#I GET TO HEAR PETALS ON THE MOON LIVE

[radios-universe]

i think it’s despicable that i haven’t screamed on tumblr about the wasia project UK tour. Guys. like GUYS.

war is so so over for me i’ve been waiting for them to come to glasgow forever 🥹🥹

sorry to them both if i’m sobbing my eyes out the entire time!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i have been waiting for this!!!!!!!! for years!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH

[revasserium]

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

[comatosebunny09]

clumsy | astarion a.

genre(s): romance, erotica (kinda sorta) warnings: blood drinking, dry humping, steaminess, terms of endearment (petal, sweetling), language summary: you get hurt. astarion helps the best way he knows how. spoiler: it's with his mouth. now playing: shirt - sza notes: based off the results for this poll. hope you all enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️❤️❤️

It’s an accident.

Happens when your attention is siphoned by Shadowheart bidding you a “goodnight” over the firelight as she moves to retire to her tent.

You look up from your sword, the whetstone warm and textured in your hand, grinding across your blade in your lap as you offer her a smile.

You’re usually so attentive. So careful. Yet, tonight, you grossly misjudged your ability to multitask.

Shclink!

The cut is inevitable. Tears a hiss from betwixt your lips, and the whetstone plops to the ground along with the weighted thump of your weapon. You’re on your feet, nursing the angry, red line marring your palm. It buds with crimson, a pretty contrast to your skin.

“Hells!” cries Shadowheart, scrambling to your aid. She gently peels your hand away from your chest. Winces at the blood lazily spurring from your cut. A clean slice. Her voice holds concern when she looks up at you. “You’ll live. Would you like me to take care of it?”

Your lips quirk despite the pained knit of your brows. You draw your hand back, cradling it in your other. “Nah. Wouldn’t want you to waste your magic on something so small.”

“You’re sure?”

The tearing of your shirt fills the stilled space between you. Shadowheart blinks as you haphazardly wrap the scrap around your wound, mustering a reassuring smile. “I got it. I’ve had worse. You get some rest.”

Shadowheart smiles something unconvinced. Squeezes your shoulder. “You’ll come find me if you can’t staunch the bleeding?”

You nod, wary of the exhaustion hanging below her eyes. She examines you a moment longer before stepping around you and away from the warmth of the fire.

You watch Shadowheart retreat behind the flap of her tent. Left with the idle crackle of the campfire. Your hand throbs, your blood coloring the fabric you dressed it with.

You suck your teeth. Bend to retrieve your sword, cautiously setting it on the log you once occupied. You feel the hot trickle of your blood coasting down your fingertips. Hear it drip against the soil, the sound amplified in the stillness swallowing you.

You’ll need more than a bit of cloth to manage this.

Your gaze flits to your pack. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating downing a potion to mend your hand. Then, you spot Gale’s tent. You could trouble him for some help. But, again, you see no need to waste your companion’s magic on something so contrite. You won't die, after all. It’s just blood.

Just…

Blood.

Your mind suddenly sparkles with an idea. A mischievous one, but an idea, nonetheless.

You wipe your hands on your breeches, starting towards a familiar setup. And somehow, devilry sets your face alight along with the coppery glow of the moon.

You find him silhouetted by the moonlight. Curls of white mulling over the deckled pages of a book, seated on a stool at the mouth of his tent.

You’re not trying to be discreet. Feet crunch soundly through the dry grass, alerting the vampire to your presence. Though, you’re sure he could hear you from eons away.

Astarion doesn’t look up as he acknowledges you, concentration nestled amongst his features whilst he turns a page. “Well, hello, sweetling. Fancy a cud—dle?”

The book, once cradled in his palm, clatters to the ground.

His expression is bemused as you slide onto his lap, your legs dangling on either side of his waist. Your arms sluggishly encircle his neck, and your chests brush together, coaxing an undignified sound from his throat.

Astarion intuitively wraps your hips in the circle of his arms to keep you both from toppling over. Angles his neck to stare up at you. His mouth hangs open with an unasked question.

Your voice is light. Twinged with something seductive. Manipulative. “Astarion,” you sing-song.

“Petal?”

“I need you,” you state plainly.

His brows quirk. Quads tense beneath you. “You—what?”

You bite back a laugh. It isn’t often you catch Astarion so off guard. Typically, he’s the one dismantling your resolve with his forwardness.

“As much as I enjoy beating around the bush with you,” Astarion’s nose twitches as he samples the air with it. Vermilion eyes land on you, shining with the slightest bit of apprehension. “You’re bleeding.”

“Keen observation.” You shift upon his lap, thrusting your bloody hand into his face until he goes cross-eyed. “Mind cleaning it up?” It’s more of a demand than it is a request. Damn your innocent face.

Astarion’s mouth twitches. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Hunger wades below the depths of his irises whilst he glances between you and the blood seeping so enticingly through your impromptu bandage.

“Not going to tell me what’s happened?”

You shake your head, that devilish smile still twisting up your lips. “No time. I’m dying, Astarion. Save me. Saaave meee.” You drape your hand over your forehead and lean back to turn up the drama.

He scoffs at your theatrics, feigning aloofness despite his muscles twitching beneath you. “Fine.” Mumbles about being the cleanup crew as he unravels the cloth from your palm. Attentive and meticulous.

You flinch at the sticky pull of the dressing. The sting is immediately replaced by curiosity surfing along the shoreline of desire as Astarion appraises your wound.

He holds your hand between his. Looks at you with parted lips, saliva puddling in his cheeks. He licks his canines. His gaze holds a question. Offers an out as it chases the viscous fluid dribbling down your wrist.

Is this truly alright?

You nod, your breath held in your sternum.

Astarion studies you a moment longer before he delicately shackles your wrist in his hand, and his mouth pans in. His lashes shutter, and he groans something hoarse and feral as he presses his lips to the veins of your wrist. You flinch as if scorched by burning coal. How something as simple as a kiss could feel so sinful is beyond you.

You haven’t much time to linger on it because his tongue is sweltering and moving. Languid and obscene as it laps at the trail of crimson marring your skin. Astarion exhales appreciatively, his gaze sifting through his hunger to capture yours. He peppers your wrist with kisses, lips glistening a pretty red amid the moonlight.

You throb. Through hooded eyes, you watch your lover, your mouth parting with shallow breaths. A shudder filters through your bones, his lustful stare purposeful and unyielding.  

He licks a torrid stripe up to your palm with a flattened tongue. Your fingers twitch with the need to touch. Thighs quiver. His wet mouth closes around your laceration with a raspy sound. Fangs graze the worn lines of your hand, and he sucks, drawing a bitten-off groan from your throat.

He feasts like he kisses. Stripping down your barriers, leaving you lightheaded and wanton. Swaying, and Astarion snakes an arm around your waist to keep you tethered to him. And a devious hand finds the globe of your ass and squeezes.

Your unoccupied hand curls around the base of his skull. Fingers comb through soft curls, and you press yourself impossibly closer to the rigid pane of his body. Your stomach spumes with heat. Somehow, your lover gorging himself on you turns your innards to mush.

Astarion moans. He fucking moans amid his sticky suckling, and you feel the sound stir something between your legs. He feels it, too, and he springs to life beneath the thick layers of his clothing, twitching against you.

Mindlessly, you bear your pelvis down on his. Sluggish like the drag of a tide, and Astarion hums his praise. He feels good. So wonderful, and you can’t help how your body instinctively writhes against his.   

A few more languid rolls of your hips, and Astarion breaks away from your hand all too soon, heaving a breath as if resurfacing from water, his lips crooked with a smirk.

His mouth shines with your blood. Your ichor. And he greedily licks it up, not leaving a single morsel behind. The notion siphons your breath, and you feel like the most exalted thing. Hardly notice your skin gradually mending itself thanks to your lover’s attentiveness.

Once the lustful haze somewhat abates, Astarion’s chest rumbles with a chuckle as he draws you ever closer, sealing your body to his. “Tell me, petal. Surely, you didn’t come all this way just to provide me a midnight snack.“

His mouth drags along the slope of your neck, sending little warning shocks throughout your lower extremities. His throat crackles with a groan at the quickening of your pulse, teeth pinpricking your flesh.

“Don’t know what you’re on about,” you husk, craning your head back to allow him more access. Still playing innocent as if you didn’t charm him into this wicked dance of bodies and tongues. “But whatever it is, I like where it’s going.”

Astarion chuckles, lips sealing around your throat and sucking.

Your responding gasp is wet and wanton.

And you find yourself thanking the Gods for your carelessness.

[soracities]

"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

[spiriteddreams]

from me, the moon

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Reader Warnings: hanahaki, angst!, implies happy ending though dw i'm not feeling THAT cruel tonight, mentions of death (no actual death) Word Count: ~2.4k A/N: spirit waking up from a nap after a midterm: omg hanahaki with jing yuan!!

To you, the sun,

You feel it before you realize it has struck you. That feeling in your chest that has begun to blossom when you're in the presence of the Jing Yuan. You become acutely aware of the way your heart thunders when he's near, the way you quiet down when he laughs to hear him, and the horrifying realization that yes, you are in love with him.

I would like to apologize in advance.

But honestly, who isn't? Who wouldn't fall in love with such a gentle soul dedicated to protecting those he loves. The sacrifices he's made for the Xianzhou Luofu are found in the warm smiles, greetings, and gifts that he receives from the people. He's effortlessly handsome, with his hair pulled back, but not enough to keep some of his hair from falling in front of his eyes. It feels like a privilege to get a glimpse of those eyes of his, pools of melted gold that soften when they fall upon those who hold a special place in his heart. you wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such a look.

In the privacy of your own home, you allow yourself a moment of indulgence, to live in the fantasy of walking at his side, listening to the hum that builds from his chest as he nods along to what you would say. You imagine what it would be like to trace your hands along his skin, to cup his cheeks and turn him to face you so you can memorize his features. you wonder what it would feel like to feel his hands wander, if he could be as gentle with you as the way he holds the birds that seem to gravitate towards him.

I’m sure you’re upset, and you have every right to be. But I’ve made my bed, and it’s my time to lie in it.

Flower petals, splattered with droplets of blood, make their appearance for the first time that day.

I’m sorry.

An ancient curse, is what Bailu calls it, fixing you with a concerned stare. You can only laugh dryly at your luck, of course it would be you to have come down with some ancient curse that has caused you to cough out petals. You keep it to yourself, cradle half-bloodied flowers in your hands as you make excuses as to why you can’t join your friends for lunch, or why you can’t spend a morning to spar or play chess with the General. The less they know the better. (Right?)

Individual petals become clumps, and the clumps become half-made flowers. And by the time that the ever-attentive general decides to confront you about the sudden change in your behaviour, you're close to coughing out full flowers.

"Are you alright?" Jing Yuan asks as you sit across from him, cup of tea in your hands as you sit with your eyes closed, reveling in the warmth of your drink and that of his presence. "I haven't seen you around much. you're not avoiding me, are you?" Despite the chuckle that falls from his lips as he finishes speaking, you can still hear the hints of worry that he fails to hide. You suppose that's the result of knowing him for so long, the result of loving him for so long.

I wish I had the courage to admit it to you in person. 

"I wouldn't be here if I was avoiding you," you hum, opening your eyes to meet his. Your chest tightens when you see the concern in his eyes seem to melt away. The last thing you want is to worry him, and you hope that your attempt at banter will at least deter him for the meanwhile. but Jing Yuan is quiet, more so than usual. He spends longer studying you, making you squirm under his watchful gaze until you chide him for thinking too much.

"Well, I can tell something's on your mind, Strale for your thoughts?" he wants to know what's going on in your mind. He's not stupid, and is far too attentive to the way you seem to keep yourself at bay, holding your tongue and sipping tea as if it would keep you from speaking.

Funny how you called me the bravest you knew, and yet the one time when I should have come clean, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

"I think I might be stricken with mara." Out of the corner of your eyes you see him stiffen. You look down at the steam that curls from your cup, caressing your face as if knowing that the man next to you wouldn't do the same. 

Forceful laughter is pushed from his lips. “Don’t play jokes on me, dear. Have you come down with a cold? I know some of the Cloud Knights are out sick because of some bug that has gone around. You must have caught it when we sparred with them.” Your silence gnaws at Jing Yuan, and he can feel anxiety bubbling in his chest. It begins to grow when you turn away from him to take a breath. He watches, almost in slow motion, as you set your cup aside and look at him.

Thank you, Jing Yuan, for being my friend.

There is acceptance in your eyes, and Jing Yuan’s mouth goes dry. “Are you certain? Have you been diagnosed by a doctor? I can call for my doctor, I’m sure it’s not mara-struck—”

“Jing Yuan. There’s no other explanation,” neither of you can tell if the softness of your tone is an attempt to comfort yourself or him. His palms feel sweaty, the lump in his throat lodged so that words fail to come forth. He doesn’t like the way you say his name like this. It doesn’t roll off your tongue the way it usually does, and he finds himself grasping at anything to urge you to tell him that you might be wrong.

His desk becomes stacked with papers and reports about the mara-struck. The archivists watch as he spends longer nights conducting research, hair slipping from its hold as for the first time in years, the great General of the Xianzhou Luofu begins to lose a grasp on his composure. He calls upon Fu Xuan to divine what she can, and yet the grimace on her face paired with her admittance that the future is too foggy for her to divine makes his heart drop. 

I have loved you longer than you could imagine. Thank you for allowing me to be at your side for as long as I did. I will treasure these memories forever, no matter where I am.

He finds himself alone in his room, head in his hands as he sits at his desk. Your medical reports, handed to him by your own hands, are missing something. There’s something you’re hiding from him and he needs to know what it is. For the first time, he begins to doubt the words you’ve said to him. You’ve had no reason to lie to him thus far, so why does it feel like you’re trying to hide something serious.

He lets the anxiety fester before finally, Yanqing is the one who forces him to his feet to find the only doctor he hadn’t visited yet. Jing Yuan watches as Yanqing lets his own worries and fears come spilling out and he realizes how much your condition has affected others. He chides himself for selfishly thinking that he was the only one trying to find a cure for your illness. 

“They’re growing weaker,” Yanqing bites the inside of his cheek. “I went to visit them but I didn’t see any signs of Mara on their skin. But the Vidyadhara doctor, Bailu, was there. She gave me this letter and asked me to give it to you. She left in a hurry, but maybe we can ask her about them, right General?” There’s hope in the boy’s tone as if he too, was trying to grasp at anything to make sense of sudden fall to this illness. So clearly, a visit to the energetic doctor is next.

