, please. I just want to sleep.” He tried to get up on his knees but fell over right away as the room was spinning and the dizziness took over as he tried his hardest to point accusingly at Yoongi, “I don’t…like you. You’re a meanie!” He let himself fall into his arms, choking on a dry sob as he pulled himself closer to the demon. The bond humming quietly, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Not breaking into laughter when he was named a ‘meanie’ by some doe-eyed, drunk, stumbling kid was his greatest accomplishment today. This and the fact that he had

gotten a little bit of energy out of Jungkook. He held the younger closer, letting himself enjoy the warm, firm body against his own while the bond was staying perfectly intact, no itches, no tweaks. “Shh-sht. It’s alright. Don’t be upset, little one,” The boy felt incredibly small in his hold. Humans were so delicate. So fragile. Like flowers; beautiful, but wilting so easily if something went wrong. They needed so much care and attention. Sometimes he wondered how they could even survive on their own. “I’m gonna get you into bed, okay? You need anything? A glass of water? A breath of fresh air?” He needed Jungkook to sleep for his dream magic to work. And if he was nauseous that would ruin it, too - overshadowing everything else he might feel. So he dampened a washcloth with cold water and gently draped it over Jungkook's neck, making sure the water wasn’t dripping down his shirt so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to carry you?” When the only answer was unintelligible mumbling he lifted him up easily. He fitted into his arms as if he belonged there, curling into his shoulder on instinct. It felt strangely intimate. So much that Yoongi almost let him fall. Getting Jungkook into bed was easy because the boy was as pliant as a sleepy kitten. As soon as Yoongi lifted the cover Jungkook crawled under it, curling in on himself. “That kinda answers the question of you want me to help you out of your clothes…,” He spoke to himself. It was better this way anyway. Jungkook could blame it on his clothes if the dream would make his body heat up - and he would also completely keep his promise to not touch him inappropriately. At least not in reality. Dreams were certainly a totally different topic.

Jungkook was so exhausted, tired and feeling cold that as soon as he felt another presence in his bed he shifted a little closer. He had wanted to get some advil or anything before falling asleep so it would easier to get up the next morning and maybe he should have gotten some water as well, but the exhaustion just made him pass out right away. His hand rested on Yoongi’s chest his body still a little too far away to call it cuddling but it was enough to make him feel the warmth spread through his body. His lips were pursed cutely as his breathing got more steady and he pulled himself closer to the source of warmth. Good for Yoongi, because this way it was even easier to make him dream about something...beautiful. Yoongi had quickly placed a glass of water next to Jungkook on his nightstand, had made sure that the other was comfortable - and then went to work. He had laid down next to the boy, watching him sleep, waiting until the other’s breaths were calm and even and he could be certain that Jungkook was deeply caught up in the net of his own dreams. Then he pushed himself up on his elbow, hovering a little over Jungkook, waiting, checking if everything was still quiet and calm. Then he breathed Jungkookie in, closing his eyes, thinking about what kind of dream he wanted to weave around the boy’s mind. Focusing on what he wanted Jungkook to see, what kind of space he wanted to create he exhaled, gently breathing against Jungkook’s lips so the younger would inhale all of it. There was a slight tremor in the boy’s breath when his body caught up on the magic entering him but quickly he calmed down when nothing else happened, or it least it seemed that way. Yoongi lied back down besides Jungkook, his head resting on his own arm so that he was facing Jungkook but still lying comfortable. Then he closed his eyes and entered Jungkook's dreamland. To watch. To tease. And to feed.

Jungkook was walking ahead, licking his lips slowly in thought when his eyes fell on someone. Yoongi. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it didn’t matter anyways. His demon was there and something pulled him in. His steps were light, it almost felt like he was flying and he giggled as he slid his arms around his neck. He wanted to tell him something, but he couldn’t utter a word when suddenly the demon leaned in, letting his hand caress over his face before he was pressing his lips softly against his mouth. He was gentle, sweet and teased his mouth with his, nipping gently at the corner. Jungkook couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. The taste sent a jolt of pleasure through his system and his hands squeezed together at Yoongi’s nape, before he let them wander down, wanting to pull him closer. More. He needed more. The demon whispered his name, showing off a beautiful smile and Jungkook gazed up at him, letting his fingers trail over his face. Yoongi pulled him closer by his waist, making the younger one go pliant under his touch. Whispering the sweetest things into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine as Jungkook let himself fall into his embrace. Yoongi kept the slower pace as if he was content to explore his mouth for the rest of this dream. Jungkook’s muscles quivered in response and he groaned in his sleep. He dove his tongue into his mouth, pushing against him, tasting. Wanting more, always more. Suddenly everything tilted and Jungkook felt so dizzy with the sensations, moving back and forth in his sleep. His back hit a mattress and he was laying down, in a soft bed, somewhere in a cozy bedroom. A whimper escaped his mouth, as the other raked his fingers down his abs, pausing just a hair’s breadth away from the zip of his jeans. Something pulled him in further but he pushed away nonetheless, whining and curling in on himself. Yoongi was kissing down his neck, pausing only briefly to look up at him, a devilish grin on his face, before kissing further down his chest. Jungkook couldn’t give in to the pleasure he felt or the hot demand of the demon’s mouth but at the same time he wanted nothing between them but the blazing heat coursing through his blood. His whole body was shivering from the need and how he was trying to resist. A moan escaped his mouth.

Yoongi felt Jungkook’s consciousness slipping away from his grip and he wondered what he had done wrong. He had been gentle, caring, as careful and vanilla as he could be. Just like the boy had needed him be. Jungkook was inexperienced and shy, that much was obvious but surely kissing couldn’t be too much for him, could it? And it was just a dream, nothing real! He had felt the younger’s need, his desire starting to surface. He had tasted it, fed on it. But instead of letting him go further Jungkook had started to struggle against him mentally. It wasn’t a full blown disaster, Jungkook hadn’t jumped awake, he was still asleep, his subconsciousness not really get what had been going on. But Yoongi deemed it safest to mentally withdraw from him for now. He did get a nice meal out of him so he definitely was satisfied about that. Still he was confused as to what exactly had happened that had made Jungkook feel like something was off. Would he need to be even more careful with him? What was Jungkook after if not kisses and sex? Was he more in need of affection and care than physical means? That would be awful because affection wasn’t deemed a sin and he needed Jungkook to commit one to make him ‘corrupted’ enough to have a reason to feed on him. Either way Yoongi was determined to find out. Because the more he figured the boy out - all his wants and needs and the things that made him tick - the more he was in control of the situation. And of his meals, of course. So if it was possible, he would dive right into Jungkook’s dreams the following night. And then the night after again. And again. Until Jungkook couldn’t even close his eyes without thinking of him and what he was sinfully craving for.

Jungkook could feel the tension in his body, not really registering what was happening around him because the alcohol in his veins was making sure he stayed out of it. It didn’t take long though until the physical aching was pulling him out of his sleep and the young boy snapped his eyes open. Everything hurt, especially his head and he could feel every muscle in his body was tensed up. He groaned, turning aside to look at the little watch on the nightstand. He blinked his eyes sleepily and when he saw that he still had enough time to sleep some more, he reached out for the glass of water before he laid back down. Seeing that he was still fully clothed, Jungkook got out of his pants carefully and without moving his body too much, hoping he wouldn’t feel dizzy again. Just when he pulled them down he realized the dream he just had, seeing why his body was so tense. A desperate groan left his lips and Jungkook quickly pulled the blanket back over him to hide his bulge. His chest flushed red from the shameful feeling - a little bit of alcohol and he already dreamed about making out with a demon? He whined quietly, the headache making it hard for him to focus on anything else. When he saw how close he laid next to said demon, he looked up at him, hoping the other didn’t see or hear anything from what just happened not even remotely thinking about that the other could have manipulated his dream. Jungkook could only hope to fall back asleep and let his body relax on his own again…or he would need to take care of it when he would take his morning shower.

