#I drew this in complete dead silence in my bed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sungbeam · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — part one (i – vii)

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

your sister's dead, but apparently that's not the most shocking news. maybe she wasn't killed on accident, maybe ji changmin isn't really human, and maybe the monsters were never under the bed but all around you...

▷ genre, warnings. strangers 2 reluctant allies/friends 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creatures au, angst, action, murder mystery-ish au, forced proximity trope, suspense, gore, depictions of violence and blood, themes of death and grief, use/description of weaponry, swearing, a slightly unreliable narrator bc she has no idea what's happening, reader's sister is dead, mentions of stalking, humor bc coping mechanisms, reader has hair long enough to braid sorry, blood drinking, the barest of proofreading and editing done...

▷ part word count. 22.3k words / 47.4k - read part two here

▷ associated songs. teeth (5sos), wet nightmare (bibi)

a/n: i tried to make it scary I SWEAR but changmin brings the clown out of me 🤥 anyways i ripped a chunk of my heart out and im serving it to you bloodied on a gold platter, i hope u love her :') read the warnings ofc and lmk your thoughts <3 also i completely gave up on wrestling w blr so im dropping it in two parts, but both of them at once 🤣 pray for me.

#1—NEXT OF KIN.

THEY TOLD YOU YOUR SISTER'S DEATH WAS AN ACCIDENT, they being the authorities who had shown up at the front door of your apartment with their caps in hand, solemn faces pressed into lines that you could not read between. The world had fallen out from beneath your feet like someone had just yanked the carpet out, and you hadn't yet stopped falling.

The funeral was set on the rolling green hills of Elysium Memorial Park, the cemetery where your parents were buried, where your grandparents were buried, and now, where your sister joined them six feet under. Generations ago, your grandparents had purchased plots for themselves and their future family members while the land was cheap. When it came for your time to leave this mortal coil behind, you too would join them in the dirt of Elysium. It almost seemed right that the sky had opened up to reveal a blindingly hot sun, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Perhaps the sky would not weep for your sister, but celebrate her life instead.

But while the heavens above would shed nary a tear, you could make up for that loss yourself. Having little to no living relatives left, you had been expected to take responsibility for all the arrangements, all while grieving, all while studying, all while trying to not fall apart some more. You were holding it together by the zipper of your dress pants and the caffeine from your coffee. You couldn't stop crying for the entire service, the forced silence of your cries balanced by the violent tremors in your shoulders.

Your sister Sena's patch in the land was now marked by a heaping pile of dirt. She had a lot of friends—most of whom gathered behind you and had thrown their flowers upon the dirt hill. You had a few distant relatives as well who you'd managed to remember (somehow) amongst all the madness. A couple of them were able to fly out for the event, but most had to decline.

When you heard your name being called, you drew your blazer sleeve over your eyes in a futile attempt to dry them.

Walking towards you now was a couple, middle-aged, dressed in black from head to toe, not far from how you looked right now. You knew them from about a week ago when they had sought you out after the news of your sister's death spread.

You hadn't the heart to sue them when they confessed who they were. It's our fault, they told you in the quiet of the hallway outside your apartment, we're so sorry. We understand if you'd like to press charges.

Sena was a victim of an automobile accident. You didn't know the entire story—was too tired for the whole story—just shocked she was even in the country. She was supposed to be across the world for a study abroad program, but why was she discovered on the side of the road, a few towns over, inebriated and dead? She became nothing more than roadkill and a statistic in death, and maybe that was why you were so bitter.

"Yn, it was a beautiful ceremony," said the woman—Julia, she had introduced herself as that week ago. Her nose was reddened from the friction of tissue paper, her eyes damp and glittering in the sunlight. "I'm sorry you—that you have to deal with all the pomp and circumstance."

"We know you deserve your time alone," joined her husband, Carter. He tucked his hands into his pockets, mustering up a smile for your sake, but you could still see the guilt flooding his eyes with water. "We just wanted to say thank you for letting us come and pay our respects."

And for not pressing charges. But you dashed that thought away. That was the bitterness talking, but these were good people. They had come forward and been honest, and it wasn't their fault Sena was drunk. (Why in the world was she drunk and here and why didn't she tell you the truth—?)

"Thank you for coming," you replied, "I wasn't sure if you would take me up on the offer, to be honest."

You wrapped up conversation with the couple and watched them depart across the grassy hills toward their car. Your eyes surveyed the last bits of the lingering crowd for familiar faces—anyone at all. But all you found were strangers.

These were all Sena's friends, after all. She had always been the more adventurous of the two of you.

You sighed and resigned yourself to start looking for the funeral coordinator to discuss payment and the like. Though the event was over the worst was just beginning. There was so much to do, and so little energy left to perform them.