By this time, I’m sure you’ve uncovered the truth. The extent of my lies can only extend so far. I’m sure Bailu has spoken to you already. Be kind to her, will you?

“Mara? No, who told you that? That’s ridiculous, have you seen them? Didn’t they tell you?” Bailu stares up at him, unimpressed. “It’s Hanahaki. Surely you’ve heard of it, well, perhaps you haven’t. There’s no recorded cure. They told you all this, right?”

“They told me it was Mara,” Jing Yuan feels like he’s out of breath. He isn’t sure what to feel, the mix of emotions closing in on him. He wants to be upset with you and yet he can’t understand why you had been so bent on lying to his face. Not just him, but to Yanqing, to Yukong, to everyone else for the sake of what?

“It’s an ancient curse,” Bailu shakes her head.

Ancient curse. The words ring in his head. He figures the expressions on his and Yanqing’s faces are enough to give away their confusion. And he can only feel his chest tighten and tighten as he listens to Bailu explain the first time you came to her, tears building in the corner of your eyes, hands cupped to your chest and flecks of blood splattered on your palms. He listens as Bailu explains how you begged her not to say anything, that you would be the one to admit the truth. He listens as he hears of how your condition seemed to grow worse, day by day. He reads the medical reports that the Vidyadhara solemnly gives him and becomes acutely aware of his own shaky breath. He recognizes the days when you had gone to visit him, indulged in his requests to soak up the warmth of the sun as he put aside his work or to share stories over tea and a game of chess. The same days that you visited him are the same days that you came to Bailu.

Please, my dear, don’t blame yourself for my own faults. You have been nothing but supportive, caring, and kind. There is nothing more that I can ask of you other than you take care of yourself, please?

Jing Yuan knows loss better than anyone. He has faced loss in his own family and has watched as close friends and comrades have lost their lives on the battlefield. He knows of sacrifice, of that gut wrenching feeling when you are faced with the hard truth. He knows the feeling of defeat when he fights his master, initially hesitant in his blows before he gives into fate. The sight of his master’s thankful smile, a last moment of clarity breaks his heart. He knows of all these heartbreaking feelings, the same ones that have built up his walls, guarded his heart thus far and led him to become the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu. The scars that litter his body are a result of hundreds of years of training, of hard-won battles and choking defeats, so really, there is nothing that can shake his resolve after all that he's been through. He isn’t sure what’s worse: how easily he believed your lies, or the reality of this sickness that you’ve come down with. 

I’m sure all will be well. Don’t forget about me or I’ll haunt your dreams! (Stop falling asleep while you’re at work okay?)

He wants to yell, to go back in time and push harder for you to tell him the truth. He curses this long life that he has been cursed with. Because your time is fleeting, so quickly slipping from his grasp and he will live longer to live. He hates to imagine what it might be like when—

Visit me one last time, please?

He indulges in your request, shedding all armour and weapons at the door. He visits you with nothing but his jumble of emotions. To bring you flowers as a get-well-soon gift would be too cruel. But perhaps it’s more cruel for you to invite him over.

He hates the way you smile at him so warmly, that knowing look in your eyes prying through ivy ridden gates into his mind. You know what he wants to say, and when he sits down at your bedside and wraps his hand around yours, you squeeze gently.

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks. You look at him curiously, about to tell him to stop apologizing, that he has nothing, and will never have anything to apologize for when it comes to you. But you stop when you catch sight of his eyes, watery golden pools that beg you to stay. He can’t get the words out but in the silence, there is more than enough said.

All my love.

(I love you, he thinks to himself. He closes his eyes and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss that he hopes will say enough. He doesn’t catch the way your eyes start to clear up and the way you gasp softly.)

From me, the moon.

———

To you, the sun,

I would like to apologize in advance. I’m sure you’re upset, and you have every right to be. But I’ve made my bed, and it’s my time to lie in it. I’m sorry. I wish I had the courage to admit it to you in person. Funny how you called me the bravest you knew, and yet the one time when I should have come clean, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Thank you, Jing Yuan, for being my friend. I have loved you longer than you could imagine. Thank you for allowing me to be at your side for as long as I did. I will treasure these memories forever, no matter where I am. By this time, I’m sure you’ve uncovered the truth. The extent of my lies can only extend so far. I’m sure Bailu has spoken to you already. Be kind to her, will you? Please, my dear, don’t blame yourself for my own faults. You have been nothing but supportive, caring, and kind. There is nothing more that I can ask of you other than you take care of yourself, please? I’m sure all will be well. Don’t forget about me or I’ll haunt your dreams! (Stop falling asleep while you’re at work okay?) Visit me one last time, please?

All my love.

From me, the moon.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: ok it's eepy time again for spirit bc i have to start working on my finals now :(

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers. 

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes. 

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path. 

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat. 

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces." 

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually. 

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

[angelwoozi]

acouasm (hjs)

pairing: boyfriend!shua x afab!reader

summary: (n.) a ringing noise in your head — and it's just three words of promise whispered by yours truly during moments of sorrow, or moments of joy. the whisper also lives in the crevices of your mind during moments of pleasure, when he makes love to you, his true love.

genre: smut, pwp, est relationship, 18+

wordcount: 777 words

warnings: kissing, explicit unprotected penetrative sex, sappy love confessions, soft smut hehe.

note: nothing much, it's just soft sweet shua fucking reader deep. it's more feelings + imagery than sex but yeah. also, thankyou @multi-kpop-fanfics and @lovelyhan for reading it over and leaving wonderful comments 🤍

angelwoozi masterlist

"I love you."

"Can you not–" your sentence is broken by a whimper as it falls from your lips like a soft petal. Joshua's fingers trace the silhouette of your side and he thrusts into you, deep and slow. Your stomach coils at it, and you breathe slowly, pleasure building up inside you and rippling through your body.

"Can I not what?" he asks in a sigh, his voice breaking a little as your walls flutter around his length.

"Don't tell me you love me while you fuck me. It makes me melt faster." you close your eyes as he laughs low at your words, his sound ringing sweet in your ears and making your insides all his.

"But, I do love you," he pulls out with a groan making you tighten your hold around his neck, unconsciously bringing him closer to your panting form and your chest brushes with his, eliciting a new spark as your nipples touch his skin bathed in gold. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes finding yours as you drown in his which resemble a deep golden honey shade, the sunlight from the sheer curtains illuminating his face, before continuing, "and I love the way your eyes look at me whenever I say that."

It's like heaven's out to get you.

Your eyes roll back at his words, as he punctuates them by snapping his hips, making his cock being swallowed by your pussy. Your core flutters, coiling tight at the sweet intensity and your toes curl, if only a tad bit. There's a golden misty air about him, and it clings to your bare skin, seeping through your pores and running through you like oxygen, making you yearn for him more.

It's true – if only metaphorically, but there are stars in your eyes whenever he professes his love for you. Be it in between late night scrabble marathons or early morning coffee rush, be it through three squeezes while your hand is held in his when you hear something sorrowing or by the soft kiss he offers your forehead when you hear something happening – it's always made you look at him as if he hung up the stars and the moon in your dark, blank canvas of an universe.

His love is also present in the way his lips land at the edge of yours, a sure kiss, a promise, as his length drags slowly across your walls, bringing you closer to the edge – purely by the sheer intensity.

"Shua, I am clos-"

"I know, I know, my love." he cuts you off, his thrusts speeding up a little, but still making it sure to fuck you deep. There's an unsaid act of affection hanging like a thread, and he grabs it by kissing your lips, making you gasp in his mouth as he opens it up for his tongue. His pace works smooth, and quick as his lips dance across yours, asking you to join a ballet, like two swans putting up a show as they move across the lake in tandem, in grace.

You moan into his mouth, as it gets swallowed by his tongue when you feel yourself falling off the edge – an indication for him to know, now that he has rendered you speechless.

"It's okay, you can let go for me." he whispers against your lips, and his words and the sound of his skin slapping against yours, covered in a sheen of sweat – filthy, act as the final push for you as you come undone across his length, your orgasm overcoming you and your senses.

It's when you go into an overdrive, that you faintly register his thrusts getting sloppy. A while later, the spilling of his hot cum deep inside you, is what brings you back to your surroundings as he acknowledges you with a prolonged groan, his skin digging into yours. His cock stays inside you as he peppers your jaw with kisses, your skin feeling as if it's on fire.

"Stop clenching around me." he says and you snort – a delayed moan masking your amusement.

"I can't help it," you provide as you pull him towards you– him falling into you, but still smartly manouvering himself to save you from being crushed by him. The action of yours has him pulling out with a cringe, and laying on his side beside you, naked bodies intertwined to form one.

It's a little while later as you both revel in the afterglow during the setting afternoon that you utter the words that have been ringing in your head, ones that cause him to gift you the widest of his smiles.

"I love you."

— hello. it was the death of night when i wrote this, so idk loll. but i still hope y'all liked it !!

🌼 please reblog, comment or give feedback in any way possible as it's very much appreciated and i will love you more!! you can also send me asks 🤍

© angelwoozi. do not repost.

[anemonelovesfiction]

Petal

Ronal x Human! Reader x Tonowari

Warnings⚠️ : smut, bc who would I be if it wasn’t there… Threesome ish. Face riding, thrusts, holding thighs down, AFAB reader bc I have no originality. Not proofread bc again, depressy.

A little shorter than my long ass stories for my peeps on the run or have a busy day and need their smut sensors topped off :)

I don’t think I used Y/n in here as their nickname for you is “Petal”

Next>>

Getting on the island was officially a job. I had no reason to even think about studying the differences between the reef people and the forest people I was used to back home. I didn’t come here to dilly-dally and oogle any of the muscular men I had caught staring- due to my intrusion in their daily lives- but to check in on Kiri and make sure we could wake her up.

I’d told Norm to shove my airway tubes up his ass since Kiri was somehow protecting her airway. He got pissed at me and I walked out, knowing the tsahik was bound to make her way over, almost bumping into her as she walked close. I bowed my head in respect as she walked in and miraculously healed Kiri.

But I was there for the conversation that followed. I could tell how torn Jake was upon hearing that his daughter could never connect to the spirit tree with the reef clan and could feel my heart break at the news. He’d asked me to stay behind, that he’d get permission from the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahik somehow, he just wanted his daughter safe. I barely knew the language but I knew how to do my job.

But being bent over, knee’s spread on the floor to fit this massive Metkayina man behind me, and having my arms splayed out doing nothing as he continuously pumped his thick cock in me wasn’t what I had pictured when I was allowed to stay.

“How can a little demon like you take so much?” I couldn’t bring it in me to answer that question, I kept biting my lip to prevent any sounds from slipping, I had to keep quiet. But the squelching sound being made by the constant thrusts of his cock in my slick cunt was speaking volumes.

“Speak.” He demanded and I whimpered, unable to trust my voice as I knew I’d babble some nonsense or sound desperate. His giant hands were on my hips, moving my body toward whatever tempo he’d set.

“Do-don’t know.” I managed to slip out and I could hear the smirk in his voice as a dark laugh rummage past his lips.

“You’re taking me so well, petal.” He slides out completely, leaving my pussy to close around nothing, the cool breeze blowing past making me shiver. He surprises me by turning my entire body around, laying me on my back, my knee’s were already covered in sand and I knew the slick that slid from my pussy down toward my ass was attracting even more sand, but I could only focus on the pleasure to come as he teases the head in.

“Please-“ I whine just after he’d pushed the head in and stopped to look at me.

“I’m sorry, petal, I just have to see you beg for it.” He says it in a playful tone, as if he couldn’t help himself, rubbing his thumbs lovingly on my hips, I’d forgotten he’d reached down to grab me again.

“Ca-can’t,” I gasp as he shoves his length in roughly, the friction felt delicious, and he only did this when I’d come beforehand, he was always a thoughtful lover.

“Yes you can.” He grunts.

“Need it, ‘Wari-“ I moan as he slides out and goes back in, but he smirks after stopping.

“Doesn’t sound like you do.”

His ears perk up at the voice coming from behind him but maintains his composure, never letting his hands leave my waist, but I whined loudly. Ronal was the first to initiate anything, allowing her husband to find me many moons ago, telling him to have his way with me if I was agreeable. She had a hard time moving around with the baby she carried but still wanted her husband to feel the pleasure she didn’t feel like providing, said something about her kid draining her energy.

“Do that thing she likes, ‘Wari,” She places a hand on his shoulder gently and he turns his head, eyes looking right up at her, and leaning his head down to kiss the hand she had on him.

“N-no,” I could feel the shock coursing through my body as she said that, her eyes were shining as if she had hit the jackpot, I hated when they tag-teamed me. I could feel Tonowari’s determination as he started thrusting me at the pace he’d set earlier, Ronal kneeling down beside her husband, bringing her own hand toward my glistening cunt and collecting my slick and begins rubbing it on my puffy clit, sending multiple shock waves through me.

“Too rough-“ I try to back away from the overstimulation as Tonowari holds my hips still effectively stopping me from pushing away.

“This is how you like it, Petal.” Ronal states as if she was reasoning with me but also in a mocking tone. “Did you need a kiss to make it better?” She coo’s and I felt like I was getting closer.

“Ple-please,” I moan and close my eyes just to have them both stop all movements, Ronal took her hands off my clit, and it wasn’t until that very moment that I had realized she wasn’t being rough at all as my body felt like I was about to come, but it slowly dwindled away and I let out a frustrated grumble.

“Why don’t you have a little taste, my love.” Tonowari says as he gently pulls out of me, making sure to settle my legs down slowly, scooting to the side to allow her to sit between my legs.

“I want her on my face.” She looks up at him through her lashes and a quick flash of worry runs through his eyes. “I will be fine,” She reassures him and lays on the sand herself. He lifts me up pretty easily and settles me down on her mouth, her warm tongue slipping out almost immediately. She finds my clit without trouble and groans at the taste, she’s never really in the mood for sex, but when she was, it hit her tenfold, and usually right after a nap.

“Ro-nal, fuck-“ I whine as I grasp her braids gently, moving my hips along her tongues ministrations, feeling my lips getting caught in her fangs, but not caring about it as I was getting lost in the pleasure. I’d typically have Tonowari in my mouth at this point but could feel his kisses on my neck.