“Could you please stop fussing around? I’m trying to sleep here," Yoongi opened his eyes, smirking at Jungkook's flustered expression, "What, did you really think I could sleep through your groaning and shuffling and them climbing out of bed to undressing?” He softened his smile a bit when Jungkook seemed completely frozen in shock. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t really asleep anyway. I’m sorry if you got hot under the blankets. I just weren’t sure if you would have liked me undressing you and I wasn’t quite sure how you normally sleep, if there’s sleepwear you own or...well, so I decided I just pack you into bed. I’ll make a mental note for next time though; no trouser or you’ll wake up and have to take them off in the middle of the night. Are you comfortable now? Or do you want me to get you another glass of water. I’m not as drunk as you were. I’m sorry, if I had realized how little alcohol you can take I would have stopped our game sooner. I hope you are not mad at me?” Losing Jungkook’s trust could be fatal so he better be nice to him right now.

“Huh? No, I mean yes…wait,” Jungkook slurred a little, trying to concentrate on the things Yoongi just said. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. It’s my fault after all,” Jungkook pulled the blanket closer to his chin, “I’m good, thank you for…taking care of me.” The last words were only murmurs and Jungkook was already drifting off again, this time a bit away from Yoongi and not as close as he was before.

Jungkook didn’t dream at all, instead there was just pitch-black darkness and he was content with it and the sleep he was getting. No dreams. No making out with a demon. Just blankness and a deep sleep. If only he had known that it would also make him overhear the alarm the next day, he wouldn’t have gone back to sleep but just stayed up. When the first ray of sunshine hit him in the face, making him feel like the sun was mocking him, he groaned turning to doze off a little more. When the thought hit him that it was way too bright to be this early in the morning though, he snapped his eyes open and tried to get on his feet fast, making Jungkook stumbled and fell onto his knees. He was seeing stars in front of his eyes, everything was spinning and Jungkook felt awfully dizzy. “No…no…no,” Jungkook murmured, turning his head to look at the clock. He was way too late for work.

Yoongi had left the bed early, rummaging through the kitchen to find something to chew on (just for fun) but finding nothing. So he took the snacks that Jungkook had bought him and went in front of the TV. He got bored with it immediately, getting annoyed at how utterly, utterly stupid humans were after watching some kind of news channel that focused on B- and C-celebrities and their family history. So he ditched the TV and went through Jungkook’s small apartment, searching for something that would pique his interest. He found an ironman figurine in one of Jungkook’s shelfs, a special copy of Hesse’s “Demian”, some mangas strewn across in a drawer, lots of clothes (mainly white, black, grey and red; apparently Jungkook was drawn to certain colors) and he was just about to search through Jungkook’s underwear to see if the boy might be hiding a diary there when he heard a thump and a groan. Curious he went back to the bedroom to look what the noise was all about. Jungkook was kneeling on the floor - a nice position actually. Only his expression was bothersome. “What are you doing’ there?” He asked, pack of snacks still in hand and munching on them while Jungkook seemed to have trouble getting back on his feet, “You need help? Want me to get you back into bed?”

“No,” Jungkook groaned as he steadied himself on the wall to get up, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Y-you know I have to work.” He furrowed his brows and wandered over to where the demon was. When he saw the food in his hand, he felt sick to his stomach again but Jungkook took a deep breath through his nose, trying to keep himself together. Jungkook rubbed the bridge of his nose in a weak attempt to calm his pounding headache. “Hm? Don’t blame it on me! How would I have known that you have to go to work again today, like you could have a day off or not work every day or go to work whenever you want.” He put a snack in his mouth between every sentence, completely unperturbed by Jungkook’s miserable state. “I can’t go to work like this,” Jungkook whined quietly and looked around the room as if he could find the solution to his problems right here and there, “Fu…dge.”

“Fudge? What’s that supposed to mean? Do you want some? Should I make some? Will you buy some?” Of course sweet little Jungkookie would avoid swearing. Damn, he really was a virtuous one! At least he could take joy in how much his happy chatter annoyed Jungkook who was still fighting with the symptoms of his hangover. “You want to call in sick for you? I would do it. For a kiss maybe,” He nonchalantly rustled with his bag of snacks. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the word ‘kiss’ and he gulped, the memories of his dream came rushing back in and he quickly shook his head. “No,...no you don’t have to,” Jungkook mumbled, “I’ll go and wash up and then call in sick by myself. I am sick right? It’s not a lie, right?” He looked at Yoongi all hopeful who only smirked at him. Lying and making up excuses for himself - Jungkook was slowly getting where Yoongi wanted him to be.

He quickly excused himself into the bathroom, where he tried his best to take a shower and get himself “back to life”. The shower woke him up and he didn’t feel as dirty and the advil he took was helping wonders with his headache. Still he felt dizzy and exhausted from the hangover and since it was way too late to get into work now, Jungkook got out his phone and typed in the number of his boss. He rubbed his hand over his face, making it go paler than it already was and concentrated on what he wanted to say. “H-hey,” Jungkook spoke up when he heard a familiar voice on the other end, “I… yes…I know, I wanted to call in sick now. I know it’s late…but I thought…. I thought I would feel better again and could come.” His cheeks blushed with the embarrassment. Jungkook hated lying, especially to people that were important like his boss. He needed his job, so he didn’t need him to have a reason to quit him. “I was starting to get a fever last night, but I was sure I would feel better,” Jungkook had to lie, otherwise if he had said the truth, that he had gotten drunk in the middle of the week, his boss must think he’s irresponsible and maybe do exactly what he was afraid of. Yoongi watched the younger call in sick with pure happiness. Okay, he was really, really bad at lying and you could see his embarrassment and guilt on his face but still, it counted as something. He felt immediately refreshed just watching this angel of a person slowly getting cracks into his shiny, golden halo. When Jungkook had finished the call Yoongi dragged him into the kitchen where he had made coffee and tea and was preparing to make a hangover breakfast.

“With you being sick-”, He winked at him at this, “You need all the nutritions you can get. So sit down and let me get you a nice breakfast!” As much as Yoongi hated doing the household or tiring stuff like washing up he really enjoyed cooking from time to time. And he had to kill time anyway. Maybe he could try to reach out to another demon later now that his energy levels had gone up, then he could continue his search for Jungkook’s diary..,suddenly he realized that Jungkook, being the completely honest fool that he was would probably tell him if he just asked. So he turned around and straightforwardly asked him: “Jungkook, do you have diary?”

“Wh- why are you taking care of me?” Jungkook asked carefully, “Shouldn’t you be like…. Laughing at me or something? Or ignoring me?” Nonetheless the young boy reached out for the coffee and took a sip. The warm beverage making him feel good the second he tasted the caffeine on his lips. “Thank you,” Jungkook munched happily on some food and shook his head at the next question, “No. I don’t. Why do you ask? I only have a calendar, but I mostly forget to write down things anyways.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I had fun last night. And I told you before, you have nothing to be ashamed of with me,” He told Jungkook in between frying eggs and getting Jungkook a plate, “Demons aren’t some kind of vengeful spirits or trying to permanently haunt you like ghouls. We just like to keep things interesting, don’t care for what is morally right and...yeah, well, some of us might find joy in causing pain. And we eat human souls of course - but apart from that we aren’t that different.” He wasn’t sure if his explanation had made it any better. Judging from Jungkook’s xpression it hadn’t. He turned back to the stove again, glad that Jungkook couldn’t see his disappointed look. No diary then. It would have been nice to be able to know Jungkook’s hopes and dreams and fear as easily as just reading it out of a book. It had been worth a try. But he would get what he wanted somehow else, he was sure of that. “No reason, really. I just want to find out what kind of person I have to spent my life with now.,” He lied easily, “Oh, and I’m gonna call a friend later. So I’d like to get a bit of calm somewhere and no interruption. Wouldn’t be good for any of us.”