But as you began trudging through the plush grass toward the far end of the plot, you noticed a man standing beneath the shade of a nearby oak tree. He wore typical funeral attire—the black dress shirt, pants, shoes, and even a pair of rectangular shades to cover his eyes. Like many of the others, you didn't recognize him—at first.

And then he shifted, lenses of his glasses reflecting sunlight and you could just barely put together the puzzle of his face and his identity. Ji Changmin.

What was he doing here?

They were friends, too, Yn, you reminded yourself. Yet, you weren't sure why you were so surprised he was here. Maybe it was because you never remembered extending the invitation to him (but someone could have spread the news by word of mouth). Maybe it was because several months had passed since you last saw him. Maybe it was because you always thought there was something… strange about him (but that could have been your bias; there was always this thing about him that irked you). Either way, you never had anything to say to him before, and that had yet to change even in light of your sister's death.

The two of you stared each other down, and for a moment, you believed he was going to walk over to you.

But instead, he pushed off the tree trunk and made his way toward the trickle of funeral goers up the hill, leaving you to wonder after him.

The next time you saw Ji Changmin was a week after the will reading.

Because you were Sena's next of kin, you were contacted by your shared attorney about Sena's will. Apparently, she had a will. After all these years, you couldn't even fathom the idea of needing one so early, but for some reason, she had. (Maybe that worried you a little more.)

The strangest thing was that your attorney had delivered to you a flat lockbox made of steel and secured with an old fashioned lock and key. Along with the stash of money in her savings account (where the Hell had all of that come from anyway?), Sena also gave you that. Whatever it was.

You had yet to open it when you bumped into Changmin on your way out of your college's academic counseling center. With recent events, your departmental advisor called you in to discuss your academic plans for the foreseeable future.

You can take as long as you like, Yn, she'd said to you. You're already ahead of schedule to graduate anyways. But that wasn't the point was it?—

"Oh." You stopped short as you rounded the corner and nearly crashed into something. "Sorry," you said before you even recognized him.

A pair of dark, feline eyes looked you up and down. "Yn, right?" Changmin drawled. A pair of white wired earbuds hung from his ears and his shoulders were fitted with a dark colored bomber jacket that was familiar to you. You'd seen it draped over the back of one of your kitchen chairs once when Sena had him over for a project.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. Changmin?"

His nod was barely there. He cocked his head to the side in a way that felt like he was trying to gaze into your soul. "I'm—I'm sorry for your loss," he said, grappling for the right words. "Sena was a good friend."

"I didn't realize the two of you were so close," you told him. This was probably the most he'd ever said to your face, and you to him.

Changmin gave a small shrug. "We worked closely together, so it was kind of inevitable. How are you doing?"

You didn't think the conversation would last this long. "Oh, uhm, I'm fine." You inwardly knocked yourself over the head. He's probably just trying to be nice, Yn. "I mean—" you amended, "—I'm doing as well as you can imagine, I guess. Just lots of legal stuff and…" Her room. Cleaning out her room. Opening the lockbox. Reading her last will and testament for the fiftieth time.

When you didn't finish your sentence right away, he nodded again, shuffling on the balls of his feet. Was he feeling as awkward as you were? "I get that. Hey, if you—y'know, like, need anything—"

"You don't have to do that."

"What about coffee? Just… to talk."

Coffee? You considered him for a second. Before, you nor he had ever given any indication to the other that you acknowledged the other's presence. In fact, you confessed to Sena once that he intimidated you, even if he was just sitting there in your shared living room while pouring over JSTOR academic essays.

He was patient, you realized. Then you relented. "Okay. When's good for you?"

You thought you saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes, but that could have just been the afternoon sunlight. "Now?"

Your eyes widened a smidge, and you coughed. "Uhm now? I—I have class…?" You didn't, but the curve ball that was an impromptu coffee session with Ji Changmin wasn't something you needed right now.

His eyebrow lifted as if he didn't believe you. "Okay," he dragged out. "Tomorrow morning?" He offered as a counter.

Your brain did cartwheels in an attempt to figure out if you would have the willpower to do that. "Okay," you said. Better to get this out of the way, right?

"Do you know that one place on Magnolia?"

"The one across from the Eight Ball?" You perked up in recognition. You and Sena used to go all the time. The two of you liked to say that Magnolia was her street because it housed all her favorite places; just the thought of taking a stroll down it made your eyes water. "Yeah, Sena and I used to go all the time."

Changmin paused, his mouth opening, then closing.

You guessed what he was thinking. "It's fine if we go. I'm not gonna like, burst into tears or anything," you chuckled awkwardly, clearing your throat when excess tear fluid made you congested.

His lips pursed, impressing a dimple into his cheek. "Okay, only if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." It seemed that everything you said to people was something like a lie nowadays.

It was late when you finally faced the lockbox.