“No English in bed.” He warns after hearing me cuss and I nod. They usually took longer to let me come the more english I used, it was their plan to get me to learn their language faster- but it was working.

“So-rry s-s-sir,”

Ronal manages to hook her arms around my thighs and keeps me captive as she moans and licks my pussy like a starved woman eating her first meal in months, I turn to catch a glimpse of Tonowari lining himself up at her entrance and shoving himself in, I moaned along with Ronal as he thrusted into her cunt. I could hear the sounds coming from behind me and it managed to turn me on even more.

“Can you hear the sounds you are making with your pussy?” I asked Ronal while stuttering and moaning in between most words. But she looks up to make eye contact with me while continuing to eat me out and nods.

“You sound so fi-filthy-“ I stutter as she’d taken the liberty to circle the tip of her long tongue around my sensitive puffy bud. I could practically feel her lips forming a smile across mine.

“Dirty girl,” Tonowari grunts while thrusting in his wife, her moans muffled by my pussy.

“I’m close-“ I close my eyes and my nails dig into Ronal’s forearms, still wrapped around my thighs.

“Look whose filthy now, Petal,” Tonowari speaks evenly, but based on Ronals movements, and my inability to turn at the moment, I could tell he was still thrusting. I had let a couple of moans slip past my lips, gasping, releasing one of my hands from Ronal’s forearm as I bring it toward my mouth to muffle my moans but failing. My hips were grinding over her mouth.

“Come on her mouth, Petal, cover her face,” Tonowari urges on and I could feel Ronal bite my clit lightly and my body seizes on top of hers. Tonowari grunts and curses at the tightness of his wife, she’d probably just came as well, and his steady thrusts were loudly revealed by his come squelching in her pussy.

“Oh,” Tonowari says as I wobble terribly while trying to get off his wifes face, I’ve never done that before.

“She squirted.” Ronal stated excitedly, her eyes wisened with newfound lust, licking her lips and gathering the juices from her face.

“Let me taste-“ He immediately brings her face forward to lick her forehead, but seeing them desperately consume my come was turning me on again, overstimulation be damned, I had to come again.

“Fuck-“ I sigh breathily as I swipe my own fingers inside myself, still feeling sensitive from when Tonowari was inside me.

“Looks like she’s able to go another round tonight. How many was that so far?” I hear Ronal asking her husband.

“Thats her third orgasm.” He responds and I can feel his arm swat my own away.

“Come on, Petal, I want to sit on your face next.” Ronal crawls over to me with a hungry look in her eyes. Her belly hanging low and something about it was driving me wild.

“Then we can let our ‘Wari breed you again, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, please-“ I nodded.

“Looks like she’s tongue drunk, doesn’t realize she’s switched languages on us.” Tonowari chuckles but I’m too far lost with the possibilities of pleasure and the many positions Tonowari would put me in, how Ronal would probably amazonian trib the fuck out of me, and the come that’ll stick on my skin- we might not sleep tonight.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

W.I.T.C.H (Woman In Total Control Of Herself)

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

pairing: elf!jeonghan x witch!fem!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, straight up smut, fluff if you squint?

warnings: HUGE amounts of possessive behaviour, making out, knifeplay? (its arrowplay, a new kink i invented), degradation, manhandling, hairpulling, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), public sex, mindcontrol/witchery?

wordcount: 2k

a/n: alrighty i am BACK and more feral than normal, because this is way longer than it was supposed to be but oh well. this is technically a request/idea from the lovely @hwanghyunjinenthusiast who simply said elf jeonghan and "not sure if thats enough to go on" but here we are 2k words later...

The morning truly couldn’t get any better. 

You had awoken in your cottage, the sun kissing your skin through the curtains. A long, drawn out yawn escaped your throat as you stretched the fatigue out of your limbs, and you remembered that because of the full moon last night, today would be the perfect day to go searching for supplies. 

So you dug through shelves of potions and crystals for a dress, stepped into your best wandering boots and grabbed a woven basket for ingredients, not forgetting to make sure the protection spell on the cottage was properly set up. Then you strolled through the forest, listening to the frogs croaking “good morning!”, when they heard the familiar sound of your leather boots rustling the fallen leaves. There was no mistaking the forest was magical. Besides the talking frogs of course, the forest glowed. Glowed with all the power of the beings living there, the magic flowing through every flower petal, every root, every dewdrop. The forest wasn’t just scientifically, technically magical. It was also magical in the way humans used the word. Magnificent and wondrous, and you were so glad you got to witness it every day. 

After a long walk you finally arrived at the waterfall, the one where you always found the best, most fresh ingredients for your potions and practices. You began to pluck, humming an old melody to yourself as the contents of your basket started to increase. 

“Well, well, well. What a lovely surprise.”

You knew that voice. You knew that voice very well. 

Unfortunately. 

“How much of a surprise is it really, Jeonghan? I'm here after every full moon.”

The elf had been standing there for a while you assumed, because when you turned to face him he was on the other side of the waterfall, in the midst of sharpening his wooden arrows. And he didn’t even need to, you knew that. He was a high elf, born with a silver sword in his sheath. He could simply lounge around with his long blonde hair sitting perfectly, only the tips of his pointy ears peeking through all day. He didn’t have to hunt or fight if he didn’t want to.

And he didn’t want to.  

“Yes, well. You don’t own the place”, he replied, before he deemed his arrow sharp enough and nocked it to the bowstring. 

“No, I don’t. And neither do you. Though I am aware of how high elves like to think they own everything in this forest.”

Suddenly, a long sharp object flew past you, making a paper thin cut into your cheek and penetrating itself into the tree behind you. You looked back at Jeonghan, furious as you saw him, bow raised and smirking at your reaction. 

“Everything, you say?” The elf began walking towards you while you carefully brushed a finger across your cheek, noticing nearly no blood was falling onto it. 

“And that includes you, I suppose?” 

He was standing close to you now. Very close. So close you could have made out every imperfection in his skin, if he had had any. 

Curse elves and their absurd immortality. 

“Am I hearing you say you think you own me, Yoon Jeonghan?”

At some point he had kept walking, now pushing your body against the tree behind you, his arrow still sticking out of the bark. You dropped your basket to the ground. A witch like you should know better than to mess with the high elves, but something about Jeonghan hindered you from keeping yourself controlled with the help of your powers. 

Jeonghan reached over to the side of your head, pulled the arrow out of the tree and studied it in his hand for a moment. 

“Would you like me to?”

The next moment you felt something cold against your neck. The base of the arrowhead met your skin, and you let out a sharp gasp as he twisted it so the sharp side was now pressing into the flesh, but not roughly enough to draw blood. 

“Would you like me to prove it to you? I can own you, Y/n L/n. All that is required of you…Is that you allow me to.”

The ground below you felt like quicksand and your head was spinning. You shouldn’t do this, you really shouldn’t, no you should know better. You we’re in control. In control of yourself, your feelings, your responses. But there was nothing you could do to Jeonghan. He was resilient to all your charms and incantations, and even if he wasn’t you wouldn’t dream of what would happen if you tried to magically influence him. You already felt out of control. 

Why was it so thrilling?

“Yes…”

Your voice was weak. Heavens, you were already weak. 

“Yes what, witch?”

“Take me. I’m yours.”

That was all it took for him to be everywhere. His hair was in your hands, his scent was invading your nostrils and his crotch was pushed tightly against you, already grinding at a steady pace. The moans you were making against his lips were borderline obscene, sinful even. 

“Such a little whore, already moaning so loudly for me, out here where anyone could hear you.” 

Not completely true. Whether they were wizards, elves, orcs or another type of being, this place was fairly secluded. But the mere thought of somebody stumbling by you, seeing your dress bunched around your hips and Yoon Jeonghan sucking marks to your collarbones, only made you wetter and your moans louder. 

Soon enough your bodice was ripped open, and your undergarments gone. Jeonghan brought a hand to your soaked cunt, teasing slowly with a single finger. 

“What a good girl you are, already so wet for me, hm?”

His eyes flicked towards where the tip of his finger got coated in your slick, and as arousing as it was to watch his eyes glaze over in lust, it was equally frustrating that he was doing nothing. 

So you got it together. Breathed in through your nose, and closed your eyes, focusing. Focusing on his finger prodding at your entrance, his hot breath on your ear, his hand on your waist. Then you tracked. Tracked the strings of his nerves, through his veins all the way to his heartbeat. It rang loud in your ears, and now you could truly feel all of him. 

“What…”

Steadily, his breaths against your ear became faster, the tempo of his heartbeat increasing, as you focused on him and only him. 

“What…In the names of the saints are you doing to me witch?” 

He fell to his knees. Right there, in the outskirts of the forest, you watched as Yoon Jeonghan fell to his knees in front of you. You didn’t raise his heartbeat enough to hurt him, of course. Just enough to heighten his lust. Just enough to drive him mad. 

“You’re not the only one with tricks, Yoon Jeonghan. Now get to work before I stop your heart completely.”

That seemed to be enough of a threat for Jeonghan to begin licking and sucking at your pussy like a man possessed, or maybe he was just as sick of the teasing as you were. Clawing at his blonde locks, throwing your leg over his shoulder, you were letting him devour you as drops of water from the waterfall splashed onto your exposed legs. Never had you felt so featherlight, so completely, and it sounded ironic, bewitched. 

“Jeonghan, fuck s’good- Ah!”, you moaned breathily as he hit a spot that felt just right. When you looked down, you caught his eyes fixated on you, wispy bangs obscuring his vision but not enough to mask that twinkle of something in his eyes. Something intoxicating. 

Something possessive. 

As soon as your gaze had met his, you reached your high, hardly able to register that Jeonghan didn’t stop after. 

He was mumbling something dirty against your inner thighs, but the blood was still roaring in your ears and all you could think about was how desperately you needed him inside of you. 

“Jeonghan…More, please.”

His ministrations on your thighs didn’t stop as he responded.

“Hm? More what darling?” 

You caught your lip between your teeth, trying to hide the sudden downpour of bashfulness washing over you at the prospect of having to vocalize what you wanted from him. Him, this ridiculous, cocky bastard of a creature that you always thought you despised. 

 “Want…Want you inside me, Jeonghan please”, you whispered. 

He got up from his spot on the ground, now much bigger and taller when he was looming over you like this, one hand on the tree behind you to cage you in. 

“I think you can do better than that.”

You whimpered. 

“For heaven's sake Jeonghan, please, I’ll do anything!” 

A scoff left his lips as he smirked and ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking over his decision. 

“Probably shouldn't be making deals with a witch…But what the hell”, he mumbled before grabbing your hips and turning you around, so your hands were planted firmly against the surface of the tree. 

“For a beautiful witch like yourself, I will do anything.”

Those whispered words were enough to leave your cunt even more soaked, and it didn’t help when you felt the tip of his hard cock nustling in between your folds (you had no idea when he had got rid of his pants but oh well, magic right?). 

“Been thinking about this, you know? Everytime I see you here, ah-”

He pushed into you slowly, producing strangled grunts and moans from the both of you. 

“Everytime I see you, In these cute dresses, bending over every fucking second.”

Then he thrusted into you sharply. You would’ve fallen over if you didn’t have the tree to support you. 

“Always thought about just walking right up to you, and taking you right then and there. And everytime I saw you bathe here, fuck. Just wanted this body all to myself.”

The thought of him having seen you bathing in the waters, naked, should have scandalized you, but instead it left your legs wobbly and your mouth hanging open in a silent moan. 

It went on like that for a while. A long while, in fact, of him grunting lewd secrets and confessions against your skin while you begged him to let you come. And eventually he did, because just like you too had promised, he would do anything, especially if it involved having his cum dripping out of you by the end. 

He helped you get your undergarments back on, now obviously ruined, and then he kissed you. 

Not like he had just a few moments earlier. It was short and oddly intimate.

“What was that?” You tried your best to look disgusted. 

“A kiss, darling. Have I really fucked you that dumb?” 

You rolled your eyes at him and picked up your basket again. It suddenly felt a lot heavier. 

“Whatever, it’s not like it’ll happen ever again.”

He laughed at that. Fully, shamelessly, loudly laughed with his pants half on and his hair an absolute mess (and it was never a mess). There was something quite endearing about it. 

“Oh, darling…Oh, you’re just adorable.” 

Quickly he laced his pants up, and walked over to you again. 

“We’ve made a deal, haven’t we?”, he said, grabbing your hand in his. 

“Anything, no? That was the deal?”

No words could form in your tongue, his searing touch the only thing consuming your thoughts. You realized you might have actually gotten yourself into something very…Complicated. Complicated but strangely exciting. 

He simply smiled at your lack of response. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Y/n.”

His hand raised yours to his lips, as he planted the most gentle of kisses on your knuckles. 

Then he was gone. Walked into the mist between the trees and the grass and became one with it. 

You had no idea what to think of Yoon Jeonghan after that. 

Other than how you already wanted to see him again.

[fandom-go-round]

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part Two

Summary: You’re a forest ranger. Trees and mammals are your specialty. Mermaids in the ocean? Way outside your area of expertise. Good News: They like you. Bad News: They like you a lot

Mer! Sun x Plus Sized! Reader x Mer! Moon

Part One , Part Two (Here!), Part Three

Part two for everyone who was looking forward to it! Mostly fluff and plot set up here, I hope you enjoy! Also this is over 4k and honestly people need to get me away from the computer. Also also, happy Ruin DLC! I’m hoping we see something good

Warnings: Different Species, Threats of Bodily Harm, Implied Poaching, Cross Species Interactions, Mild Flirting, Cross Species Courtship

           You take the realization of mer people pretty well in your opinion. Sure, there was some yelling and swearing, pacing up and down in the woods. The birds that make their nests by your cabin are convinced that you’re crazy but you’ve always been an odd one. You want to chalk it up to a hallucination but the rope burn on your hands and lack of fuel tell a different story.

           Mer people don’t change anything about your job, which is a relief and a struggle. You have to go back to your normal day to day knowing that there are other things out in the world. It does renew your passion around nature and conservation, just with a different twist. Your boss raises your eyebrows when you come in a little cagy but doesn’t push for an explanation, only requesting that you get some more rest.