“Yeah, sure… I won’t interrupt then,” Jungkook said and pointed at his bedroom door, “You can just go into the bedroom. I won’t disturb. I’ll probably won’t move anywhere from now as long as there is coffee in this mug.” He smiled cutely and returned his attention back to the food Yoongi had made him. Surprisingly it really tasted good and Jungkook was glad that he didn’t had to make food for himself. He was way too tired, that’s why he also just pointed at a cupboard when Yoongi asked for another bowl that he could use not really caring about it further. “Thanks. And by the way, if you want more coffee I made a full pot,” He gestured vaguely for the coffee pot. He had taken the biggest he could find because he liked coffee just as much as Jungkook did, so it was already half empty by now.

Yoongi took out a bowl right away, then a sharp knife, placing both on the table. He rolled up his sleeve to bare his forearm, turning the soft, seemingly flawless flesh up. Of course he didn't have scars in his human form no matter how many calls he made. It wasn't his real form. Then he took the knife to make a cut, not thinking about that Jungkook could mind it if he did it right here. Jungkook tiredly turned his head towards Yoongi the moment he put the knife onto his flesh. He spit out his coffee, wanting to yell something about how life is precious or familiar like that, when the blood was already oozing out of the wound heavily and dripping into the bowl, making Jungkook feel sick and nauseous. The metallic smell and the sound of blood dripping was the last thing he perceived as he couldn’t utter a word when his eyes suddenly rolled in the back of his head making him fall off the chair.

Jungkook fell like a tree. One second he had been sitting on his bar stool - the next he was on the floor. Yoongi could feel the impact through the bond, the shock that Jungkook’s body had to absorb when he fell onto the floor. “Jungkook?!” Only then did He remember that most people didn’t take blood that well. Which was absolutely strange to him, considering that it ran through all of them and also it was beautifully red and could smell delicious if it...well, if it was of someone like Jungkook for example.

Yoongi healed up the cut easily, putting a kitchen towel over the bowl to keep the blood warm (it would be useless if it was standing there too long and if it was still warm it was easiest to use) and then kneeled down to look after Jungkook. The younger had hit his head pretty badly but had been lucky enough to not break anything. Yoongi sighed exasperatedly. “You...clumsy little thing! You’re human, you’re way too breakable!” He didn’t care that Jungkook couldn’t hear him right now. Actually he felt strangely...relieved that the younger was okay. His bond could have been broken just like that. If Jungkook would have hit his head hard enough to die from the impact then the bond could have been. He should be dissapointed that Jungkook survived this without harm. Instead he had been worried about his well being! The demon shook his head in denial. No, this wasn’t it. He hadn’t cared for Jungkook’s wellbeing. Not at all. It must have been that he had cared for his meal. If Jungkook was dead then he couldn't eat his soul. But he wanted him. He definitely could say that. He wanted him so much that sometimes he wondered what he would taste like, if Jungkook’s soul would be as sweet as his smile, as cute as his nose scrunch, as spicy as the boys…

Yoongi gasped in horror when he realized that he liked the boy! He had started to care about this silly human! Barely three days and he already had persuaded himself that he would miss him if he was gone. Yoongi stared at Jungkook like he couldn’t believe himself and was still giving him that look when Jungkook’s eyes started to flutter open. A groan fell from Jungkook’s lips and he instinctively reached out for Yoongi’s arms to hold on to but instead of worrying about the fact that he had fainted, he looked at the demon’s dark eyes, “Are- are you okay?” He blinked a few more times, rubbing the back of his head and letting the other help him up again, when he saw that there was absolutely nothing left from the cut on Yoongi’s arm. He furrowed his brow, feeling the pain at the back of his head mixing with the pain of his hungover.

“How…how do you do that?” Jungkook mumbled and leaned a little onto the other, “You can heal yourself? That’s so cool.” A faint smile crossed the young boys face and he motioned over to the couch. Jungkook just wanted to lay down. Preferably for the rest of the day. “Can I rest a little?” Jungkook asked and walked over to the living room area, “I will eat the rest later okay?”

He was a little bit tempted to let Jungkook fall again when Jungkook asked if he was okay while barely being able to get up on his own. Instead he just looked at him, “You are stupidly selfless, one day that might get you killed I hope u know that.” Still he helped Jungkook further to lay down on the couch. “Yes, I can heal myself. And also people in certain circumstances. Like if someone is seriously wounded and want to makes a deal with me to prolong his life a little. You really don’t know a thing about demons, do you?” Though he could be glad that Jungkook was so clueless. Otherwise he would have known that Yoongi was his to be ordered around and follow orders - not the other way round. “Of course you can relax. Just do that while I make the call. I’ll tell you if I find something out about how to cut the bond the second I hear it”, He promised, not entirely honest. Jungkook nodded absently, laying down the second Yoongi let him and went back to get the bowl and lock himself into the bedroom.

He wasn’t sure how the call thing worked and Jungkook wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep a little but his headache had gotten so much worse from the fall that he just couldn’t. Instead an idea crossed his mind and Jungkook got out his phone again. He wanted to help Yoongi…and himself and the only way he knew how to find out about stuff was through the internet. Opening google, he typed in a simple “how to get rid of a demon” and clicked on search, finding himself reading through exorcisms, rituals and all kinds of scary things only minutes later.

Yoongi sat down on the floor right in front of the bed, the bowl in front of him. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the person he wanted to reach, letting the blood absorb his call and carry it out further, calling for the one he thought of. Demons could feel certain kinds of energy. Like rituals at crossroads just made their magic sing. Certain fires with incense drew them in and blood. At least if the blood had some kind of magic in it. Like his own. His call got accepted easily and soon enough he could talk to his friend as if they were calling each other via skype. Just that normally you didn’t have another demons phone number. Or their name. Or their face. Because naturally a demon changed his name and shape countless times while on earth. So blood calling was still their most common way of communication, even in a time of smartphones and skype.

Outside of the bedroom Jungkook was biting on his lip in thought as he read through another post. Unfortunately, most sources he could find were about when the person involuntarily got stuck to a demon, because of the demons fault and even though it was partially true with Jungkook’s situation (he didn’t mean for it to happen) – he was still the one who had spoken a spell which made the situation worse. That's why it took him awhile to find something that was about ‘blood bonds’ to demons. Furrowing his brows, he scrolled down the article until he could find something that would help him in this situation.

When Yoongi came back into the living room Jungkook looked deeply immersed into reading something on his phone. Because he was a curious person - and Jungkook too shy to tell him if it was anything important he sneaked closer as silently as he could, peeking over the boy's shoulder. He froze immediately when he saw what kind of topics Jungkook was googling. Sure there would be lots of useless, occult shit but Jungkook might be lucky and find a page where he would be told what summoning a demon was all about, all the risk and opportunities it held. And that Yoongi was his to do with as he pleased. In his anxious and overwhelmed state he did the first thing he could think with; he messed with the results. Technically he didn’t really manipulate the results, but Jungkook - or rather what he was seeing. Therefore soon the results turned from what people have actually wrote to stuff that Yoongi made up on the spot.

“Blood rituals, Exorcism…,” Jungkook murmured before he came to a halt, “How to get rid of a blood bond with a demon…oh!” He sat up a little, so he could concentrate better as he read through the part that seemed to be exactly about what he needed. “A real certain way to get rid of a demon that is bound to you by a blood spell is to give him what he wants…,” Jungkook read quietly and cocked his head to the side, “If you are a virgin…give yourself over to him and let him into your mind.” Shaking his head, Jungkook zoomed in a little more, “Be nice to your demon and let him do whatever he wants…” Rubbing his temples he closed his eyes for a second, his thoughts running wild. If that was true, then….