The box was an unassuming hunk of metal, flat and slim and no bigger than a standard piece of paper. You warmed the key in your palm until it was hot to the touch and made your skin redden. The sky outside your apartment window had darkened to a blot of ink, the white shutters drawn shut to create a white paneled shield. You just finished up a very lazy dinner, washed up, and decided to confront the last thing on Sena's will.

The lockbox in the bank under my name goes to my sister, Yn Ln. She is the only one allowed access to it until she opens it; what she decides to do with the contents is her choice.

There must have been something important inside it, you reasoned, otherwise it wouldn't have been a part of the will and it wouldn't be under lock and a single key.

"What is this, Sena?" You asked aloud, venturing to twist the lock open with the key. The locking mechanism gave way, and you set the lock and key aside. The shorter end could slide open like a hidden door, and you peered into the dark depths, almost afraid of what you might find between its jaws.

You could make out the silhouettes of shapes at the bottom, the soft-cornered texture of a wad of bills. You reached in.

One of the things she had left for you in her will was all of the money in her savings account. It had shocked you to see the number—you always thought her only job was at the library, but clearly, she was not just on a librarian's salary.

Pulling out a stack of cash from the box was yet another thing that helped solidify in your mind that something was off. The confusion settled first, and then the betrayal. Had she not trusted you with this knowledge while she was alive? You were the one going into accounting and finance, and yet, she hid all of this money from you? Was she afraid of something? Afraid of judgment, of the law?

You tossed the twenties onto the table. The note slipped between the rubber band and the first piece read something along the lines of 'in case of emergency.'

You made a plunge into the box again. This time, you pulled out the last two things at the bottom, a standard white index card and a small, fabric pouch. The card displayed Sena's familiar scrawl:

You're probably wondering what any of this is, but if you're reading this, it means that something's gone wrong—like really wrong. The necklace in the pouch is super important. DON'T TAKE IT OFF. Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't trust anyone. This is really important to me, Yn. Please be safe; I love you.

x, sena.

Please be safe? Safe from who or what?

You held the note in your hand for a moment and couldn't believe this would be the last thing you received from her. It would be a tangible legacy, in a way, and you weren't sure how to feel about that. You moved the note to the table and turned your attention to the pouch.

You carefully tugged it open. She said it was a necklace, right?

"Oh," you voiced aloud while fishing out a thin, silver chain.

There was a pendant attached to the end with some heft to it. It was a deep, bloody red in the loose shape of a teardrop. There wasn't a sharp peak, but a slightly flat end on one side and a rounded end on the other. You would guess it was some kind of precious stone, but when you stared at it long enough, it looked like the color pulsed… like a heartbeat.

Your breath hitched.

Eyes narrowed, you held it up to the light by the chain. The vibrant red remained stagnant—perhaps you were just tired.

Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't take it off. Don't trust anyone.

Strange request about a necklace. For a moment, you wondered if your sister had indulged in some unsavory acts to achieve the numbers in her bank account and the previous stone in your hands. If you put this on, would you be counted as an accomplice to robbery?

"God, you just need to go to sleep, Yn," you muttered, swiftly clicking the chain into place around your neck. There was no way your sister would have anything to do with—

You froze.

From the other side of your shutters, you swore you heard the sound of shuffling. It wasn't unheard-of that the leaves and tree branches knocked against your second-floor window once in a while, but there hadn't been much wind as of late.

A chill spider-crawled up your spine as you strained your ears to hear more.

When you came up with nothing, you shoved the pendant under your shirt and cleaned up the lockbox. You had an early day tomorrow, after all; sleep was dire to face Changmin.

But as you crept into bed, you couldn't help but feel as if the stone on your sternum did have a heartbeat, and that something in the dark was watching you.

#2—GHOSTS ONLY HAUNT.

YOU STEPPED FOOT ON MAGNOLIA STREET looking for signs of your sister.

The morning air was a little cooler as spring filtered into town, and it also meant that this street in particular would begin to swirl with baby pink petals from the trees of the street's namesake flowers. There weren't many people around on a Thursday morning, but the sun peered between the buildings to say hello, at least.

You were in good company.

"Hey."

"Holy shit—" you whipped around to find Changmin almost right behind you. Your heart stuttered against your ribcage, your hand flying to your sternum where the necklace was. You were still getting used to its presence.

He gave nothing away with his facial expression. Damn him.

"I didn't realize you'd be early," you breathed as you tried to get a grip on yourself. Did this guy just materialize out of thin air everywhere?

Tongue in cheek, he said, "Well, I couldn't really sleep, so I figured the morning air might freshen me up a bit. Shall we?" He gestured with his elbow and chin to the establishment to your right.

There sat the quaint, little coffee shop you'd both agreed on yesterday. This one was one of Sena's favorites. She always claimed that their blueberry scones were the best in the world.