           You swear you will, even though it’s been a struggle. In your dreams all you hear is the sound of waves against rocks and red eyes under the water. You’re treading water and keep feeling something try to pull you under. Every morning you wake in a sweat and want to scream. The creature had been scary, sure, but it hadn’t tried to hurt you. Just chase you off. You argue with yourself as you head back to the beach, mumbling under your breath.

           “You’re being ridiculous. Even if the thing lives around here, you saved it. It doesn’t want to eat you.” Your rational brain agrees with your words but the other part of your brain scoffs. You know some kind of underwater secret now, why would it let you live?

           The argument continues as you go down the stairs, scanning over the beach. There isn’t any trash and you’re thankful. It takes more willpower than it should to look over the water and, very slowly, you relax. The gulls are the only animals above the water and fish dart happily underneath. There’s a ping in your chest and you hope the creature you saved is alright. It had looked like a deeper water fish. Your brain happily chimes in that it might be nocturnal too, based on all the squinting it was doing. Even better, now you won’t have to see it and you can go back to pretending the experience was a fever dream.

           A high-pitched click, almost like a dolphin call, snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes scan the surface again and go wide, white eyes peeking out above the water. There’s a head sticking out of the water.

           Both of you refuse to move, the other new creature in the water and you on the shore. Red fins raise just a little and you remember the other splashes. Your creature had a friend. Well fuck.

           This creature makes another click and, ever so slowly, moves closer to shore. Your feet are rooted to the spot in fear and it pauses, not knowing what to do. You know that you need to do something but you have no idea what and you wave. Your hand comes up to give a few, very quick and sharp wags before going limp at your side once again.

           You want to curl into a ball. Your brain howls at you for being an idiot while another part is cackling. How in the world humans have become the dominant species is beyond you. Waving at a fucking fish, are you crazy-

           You’re brought out of your spiraling thoughts by a loud splash. The creature’s fins are widely displayed, fanning around it’s face like petals and it has a large grin on it’s face. Webbed fingers break the surface to give you it’s own furious waves before it dives under the water. You watch, half fascinated and half terrified, as it makes a beeline for shore.

           You back up a meter as it getting closer, the mer dragging itself half out of the water. The fins by it’s head wiggle happily, reds and oranges and yellows distracting you. This mer is covered in warm colored splotches and you watch as two larger fins by it’s hips come to hug the sand. It’s teeth as just as sharp as it’s companions, as are it’s claws and you resist the urge to book it.

           The mer has been making clicking sounds the entire time you’ve been staring at it and you subtly close your mouth. Hopefully it doesn’t think that you’re trying to be a threat. Of course you aren’t but who knows what mer culture is. If there is mer culture. A long, low whistle catches your attention and you focus on the mer. The fins around it’s head have wilted a little and you realize that it’s eyes are completely white. Part of you thinks there may be a pupil there but you’d need to get closer to confirm.

           “Umm sorry bud, I didn’t mean to ignore you.” It takes you a second to find your words but when you talk the creature perks up again, a wide smile on it’s face. It gives something like a coo and you nod, ignoring the way the hair on your arms stands on end. “Nice to meet you?”

           “Friend!” You almost scream when it speaks fucking human and moves closer to you. You scramble back or at least try. Your boot gets caught in the sand and you fall backwards, landing straight on your ass. Your eyes are huge but the mer doesn’t stop, getting closer until it can almost touch your feet. It doesn’t touch, claws stopping about half a foot away. It looks almost like it’s vibrating in place, fins wiggling and no actually, that’s it’s entire body wiggling.

           “You speak-?” You cut your own question off, gesturing between the two of you. It gives a high-pitched giggle that makes your ears ring. It nods, getting lower to the ground and reminds you of a dog doing a play bow.

           “Yes yes! Only little.” It’s voice is deeper than you expect, not that you expected anything. There’s another tone behind the first that you can’t exactly place; maybe it’s a mer thing? You nod back and introduce yourself, pronouns included. You want to laugh at yourself; maybe you’re in shock? Why else would you give your pronouns to a mer person? Was gender even a thing under the ocean??

           “Nice to meet friend!” The mer gives a few other happy body wiggles and then a cross between a hiss and bark. You stare, not saying anything and it frowns. “Name translate no. He!” You could already feel your brain starting to melt but give him a nod.

           “Is there something that’s close? To your name” His head tilts to the side at your question and he begins to hum, tail burrowing into the dirt. The humming is soothing and you find yourself  relaxing at the wordless tune. As you watch him and notice that he seems completely happy in the sand, his larger fins pushing the sand around him.  It reminds you of some kind of fish but the mer speaks up before you can get too far.

           “Sun!” He’s more than a little excited to tell you his name, leaning as close as he can get. His face is much larger than yours and you shrink back a little, even though he doesn’t seem to notice. Sun changes back to clicks and coos, tail slapping rhythmically in the water.

           “Sun huh?” You can’t help but smile a little. He seems like a big puppy dog, just with extra teeth. And his fins are sort of like the sun. Kind of? “Nice to meet you too Sun.” You don’t have time to react. Right after you finish saying his name, his eyes go wide and a long tongue comes out of his mouth. He drags it across your cheek and you shriek in surprise, the mer giving a pleased rumble.

           The next couple of hours pass in the same way, Sun chatting as much as he can and you carrying the conversation. It’s easy to pass the time; you and Sun are both fascinated with each other. It seemed that while Sun could talk, it was rare that he actually got to interact with people. You were getting more comfortable with him, letting him lean on you and put his head in your lap.

           The sun was starting to dip below the horizon and your new mer friend was slowly sinking back into water. The darker the sky got, the more he yawned and seemed to drift off. He was almost all the way back into the water now and you gave a small wave, Sun giving one back. You turned to go but a deep, more menacing growl came up from the water and you froze.

           Red eyes glared out of the water at you, mouth pulled into a snarl. Sun didn’t seem at all worried, giving a coo but not turning towards the other mer. You quickly glance between the water’s edge and where you stood, wondering if you had enough distance. Quiet hissing got louder and you watched as the other mer dragged itself out beside Sun.

           The mer looked a lot better than before; skin healed and healthy looking. Red eyes were brighter and more focused, squarely on you. You didn’t know if you should bolt or stay still. Sun leans on the new mer, rubbing his head against a dark shoulder. The one you rescued gives a snarl but rubs their head back, not pushing the other off. You’re still in shock that the mer is completely healed, even though it’s been less than 24 hours. Maybe a couple over? Either way, that’s nothing short of impressive.

           “Him Moon.” Sun’s voice is sleepy, slurring heavily but still clear. You look at him and then the new mer, apparently dubbed Moon. Moon makes a face and begins to click and whistle. The two of them fall into conversation, leaving you to watch and figure out what to do. You’re more nervous with Moon here but Sun doesn’t seem worried. Your eyes keep scanning the beach, just in case; you remember the tentacles on Moon and have no desire to get snatched.

           Moon sees you scanning and gives a deep laugh, flashing his teeth at you. Black tentacles slide onto the sand and you want to be terrified, you really do. You can’t though because they’re gorgeous. Moon, like the other fish in the area, has bioluminescence and it looks like stars are dancing across his scales. Now that you’ve noticed the lights you see them everywhere, covering his entire torso and arms.

           Sun gives a happy coo and smiles at you, beckoning you closer. You hesitate, looking at Moon. He looks half annoyed but also half amused, lips curling up a little but the rumblings have stopped. You give a sigh, wondering if anyone would find your body and get closer. Both of them watch you approach and don’t move, a tension in the air. It doesn’t feel bad, just intense.

           You stop in front of Moon and he doesn’t shrink down like Sun has. He looms over you, blocking out the moonlight. Sun gives another sleepy coo, fingers gently wrapping around your arm. You can’t breathe, ruby eyes locked on your face. Moon leans closer, scanning your face and then your entire body. A cold tentacle wraps itself around your ankle and you resist the urge to yell; if you’re going to die, you aren’t going to show any fear.

           Being this close you can really see Moon’s lights fading in and out. There’s a larger patch of lights at the end of his head fins, dangling over his shoulder. It almost looks like a lure and you try not to think too much about it. Moon calls your name and you flinch, focusing back on him. You had been so zoned out earlier that Sun must have said your name and you didn’t realize.

           “Keep secret.” Moon’s voice is harder to make out than Sun’s but you understand him. He hadn’t phrased it as a question but you nod anyway, wanting to reassure him.

           “I won’t say anything, I promise.” You’re completely sincere and Moon scoffs, rolling his eyes. You furrow your eyebrows, not know why he wouldn’t like that answer. You don’t get a chance to ask because one of his hands comes up and places a claw directly on your forehead. A tingle of tear slides down your spine but you ignore it.

           “Ours now.” The words themselves are ominous but Moon’s tone is kind, even a little fond. You don’t get it, not really, and he can tell based on his face. He gives a rumble and gently flicks your forehead, snickering as you yelp.

           “Hey! What was that-!?” You’re clutching your head and don’t notice him going in under your hands it’s too late. Another cold tongue drags itself against your cheek and you shriek, mer laughter filling the air. “Eww again!? What is with you two and licking!?”

           Either of them answers your question, Moon snickering and Sun giving a lazy wave. You watch as Moon helps the other one into the water, hands gentle and they disappear under the water silently. Your heart is pounding like crazy and you can’t stop the giddy laughter even if you wanted to. Does it sound a little hysterical? Maybe. But it also feels like something you’ve been missing is finally clicking into place.

♥

           The next few weeks you feel like you’re living the high life. Your trips to the beach have increased from once a week to every other day and you’re tempted to go every day. Without fail, one of them will meet you, even if it takes a little while. During the day it’s Sun and if it’s closer to evening, Moon may come visit. Sun is defiantly the friendlier of the two, pulling himself onto the sand and hanging out with you. Moon is more reserved, liking to stay in the water and splash you.

           From what you’ve figured out, the two of them have been living in the area for years now. The secluded beach and lack of people make it ideal for staying out of the public eye. They’re also a mated pair; you’ve been too cautious to ask more details about that. There are cultural barriers that you’re trying to navigate and that seems like a topic to avoid for now.

           The first time you ask about how they learned to speak, Sun gets a little sad. His fins drop and he snuggles closer in your lap. He’s the more physically affectionate of the two and you’ve gotten used to having wet pants.

           “Human friend, long time ago.” His words are muffled by the fabric but he keeps going. You gently start to rub his back and he purrs, eyes looking up at you. “No stay, left soon.”

           “Were they a ranger like me?” Your question earns a dark chuckle from Moon in the water. He glides around the edge, eyes locked on the two of you.

           “Ranger too stupid to notice.” He rasps and you take offence, even if you know he’s not talking about you.

           “I noticed you.” He hums, eyes half lidded and grin sharp.

           “Not completely stupid.” You scoff at his words and he laughs. Sun gives a huff and flips his tail at Moon. The tentacled mer sputters at the water thrown at his face and sinks below the waves.

           “Not ranger, visitor. Before beach was closed. Left once vacation over.” Sun sounds a little better now, not as sad as he explains. You nod, still rubbing his back and he soaks up the attention like a sponge.

           “I’m sorry they left.” Sun smiles at your words, pulling you closer to him. It’s still unnerving to be manhandled so easily but you try to ignore it; people your size don’t usually get moved like feathers after all.

           “Better now that you’re here.” You ignore the embarrassment you feel at Sun’s words, giving him a smile back.

           “I’m glad you think so. I’m happy that I met the two of you.” Sun preens at the praise, the fins around his head fanning out in a dazzling display. Moon cuts off your admiring, shooting a jet of water directly at your face. You yelp and he snickers, crawling up onto the sand next to Sun. The two of them bicker as you clean your face and you can’t help but smile. This is the best time you’ve had in a while.

           That, of course, means that it can’t last. A couple days after your sand cuddle session, you spot a boat out on the water. It’s larger than a normal speedboat and the hull is so dark grey it’s almost black. Dread settles in your gut like a stone; poachers.

           They aren’t a common occurrence but that doesn’t mean poachers are rare. Normally you deal with them on the forest side and its easy to drive them off. Being on the water is going to be harder, partly because of the lack of equipment and partly because of your new friends.

           You keep an eye on the boat as it lingers. You don’t see any nets or obvious illegal fishing but you can’t be everywhere at once. You ask Sun about it one day, making sure the two of you are out of sight of the boat.

           “Boat fine.” He doesn’t seem nearly as worried as you are, chomping on a fish he caught earlier. He had offered you some and you declined, trying not to make a face. He clearly didn’t need to cook his food.

           “You’re not worried about it?” You ask, a little surprised. Sun shrugs, half looking over his shoulder.

           “Boat no fish, boat just stay.” You sigh, leaning against him.

           “That’s what I’m worried about. I’m afraid that they’re poachers.” Sun listens as you speak, giving a rumble. “The two of you shouldn’t visit me until I figure this out.”

           “What?” Sun sits up, fins flaring out along his head. He looks more than a little offended, leaning close to you. “Why no visit?”

           “I don’t want you to get hurt.” You tell him, face serious. “I doubt anyone knows that you’re here but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He watches you for a moment before leaning back and pouting.

           “You take care of it?” You nod at his question, giving him a reassuring smile.

           “Yeah Sun, I’ll take care of it.” He hums, fins wiggling for a bit before licking your cheek. You protest and all his does is laugh before sliding into the water. You figure that he’ll tell Moon your warning; you’re less worried about the nocturnal mer anyway. Now, onto the harder task.

           Mark, at the end off the day, is a pretty good boss. He tends to be a little nervous (mostly around people) but he was always willing to go to bat for his employees and wildlife. He’s also the one to notify when you have issues in your remote part of the woods. He’s never been afraid to drive out and see what you’re dealing with.

           “You’re making me nervous.” Mark can’t stop himself from commenting and you can’t blame him. You’ve been pacing up a storm since before he pulled up and hardly let him get a word in edge wise. You take a deep breathe, counting to four before releasing it. Make is here to help, even if you have to get a little more creative in your explanation.

           “I’m sorry I just, I’m really worried about this.” You do your best to explain and Mark gives slow nod, looking out at the ocean.

           “Normally you’re less concerned with ocean life.” Mark doesn’t make it sound accusatory but you still winced, looking out at the ocean. You watch the waves, trying to figure out how to phrase your thoughts.

           “You’re right… I found something out there worth protecting.” You feel like your face is burning but pushed on, Mark watching you closely. “There are creatures who needs our help and don’t deserve to be hunted for sport. They’re worth more than that.” Silence fell and you held your breath; if he didn’t support you there was no way you could drive them off on your own.