He could barely hold back his laugh. Jungkook looked as if he was actually considering it. Would the younger really, seriously follow those random tips that he had seemingly found on the web (but in reality had gotten directly from Yoongi)? Jungkook opened his eyes again when his screen turned dark and he could see Yoongi’s reflection in the screen, making his eyes grow wide in. “Wh- what are you…oh…Oh!” Jungkook turned around to look at Yoongi accusingly, when the other started to laugh at him. He pursed his lips into a pout, feeling mocked…again.

Jungkook looked adorable with the way he was pouting at him. Yoongi had no idea if the younger knew that he could mess with his perception or if he was just suspecting something because what he had just read didn’t make any sense but either way being on the receiving end of Jungkooks accusing gaze could be quite uncomfortable. He still looked cute as hell while doing it and Yoongi had to hold onto himself to not kiss the cute little pout off of his face.

“That's not fair,“ Jungkook said and pursed his lips even more, “I thought it sounded a little off but... what else can you do? You're like some kind of superhero...but stop messing around with me!“ Jungkook got on his knees on the couch so he was at the same height as Yoongi and leaned in, showing off his best frowny face. “Anyways....did you reach your friend?“ Jungkook showed off a genuine smile, “You think he can help us?“

“Of course I’m a superhero! I just forgot my cape in the washing machine,” He tried to look serious but failed. Having a pouty Jungkook in front of his face was simply way too distracting. He was glad when the other changed the subject. “Yes, I did. And he’s really intrigued with everything. He will try to find out what exactly happened and how we can undo it. But we have to go to him, he won’t come to us. And maybe you can try to remember what exactly you read? Or anything else that you noticed about the book. Just write it down and he will try to make something out of it,” Yoongi took a step back to evaluate the situation better, “Do you think we can go there tomorrow? Or do you have work again?”

“Okay, then we will visit him,“ Jungkook said determined to be brave and not show that he was quite anxious about meeting an other demon or whatever the other was, “Yeah, of course I have to work. Can’t we use my 'day off' today?” He reached for his phone again, opening his little memo app as he tapped on his chin in thought. Each time he remembered a detail he wrote it down just like Yoongi had told him to. From the way he felt at that exact moment, from the words he remembered that he might have spoken. “Uhm, sure. Now we just have to find a way to travel those 127 miles there without taking forever. You don’t happen to have other magic books that could help with it? Some transcendence spells or transfering rituals?” He was only half joking. Who knew what Jungkookie had up his sleeve without even knowing it, “Mind if I take a look through your grandma’s book storage? Or just show me where you found that ‘Cook book’ of hers.”

“Don't tell me I have to call in sick for the rest of the week? And where does he live? Can't we like travel with your powers or something?“ Jungkook asked all hopeful, but turned to get the book. “Mhm sure. It's over here,“ Jungkook walked over to the corner of his living room and got out a box with the stuff that they had left him with. “That's all,“ Jungkook said feeling a wave of sadness, “I don't know if it's helpful.“

“He lives somewhere in the open. Back in a nature reserve area, a bit too rocky and secluded for my taste, but to each his own,” He contemplated his options carefully before answering, “Well, yes we could use my powers. If I had enough energy for that, but… I guess I need another day for that.” Or rather another night in which he could drink up Jungkook’s sinful energy, but he couldn’t tell him that. He was pretty sure that as soon as Jungkook would get to know that it was Yoongi’s doing that made him dream of compromising things Jungkook would refuse to participate. Which would take his energy source away from him and as he couldn’t hunt like he normally would with the way he was bound to Jungkook so tightly, there was no other food source available for him. So if he wanted to stay strong he needed to continue to tap Jungkook’s desires and sinful energies and he needed to stay quiet about this.

The box that Jungkook was carrying looked unsuspecting, like a shoebox full of random stuff that old people tend to collect for sentimental reasons. Just that those things gave Yoongi the creeps. He saw dried up herbs that had blood-purifying qualities, an ornament of pure silver and something that looked liked quartz water. Rose quartz. He hated that shit. Before Jungkook could even place the box down he snarled, annoyed by the possible threat that was this stupid shoebox, “Get that stuff away from me! I changed my mind. I don't even want to be close to whatever your grandma was up to. But just so you know that “Cookbook” didn't land on her shelf by accident. She definitely knew what she was doing.” Jungkook looked down, wondering about what Yoongi said. Did his grandma know? About demons?

“So what now? I call in sick again? So you're strong enough and we can travel tomorrow?“ Jungkook sighed and put the box away again. The feeling about lying again laid heavy on his heart, “Can't you call at work for me and tell them i’m sick and can only come back on monday or something? I can’t talk because my throat hurts so much? Play the worried bo-....friend....demon friend.“ Jungkook stuttered the last words but held out his phone for Yoongi to take. With pleading eyes he looked up at his demon and hoped he would help him a little. Yoongi blinked in surprise. “You want me to lie for you? And to pretend I’m your boyfriend?” He smirked, quickly closing the distance between them and placing a finger under Jungkook’s chin. “I’m an awful actor. I always need at least a bit of truth for a lie from me to work out well. What do you think would make me qualify as your boyfriend? Maybe we should make out a little, just so I’ll get a feel for you,” He shamelessly teased him, knowing that Jungkook would probably reject him again - but he might live out the tension in his dreams tonight.

Jungkook gulped. There was a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and he wasn't sure if it was because he was a little scared, nervous or excited. Maybe a little bit of them all. “Huh?“ Jungkook shook his head, “No making out. I...I can hold your hand if that helps you.“ He really didn't want to call his boss right now, but he needed Yoongi's help and if he needed something to make it feel real... and as long as he didn't have to be the one calling in sick then Jungkook was fine with holding Yoongi's hand. “Oh sweety, that makes me your friend and not your boyfriend. Haven’t you watched any dramas? Potential boyfriend always end up with their to-be-girlfriend in a situation like this,” He stepped forward and as he had expected Jungkook walked back. He continued to go forward until Jungkook's back hit the wall and he could crowd the other in properly. Placing his arms left and right of Jungkook’s face in the typical and cliche way of cornering his ‘love interest’ just like the main protagonists of countless dramas and shows had done before him.

Jungkook could feel the cold wall press against his body and the palm of his hands as he tried of something to say. “I...eh,” Jungkook stuttered a little and turned his head to keep a little distance from the other, “But...but this isn’t a movie. This is about….about the bond between you and me that we need to get rid off and we can’t do that if we’re not able to travel tomorrow. That being said someone needs to call in sick for me at work again and I’d really like for you to do it. I...I...can’t. I’m the worst at lying, please.” He gazed at Yoongi, his eyes big and pleading to help him for once. Jungkook put on his best puppy face when he turned his face, his lips only inches away from Yoongi and it weirdly made his heart skip a beat, “I want you to call my boss - that’s all.”

"Ok, I'll do it," Yoongi leaned back about an inch to make Jungkook turn his head back towards him, “I’ll call for you tomorrow - if you give me a kiss now. I want something and you want something - it’s a simple exchange. Think of it as a deal with the devil.” He chuckled at his own wording, but kept his hands firmly in place left and right of Jungkooks body. The boy couldn’t escape if he didn’t try to push him away and even though it was pretty obvious that the younger was starting to get nervous he kinda doubted that Jungkook would have it in him to just push him away or brush him off. He was too desperately striving for harmony at all times. “You will?” Jungkook looked at Yoongi all hopefully, before he gaped at the demon like a fish, not really sure what to say or what to do. The memories of the dream came rushing back in and he remembered how Yoongi’s lips had felt against his own. “A kiss on the cheek maybe?” Jungkook asked quietly, fumbling around with the hem of his shirt and looking everywhere but his eyes. Yoongi huffed, “Yes, sweety, that was exactly what I asked for...but I’ll take it anyway. Give me a kiss on the cheek then.“ He turned his head a little so Jungkook could reach his cheek, wondering if he would really give him a quick peck like some damn fourth grader and think he would get away with this.

