Alpha (Yoongi X Reader)

Master

     "And you promise you'll be careful?"

     "Yes Mother! I'm eighteen, I wasn't born yesterday!" You rolled your eyes at your overprotective mom. She didn't trust people. You on the other hand felt most alive when you were with others, even if it was just one person.

     "Technically, you were. Eighteen years ago." You smiled and laughed at her logic. She isn't wrong. She followed you as you walked out the door.

     "Don't worry mom, I'm just planning to sell some of my drawings in town. We're running low on money." Everyone within a fifty mile radius knew about your art. You drew animals in a realistic style. Mostly wolves. Many people would compliment you by saying 'It looks real enough to jump off the page!' One little child had actually started crying when you showed his mother a picture of a snarling wolf, begging for you to not let it eat him. You had just laughed and offered him a free picture of a rabbit for compensation.

     "Just be home before dark, alright? And don't talk to any boys while you're out!" You hugged her and walked down the road.

     Half an hour later, you arrived in town, your art portfolio under your arm. You set up in your usual spot, between the apple cart and the bakery. Both owners had taken a liking to you because people would buy their produce after looking at yours. 

     Usually, there were only a few people around at this time. It was half past five after all, and most people were still sleeping with the acceptance of the few who were returning from an all-nighter at the local pub. Today however, there was only one person out. A boy, slightly younger than yourself. His hair was the color of a raven and his pale face had the same ominous quality about it. You could smell his cautiousness in the air, it was so strong. You decided to keep an eye on the strange boy. 

     After you had finished setting up, your most recent picture on display, you could feel his presence behind you. "If you're thinking of stealing something, fuck off."

     "Chill, I'm just looking." His voice was surprisingly deep. You turned to look at him, studying his face out of habit developed from your desire to create life in the stillness of the paper. You were unable to find a single flaw. He walked around, hands in the air so you could see them at all times. "It's very good, your art."

     "You trying to flirt or something?"

     "No. Are you always this cold to potential customers?" He looked at the display. It was, naturally, a picture of a wolf. This one however, was different from your usual drawings. The picture was a first person view from under the wolf's chin, a pudgy infant arm reaching towards it's face.

     "I'm only cold to people who strike me as off." He reached out to grab the picture. "Don't touch that, it's not for sale." He grabbed it anyway.

     "This picture. What inspired you to draw it?" You snatched it away from him, careful not to rip it.

     "My mother tells me stories. Folklore about the wolves that live in the forest behind my house. I drew it yesterday when she was telling me a special story on my birthday about a baby given to a childless widow by a black wolf. It sparked my creativity, that's all."

    He made eye contact with you. His intense brown eyes seemed to stare into your soul, captivating you. Making it impossible for you to look away. "Destroy it."

     "What?" You snapped out of your trance.

     "Destroy it. Immediately."

     "You have no right to-" He thrust out his arm and placed his thumb and forefinger on your head. Instantly you were transported into another part of your consciousness. Something clicked inside your brain as a memory, one warped by the mist of age, played out behind your eyelids. Only bits an pieces of it were there. 

     A dark cave.

     Warm breath.

     The smell of milk.

     Cold air.

     Grey sky.

     Branches slapping against your face.

     A baby's cry.

     Then silence. Your vision cleared and you stumbled backwards. Fear coursed through your veins. "Who... What..."

     "Destroy your picture and go home. Now." With that, he left. You packed up your things and set a match to the paper.