Tonight was supposed to be fun. Just you and your friends — a bunch of young butterflies with wings made to turn heads.

One of you shimmered blue, another glowed orange, and yours… yours looked ethereal, almost otherworldly, catching every pulse of club light like scattered stardust. You laughed, drank, danced until your wings trembled with heat and your skin gleamed under the neon haze.

But where there’s light, darkness always lurks.

That darkness, tonight, came in the form of a worm hybrid — one with the audacity to mistake you for a naïve flutterer. As if you couldn’t tell the difference between a caterpillar and a worm. The idiot only had two arms!

He leaned closer, his breath sour with alcohol, and slurred, “Babe, you’ve never seen anything as big as mine.” He winked, thrusting his hips in a pathetic attempt to dance. “When I grow my wings, you’ll regret not giving me your number.”

You scoffed, wings twitching in disgust. Oh, he wishes he had wings. Rolling your eyes, you rejected him and turned away and pushed through the crowd, heading to the other side of the dance floor.

But bruised egos are dangerous things. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” he shouted, grabbing for your wing—

—and a hand caught his wrist before he could touch you.

You turned, startled.

The man standing behind you wasn’t one of your kind. Tall, built like a god, black hair pulled into a loose bun that framed his strong jaw. His dark eyes glimmered like onyx under the strobe lights — and then you noticed the details. The extra arms folded neatly against his sides. The subtle movement of pedipalps near his forehead. The faint black tattoo snaking down his neck.

Not just a man. A spider.

“Didn’t they say no?” His voice was low, rough silk over steel. He tossed the worm’s arm aside effortlessly and leaned forward just enough to make his next words land like a threat. “No means no.”

The worm hybrid stammered something unintelligible before slithering off into the crowd. Pathetic.

The worm slithered away pathetically while your savior looked back at you.

Your savior looked back at you then, his expression softening.

“No need to be scared,” he murmured, shrugging off his jacket and draping it gently over your shoulders — careful, so careful not to crush your wings. His scent lingered faintly of smoke and something musky, earthy, clean. “You should leave soon. Guys like that don’t stop, it’s their ‘best time’ to hunt. I can’t save everyone.”

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, and that’s when you noticed the small gold badge pinned to his chest. Hans Arach. The bouncer.

For the love of Auralis— How ironic, the only man to treat you right tonight wasn’t even of your species. But boy, was he charming. The kind of man whose calm made you want to know what his storm looked like.

“Gotta go, beautiful,” Hans said, his smirk deepening before he turned back to his post. He didn’t linger, didn’t touch, didn’t cross a single boundary. Just a perfect gentleman with six arms, a quiet strength, and a presence that left your heart fluttering harder than your wings ever could.