Jungkook nodded, leaning in slowly. He wondered what his skin would feel like, if it was as soft as it looked like or would it feel cold? Or warm? Jungkook closed his eyes, his hand instinctively cupping Yoongi’s other cheek lightly. His own cheek was brushing Yoongi’s softly, before he placed a sweet kiss on his skin with the uttermost care. Jungkook could feel the warmth spreading through his veins, the tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach. When Yoongi felt the hesitant brush of lips against his face he waited, if Jungkook would do something else but the boy withdrew shyly the moment he deemed his promise fulfilled. Not for Yoongi though. He turned his head, placing his hand gently but firmly on the back of Jungkook’s neck before he pulled him in. Stealing that kiss was surprisingly less exciting than he had thought. It wasn’t even a nice kiss, Jungkook was completely rigid, responding as enthusiastically as if Yoongi had kissed the wall. He broke the kiss as quickly as he had initiated it, “Jesus, relax a little. Well you tried I guess. So I’m gonna call your boss tomorrow so you won’t have to do it. Anything else you can’t do that I should take over from you?”

Jungkook was so mad, his body shaking with the anger that the other had just kissed him. Just like that. Without asking or making sure that Jungkook wanted him to kiss him. Before he could answer, his body had reacted on instinct and he pushed Yoongi away forcefully and with all the strength he had. “You can sleep on the couch tonight,” Jungkook stormed off into his bedroom. He knew he was overreacting and it was probably irrational but Jungkook hated the feeling that Yoongi left within him each and every time. Even demons had no right to just kiss him like that. He sat on his bed and pulled in his knees, staring at the wall angrily. His first kiss now had been taken by a demon, who had nothing else better to do than push Jungkook further right after. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall.

If the bond would have let him then Yoongi would have left the apartment. Being caged in with a human that seemed adamant on being the most boring person ever wasn’t what he would call an enjoyable evening. But he didn’t really have a choice in that matter so he let Jungkook sulk in peace and went to the kitchen to see if there were at least some snacks left. They had emptied the vodka completely, sadly, but there were still some crackers there, so Yoongi took them out and then got himself comfortable on the couch. Jungkook had only left the bedroom once to get into the bathroom, other than that he stayed in the bedroom all day. Jungkook didn’t want Yoongi to sleep next to him tonight, but still he didn’t want him to freeze or anything else, so he brought him some cushions and a heating blanket nonetheless. He murmured a quiet ‘Good night’ when he vanished into his room again. Yoongi yelled called after him, “Are you gonna sulk for just today or will this continue tomorrow? Just so I know. I might need to get a new hobby then. I suppose I could start crocheting. Or taxidermy.” He rearranged the cushions and made himself a nice comfortable fort.

Jungkook had ignored the other and laid down right away. He was tired and exhausted and yearning for some long, refreshing sleep. It took a little while for Jungkook to calm his racing thoughts and he turned back and forth until the tiredness just washed over him. Unfortunately for him, even in his sleep he felt restless and hopelessly bound to Yoongi. His mind, heart and body working against each other. One side of him, pulled him closer while the other knew that Yoongi was just teasing him, playing a game with him but the kisses on his body felt too good. He was under his spell the second the demon said his name and his legs felt like putty. It was easier to mess with Jungkook’s mind this time. The younger was stressed and out of balance. So he sneaked up on him, watching him toss and turn before starting to manipulate the dreamscape they were both in.

“You still mad at me?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He reached out for Jungkook, brushing the youngers hair back even though he just received a glare for it. “Maybe,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and looked away, “You can’t just do that, Lucy.” The younger one sighed and though his body was tense he leaned into Yoongi’s touch. “I just wanted it to be something…special,” Jungkook felt powerless but he couldn’t help but be honest to the demon, “Stop playing games with me. I know you’re not interested or anything and…and you’re just doing it because it’s fun to you. I am useless and have no experiences at all and to you that’s just funny – but to me… I wanted to kiss the one I love. Not a demon, you know?” Taking Yoongi’s wrist he pulled it away from his face and looked at him sadly, “Can’t you just at least pretend like you not hate me that much?”

“Oh sweet-cheeks, you aren’t useless to me. Quite the opposite. I adore you. Yes, you and your way of handling things has me going crazy sometimes and I’m not the best when it comes to self-control so… I’m sorry I guess?” It was strange to apologize like this but he brushed it off. It was just a dream. No one could hold him responsible for what he was saying within an altered reality. “I guess I am an awful person for kissing you like that. And what makes it even more awful is that I don’t regret it - and would do it again if given the chance. Why does it matter to you who kissed you the first time? First kisses are awkward and strange because you have to learn how to kiss properly and also you don’t know what you like yet or what feels good. Isn’t it better if when you meet the love of your life your kisses will be perfect and exactly like kissing should be? I could help you learn it, baby boy. I could teach you kissing and everything else that you will need to make love to that person that will surely steal your heart one day. Wouldn’t the knowledge that you’re prepared make you less anxious?” Yoongi was an expert at sweet talking.

“I don’t think you understand. You can’t prepare for love, Lucy,” Jungkook shook his head, “But I take your apology.” Gazing up at the demon hovering over him, Jungkook smirked knowingly, “Also I know I am great at it already. It seems like you’re not getting enough of the taste of my lips.” He winked playfully, and a soft giggle escaped his lips. It was a dream after all – so Jungkook could be a little daring, right? Yoongi would have loved to just throw a cushion at the brat or yell at him to stop calling him Lucy like he was talking to an old stray cat. But for the sake of harmony he kept his tongue in check. He figured he would only get a chance to seduce Jungkook if the other felt at ease again. To his joy the younger was forgiving him surprisingly easy - and even started to come out of his shell a little. What a simple dream could do…

”Oh? You think so?” He acted as if he was thinking about the facts very critically, “Couldn’t it be that I am just eager to pass my amazing kissing techniques onto completely innocent youngster like you who desperately need all the help they can get?”

“Nope, I don’t think that’s the reason why,” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer, pursing his lips cutely. He tapped his finger on his mouth a few times, before he leaned back, putting a bit space between the two of them. “But if you say so, then we will go with your version,” Jungkook showed off a beautiful smile, “So why don’t you kiss me then? I allow you now. Teach me.” Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice. He was hovering over Jungkook in a heartbeat, staring down at him hungrily. “Mhm, I appreciate your generosity. Let’s start small then, shall we. Just basic techniques…,” He pressed his lips against Jungkook's, relishing in their softness. Now that they younger wasn’t inhibited by his shyness the kiss was way, way better than the first. When he pulled back he was smiling. Jungkook tasted delicious! And he could already taste the first pretaste of awakening desire, “You want to know what else there is to learn? French kissing? Lip bites? Other places I could kiss? I’ll make sure that you would enjoy it. And if you don’t like it you can always skip that lesson.”