When you didn't say anything for a little, he cleared his throat. "We don't have to, if you can't or don't want to."

You hadn't even realized you were being quiet. Thoughts had been muddled as of late. You cleared your throat and stumbled for the door. "No, we can go in."

Two cups of coffee arrived at your table seven minutes later in compostable cups and a pile of artificial sweetener packets and creamer. You straightened in your seat across from Changmin and began ripping open sweetener packets and wondering if you should have gotten something of substance to eat. (You had stared at the blueberry scones for a long minute before deciding that today was not the day you wanted to cry in front of someone, especially this someone in particular.)

Changmin moved his cup toward his side of the table but made no move to add sugar or cream, or to even drink it.

This place was so familiar to you that you knew exactly how many packets of cream and sweetener to mix in, and you gently blew a breath over the steam floating off the surface. When the liquid hit your tongue and your throat, its warmth enveloped your nerves in a warm embrace, assuring you everything was going to be okay. The emotion hit you like a freight train.

You pressed your thumb against the rear gland in your right eye and willed it away. "So uhm," you said, fanning your eyes gently as you attempted to pull yourself together in front of him, "what… what did you wanna talk about? If there was anything?"

He folded his arms over his chest while leaning back in his chair, and you thought you saw his gaze soften. "Why don't you take another sip?" His eyes went to the coffee. "It'll help."

You couldn't deny that suggestion, and you reached for your cup to take another small gulp. The breath you let out rattled.

This was a bad idea.

"Are you gonna be okay if I talk about Sena?"

You nursed the coffee cup in your hands and nodded slowly.

He eyed you for a moment, then relented. "Did she happen to leave anything that was marked for me? Before the—the accident, she said there was something she needed to tell me."

Something she needed to tell him? You racked your brain, eyes drilling into the wood grain of the coffee table between you two. The will hadn't mentioned anyone else but you. And all of the letters or notes from Sena that were given to you were all for you; the attorney would have handled the rest and mailed them off to anyone else she'd written something for.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "No, I can't think of anything. You say you were expecting something?"

The resolve in his eyes steeled over, and that little bit of softness you'd seen before disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. You couldn't read him anymore. "Yes, I have her texts."

He fished out his phone from his pocket and you pursed your lips as he maneuvered to a screen of his and your sister's last messages to each other:

sena: i think i'm going back home soon, so i'll c u then changmin: okay that's fine changmin: wait ur still over there?? i thought u left already? sena: had to talk to someone abt the thing, but it was a dead end sena: just remind me that i have something to tell u changmin: what? sena: it'll be better if i said this in person

That was all Changmin let you see.

You leaned away from his phone, head reeling more from the fact that he knew she had been out of town and knew where she was and why she was there. Never mind the fact that apparently, Sena was holding onto important information for Changmin. You couldn't care less about that.

You supposed the texts were for him to prove to you he was telling you the truth. It wasn't like you weren't telling the truth either.

"Why was Sena out of town?" You asked him. "Did she ever go on any of those study abroad trips?"

Changmin paused, then something flickered in his eyes. "I think I showed you too much."

"I think you showed me too little."

"Yn, did she tell you anything about what she needed to tell me?"

You were going to push against him for your own agenda again, but the slight pressure in his tone made you think twice. There was something urgent in his words, his expression, his body language. You couldn't tell what it was, but something about this had to have been important.

Absentmindedly, your hand rubbed the area where the pendant sat on your chest beneath the collar of your shirt, and his eyes followed for a moment before flickering back up to your eyes. "No," you told him quietly. "She didn't tell me anything."

He must have believed you, because defeat shuddered across his face, and he said goodbye to leave. He didn't even take his coffee with him. Asshole.

You told yourself it would be months before you could bring yourself to go through Sena's things, but after this morning's run-in with Changmin (because it wasn't even a session; you could hardly call it anything but a run-in because it lasted maybe ten minutes), you were determined to unlock her door and do some digging. Clearly, she was hiding more than her money and jewelry(?) from you.

Changmin… he completely ignored your questions confronting him about Sena's whereabouts and her purpose for traveling. You were getting more and more suspicious as to what your sister had been up to lately. Changmin had to be in on it, too, then. He had to be.

Sena's door took up your entire vision as you stood before it with the key in your hand.

You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting when you opened it, but it was as if she had never left. Everything was where she left it—plum-purple covers tucked beneath the mattress, vintage national park postcards hanging from fairy lights by wooden clothespins, jackets layered over the back of her desk chair. There was an empty mug on her desk with the remnants of a red lip tint on the edge, and you knew you weren't going to remember to take it out to the sink later.

The small shelf-nightstand hybrid next to her bed was filled to the brim with books and notebooks and magazines. You settled gingerly upon the edge of her bed, palms pressing against the comforter.