           “Some day you’ll have to tell me what you found.” Mark gives you a hearty back slap, surprising you and making you stumble. He laughs as you sputter, grabbing his binoculars and looking out. “Come on then, let’s get these folks out of your ocean.”

           “It’s not my ocean!” Your protest is ignored, Mark snickering as he headed back towards his truck.

           “Course it’s not. Come on, let’s get this down to the boat launch and go pay our friends a visit.” You grin at his words, calmed down with Mark’s confidence. He might normally be nervous but when it comes to wildlife, he was the pushiest person in the world.

           Mark’s boat is nicer than yours and you ignore the ping of jealousy that stabs through you. Wish your boat was that nice. Mark drives you both closer to this boat, now on the south side of the rock formations. The boat had been driving around the rock formations in the area and it makes you nervous, knowing that Moon and Sun like to hunt there.

           Once you get close enough, Mark hands you a megaphone and you stand up, doing your best to stay stable. Taking a deep breath, you let your voice boom out, thoughts of the mers down below giving your courage.

           “Attention, you are in protected waters! State your business!” The ship stays silent for a moment after your request and the two of you tense. If they didn’t react, you would have to call in the coast guard and that was always hit or miss.  You repeat the message, seeing if there were any signs of movement. Nothing.

           “What do you want to do?” You ask Mark, turning to face him. Your boss frowns, shaking his head.

           “It doesn’t mean that they’re poachers but it doesn’t look good. Let’s head back and call it in.” You nod in agreement and turned back around just in time to watch someone lean over the edge. Your eyes go wide as this person begins to puke, wincing as the sound echoed over the water. You and Mark share a look before you bring the megaphone back to your lips.

           “Excuse me?” Your call has the person on the boat jumping, a high-pitched shriek filling the air. The person on the ship turns to you and you give a wave. “Please state your businesses, you’re in protected waters.” You watch as the person flails for a moment before putting their fingers up in a ‘hold on a second’ gesture and heading back into the boat.

           “Not poachers.” Mark says from behind you and you nod, going boneless with relief.

           “Not unless this is their first voyage.” You joke back and he laughs.

           “Bad crew choice right there.” The two of you laugh to yourselves, pleasantly surprised as the person comes back with a few more people, their own megaphone in hand. You take another breath, begging yourself for some patience. This was going to be a long talk.

♥

           It took almost two hours to convince the boat they had to leave. Apparently, it was a private party ship that had drifted too far south. You let Mark do most of the technical talking, especially when it came to where exactly the boat was supposed to be. You had more fun watching the people try to be sober when they very clearly were not.

           You also keep an eye out for your underwater friends but they stay away and you’re thankful. You don’t want to have to explain to Mark about mer people on top of dealing with drunk tourists. Finally, the two of you watch the ship drive off and you sigh, leaning back and closing your eyes.

           “Tired?” Mark sounds as tired as you feel and you nod, closing your eyes.

           “Yeah. They’re more than 20 meters off course, how does that even happen?” Mark gives a snort, turning the boat back and driving to the shore.

           “That’s what happens when you get drunk and your ship is fancy enough to have cruise control. I’m going to call it in once we get back and hopefully someone will meet them on their way back.” You give a hum back, acknowledging his words.

           “Sounds good to me. I’ll write up my report tonight and get it to you by tomorrow.” He waves you off, shaking his head.

           “A couple of days later is no big deal. I have the regional meeting tomorrow too.” You wince at ‘regional meeting’. Sucks to be the boss. The two of you spend the rest of the ride in silence, getting the boat out of the water easily. You’re just about to part ways when there’s a large splash in the water behind you.

           Your stomach drops out as you turn and see a flash of Sun’s bright red tail. Mark’s eyes are wide like yours and you don’t know what to say. He clearly saw Sun, even if it wasn’t all of him. You want to tell him he’s crazy but Mark just shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes.

           “I’m… seeing things, I think. I’m gonna head back. We’ll talk once you finish your report.” You nod, trying not to come off as too relieved because of his words.

           “Have a good night Mark, we’ll talk later.” He gives you a half wave as you see him off, making sure the boat is hooked up before driving off. You pray that Mark will ignore what he’s seen; he loves the ocean more than anyone.

           Sun jumps into the air again and now you watch with a smile, heading back towards the beach. With the sun getting close to setting, maybe you’ll see Moon tonight too. Mark may have competition for ocean lover, now that you think about it.

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

For the 100 followers event:

May I humbly request honeysuckle, red rose, and pink rose for Idia Shroud? Fluff please. Man I really hope I did this right *sob*

Not sure if the message part was for the character or you so both lol. For Idia: I love you sm fr 💙

And for you: CONGRATSSSSS! You deserve it 👏

‎‧₊🦋˚✧A Bouquet for you My dear✧˚🦋₊‧| Pt. 4 | I love you till the moon and back

Characters: Idia Shroud

Summary: Sending Idia Shroud Honeysuckle, Red Roses, and Pink roses

Warnings: Just pure fluff

Taglist: @nightshade-clown, @lucid-stories

Sending the chosen flowers to Idia Shroud... Loading now...

[■■■□□□□□□□] 30% [■■■■□□□□□□] 40% [■■■■■□□□□□] 50% [■■■■■■□□□□] 60% [■■■■■■■■□□] 80% [■■■■■■■■■□] 90%

Now sent! Would you like to wait for a response?

[> Yes] >No

...

...

...

Idia was walking back to his dorm, coming back from his club. He was socially drained and so ready to log into his games and do his dailies. That was until his gaze caught a delicate vase full of beautiful colored flowers. He stared at them, unsure as to why they were outside his dorm room. After contemplating what he should do, he just decided to gently pick it up and bring it into his room.

After placing it on his desk, he just stared blankly at the flowers. He studied the vase, wondering if someone pranked it. He memorized each and every petal, leaf, and stem on each of the flowers. The set-up looked gorgeous, he admitted to himself, but nothing in his mind was making sense. He fixed his posture as he brought his head into his hands, so hold it.

Idia was curious as to why anyone would send him flowers like this. His mind couldn’t wrap around all the possibilities. He thought it was a prank, someone secretly recording him just be completely rejected. Suddenly, his eye’s caught a small tag attached to the vase. He turned it gently and softly read it to himself.

“To…Idia…From Y/n? Huh? Why would Y/n send me these? Couldn’t they have just texted me?”

He sighed and gave up the internal fight on whether he should read the note Y/n had sent him. His hands shook as it gently brushed against the soft petals of the flower. They were so soothing, helping him to read the note Y/n had written. His eyes widen the deeper he read, not knowing how to feel about it. All he felt was his face become warm and his heart beat faster. 

I love you so much, Idia! You’re so amazing and captivating. You have this hidden beauty within you that just has me in a choke hold. I have never felt this intense admiration and love for someone before. You’re so beautiful, and I can’t have asked for anyone better. Nothing in my mind could ever drive me away from you. My love for you rivals the love of the sun and moon! I love you to the moon and back.

Honeysuckle: True Happiness

I could only ever wish for your true happiness and for happiness within our relationship. I can only ever think of your gorgeous smile and your cute giggle. I value you and your happiness so much, and I want to make you happy. I would do anything for you to give me your smile every day of every second. Your happiness makes my heart flutter, and I just find it so cute when you get so excited. You plague my mind all day and night, nothing lives more rent-free in my head than you. You just make me so happy, and I hope I make you feel the same.

Red Roses: True Love

When I’m with you, my heart is all a flutter and my mind is stuck in daydreams. I want to live till my dying breath with you. You are my only love that I ever wish to have. You make me dizzy when you’re around, and I love feeling as if I’m floating when you smile at me. Hearing your voice soothes me so much, I can never be sad around you. When I’m with you, everything is bright and full of sunshine. I never feel sad when I’m around you, I feel whole. You complete me, you are my moon.

Pink Roses: Comfort

Tears seem to cease when I feel you in my arms. Your embrace grounds me so when I feel myself spiraling. Nothing makes me feel so much better than cuddling with you. All anxiety just dissipates when I feel your calming aura surround me. You don’t realize how much you make me feel better and how much warmth you give me. I couldn’t ask for anyone better to bring such a calm to the storms I feel. You bring so much ease and stability to my life, and I hope to bring you the same feeling. I hope to be your rock, because you are mine. 

— Your dearest love, Y/n

You sending him this bouquet sent Idia into a full on pink color, from hair to the tip of his toes. He couldn’t process the fact that someone out there loved him this much. He couldn’t process that someone could feel this much about him, in general. Idia managed to walk to Ramshackle without passing out and knocked on the door. You pulled him into the dorm and softly cuddled him on the couch. 

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[sanctuary1988]

~ Flames Of Passion |15| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: DARLING, THIS WARNINGS MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! angst, feral Gwi, typical vampire stuff [biting, blood, killing, blood drinking], violence, burglary?, murder, blood, Chief Counsellor (he is a warning for himself), mentions of drugs/being drugged, fire, possessiveness, typical period misogyny, love, confession, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 4.5k words

A/N: I know this has been an awaited chapter for many lol so I did my best to finish it as soon as I could. I really hope you will enjoy it and also I loved writing this chapter so much because it has a dialogue I had planned for this series since chapter 2 🙈 lmao. ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging: @my-day6 | @yumisventingmachine | @yukihatesreoyo | @anonymous2828 | @solivagant444 | 🙈❤️*let me know if you liked to be tagged or if you want me to get you off my taglist!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

Dusk had settled. The moon hung low in the night sky as deep hues of purple and blue mingled together with the sparkly darkness of the night that painted the sky in its eternal shadow. 

Gwi walked to his underground palace. His hunger satiated, his robes stained with the blood of his victims. But now, as his thirst was satiated and his mind was calm he yearned for nothing else but to return to the palace of shadows where his rose lived among the darkness that was his sole existence. 

The flickering torches casted long shadows on the stone walls as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors. His heart, usually cold and unfeeling, warmed at the thought of you. He pictured you in your room, brushing your hair or in the library engrossed in one of the many books his sanctuary of knowledge held within its walls. 

And yet the throne room was filled with a deafening silence; the only thing he could hear was his heart. He frowned, you had said you’d be waiting for him and expected for you to receive him but your absence made his heart sting with the disappointment of your broken promise. 

“Petal?”

The vampire called out for you but he only received his own echo as a response. He made his way to the library, his long strides eating up the distance in large strides. But you were not there. Your scent was not as strong as it should be if you were there just as you had promised. 

He hurried to your room, his steps frantic as he entered the large space with the tall cherry blossom tree standing proudly in the middle of the room. The air was soft with the smell of the pink flowers but he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t smell you. 

“Flower, are you here?”

But here was no response at all. He frowned. The room was empty. The bedding was neatly made, the small table where the vase with roses was untouched with some petals already falling onto the surface. His eyes fell upon your desk, where the rose he had given you lay, still vibrant and fresh. Next to it was a letter. A letter that bore your father’s seal. 

Gwi snatched the letter with the broken seal, his dark eyes running over the words inked into the paper. Each word, each threat was enough to make his heart burn with the flames of desperation. His eyes turned crimson in anger, his knuckles white as he crumbled the letter before it fell to the ground. 

The realisation that you had been taken against your will filled him with a fury he had never known. His normally composed demeanour shattered, leaving only the raw, primal anger of a man who had been robbed of his most precious treasure.

He turned around, his robes flying behind him as the vampire lord left his underground palace. His domain. His kingdom to retrieve his stolen flower. His beauty among the darkness of his world. 

Gwi’s steps were purposeful as he left his sanctuary, the cool night air kissed his sharp features as the nature of his existence resurfaced from the chains of his control. His eyes mirrored the colour of blood, his fangs elongated and there was a sudden thirst that took a hold of his mind. But it wasn't because of hunger. It was a thirst for revenge. 

The journey was a blur. His supernatural speed carried him through the city and the woods before he arrived at the mansion of one of the most powerful men in Joseon. The Chief Counsellor didn’t know that by taking the vampire’s petal he had just signed his death sentence. 

The guards at the entrance saw a dark figure emerging from the woods. The moon was not high enough to illuminate the dark path ahead. But the red glint in his eyes gave him away. Gwi approached the two guards, his hands around their throats before he lifted them off the ground, their feet kicking the air. He hissed at them before their necks snapped with a single movement of his wrists. The bodies crumbled to the dirty floor and he advanced, his walk commanding as he entered the mansion of the traitor he had nurtured under his throne of blood and darkness.

“My Lord, is there anything else I can do for you?”

The Chief Counsellor didn’t even look at Ji-ho, his loya albeit young servant before he was dismissing him for the night. 

“Don’t bother. Tomorrow we are leaving to meet with the Crown Prince. Make sure everything is in order.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The boy bowed down before he walked backwards and left the room, sliding the door shut as he walked down the corridor with quick steps. The flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls. Ji-ho’s footsteps echoed softly down the dimly lit corridor, his mind occupied with the tasks the demanding noble man had put over his shoulders. As he rounded a corner, the sound of a commotion reached his ears and he couldn’t help but fasten his pace. Curiosity being his worst enemy. 

He looked over one of the corners of the nearest wall, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw a tall man dressed in noble robes effortlessly dispatching the guards who tried to block his path. The vampire's movements were swift and lethal, his strength undeniable.

Fear gripped Ji-ho's heart, he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the Chief Counsellor's room, his breath coming in quick, panicked gasps. Along the way, he alerted more guards, his voice urgent and breathless.

“We must protect the lord! The vampire is here!”

The guards followed the young servant all to the Chief Counsellor’s room. The smell of panic rotted through the air, the clinking of the swords could be heard at the distance as well as the frantic steps of the guards sprinting to the old man’s study. 

Ji-ho slid open the doors without knocking, the Chief Counsellor looked up from his desk with a frown between his brows and frustration in his gaze. But as the guards swarmed into the room, he stood up and demanded an explanation from his servant. 

“What is the meaning of this?”

“My Lord… the vampire-”

But Ji-ho never got to finish that sentence as the doors to the study opened harshly and in came Gwi, his once white robes were now crimson with the blood of his obsession. The hallways were strewn with the bodies of those who had tried to stop him, their lifeless forms a testament to his wrath. He moved with a predator's grace, his senses heightened by the scent of blood and the urgency to find you.

“Get him!”