Jungkook had let Yoongi show him everything. Each time they lips parted it felt like he was starving and Jungkook felt the urge to pull him in again. It was like the air he needed to breathe, so he was pliant, letting Yoongi guide him wherever he wanted in his dream. Biting Yoongi’s lips, he found himself sitting on his lap moving against the other on instinct. He put his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and leaned his head on them, catching his breath for a moment, when he yawned cutely. “Why can’t you be like this…in the real world, too,” Jungkook murmured quietly as he played with Yoongi’s hair, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth the other was radiating, ”You’re way nicer like this.” It was amazing how easy they fit together like this, a constant push and pull, their mouths never longer apart except for when they had to catch their breath. his lips tingled pleasantly when Jungkook started talking, interrupting their little make out session. “I could be like this in the real world too, angel. All you have to do is let me have you like this…,” The hand on the small of Jungkook’s back slipped under the hem of his shirt, pressing against the bare skin and pulling Jungkook in, “Let loose a little - I Promise I won’t fuck you right away and give you time to adjust to the new stuff.” His voice had gotten more rough from desire. It wasn’t leaving him cold what he was doing there. Jungkook shook his head, as he was still hiding in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. Every muscle locked up tight again and he pulled away too look at the other closely. “I won’t sleep with you,” Jungkook said confidently, “As much as you want it, but I won’t give myself away to a demon. That does sound even more weird saying it out loud.” He got up from Yoongi’s lap, leaning in to peck him once on his lips before he turned away from him. “I see. Well as you are so sure I can’t really say anything against that,” He would have loved to just sneak his hand down further and palm the younger through his pants, just to see how he would react - but he knew that it would probably result in him being back to where he had started (being in disgrace and receiving glares from Jungkook) so he decided that he should be glad for what he had gotten already tonight. He felt fresh and renewed, meaning if there were sticking to their plans and traveling my magic to his friend living in the park then he didn’t need to worry about depleting his energy levels with his ‘beaming’ trick. Reaching out for him, Jungkook pulled the demon in to hug him, “This is my dream, so just let me sleep now and cuddle me, okay? I need to be well rested tomorrow. Lucy and I want to travel.” The last words were mumbled into the cushion that somehow had appeared and Jungkook had snuggled into.

“Only cuddles then. As you wish, cute one,” He murmured, half to Jungkook, half to him before pulling Jungkook flush against his body, wanting to make to most of it now - even though it wasn’t even real. This dream had let him sleep peacefully throughout the night. He hadn’t pulled back, instead just enjoyed the feeling of someone close to him and letting it soothe Jungkook, so he felt almost as good as new the next morning. His headache had vanished and he didn’t feel as exhausted anymore. In Jungkook’s head, the dreams were all his own and this time there was no Yoongi next to him who could tease him about Jungkook talking in his sleep or something. If Jungkook had known it was Yoongi who was sending him those dreams to feed off them, he would have been so embarrassed. But since he had no clue, Jungkook just kept on munching on his breakfast cereal the next morning. He had just finished his coffee when Yoongi sat at the table in front of him. “Here,” Jungkook pushed the phone over to him right away,” Make the call, then I will get myself ready, so we can go and visit your friend whenever you are.” Yoongi looked at the phone in confusion before he got what the other wanted and gently pushed it back in Jungkook’s direction, “I told him already that we’re coming today, he said he’s gonna be home all day so there’s no need to call again. And he doesn’t own a cellphone so I guess there’s no use for your little human technical stuff cause it won’t work. The internet is nice and all that but most of the time the radiation just messes with our senses. Do you want to go right after breakfast?” He inspected the half empty box of crunchy breakfast flakes before getting himself a handful of the sugary stuff and directly putting them in his mouth. “Oh, and pack some sun protection or long sleeves or whatever you do to protect your body from heat. It’s gonna be hot there,” Then he left Jungkook and the cornflakes behind to go to the bathroom and get himself ready.

Jungkook watched Yoongi get up and quickly ran after him. “But you wanted to call in sick at work for me? That’s what the...kiss was for?” Jungkook asked a bit out of breath and seemingly nervous but Yoongi just told him that he already done so, shrugging his shoulders only nonchalantly and closed the door behind him. “Oh,” Jungkook stood there, not really sure how to feel. He had wanted to listen to what Yoongi was saying to his boss, but on another note he really didn’t want to know either if the other really had pretended to be his boyfriend or not. A sound coming from his phone made him look down and at his mail app, seeing that his boss already send him lots of work to do over the weekend - despite him being “sick”. Jungkook ignored it for now. He could do some work later, when they were back home and when they finally are separated from each other (at least Jungkook was still holding on to that hope).

After a while Jungkook could finally use the bathroom (he wondered what a demon needed to get ready for anyways - the demon always looked like he got straight out of a magazine, at least in Jungkook’s eyes) and got himself ready. Jungkook came out of the shower and back into his room with only his boxers on and drying his hair with a towel, water glistening on his broad shoulders as he stood right in front of the demon. A few drops fell from his dark brown hair and landed on his well-defined chest then raced down over his abs before disappearing into the thick towel that was still wrapped over the deep v-formation of his hips. Jungkook lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his hair as he brushed it out of his face. “Hey eh, could you please help me with something?” Jungkook asked nervously and held up the tube of sunscreen he had used almost everywhere on his body already, “I just can’t reach my shoulders and stuff.”

Yoongi cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out if this was an awfully cliche attempt at seduction or if Jungkook really was that oblivious to the effect his beauty could have on other people. The younger just stood there, looking like a treat, all soft skin and lean muscle and the perfect shape to just make Yoongi‘s mouth water, not even trying to hide his body with a shirt – and then he asked a demon for help with putting on sun protection. While being wet. He could have only made himself more alluring if he would bite his lip the way he did when he was deep in thoughts. It pulled hard on Yoongi's self-restraints every time because Jungkook just naturally happened to push all his buttons. Knowing that even though he was so utterly perfect and just his type there was still no way that he could eat him in his current situation was torture. But if Jungkook wanted to tease then Yoongi would happily play that game with him.

He got up from where he had been sitting and took the sunscreen from his hands. „Sure, no problem. Turn around please,“ He made Jungkook turn so that the Younger was standing with his back to Yoongi while facing the mirror and being close enough to see himself in there. Yoongi started relatively innocent, taking a bit of sunscreen and warming it up with his fingers before gently spreading it around on Jungkook's upper back. Then he put a bit more intention into his grip, pressing the pads of his fingers into Jungkook's muscles. “You‘re quite tense here,“ It wasn‘t even a lie. Just from this short examination he could feel how tightly Jungkook was wound. „Would you mind if I try to loosen that a little?“ Yoongi only barely waited for another second before digging his fingers in. He used enough pressure to sink into the muscle but not enough for it to seriously hurt. He was simply making Jungkook feel the pleasure-pain that followed if someone was working the trigger points of your body really good. Slowly and sensually Yoongi started to work the knots out of Jungkook's back, using the sunscreen for an easier slide and not holding back when he felt that Jungkook could take him going deeper. Jungkook was even leaning further into his grip whenever he found a spot that was particularly tense. When he came to Jungkook's neck the boy went lax, his shoulders falling a little, muscles giving way to Yoongi's nimble fingers. “That‘s it. Let me in, baby,“ His voice was dark and low, a little husky in the way he breathed against Jungkook‘s neck. He could practically feel how the younger opened up under his hands.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open again when he heard Yoongi’s whispers next to his ear, but he stayed still. He knew Yoongi was talking about him relaxing his muscles into his touch and didn’t meant it in the way he said it just like in his dream yesterday. Jungkook gulped heavily, before a moan escaped his lips and he held onto the wall to steady himself. When he realized how it must look like, he tensed up and turned back around. “Okay, thank you,” Jungkook hastily said, “I’ll go and…eh, change and then we can go.”

“No way!” Yoongi gripped Jungkook by the hips and pulled him back, making the younger stumble right into his arms. Jungkook’s moan had tasted sweet and intense, like sugar and spice and he wanted more so much more and he was so, so close to just pressing the boy up against a wall and kiss him and play with his mind until the younger would give in to his own desires and just let him have him so that Yoongi could take and feed and…

Yoongi’s breath came out shuddery and he swallowed it back down quickly. “I wasn’t finished yet,” He finished softly, loosening his grip on the boy who was staring up at him wide eyed like a deer in headlights,“Do you really want to get spotty sunburn? Just hold still for a little longer, it won’t take that long, I promise.” Quickly he finished his task, no sweet whispers, no lingering touches. He was hooked on Jungkook already and he needed to get rid of the bond, preferably yesterday or else he might lose his mind.