The room still smelled like your sister.

You took the small bottle of perfume on the nightstand and spritzed a little onto your wrist. You pressed it to your nose, letting the scent make your senses woozy. It wouldn't bring her back; it didn't smell exactly the same when it was on your skin.

You set the bottle back onto the nightstand, then lowered yourself to your knees to pull all of the books off the top shelf. You stuck your head into the empty cupboard—you weren't really sure what you were looking for.

All of the titles here were the normal things you remembered seeing her read: assorted mythologies, books on the occult and supernatural, her textbooks for anthropology and archeology. There were about a dozen and a half National Geographic magazines that you flipped through within the next two hours, as well, all of which turned up nothing of curiosity.

None of the bound books were notebooks of any kind.

You crawled over to her desk—rifled through those. Nothing. They were all school related and completely, utterly ordinary.

Disappointment weighed you down into her desk chair as you hit another dead end.

Was there nothing she could give you?

No, she's dead, you thought to yourself. You'd never known Sena to be a secretive person, especially with you—in fact, you were the quieter of the pair, and she always managed to coax the right things out of you.

Sometimes you had felt like the older sister because you handled so many of the logistics and practical things, but when the world became too scary, you could always count on running to her to feel safe again…

Safe.

Sena, were you ever safe? You were beginning to think not so much.

"Do I need to file for a restraining order?"

It was getting ridiculous how many times you ran into Changmin in the past two weeks. It was outside the advising office, on your way to the store, in the hallway outside your finance lecture. And now, he loitered in the lobby of your apartment complex with a wired earbud in one ear and the other dangling freely.

He seemed to be unfazed by your remark as he peered over at you from beneath the brim of his cap. "What if I just live here?"

"But you don't," you huffed, coming to stop right in front of him. You had a feeling you would have definitely known if he moved into this building. "What do you want from me, Changmin? I'm not going to magically lead you to my sister's secret stash of whatever. I just want to get to class."

"Then go to class," he said simply. He gestured with the phone in his hand toward the door. "I'm not here for you."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Perhaps you were being a little silly, and this was just some weird trick your brain was playing on you to make you notice him more. "Answer me something."

"Only if you answer something for me."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Worth a shot," he said with a sigh. "What shall I answer for you?"

"You and my sister weren't dating, were you?"

He must have choked on his own spit because he coughed, furiously thumping his chest. You would have laughed if this was any other circumstance, and if you and Changmin were friends (but you weren't). He shook his head at you. "No. Your sister wasn't interested in me like that and neither was I. We were strictly colleagues."

You cocked your head to the side. Colleagues… you let that marinate. "Okay, so did she have anyone she was seeing then? Just out of curiosity." A former lover you didn't know about would make sense, something like a Bonnie and Clyde situation maybe. Or perhaps you were chasing after ghosts to get a glimpse into the past.

"Someone I suspect, but I don't have their contact," he replied, mimicking your head tilt and narrowed eyes. "If you had her phone—"

"I don't."

"Ah, a shame then."

"Do you?"

"And why would I withhold such an important item from the next of kin?" He drawled.

Changmin suddenly jolted upright from the relaxed position he stood in. It was so abrupt, it gave your heart a start. "That's my cue."

You followed after him out the front doors. "What cue? Did you hear your microwave go off or something?"

You swore to God you saw his mouth curl up in amusement. But it might have been just your imagination. He yanked his other earbud out and lifted a hand in goodbye. "Something like that! See you around."

He disappeared around the corner before you could follow after him. Plus, you really did have a lecture to get to. (Wait, did he say that she was seeing someone—?)

You sighed, wondering if you should follow him… something in the back of your mind told you it would be safer not to.

#3—MONSTERS AMONG MEN.

YOU SWORE JI CHANGMIN HAD TO BE a psychic with the amount of times he predicted your whereabouts. Every time you saw him in your vicinity, you and he shared either a verbal sparring match or stared one another down. He seemed amused by it; you were growing increasingly concerned, even if it was all just coincidence.

(There was this one time, on a Wednesday this past week, where you were the one who appeared at the anthropology department to see one of Sena's old professors. Changmin was there, as it was his major's headquarters, and shot you a curious glance. The meeting was innocent and an accident. No, you definitely weren't stalking him. Absolutely not.)

(It was interesting to consider whether both of you thought the other would lead you to something of Sena's. You were certain he knew more than he let on, and perhaps he thought the same of you… Shit, maybe you should invest in a taser.)

Additionally, the weird sounds around your apartment had increased. Sometimes when you walked around in the evenings, the hair on the back of your neck and your arms stood at attention, as if you could feel the gaze of someone or… something watching you. However, every time you turned to look, the crazier you were convinced you'd become.