The Chief Counsellor ordered and the battle began. Gwi licked his lips before he fought the men who tried to keep you away from him. Each strike, each stab was proof of his maddening love. How dare your father take you from him? How dare he keep you to himself? 

How. 

Dare. 

He. 

Blood spilled over the floor and over the once beautiful ornates that decorated the room. The white tapestry was now tainted in crimson and the shouts and clanks of swords filled the room. One of the guards sent a direct attack to Gwi but he managed to dodge it yet the sword knocked over some candles, the flames quickly devouring the fabric that hung from the ceiling. 

It reeked of death as he drank the last drop of blood from the remaining guard before he dropped the body to the floor. His eyes were red with fury and the need, the urge to kill. With slow steps Gwi approached the Chief Counsellor. Ji-ho had tried to stop the vampire but his futile attempt ended with his blood on Gwi’s lips and his body on the ground already starting to get enveloped in the flames. 

“Where is she?”

Your father swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure as he lifted his chin in defiance even when he knew he was already dead by the single glint in the vampire’s eyes. 

“Y-you’ll never find her.”

And yet, his voice trembled and stuttered despite his attempt to sound powerful and confident for the immortal being who now threatened to kill him with his gaze alone. But the monster smiled, a cold, dead smile that stretched over his handsome and sharp features while the cracking of the engulfing flames was the only thing he could hear. 

“I will find her. But the longer I take, the more painful your death is going to be.”

With a swift motion, Gwi grabbed the Chief Counsellor by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The older man struggled, his hands clawing at the vampire’s iron grip, but it was futile for his strength was far beyond anything a human could match.

“Where. Is. She?”

He demanded again. His deep voice a deathly whisper. Your father gasped for breath, his eyes widening with fear until he managed to choke out the words that were no longer enough to save his life. 

“I-in her room… down the h-hallway-”

Gwi’s crimson eyes reflected the flames that were consuming the room and most likely the entire mansion but those flames were also a reflection of the fire that burned his heart. With a snarl, he threw the Chief Counsellor aside. The man hit the ground with a sickening thud, unconscious or worse but Gwi couldn’t care. Not when the fire spread and the smoke thickened. Not when he had to find you. 

His heart pounded with a mix of rage and desperation as he sprinted down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him, the flames danced over the walls but his mind was focused on getting to you. With urgent steps he reached the bedroom at the end of the hallway, the double doors banged open against the adjacent walls as he opened them with his vampiric strength.

The moment his gaze laid on you, he felt his heart drop. His eyes returned to their usual deep brown colour as he dropped to his knees next to the silk bedding. His hands, so rough and tainted with so much blood cupped your face with delicate movements as if you were a glass doll he was afraid to break. 

“Petal, wake up.”

But you didn’t stir. You couldn’t. The drugs held you under their chains and left you dancing in the realm of nothingness, of sleep. Of darkness. A tightness gripped at his chest and his eyes stung with tears, whether they were due to the smoke or real fear for the life of his petal he didn’t know anymore.

“(y/n), please.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, even in sleep you were still so beautiful. The very vision of beauty he had missed through his eternal life. He lifted you up, pressing your body against his chest but just as he was about to slide his other arm under your knees, the rackling of the chains rattled against the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. 

Gwi looked down at your wrist, his lips parted at the sight of the iron cuff that kept you tied to the room. To your past. To this house. To the life you had escaped when you had taken his hand that very day in the gardens. When he decided he wanted to keep you for himself. 

Gwi lay you back down on the bedding, his hands tingling with the need to keep you in his arms. But he needed to free you. 

His eyes painted crimson once more as his hands gripped the shackles. His knuckles turned white with the force as he gripped them tightly and with a grunt he broke the hot iron. Your skin was marred by the tightness and it pained him to see your pristine skin so hurt and damaged. 

“I’ll get you out of here.”

Gwi picked you up once more, one hand around your shoulders and the other under your knees before he stood up with you cradled in his arms, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Which you were. You were his treasure in his world of darkness. 

The flames had spread rapidly, the heat was becoming unbearable but he knew he had to get you out of that burning inferno. He moved swiftly, his heightened senses guiding him through the maze of corridors and fire. 

The smoke was thick, stinging his eyes and filling his lungs, but he pressed on, driven by a fierce determination to get you to safety. The mansion groaned under the weight of the fire, beams collapsing and walls crumbling but Gwi's steps were sure and purposeful.

Gwi carried you out of the burning mansion, his grip tightening around your smaller form as he pressed you against his chest. He could feel your shallow breaths against his neck, could hear the weak pulse of your heart through his enhanced senses. The beautiful blue dress you had once worn was now ashen and dirty. 

He knelt on the ground, the estate consuming in flames behind him as he looked down at you. Your red hairpin caught the moonlight and he sighed as he had you in his arms once more. 

“My sweet flower, you have to wake up. Open your eyes, for me. Please-”

One of his hands supported your back while the other cradled your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. He sighed, closing his eyes as his forehead rested against yours. Feeling a tsunami of emotions drown his heart. The desperation, the anger, the fear came crumbling down as he looked at you with such tenderness that belied the rampage that had gripped his soul and left the estate in a bloody bath of flames and ashes. 

“Let’s go home, flower.”

And with that, he picked you up once more, carrying you in his strong embrace through the forest and back to the underground palace. Where you belonged. In his dark domain. In his kingdom of the night. By his side. 

The sound of soft leaves rustling filled your ears. That was the first thing you were aware of before you were to open your eyes. There was a headache that nagged at the back of your skull, causing a groan to escape your lips. Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. The scent of the cherry blossom reached your senses and you instantly calmed down. You knew where you were. You felt instantly safe when you recognised that you were back in the underground palace. 

With slow movements you sat up and noticed you were alone in the room. The only company you had were the shadows casted by the flickering candles around the large bedroom. 

But it didn’t make any sense. The last thing you remembered was going to your father’s estate upon his daring letter. You remembered all the rage you had felt as you read his words, all the frustration to the man who was supposed to protect you but in reality he only used you as his pawn in a game you never agreed to play. 

You remembered the tea he had given you, the dizziness that had wrapped your mind. And how he had looked at you in disdain before your world turned black. 

With a sigh, you looked around the bedroom and your eyes caught sight of the rose Gwi had given you the day he left. It was on your desk, the petals were withering away and an immense sadness pulled at the strings of your heart at the sight of the sad flower that had once been so beautiful. 

You pulled the covers from your body, noticing you were no longer wearing the blue hanbok but were now in a simple white gown, the skirts not as puffy as your usual dresses, the softness of the fabric was more delicate against your skin. And your hair was down, cascading behind your back as you stood up. 

The drug was still in your system and you stumbled, catching yourself against the full-length mirror in your room. You looked up and watched the reflection of yourself, feeling a burning desire that consumed your senses. You were alone in the bedroom. But you craved his presence. It could only have been Gwi who had taken you back to the underground palace. 

Your eyes filled with tears with the need that cursed through your veins and you forced yourself to part from the mirror, walking across the room and through the corridor that led to the throne room. 

Gwi sat on his throne, the candles around him sharpened his ethereal beauty. He heard your footsteps before you entered the spacious room. He smelled your delectable scent as you approached him more and more with each passing second. His heart quickened and his knuckles turned white as fisted his hands over his lap. 

“My Lord…”

Your voice was soft. Shy even. But he didn’t look at you. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when his mind screamed at him to be angry at you and his heart whispered at him to be relieved that you were fine and alive with him. 

From the corner of his eye he saw you move through the room, your steps hesitant and he could practically taste whatever herb your father had given you mingling with the scent that kept him addicted to you. 

“My Lord, please.”

His eyes met yours in a cruel dance of emotions. You swallowed as he met your gaze, for his eyes were as dark as ever but you saw no emotion whatsoever in his dark pools of eternal secrets. There was no storm of emotions in them, no warmth, only the coldness of his authority that drowned you in a freezing embrace of regret. 

“You disobeyed me.”

Gwi stood up and you took a step back. His towering height made you shrink within yourself. You had never seen him so cold and stern with you. Not like this. He began descending the steps that led to his throne slowly, like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey. 

“I told you to not leave the underground palace.”

His hissed words made you flinch and you continued to walk backwards as he approached you, instinctively trying to put some kind of distance between you and the barely contained anger that held his heart prisoner. 

“Are my orders nothing to you?”

You shook your head, gasping silently as your back collided with one of the columns in the large space. 

“No, My Lord.”

His eyes narrowed at your response, his sharp features hardening even further. His approach was deliberate, each step getting him closer and closer to you, the candlelight accentuated his fury simmering beneath the surface and you found yourself fisting the fabric of your white skirt that kissed the ground. 

“You defied me. You risked everything—your safety, your life—all because you refused to obey a simple command.”

You pressed yourself against the column, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his disappointment was crushing, and the fear that he might truly hate you for your disobedience was almost too much to bear. Your mind raced for an explanation, a way to make him understand, but words failed you under the intensity of his gaze.

Gwi halted just inches away from you, his towering figure casting a long shadow that enveloped you entirely. The air around you felt charged, thick with tension as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath.

“I-I was scared. I thought I could handle it, I thought-”

“You thought wrong.”

Tears filled your eyes at the harsh and deep voice in which he spoke to you. It made your heart clench in your chest with the knowledge that you had disappointed him. That you had angered him. 

“I’m sorry..”

You lowered your gaze, not being able to keep eye contact for much longer. He frowned down at you, taking a step closer that narrowed the space between you both even more that had you not been conflicted with your own emotions, your breath would have hitched in your throat at the proximity. Gwi's expression softened for a fleeting moment, the mask of anger slipping to reveal the turmoil within. But just as quickly, the hardness returned, and he took another step closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Sorry?”

He laughed, a humourless laugh that made a shiver run down your spine. You looked into his eyes, even if you wanted to look away his grasp wouldn’t allow it as his fingers travelled from your chin to collar your neck instead, keeping you pressed against the wall behind your back.

“You think sorry is enough? That man you call your father has only ever used you for his own interests. I said I would protect you but you can’t just go wandering into the lion’s den and expect to walk out unharmed.”

His grip tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, the barely contained fury that threatened to boil over at any moment. But within that anger, you could also sense something deeper—a fear that ran so deep it twisted every thought, a fear of losing you.

“Forgive me, My Lord.”

“Silence.”

His command forced your lips shut. His voice was a mixture of something else. Something deeper. Darker. Something almost like a fierce desperation. 

“You don’t understand do you? You are the only thing in this cursed world that matters to me, and you throw yourself into danger as if your life means nothing.”

You swallowed, he felt the motion through his palm that still held your neck. The words hung in the air, leaving you waiting. Expecting for what he had to say when he had already bared his soul out to you. 

“I cannot lose you. Not to that man. Not to whatever fate we tangled ourselves in. I can’t.”

Gwi spoke through clenched teeth, his feelings a whirlwind of emotions within him that he couldn’t bring himself to part from you nor to step closer to the flame he so desperately wanted to burn in. 

There were many things left unsaid. Many emotions that you weren’t quick enough to grasp. But there was a certain warmth in his gaze that was there, for just a split second. A swirling of emotions, the battle between mind and heart. And you surrendered yourself against him. 

“Do you love me?”

The question left your lips in a soft whisper. And yet, it was loud enough to break the fog in his mind. His eyes softened, his lips parted as he stared down at you with so much sadness in his dark gaze that you couldn’t help the tear that rolled down your cheek. But his silence was like a dagger to your heart. 

“You have never said anything but your eyes tell a different story… Forgive me, I thought you loved me as well.”

You dropped your gaze, your hands released the tight fist you had on the white skirt of your dress as you felt the weight of his silence press down on you. You danced in the middle of his secrecy. Of his silent words that left his soul as his grip on your neck tightened ever so slight. 

“You speak as if you harbour such feelings for me.”

His voice was softer, more gentle. But it was that dark symphony of words that made your heart race and your mind spiral with emotions too complex to understand. 

“That’s because I do.”

You looked up once more, meeting his intense gaze that held a softness in such darkness you had never seen before. 

“You claimed me as your own; unknowingly you claimed my heart as well.”

Gwi shook his head, the words he was hearing were not meant to leave your lips. He wasn’t meant to feel his dead heart come back alive with such a declaration of devotions that went beyond your service to him. 

“You cannot love me.”

His words were laced with so much pain, whispered to the air as if he was confessing the biggest of sins. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart aching for the man that owned you in more ways than he should. 

“Why?”

A question so small yet filled with pain. You couldn’t stop looking up at him. Waiting for him to give you his heart as well. 

“Because you will end up hurt, petal. And the single thought of you being hurt pains me to no end.”

“Then don’t. Don’t hurt me. Do not break my heart.”

He knew the risks. He knew that loving you openly would endanger your life more than it already was with the mere knowledge of you living under his roof. But he couldn’t deny it anymore. He couldn’t resist the pull; not from hunger, not from obsession. The pull of his heart to yours. 

“Please.”

You barely uttered your plea before his lips smashed with yours. The intensity of it took your breath away, his lips moving against yours with a desperate urgency. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him back. 

You responded in kind, your hands clutching at his robes as you kissed him with equal fervour. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unbridled passion.

Gwi's hand tightened on your neck, not in a painful way but with a possessive intensity that made your pulse quicken. His other hand slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer as if trying to meld your bodies together. The taste of him was addictive and you craved more, more, more. You whimpered softly as he broke the kiss, your lips were left tingling with the sensation of your passion. His eyes opened to gaze into your own as you both panted softly into each other’s mouths. 

“Love me. Love with me.”

You craned up your head, wanting nothing more than for him to take you. To mark you. To love you in such an intimate way. 

“I love for you, my petal.”

You moaned as he kissed you again, your hands cradling his face as he pressed you to him in suppressed emotions that spilled like a tidal wave. 

Gwi's lips moved down to your jaw, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hand slid from your waist to your lower back, pulling you even closer. The sheer need in his touch made your heart race, each kiss igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with every second.

A flame of love.

August/12/2024

A/N: Want to be tagged? Let me know in the comments!

Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

[vsimp]

a glaze lily that blooms underneath the moonlit sky

pairing: zhongli x reader

summary: “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” which means I love you. in that he comes to conclusion about his feelings for you

genre: fluff

wc: ~1k

spoilers if you haven’t done Liyue’s archon quest

Zhongli watched as you skipped through the fields of Liyue. You two had strayed far away from the hustling city and now remained walking on the outskirts. It was late at night, and you had been accompanying him all day to help with a consultation that required your knowledge and expertise.