Jungkook thanked him quietly, before he got dressed and came back soon after. To say he was confused when it came to his demon would have been an understatement. Did he like him? Or hate him? Jungkook couldn’t decipher it at all, but for now he shook the thoughts out of his head and concentrated on their little trip. He wasn’t sure what he should expect so he had to trust Yoongi. Jungkook had packed a little back bag with water and some food (he didn’t know how long they would be gone and if it was hot he might get thirsty and also demons didn’t eat normal food, so he better come prepared). “So, how exactly are we travelling now?” Jungkook asked, “Are we like…flying or something?”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t decide between my broomstick and the flying carpet so I guess we should just take an air taxi instead,” He teased the boy, completely with a straight face. He shook out the tension in his own shoulders a little, taking a few measured breaths. He got this. He was well-rested and he had fed a little last night, so everything should go fine. Yoongi straightened his posture, waving Jungkook closer to him, “Come on, I don’t bite. At least not you. Or not now.” Jungkook hated it when Yoongi was teasing him about things he obviously could have no clue about, but he only rolled his eyes at his comment and came closer the second Yoongi asked him to. “Like how close?” Jungkook stepped forward and in front of the demon, “This enough? Do I need to hold on to you? What’s going to happen? Please tell me if I need to be careful with anything… I don’t want to…I don’t know get lost somewhere in between or…you won’t let me go right?” Jungkook was nervous. He didn’t know what would happen, nor did he have any idea how this would feel like. Was this even safe for humans to do?

“Just stop fidgeting or you’ll end up in half,” Yoongi got grumpy whenever he was tense and right now he was stressed a little. And although he was exaggerating by far again there was a tiny bit of truth in his warning. Transferring himself to another place was relatively easy, he needed to do that on a regular basis, be it to go soul hunting, making deals with humans or fulfilling underworld‘s orders. The difficult part was taking someone with him as he was trying to do right now with Jungkook by his side. He naturally had a feeling for his own “being”, like he knew where he started and where he ended, so he just took that and concentrated on placing it somewhere else. But to feel for someone else‘s “being” was kind of a trial and error thing. Only with the unlucky truth that the error part was holding the risk of being fatal for the person. That‘s why he had insisted on waiting another day – or rather night – to heighten his energy levels, so that he could make sure his magical senses were able to reach out as far and precisely as possible. Just like an electrical device lost its accuracy when losing battery power his powers declined too. He might have been able to transport the two of them without problems but he couldn’t be sure about it. So he was rather safe than sorry. Especially because he had no idea how transportation related pain/death would affect himself too through the bond.

However, when he tried to get a grip of Jungkookie magically, mapping out his being and everything he entailed it was surprisingly easy to see him clearly. Apparently he had underestimated again how closely they were bound together by the bond. He simply had to close his eyes, feeling for their connection and there he was, checked in and ready for transportation. Without giving Jungkook a warning first he made the call and placed them safe and quick in front of his friends door. Or maybe not exactly there but it was close enough and with teleportation not really being an exact science Yoongi thought he could still be proud of it after all. If Jungkook would have had the time to let out a surprised scream, he would have done it but this way, he had just clung unto Yoongi out of instinct. The impact of the “landing” maybe was nothing for a demon, but Jungkook had never travelled this way so, he couldn’t find his footing as quick as Yoongi and wavered a little. Just then he realized how hard he had clung onto Yoongi’s arm and jerked away, which made him stumble over his own feet. Jungkook lost his balance completely and fell flat on his butt.

Yoongi turned around to orientate himself, nodded contently when he saw how close the house was that he had aimed for. Then he saw Jungkook still sitting on the ground, looking a bit dazed. “You okay there, bun?” He walked a bit closer, hovering over him and looking at him with a curious little smile and a tilt of his head, like someone would look at a n interesting but strange insect maybe. “You searching anything down there? Did you lose something? I hope not the bag with your food. Would be horrible if you had to drink blood and eat human flesh, right?” There was actually neither on his menu - or on that of his friend. But teasing Jungkook was way too much fun to stop.

Jungkook got up on his feet quick, ignoring Yoongi’s teasing. Only half an hour ago Yoongi was flirting with him and now…he was treating him like a child…again. Jungkook hated how much it affected him in a way. He wanted Yoongi to take him seriously and not just see him as a young, dumb boy – so he walked confidently passed Yoongi with his head held high. “Are you coming or nah?” Jungkook said and took a look around. There was only one strange looking house in this area anyways, so it could only be there where they would meet his friend. A proud little smirk played around the corners of his mouth as he watched Jungkook stride through the desert, head held high and eyes daring as if he hadn‘t just landed in some scorching, bone-dry dusty desert full of red sand in the middle of nowhere, where the only thing you could see for miles was a cactus and some sandy rocks maybe. And that one little ‚formation‘ that Yoongi‘s friend called his home and Yoongi just called ‚the dump‘ if he wanted to tease him. It only vaguely had the shape of a house but when you got closer you could see that it actually was pretty basic, with windows and a door even a stair or two leading to it even though the were crooked and warped ay if the constructor had been off balance – or completely hallucinating. It fitted the person living inside though and in the depth of his heart Yoongi liked it. Of course he‘d never say that out loud. Even though, Jungkook had a head start Yoongi was by his side again fast, “Do I need to know anything about your friend before we knock?”

„No, you don‘t,“ He answered courtly, nodding in the direction of the door, „Come on, knock if you have the courage.” Jungkook didn’t need to answer Yoongi as he raised his fist right away and knocked twice. He took another deep breath, waiting until someone or something would open the door – but it wasn’t any of these two options. Instead the door just opened itself and Yoongi motioned for Jungkook to step in. He looked around in awe, seeing decorations of all kinds everywhere. The walls were decorated with strange, symbolic pictures and dreamcatchers were hanging everywhere and crystals and dusty bowls of herbs. It strangely let Jungkook wonder how Yoongi was living, but he couldn’t hold on long to the thought before another person caught his attention. The man that was walking towards them was beautiful, his straight black hair falling into his face. Jungkook had been so fascinated by the handsome face, that he didn’t notice the horns at first.

“Oh,” Jungkook gaped like a fish. He let his gaze wander over the other, when he noticed the stranger’s ears and suddenly Jungkook got a bit excited. Yoongi hadn’t lied when he told him that fairies weren’t just a fairytale. He pulled at Yoongi’s sleeve, still not able to tear his gaze off the other, “Fairies really exist?” Jungkook was too busy staring at the boy’s ears that were elongated and pointed, just like he always imagined them to look like, to hear Yoongi’s answer.

The dark fairy hybrid brushed off his hands on a dirty apron that he had strung loosely around his waist on top of the colorful disarray of clothes he was wearing. Apparently he had been in midst of something that included strongly scented herbs. „Welcome to my modest little house,” He greeted them, broad smile baring his fangs and elongated canines. His ears twitched when Jungkook whispered enthusiastically to Yoongi and his eyes widened when he became aware of Jungkook. “Oh my god, you must be kidding!“ Shamelessly he let his gaze wander up on down Jungkook‘s frame. “That is your new Mas...“ He quickly broke off into a cough when he saw Yoongi‘s eyes shooting daggers at him and changed the ending effortlessly, Y...friend. Your new friend, I mean.“

He looked back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook as if he couldn‘t believe it. „But he‘s.. he‘s a kid! I bet he‘s not even legal, is he?“ When Yoongi just shrugged his shoulders the other stared at him in horror, “Yoongi! How can you not know his age! You can‘t...you can‘t just pull off your stuff with a minor!“ The sudden and angry string of curses that came from the demon in response had the guy quickly covering up his mouth but it was too late already.