It didn't help that the necklace Sena left for you kept mimicking your heart beat when you weren't paying attention. If you willed it to repeat the steady beat in the light so you could observe it up close, it would cease.

It was as if distance from your skin or touch left it without a heart to echo.

You were half certain you were losing your mind. It had to be all this stress and emotion overwhelming you.

Saturday morning, you decided to pick yourself up and go see your sister. The funeral home had called you earlier this week to say that her headstone was complete, so this would also serve as a trip to ensure everything was engraved correctly before it was placed over her grave. You dressed yourself up in a dark top and comfortable jeans, something you might be able to sit in on the grass as you lingered in her presence, even if she was dead.

Ever since you went through her things, you hadn't ventured into her room again. You thought it might preserve the way it looked, smelled, felt… preserve something of her.

Once you'd gone to the funeral parlor and management center at Elysium Memorial Park to confirm the engraving, you took a brisk walk up the hill to where you remembered Sena's plot to be. The sun peered out between clouds this morning, giving the sky a dual-toned appearance, one half a dark gray, and the other a gossamer yellow.

You started down the hill, head ducked to watch for any graves or hills so you didn't trample over other people's bodies. A bundle of flowers from the grocery store sat cradled in the crook of your arm—a bundle of pink carnations ("I'll never forget you") and dark crimson roses (mourning). You didn't often pay attention to the meaning of flowers, but you thought if you weren't able to choke anything out today, then at least they could speak for you.

Just as you neared the grave between oaks, you lifted your head, your footsteps slowing at the person who stood over your sister's grave. "You have got to be shitting me."

"Isn't it a sin to curse over someone's grave?" Changmin asked as you stopped short of where he was. There was a single stem of sunflower (adoration) seated at his feet on the bundle of earth that was Sena's resting place. "Well, I wouldn't know. That's not my expertise."

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a loose gesture with a flourished hand. "Visiting a friend. Don't leave on my account. She's your sister."

It was as if he could read your mind. You didn't count on anyone being here when you saw her, but he had a right to visit her, too. The bitterness seeping into your bones would have to be squandered for today; the universe just needed to stop making the two of you bump into each other.

You ignored the quickening pitter-patter of your heart and the necklace, and trudged over the grass to where he was.

You gently placed your bundle of flowers next to his, then straightened to stand beside him. The two of you stared at the patch in the ground in silence.

A frown etched itself onto his face, along with a crease between his brows. He seemed almost angry—at what, you couldn't tell. Not you, you hoped.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to the grass to sit down and be closer to her.

I miss you, you voiced into your head, as if you could transmit these thoughts to the dead body in the ground. I'm so… it's too much, Sena. I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me, I don't know what Changmin wants from me. The apartment is cold. Why didn't you tell me you were home all this time?

For the moment, you let your vision blur with tears.

You covered your mouth with your palm to dam the emotion inside, especially with someone else right next to you, but dignity be so fucking damned. Your body trembled with the weight of everything and beyond—you were Atlas carrying the world upon his shoulders. Pressure mounted in your cranium from how hard and freely you sobbed, your fingers pressed to your face to support your head as your tears wet the earth beneath you.

A presence lowered itself to the ground beside you, and Changmin remained politely quiet. He breathed in deeply, but you heard the slight tremble of his breath when he exhaled.

Maybe you were crying for the both of you.

After what seemed like eons, you sniffled, pawing at your puffy and reddened eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. You hadn't brought along any tissues or anything, an oversight.

You gathered your wits about you and clambered to your feet, your knees knocking together like a baby deer. Changmin still had his eyes pinned to the ground.

"Whatever the Hell you want from me," you told him hoarsely, "I don't care. Just leave me alone."

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Without another word, you walked away to head back to the bus stop.

Your skin prickled when you returned home. The air was oddly… off, and a strange smell lingered in the air. It was subtle, only becoming apparent to you with deep, focused inhales. The identity of the smell eluded you and it wasn't something you were familiar with.

You kicked the front door shut behind you, and noticed that the window was ajar. Had you accidentally left that open before you left?

Strange.

You padded across the room to peer out at the street below. There sat the usual tree that occupied the space in front of your window, the one that you assumed (hoped) was the thing making all of the noises outside the past few weeks. (Because if it wasn't that, you didn't want to know what it really was.)

The thought occurred to you that you might have opened the window before you left to air out whatever smell had crept through the air vents. Yes, that made a whole lot of sense.

Settling with that explanation, you cranked the window closed slightly, only leaving a sliver so you could muffle as much of the sounds outside as possible. This part of town wasn't the noisiest, luckily, but when there were vehicles that drove by, they tended to be loud for no reason.

You sighed, settling down onto your couch with your bag. The whole rest of your day was open, and the only thing you had thought of was to go see Sena.