He had appreciated your company today, and it was approaching that time for you two to depart. But you were a sneaky one, making a contract that very day, knowing that he could not refuse.

In exchange for your knowledge, Zhongli would help fulfill a request. And that request was to accompany you for a few more hours tonight. Yes, to anybody else, Zhongli would happily fulfill such an easy request, as he enjoyed the company of others to share his stories, but to spend time with you? You, who shook his heart and made him feel more uneasy?

Having lived for the last 6,000 years, he was definitely not naive. In fact, he could read the motives behind this contract you’ve established very easily. He, however, could not find it within him to deny your request. Indeed, your help was great importance for him in regards to his job, but having known you for quite a bit, he’s grown fond of your company. Perhaps a bit too comfortable, might he add.

With a soul as old as his, he’s had his fair share of sorrow and heartbreak. The wounds from the past have now formed the current solid rock that has acted as a barrier to his heart that has grown expontentially. Yet, somehow you’ve managed to squeeze your way into that very crevice that he’s kept closed off for so long.

Maybe it was your tenacity, your courage, your compassion. Maybe it was your strength, your willingness to help others no matter what, your morality. No, maybe it was something much more simpler. Maybe it was your smile, the way you called out his name, the way your eyes curled up at the corners when you laughed with him. The laugh that he had grown so fond of— the one that was so melodious that even a glaze lily could bloom just from the sound of it.

He was scared of these emotions that were forming for you. He wanted to push them away so that he wouldn’t get hurt, but more importantly so that you would not be hurt from them as well.

But as you danced around the tall wild grass underneath the moonlight, it was like all of his worries had melted away. You looked so free to him at that moment, like a bird who could take off into flight at any time. Now that he was living as a mortal, would he be able to fly with you? Would he be able to finally be free, away from the restraints of previous duties as an archon?

It was tempting. You were tempting.

“Wow, the sky is so clear tonight!” You said as you looked up.

Zhongli’s eyes followed the direction you looked at. It seemed like the same sky he had been looking at for the last 6,000 years, yet tonight, it looked more beautiful than ever.

“Indeed,” his deep voice rumbled out, “it is a fine night.”

There was silence between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward at all, a gentle and tranquil breeze washing along any bare skin that was laid out in the open.

He looked at you then. Your eyes were shut, lashes fluttering softly against your cheek, as you smiled gently.

You started to hum a tune. He was sure he had heard it before, a long time ago. He was surprised to even hear it because he thought it was a lost piece of culture from the distant past.

That wasn’t the only thing that surprised him. A glaze lily rested before him. It was small but unbloomed on the side of a rock. And as your voice reached across the winds, the flower had started to blossom underneath the moonlit sky. Its petal stretched out as it responded to your gentle humming.

Since your eyes were shut, you didn’t notice the exotic flower blooming before you, but Zhongli knew how special this was. Glaze lilies only responded to the song of the people and could only blossom at night. And since they were rare to grow in Liyue now, to witness one fully bloom was a spectacle in itself.

All of the sudden, his feelings had started to overflow overwhelmingly, the crack in his heart now starting to pour out. He wanted to burn this memory in his sight, forever etching your loveliness in his mind so that he would never forget you. He would no longer look at glaze lilies with the same sorrow he had once looked before.

For your beauty had stolen his breath away, and he no longer was able to deny it.

You stopped humming soon, and then you opened your eyes.

“Thank you for taking the time to join me, Zhongli,” you said as you looked up to the sky once more. Your eyes sparkled and he could see the reflection of the galaxy within them. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

He paused at the quote. A long time ago, a sly fox from Inazuma had taught him the true meaning about that quote. First, a song from an old legend, and now a quote from a distant nation. Where had you learned these little things?

He paid no heed to the matter, however, because he knew he had to respond back quickly. His heart was pounding at this point. And then he thought to himself that maybe it would be okay to accept his feelings for you. Now that he was no longer Rex Lapis, he could love you like any other regular man could.

And in a voice as calm as ever, he replied back to the person in front of him,

“It truly is, isn’t it?”

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of fics where Louis, Harry, or both of them have pets. This is a great group of fics, so please be sure to check them all out and show the authors some love! If you enjoy our rec lists, please also like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Maple | Mature | 5,255 words

Prompt 30: Louis is crazy about animals, so Harry is determined to get him all the pets he wants even if they are unconventional, like a baby goat. Louis is over the moon when they get to adopt a goat family, but there’s one little problem, and that is the goat not liking Harry…or even letting him get close to Louis. At first it’s all endearing fun and games, but when it starts affecting their sex life and Harry’s dick feeling neglected, he’s determined to try win over the goat so he let him be with Louis. It’s easier said than done - who knew goats could screech that loudly? (Tip: google goat screaming to get an idea how loud.) ***Change to a cow, I hope that is okay.

2) At The End Of My Rope | Mature | 5,608 words

"Baby?" Harry mumbles, voice laced with sleep and a shiver goes through Louis at hearing the term. He hasn't called him that in so long, in that voice and, clearly, even Louis' body fucking misses it. "Did you cheat on me?" Louis finds himself asking. If he's being honest it's more so he can see Harry's reaction, than a genuine question, but what has he got to lose? Sure enough, Harry's face changes from sleepy to the most incredulous look Louis' ever seen on him. He actually looks terrified, all wide eyes, mouth gaping like he can't believe Louis would even assume that and Louis would laugh at it, but he's so done with the way Harry's been acting, he just wants to know what the hell's going on.

3) If This Room Was Burning | Explicit | 8,629 words

Where Louis' cat gets stuck on the roof and Harry is the firefighter who ends up saving her.

4) I Built This Bed For Two (I Built This Bed For Me and You) | Explicit | 8,942 words

Harry and Louis broke up after uni and haven't seen each other since—until they're roped into doing a Buzzfeed video together. Featuring awkward cuddling and a reunion that just needed a kick in the arse, gleefully provided by Niall.

5) Glistening Under The Sun (You’re My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8,996 words | Sequel

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

6) Candle Wax & Polaroids On The Hardwood Floor | Explicit | 13,082 words

Prompt 463: Clumsy modern witch Louis AU where he accidentally gives his roommate Harry a love potion and he has a crisis because he thinks he will get in trouble with the law for technically poisoning someone and Harry’s heart eyes aren’t helping.

7) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13,137 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat. Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

8) Absolutely Smitten | Mature | 20,120 words

Louis is walking his dog. Harry is walking his cat. Leashes get tangled, and feelings too.

9) I Didn't Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) | Explicit | 20,681 words

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course. Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

10) Nocturnal Creatures Are Not So Prudent | Mature | 24,558 words

Louis is a white witch with a little black cat named Hemlock and a best human friend Liam (they're a lot like Samantha Stephens and Louise Tate). When he's dragged out to a new club Liam's heard about from a friend and classmate, Louis comes face to face with that which witches do not touch: a charming vampire by the name of Harry.

11) Weightless | Explicit | 25,332 words

Harry is the best dragon racer the world has ever seen and Louis is an almost-vet who feels like he is carrying the weight of the world.

12) A Common Place Affliction | Explicit | 36,508 words

“You should go home,” Louis muses, and Harry can feel the omega crouch down to become eye level with Harry, poking his cheek with a dainty finger. Harry lifts his arm, taking a peek at Louis’ face. Louis looks tired, he notes, but not exhausted, and there’s an eyelash stuck to his cheek. Harry doesn’t hesitate to lazily reach out and thumb over his cheek. “Can’t,” Harry croaks, blindly twisting his hand around to grab at Louis’ offending finger and just holding it. “C’mere. Take a nap with me,” he asks after a beat, opening an eye to look at Louis. Louis raises an eyebrow. “M’not going to nap with you in the middle of the ER, H.” Sighing, Harry squeezes the young nurse’s finger. “Nobody cares.” He knows they do; they’ll annoy nurses and probably worry patients when they catch sight of a nurse and surgeon sleeping on the job. Let alone in the middle of the emergency ward hallway. Harry can hear the complaints now: ‘these are the people we’re supposed to trust with our lives?’

13) You Wish I Was Yours And I Hope That You're Mine | Explicit | 36,992 words

The one where Harry's a bit strange and Louis doesn't give up easily. Of course, they fall in love.

14) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41,041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

15) This Glass House | Mature | 43,072 words

While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.

16) Breakable Heaven | Mature | 44,594 words

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath. “I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.” “You must not have met many creatures then.” Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

17) Yesterday Came Suddenly | Explicit | 48,504 words

They don’t talk about it. The way Harry deflects any and all questions about his past and Louis pretends he isn’t confused or hurt by it. The way Harry keeps a distance between them and Louis acts like he can’t see it creating a wall between them. The way Harry doesn’t always answer honestly and Louis goes along with it as if he can’t tell. They don’t talk about it. Harry knows Louis feels like he doesn’t know him well enough, and it pains him. It pains him every time Louis gets that look on his face that’s a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and confusion. And sometimes, self-blame. It pains him because Louis is wrong. Because even though there is a lot Louis doesn’t know about him, there is so much that he does. He knows what Harry is like at his most vulnerable: curled up on this bed with him in the dark where it’s safest. He knows Harry in a way no one else does.

18) So Much We Didn’t Say | Mature | 53,584 words

Harry’s near fatal accident exposed the cracks in his and Louis’ eleven year marriage. A serious error in judgement by Louis shattered it completely.

19) Secret's Safe With Me | Explicit | 59,208 words

When bad turbulence and three glasses of wine have Louis spilling all of his secrets to the man sitting next to him on the plane, it's embarrassing, sure, but it's also easy enough to shrug off and block out of his memory forever. Or at least, it was until Louis went into work on Monday morning and realized that the man from the plane is the new CEO of his company.

20) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63,000 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

21) Sweet Creature | Explicit | 78,282 words

Prompt: "You're having a nightmare and I feel bad because you're trembling and crying so I crawl into bed with you and hold you so you feel safe, but in the morning you wake up with my arms around you and you're really confused and embarrassed."

22) Elysian | Mature | 81,886 words

Harry is running out of time to fall in love, but with Louis, it seems as if there’s all the time in the world.

23) Beautiful War | Mature | 103,379 words

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis' a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he'd been held hostage, but he's found ways to cope. That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death. Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn't buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He's certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved. Until they meet, and they're both left questioning everything they'd thought to be true.

24) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Explicit | 212,387 words

In a world where one was either an Alpha or an Omega wolf, Louis found himself in a body that could be neither. Born an Omega without the expected characteristics of one, he felt broken, choosing to live as Alpha a lifestyle as he could. Harboring a serious lack of respect for Alphas and their authority complexes, Louis managed to get himself banished from his home, forced to wander the unforgiving woods for years, facing the elements and fighting enemy rogues each time they arose. Unbeknownst to Louis, in a tribe to the southwest of his home, there lived a dysfunctional Alpha, the orphaned pack leader Harry, who had never felt satisfied enough with anyone to settle down and continue his royal line. Living their lives apart thus far, the both of them assumed that they might be alone forever, making the best of things despite this even though it hurt. Chance, luck, or maybe fate brings Louis to this tribe when he’d least expected to receive kindness and shelter from a stranger, and when he arrives, something in his soul pulls him to Harry like a raging river current. The two don’t get off to a good start, but everyone around them can sense the chemistry—and in time they do too.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[ria-writes-stories]

Star dust

Ship: V x Thad Genre: Fluff description: This is the prequel to the first one where V kicked Thad's butt and let him live, enjoy. Also I tried to use both human and drone terms and stuff, why? bc I love @taminam02 human designs but I was unsure if to write them as humans or machines given that in the last one that line was a blur too so yeah- as neutral as possible to that. Also V and Thad being the first crack ship I looked at and went '...yeah, yeah this is good' --------------------------------

(No one's pov)

Life was a curious thing, for it brings people in situations in which they would never expect to find themselves in.

When one reffers to someone in their prime they say that they are in their bloom of age don't they? But what about someone who never trully pqssed that prime? What about someone who ended up at the peek of the mountain and has since not fallen despite seeing many before them do so? Aren't stars eternal? Do they not appear and never fade despite them chasing to exist long ago, their light still being guide to many others until it all turns pitch black?

V wasn't exactly alive, but she wasn't dead either. Once upon long ago she was so much different, she was the purest flower, ready to bloom in the heart of spring, but it was in vein, for something else came along and decided that they wanted her for greater purposes. They decided that she was made for things beyond her understanding, things beyond her will of doing, and so she had to be changed. When she woke up, she was no longer a flower, she bloomed yet it was with light and sparkles instead of colorful petals and sweet perfumes. She was in her prime at all times or so one would think she was. Time passed and little by little the structure began to collapse, it still shined just as much.

Thad was in his prime. Both in appearance and in heart, he was at the peek of it. Stronger than ever before, more energised, wiser, brave, he was ready for everything life was going to throw at him and he wasn't going to slow down one moment.

Do you see the issue? She appears to be above all and while she might be, she does not feel like it, while he is in whole truth where others see her stand. After the fight Thad tried to make sense as to why he was left alive. One would say it was fate or because he fought his way out but that was a poor lie. His hat was waiting for him in his room after that near death experience. V broke in, she was right there in the heart of the colony *she could have killed him. She could have killed anyone and everyone but she didn't. It made no sense, all his life he was taught the drones beyond the walls of the bunker were nothing but omens of death and destruction and yet here he was alive after two fights with the same so supposed angel of death. Then again, third time's a charm.

V was circling around her territory. This wasteful planet was nothing but snow and cold harsh wind. However, the moon lit so beautifully on these frail layers of snowflake that they glimmered just like dust made out of stars.

Thad was out again, what a foolish reason one might say, but he had a plan, at least to an extent. She could have gotten him by now but she didn't and now it was time to learn why. After all, he wasn't going to get even more powerful, right? V heard him, she had excellent hearing, but by the time she could make a cheeky remark he threw his hat at her feet and glared at him, he sure had s throw, he was at least a meter or two away from her.

"Why?" He asked bluntly as he frowned as she simply gave out one of her psychotic smiles. "Little prey has come to play~?" She taunted as she began to close on him with a wide smirk, showing those terrifyingly sharp teeth. Thad couldn't help but instinctively put a hand at his neck. Their last encounter ended up in a permanent mark for the rest of his life. She saw this, and couldn't help but smile ever more. Was it his fear and yet defying behaviour? Was it his foolishness and yet bravery? Or was it his skill and charm that has saved his neck?