“Oh shit! You didn‘t...you didn‘t tell him your name right? And I just...I just ruined that. Your name-is-power-thing. I totally forgot that. Oh god. I fucked up. Now please don‘t ...just.. I‘ll make it up to you, okay? Let‘s just - let‘s just get into the kitchen first! It‘s getting kinda uncomfortable out here standing in the hallway like this, isn’t it? I have cooled drinks and even some snacks in there on the kitchen table, all prepared and ready to eat. Oh, and there‘s something I got that you‘re totally gonna love, I‘m sure you haven‘t had that in a while and it‘s absolutely delicious, you‘ll love it I promise…,” He talked quickly, as if he was afraid that Yoongi might jump him if he stopped talking. And the demon looked as if he was about to do exactly that.

“Yoongi,” A smirk placed itself on Jungkook’s face. “Yoongi…Yoongi…Yoongi,” Jungkook murmured happily, flashing his demon a bright smile before he turned towards the other. “I am Jungkook by the way,” He bowed slightly to show his respect, “Oh and I am not a minor – just so you know.” Jungkook quickly followed the fairy-demon. He liked that guy. He seemed nice and he had just told him the name of his demon. Looking over his shoulder, Jungkook couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, making him scrunch up his nose cutely, “Though I really like ‘Lucy’ as your nickname…I think Yoongi fits you. It’s cute.” The fairy broke into laughter, “Lucy? Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell the others! You can be glad you have the bond or else he would have butchered you already, I can assure you...” The other just kept talking while Yoongi’s face got darker and darker until he was practically growling. The fairy didn’t seem to notice or ignored it and instead offered Jungkook an array of colourful drinks and snacks, all either homemade or well-known brands from a “human store” as he proudly told him, as if that was some kind of achievement (considering they were in the middle of nowhere it probably was).

“So, what is your problem exactly again - let me sum up: Little Jungkookie here - pardon - Jungkook made some kind of spell that even he doesn’t know what exactly it entailed. Despite doing any magical stuff his incantation was strong enough to pull Yoongi…,” He gave the demon an apologetic smile but now that Jungkook knew anyway there was no point in not calling him by his name, “...out of hell and into Jungkook’s kitchen. And now you two are bound, by blood, by soul and by heart and you want to undo it, did I get that right?” Jungkook sipped on a cold drink happily. He had hope to feel safe with Yoongi’s friend, not just because his demon was protecting him but also because maybe the other was a little bit nicer than Yoongi was. “That’s exactly what I did, yes,” Jungkook averted his gaze a little and placed the drink back onto the table. He placed his hands underneath his thighs and looked up at the fairy-demon. “Can…can you help us? I really didn’t mean to bond him to me and take away his freedom. It was an accident and…,” Jungkook stuttered a little, looking up at the other with big eyes, when the fairy-demon reminded him about how deep the bond went, “Oh god, is it really as bad as it sounds?”

The fairy smiled at his cuteness, stunned at the boys willingness to free the demon when instead he could have used Yoongi to get practically everything he wanted. Even if he didn’t knew exactly that he could order Yoongi around a wicked mind would have probably found out sooner or later. But not Jungkook. He was as angelic as Yoongi had told him on the phone. “I fear it is, my dear. Normally you just bind yourself partially. That’s what the magical equipment stuff symbolizes. Earth and blood for the body. Fire and light for the spirit and so on. Because you didn’t have any but something inside you apparently wanted to have someone besides you anyway your internal magic practically forged together everything there was. To the next best thing. Which was Yoongi. And now you are plagued with that grumpy son of a bat while he is slowly going insane because of your pure soul and his inability to hunt. He’s getting hungry you kn...”

“Would you mind not telling him fucking everything about me?” Yoongi interrupted him rudely, his eyes blazing so much it was a wonder the air wasn’t crackling from electricity. “Ah, right, sorry, my bad. Apropos, I promised you a real treat, didn’t I? Would you mind getting it while I talk to Jungkook? It’s in the pantry. You will know what it is when you see it. But feel free to take a look around and get a taste of whatever else intrigues you. I got enough for quite a while. It’s convenient to life in the desert. No one ever stumbles upon this house so my storages are absolutely safe.,” The fairy answered. When Yoongi murmured something about “mouthy knife ears” but got up to leave the kitchen anyway the fairy winked conspiratorially at Jungkook, “We can talk freely while he’s gone, dear. He’s a bit of a buzzkill sometimes, isn't he?”

Jungkook huffed at the words ‘to the next best thing’ and quickly nodded when the other was talking about his grumpiness. “I wish I was bound to you,” Jungkook murmured, before his eyes grew wide at the next thing the fairy-demon was telling him, “H-hungry? But he…he said he can feed off alcohol? That’s why I bought him booze in the first place.” Jungkook judgingly stared at Yoongi for lying at him…again (what did he even expect at this point?). His eyes followed Yoongi’s movement, only when he was out of his view Jungkook turned his head back around. The fairy bowed his head almost shyly when Jungkook suggested that he would rather be bound to him. How did one tell a human that hybrids didn’t work that way? Also it was a bit of a soft spot and dangerous topic for him so he simply kept his mouth shut and took it as a compliment. Although it was really hard to not say anything when Jungkook told him that Yoongi had lied to him about his source of food so blatantly. “Oh, I think I know where he had tried to go with that...but I guess he didn’t quite succeed,” He inhaled Jungkook’s delicious scent again, just to make sure and then nodded again when he had confirmed it for himself. Virgin. The boy in front of him was as pure as they could be. Fresh as the fallen snow. A rare delicacy that Yoongi was surely hungering after. If he had prefered souls over solid food then he might have considered eating Jungkook too. However the fairy thought the boy was way too cute to end up as a meal. “But tell me how was I even able to do that? It sounds like a really “deep magic” kind of spell,” Jungkook let his shoulders fall and sighed deeply, “I have no magic in me. I shouldn’t have been able to make anyone appear in my kitchen…this…this can’t be, right? Am I not normal? Is there something wrong with me?”

“You’re a bright one, aren’t you? You’re totally right. Normally you shouldn’t have been able to do that. From what Yoongi told me you probably shouldn’t even have been able to read anything out that book in general, let alone make the spell work. But I could make a little test if you want to. Just to see what exactly you are. Because I can’t tell you if you are ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ - but I can tell you that there is something different about you,” The fairy explained while Jungkook had listened attentively, biting his lip as he concentrated on everything the other told him. They were here to gather information and get help from somehow who probably knew a lot about spells and apparently Yoongi trusted him, so Jungkook did, too. “Sure, go ahead,” Jungkook nodded confidently and shifted on his chair back and forth. “Maybe it helps to separate us,” The young boy said quietly, feeling quite nervous as his heart began to race.

“Thank you for your trust,” There was a mischievous glint in the fairies eyes when he reached out for Jungkook, placing a hand onto his shoulder. His grip was soft but consistent and just like Yoongi his delicate fingers held way more strength than one would assume. The fairy inched a little closer while his thumb was rubbing softly against the boys skin, trying to make Jungkook tilt his head so his carotid was easily reachable. He could have gone for any other other spot where the blood was closer to the surface but he liked the delicate arch of Jungkook’s neck, the vulnerability. Life and death were tied so closely together at that junction, it captivated him. So he just watched him for a little while, until Jungkook started to get nervous. What the younger didn’t know was that the fairy had wanted exactly that. He could feel the quickening pulse against his fingers now, watch Jungkook’s throat move when the younger swallowed hard, interrupting his shallow breaths with it. “Don’t be scared Jungkookie. It’ll be over soon. Just hold still. It won’t even hurt, I promise,” His other hand found its way to Jungkook’s jaw, tilting his head further and keeping him there in place so that he couldn’t hide his neck, even if he wanted to. Then the fairy leaned in.

A/N: Here you guys go! Thank you for reading! I hope you really liked the chapter. Don’t forget to leave us a comment or ask on how you liked it ;; It always makes us happy to see you guys opinions on the story! Love you!

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