The feeling of eyes on you loitered on your skin like an invisible ant crawling over your body somewhere. You swiped at your neck, rubbed your arm… you couldn't identify it when you swung around to observe your own home.

This was your home, wasn't it? Why did it feel like you weren't alone in it?

You were going to go close the window—

A shadow appeared on the ledge of your window sill and you let out a scream.

The mass gnarled its teeth at the sound, pouncing at you with claws and fangs that glinted in the daylight.

You scrambled backward on the couch, toward the opposite end, your heart throwing itself up against your ribcage. "What the fuck?" You breathed, trying to figure out what in the world it was.

Bad idea. Oh, baaaad. Bad. Bad. Bad idea.

You shouldn't have stared so long; then you wouldn't have realized it had multiple rows of teeth, a face pale as a full moon, and two beady eyes narrowed into slits. Saliva dripped from its maw and down its chin as it crawled on its haunches and arms to you.

It made a guttural noise, then lunged.

You swore and fell over the arm of the couch, dragging along the lamp on the side table. You tried to move your right leg off the arm—it didn't budge. Oh god, it had its claws in your pant leg—

"Mine," it snarled, surprisingly sentient. "Master wills it so."

You kicked it in its face and managed to scramble away, clutching the lamp in front of your body as a weapon.

It ran after you, and your body leapt into instinct.

You nearly slipped as you fumbled to your feet and tipped the coffee table over the creature. "What the fuck are you—SHIT."

Wood splinters exploded as the creature smashed clear through one of the legs and went careening for you.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE," you begged, running for the kitchen and the block of knives in your sight.

Your knees hit the wood floor with a vengeance, and you had no time to mourn over bruised knees. You twisted around and just barely shoved the lamp between its jaws before it could enclose them around your neck—

Somebody pounded on your front door. "YN? YN!"

Familiar—that was all that went through your head. "HELP ME," you screeched, your hands growing slippery from the slobber. Desperation filled your veins and you gave a violent shove.

Your front door bursted open, the handle banging against the opposite wall and leaving a dent.

Changmin charged into the room with a dark look in his eyes, a swear on his tongue. "You're the little weasel who's been fucking with me."

The creature shifted his attention to Changmin. "Your Disgrace," it gave a mocking bow.

That seemed to be his ticker.

You couldn't comprehend what happened—only an exchange of blows, a blur of body mass—Changmin brawled with the creature on your floor and you dragged yourself behind the kitchen counter to hide. You reached for a knife from the knife block up above and pulled your knees to your chest, the sounds of snarling and wood breaking and bones cracking—then—complete silence.

You slapped a palm over your mouth, eyes going toward the ceiling to pray to anyone who could hear you.

This was when you died. The creature had killed Changmin and now it was coming back to finish what it started.

You held your breath with your eyes wide open. You strained your ears. The sound of a sigh met your ears, one that was oh-so familiar to you.

"Shit," came Changmin's voice. "Yn. Yn? Yn, where…?"

He rounded the counter, his hair sticking up in different directions and a large tear at the top of his shirt, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. He eyed the knife pointed outward at him, and he showed you his palms as if placating a rattlesnake. "Woah, hey, it's okay. It's gone now."

Your body trembled from head to toe with all of the pent up fear and adrenaline. You shook your head, your hand still clapped over your mouth to keep your screams or cries in.

Changmin lowered himself to your level slowly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise, it's gone and you're okay now. Let's put the knife down."

You slowly, slowly brought your extended hand down, letting the blade point toward the ground and away from the man in front of you. "What—" you choked, "—what was—who are—"

His facial features arranged into something short of stress. "It's a long story…" He roughed a hand through his bangs. "That thing back there? Yn, that was a demon."

You blinked.

He exhaled sharply. "I'm a demon."

"Don't fuck with me."

"You think I'm fucking with you?"

Your free hand clutched at the pendant around your neck. "You—you don't look like that thing though."

He gave a nod. "Right, I don't. I'm… a different kind of demon." When you remained quiet, he prodded, "You're not going to fight back? You're not gonna tell me you're going crazy?"

"Oh, I know I'm going crazy," you nodded vigorously, wiping away the snot that dribbled down your nose inelegantly. He reached over the counter to grab the roll of paper towels and slide it over to you in an act of (rare) kindness. Your head made contact with the cabinet behind you. "Is the carcass lying on my living room floor, Changmin? Tell me it is not lying on my living room floor."

"It's not."

"Then where the fuck is it?"

He licked his lips, closing his eyes. "It escaped."

"Out the window?"

"No, through a portal—"

You wheezed, and you were sure you looked half mad to him. "Oh my god, I really am off my rocker." A portal. A portal! Of course it was a portal.

He pinned you with a look. "Yn. Yn, listen to me. You're not safe here."