"Why did you let me go? You could have killed me that time, but you didn't." "Are you so arrogant and ungrateful as to even seek an answer? You're more foolish than I have anticipated then."

In just a few steps he was right up in his face, and yet he showed no sign of backing away. Anyone would call him an idiot in this moment and yet that is far from what he was for deciding to confront her.

One moment, just one and he saw all that he needed to know. "You're tired." He blurted out bluntly as he looked at her with a sympathetic and apologetic manner. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked at him baffled as her lips parted ever so slightly ready to prove him wrong, but to what extent even? What could she answer with to that? She had no answer that would prove him otherwise. Her face of shock slowly turned to anger as she placed one of her claws under his chin, right next to his neck, ready to finish him for good, or so one would think.

"Is that why you sparred me? You were tired?" The more he spoke the more a low growl could be heard from the girl as she pressed her sharp claw further more ready to draw out the life source from his body, and just when you think that she would actually do something her eyes found their path to his.

He was far from being tired, he had all the energy he needed and more, there was no fear of death, there was no 'What if this backfires?' of any kind. He held no such silly concerns because he was proven to be right by no other than her and so why would he frail?

Her grip slightly loosened as one small drop trailed off her claw and dropped onto the snow, staining it's purity and creating a new pattern into it's structure.

She took a step back to reconcile yet she had no words. She couldn't even begin to understand his reason to be there to begin with. She couldn't understand why he wished to speak to her. He put his neck at risk to simply come out all the way here and face her. One of her teammates could have gotten to him, she could have been hungry and finished him off, there were simply so many risks that it lead to no rational conclusion as to why he would face it all.

She shouldn't waste her time with idiots. She was ready to be on her way, fly off, leave him behind, but its not like he was intending of letting her go anytime soon.

He grabbed her hand right when she was about take off. A foolish mistake, for her tail could easily be the end of him, or even her claws, right there and then and his eyes would never shine with light again.

Yet she didn't take any sort of action.

As for him, it was like seeing her for the very first time. There was no trace of malice or hatred from what he could see. There was no active desire to consume the flesh of another and feast upon their misery. There was no indication whatsoever that she was the monster that tales from his home made her to be. Even with his experience and encounters with her, he saw no such flaw in her. He almost felt foolish to have thought of her in all those horrible ways for so long and for what reason exactly?

However, she wasn't ready for this, she didn't want to, not now. Her hand slipped out of his grasp and she took off. He was left behind, holding his hand in that same position, the surprisingly warm touch of her hands left imprinted in his. Her skin was smooth and delicate, nowhere near as rough and as patched as one would expect from these harsh winds.

As time passed they met more and more. V didn't make the mistake to stay on the ground for too long again. Whenever he would see her would be from a far away building. Sometimes she was closer, other times she would fly right above him, or far away into the sky, but each time he went out he spotted her. Either he managed to find her every time, or she was expecting him and stalking him from the moment he'd set foot out of the colony.

Silence was all that there was between them. They couldn't be from further different worlds and yet he kept coming back. He got his answer, he should have left this all behind long ago, but foolish is the boy who knows no fear. He kept coming back.

He learned to admire her. She learned to tolerate his existence. He was the most annoying person she had ever met, for the simple reason that he kept coming back, wasting his time with no certainty that he would ever gain what he sought.

She was the most fascinating enigma that he would ever have the pleasure of meeting in his entire life.

He was right with one thing, she was tired, even if that didn't mean she was any less of a danger, one day just because of that, he finally got to her.

She opened her eyes as she looked emptily into the distance. The snow was falling slowly before merging with the already existing layers from the ground. How has the city not yet been engulfed in snow? Was it her flying that disturbed the clouds, perhaps it was her landings that would create craters alongside the chasing of her preys, but as her mind wondered with these meaningless thoughts, she realised one thing. She wasn't overheating… she didn't feel warm, and that would usually be a relief but now… it made no sense.

That is when she spotted him. He was right there, his left hand bandaged tightly, while his jacket was missing. No, it wasn't missing, it was resting on her shoulders and she didn't even notice it. How was that possible…?

Why was he bandaged? Why was she not overheating? The last thing she recalls is falling. She was overheating, but not anymore. She could feel that well known tangy sweet taste in her mouth. Has he…?

Sacrifices. It's the way that Thad knew life worked. If you wanted something, you had to make sacrifices, if you wanted to see another day, you had to make sacrifices, if you wanted to make connections, you had to make sacrifices. So, in order to make the progress he has hoped for, he made a sacrifice. What was it to him? What were just a few drops of blood to a machine? What were just a few drops of oil to a human? A human's body can regenerate with the proper nutrition, a machine needs to change it's oil regardless. Why wouldn't he be able to sacrifice such a small insignificant amount? Sure the process to gain back the loss may prove a bit troublesome, but it was worth it, wasn't it?

She looked at him silently, he still didn't notice that she was awake, he was lost in his own thoughts.

A quiet sound and the warmth of another's presence. That's what pulled him out, just to look at his side and realised her head was resting on his shoulder while mindlessly looking at the snowflakes waltzing through the air to the ground.

A day after another, nobody noticed, no one had a clue. Why would they ever pry into it? Maybe he was doing some extra training, hitting the gym or relaxing, no would imagine that he'd go out for such a deed… No one would think that the bandages on his hands are hiding some wounds alongside small punctured holes from the extraction of his life source through more safe and sanitary ways. All to be delivered towards one person, and for what? Just a glance, a brief meeting of their eyes and nothing more. Yet that was just about enough for him to endure all of this.

She shined so beautifully, she was so perfect. A cruel beast, but really, who out of the two was the monster? He who's sharp green eyes gazed into the darkness of the night emptily with nothing but one taunting thought into his mind, or her golden orbs of light scorching the sky with hunger.

Was it worth it?

"Left, right, down." He'd say out softly, holding her hands. He taught her how to dance all over again, and she thought him how to fight better, how to train properly, all the while she was reminded how to move through the wind smoothly.

They were so strange, so different, it was impossible to think that they made a stand, it was beyond imagination to think that they had something to begin with…

"A week more and you can have your refill and-" "No." "…No?" He asked taken aback as he looked at her surprised. "I don't want you to do this. I can handle myself just fine." "I'm not saying you can't but-" "Don't be a stupid tin can and listen to me! I don't want you to do this anymore!" He went mute, as a shadow fell upon his face. It was almost menacing, but by now she knew as to why it would occur.

She softly cupped his cheek and placed a loving kiss on his forehead, pulling him out of the darker pits of his mind. Guiding him back into the light. "It's not needed anymore… Please." She asked simply as his hands raised and gently warped around her.

He was nowhere near being to her level, in his prime and all. The strongest trees and beasts could never compare to even the weakest glimmer of a star.

Star dust, flying around the world with no chains, without any restraints, free to roam this far and wide plane of existence with no restraints, and from all unfortunate souls, it decided to settle down near a golden haired popular jock. Compared to stars that shine for all, a star dust is far too weak from afar to be seen or appreciated, but up close it is the most priceless treasure of the world.

From all of the things of this cruel and cold world, something that held nowhere near as much power as her pinkie finger was her salvation.

This was far from any sort of bickering or 'aggression' to be out of the question, but as they laid down on the rooftops of abandoned buildings with her resting on his chest, it could not be denied. They belonged to complete separate worlds, and yet even the closest to them had not a clue, that the true life that they lived was next to each other with no knowledge or acknowledgement of the two previous worlds that they once originated from.

Words were never spoken, not in the way you'd expect at least. 'I love you' was not something either of them knew. 'I love you' was not in their vocabulary or knowledge. He would give her his life source without expecting anything, and she? She would simply shine and light his path. 'I love you' simply feels so weak for something so pure.

"You're an idiot." "Yes, and?" He asked calmly as his jacket rested upon her shoulders as they walked next to each other. "And you should know to be better." She said as she looked into his eyes with her usual unreadable face just for him to smile at her softly. "Not everyone's born as one of the skies greatest wonders." She'd tched and turn around as he simply looked at her with something that could only be described as full devotion and passion.

They made no sense, they didn't have to, they didn't need to. They were happy, so why would anything else matter?

The end

[honeydjarin]

2. SNOW

DINCEMBER 2022

DIN DJARIN X READER

You coax Din from his spot watching over you, and convince him to rest beside you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1,200

a/n: here’s the second prompt, snow! A day late again, but my concept of time is so bad that this comes as no surprise. I hope you all enjoy!

PREVIOUS || SERIES MASTERLIST

Pale white, thick as a blanket and glowing like the moon, coats everything left to settle. Tree branches once bare have been tucked in for the winter, showcasing a new kind of foliage. From the safety of the cockpit, hidden away behind transparisteel sturdy enough to withstand temperatures far more extreme than the quiet planet beyond the crest could ever reach, you watch the world sleep in.

There hadn’t been this much snow yesterday.

You could hear it falling last night, each flake a near silent plunk as it fell against the Razor Crest. There wasn’t any wind, no harsh whispers against durasteel walls—this was a quiet storm. You imagine the roof of the Crest holds just as much snow as the rocks and logs below, the storm not knowing the starship’s inhabitants were only resting, not hibernating. The steaming cup of caf in your hands ensures that you won’t be going back to sleep any time soon.

Below you, in the hold, Din and Grogu are only just beginning to wake. It’s rare that you are up before them, or at least before Din, who seems to run on little sleep even if his body could use more rest. But last night you just couldn’t relax, too excited by the thought of snow. Not a sharp flurry with biting gusts, nor a pitiful dusting that melts as soon as the flakes make landfall. This was a real snow, with puffy, formless flakes, and even when you couldn’t see them falling, you knew. You could hear it.

By the time the barest hints of light began to turn the clouds from their midnight hue to a deep grey, you found yourself grabbing your favorite mug and climbing the ladder to the cockpit. You haven’t moved since.

You can hear Din talking to Grogu, making one sided conversation as he goes about his morning. The kid babbles back, trying his best to participate, but his meaning is unclear. The two sound well rested, content to enjoy the morning. The scent of fresh caf wafts from the hold up into the cockpit, and you’re almost tempted to go make yourself another cup. You’re just not ready to tear your eyes away from the scene before you.

“Are you up there?” Din doesn’t bother to shout. The door to the cockpit is open, and he knows that anything he says in the hold can be heard with ease.

“I am,” you respond. “It snowed last night.”

Din climbs the ladder, the kid tucked away in his bag on Din’s hip so the Mandalorian can carry the last of his caf with him. You’ve never met anyone who could down a cup as quickly as him.

“We should take Grogu outside. I don’t know if he’s ever seen this much snow before. Even if he has, I think it will be fun for him.” From the corner of your eye you watch Din stroke the kid’s head with a gentle touch, tracing the curve of one petal ear fondly.

“He’s been to Maldo Kreis,” you remind Din, but you know it’s not the same. Nothing good ever comes from a trip to Maldo Kreis.

“Maldo Kreis is a frozen wasteland. This is different.” You hum in agreement, finally turning the chair to face Din and Grogu fully.

“What do you think, kid? Do you want to go play in the snow?” The wide smile and quiet “Ah,” is all the answer you need. Besides, you can’t help but want to play in the snow yourself. There’s something satisfying about being the first living creature to make prints in fresh snow.

“I’ll go get him ready,” Din says before descending down the ladder with the kid, likely making his way to his sleeping nook where all mysteries revolving around the Mandalorian seem to hide.

When you hear Grogu struggling just as much as he had in the Shop, you decide to linger in the cockpit for just a moment longer, enjoying what may be the last glimpse at the scenery before it is disturbed.

It’s only when the muffled swearing and grunts subside that you drop down the ladder yourself, grabbing your new cloak from where it’s folded nicely by your own cot, ready to face the cold once more. It’s warm and soft and perfect, and you smile at the Din as you put it on. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get ready for your journey beyond the ship.

Din lowers the gangplank.

Before the ramp even settles on the ground, Grogu runs as fast as his tiny legs can carry him down towards the snow. As soon as he reaches the bottom, he all but vanishes into the snow. The pale green of his head hardly peaks out above the top, and if you didn’t know exactly where he was you just might have lost him. Or rather, if it weren’t for the bright red snowsuit shining through even the thickest of the snow, you just might have lost him. The fabric stands in such stark contrast from the white environment that there’s no way not to know where the kid has run off to.

“The red was a good choice,” you say to Din, and he hums in agreement.

You make your own way down the ramp, and Din follows close behind, keeping a watchful eye on both the surrounding woods and the child’s whereabouts.

Each step you take sinks into the snow, the fresh fall climbing up your shins past your boots. You won’t be able to stay out long—the cold against your feet will get to be too much even if your new cloak can keep you warm for longer. And if you’re already feeling the chill then the Child likely is too.

You make your way to a large patch of snow that hasn’t been disturbed by Grogu yet, and allow yourself to fall backwards. A flurry of snowflakes float up around you from the impact. It’s not good packing snow, but that doesn’t detract from your joy. When the flakes begin to fall back towards you, they don’t seem to stop.

“It’s snowing again!” you exclaim.

Grogu makes his way towards you, tired from running around, and falls back into the snow by your side. It’s a rare moment, a quiet one, nearly perfect. There’s just one thing missing.

“Come and join us,” you urge, turning your head to face Din so he knows your request is serious.

“I can’t. Someone has to keep watch.”

“There’s nothing out there.”

“You don’t know that.” The two of you are silent for a moment. You turn your face back towards the sky, smiling as a snowflake catches on your eyelashes. Even if Din chooses not to join you, you’ll still have fun. It doesn’t mean you wouldn’t enjoy the moment much more if he were lying by your side, but that seems like too much to reveal to the man who isn’t supposed to be anything more than just a friend.

“I do. Because you said so. That’s why you brought us here, right? Because it’s safe?” Din sighs, he’s been doing that a lot lately, before finally giving into your request.

He trudges through the snow until he reaches you and Grogu, standing for just a moment before lowering himself to the ground with a low groan. He leans back, the two of you on either side of the child.

The snow keeps falling, not quite silent but nearly so, tucking you in for winter.

NEXT PART

Taglist: @unmitigatedsuperiority @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis (sorry for tagging you both so many times this morning)