"No shit. I almost died two minutes ago." You saw his unimpressed expression and forced an apology out of your mouth. "Sorry. Humor is a coping mechanism. You can't just tell me demons exist without me thinking we've both gone absolutely insane."

Changmin settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, gripping onto the edge of the counter behind his head. "Yeah, your sister reacted similarly when she found out."

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"What?"

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Supernatural creatures exist. The ones that you read about in books and in myths and legends, and watch in silly movies and TV shows?" He gestured wide with both his arms. "They exist—we exist."

You could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You swallowed. "And she… she knew this?"

A nod. "Yes. We've all been walking among you this whole time."

"What does this have to do with Sena?" What did any of this have to do with your sister? Was this even worse than you imagined it was?

He pursed his lips, exposing the little mole beneath his bottom lip for a moment. "Sena and I were… business partners. We were in the bounty hunting business, essentially."

There were words coming out of his mouth, but it was too much. All of it hit your head and fell straight to the floor, and none of it truly sank into your sense of reality.

Sena was a supernatural bounty hunter? And she died while on a case. A personal one, he said—?

"—I was coming over to show you something when I felt my trap get triggered."

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in. "Trap?"

"I've been hunting that demon for weeks now," he explained to you, but the words were coming out slowly like he was reluctant to let them go. "It's been… avoiding me, and I tracked it to your apartment and realized what, or who, it was after." His teeth ran over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed on you. "You're wearing it, aren't you? The pendant?"

On instinct, your hand shot up to your sternum. "How the Hell—"

"That's what Sena and I were looking for." His sharp, feline gaze remained pinned on you as you slowly lifted the chain to take the pendant out. It glistened like a fat, red ruby in the daylight. "What did she tell you about it?"

"Absolutely nothing," you said plainly. You set the knife on the ground beside you and adjusted your sitting position with a shaky exhale. "Except that I shouldn't let anyone touch it before me, that I shouldn't take it off, and to not—trust anyone."

You stiffened when Changmin reached for something in his back pocket.

"Relax, this is what I wanted to show you." He held his hands up after retrieving a cream-colored envelope from his back pocket, majorly bent and crumpled in some portions, but intact for the most part. He slid the envelope across the kitchen floor to you, and you immediately recognized your sister's handwriting.

You gingerly picked it up off the ground and inspected it. It couldn't have been forged—the way she wrote her R's were too distinct. She was so weird about always writing capital R's even if it was supposed to be lowercase.

You opened the flap and tugged out the letter inside. As you made your way down the note, it came to you that this was his evidence. This was his evidence that Sena knew him personally and that, according to past-Sena, you could trust him.

Your fingers shook as you pushed the letter back into the fold, and you shoved the envelope back over to him. "Okay," you muttered. "What now?"

Something akin to relief washed over his face. "She didn't tell you anything about the pendant? Nothing?"

You shook your head, fondling the stone between your fingers. "No. I found it in the lockbox she left for me with cash and a small note."

"Lockbox?" He perked up. "Are you certain there wasn't anything else in there? Not a second stone or a second necklace? Nothing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, and you pressed your thumb and forefinger to your closed eyes when they began to sting from dehydration. "No. It was just those three things I mentioned earlier. Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you said. "I am absolutely sure. You don't think I turned that thing upside down?"

Changmin stood up and began to pace around his side of the kitchen, his head buried in his two palms. "Oh fuck," you heard his muttered swear.

"What is it?"

He rubbed his hands down his face, and it reset him to that careful blankness from before. "Do you trust me?"

"No," came your automatic answer.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Your sister was after something important before she died. She—she was supposed to update me about it when she got back, but she never did." He carded a hand through his hair again. "It could reveal to us more about what happened. Didn't she mention anything about how important this was?"

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Sena wrote it plainly in her final note to you about how important this necklace was, and keeping it with you. You supposed you could dash out any thought that she stole this from a bank or jewelry store… a mortal one, at least.

What the fuck was this thing made of?

You enclosed your fist around the stone. "So what are you saying?"

"We need to finish what she started." He considered something for a moment, then added, "And you're not safe here."

Something panged in your chest. "I'm not teaming up with you."

Changmin took a couple steps toward you and from this distance, there was an unmistakable ferocity in his gaze. "I would agree with you, but unfortunately, if I want answers and the pendant, then I'm stuck with you."

Your blood pressure spiked. "You're such an ass."

"Ass or not," he drawled, "you can stay here and risk that cretin coming back for you, or you can come with me, and we can figure out what the Hell happened to your sister."

Your bones, your joints—everything ached as you clambered to your feet. God, you were tired. A grave sort of determination trickled into your mind, though, at the thought of getting away from this. It didn't seem like there was much other choice anyway.

#4—SURVIVE THE NIGHT.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THE CAR pulled into the motel parking lot. Your ass was on fire from the long drive, and your mind hazy from sleep deprivation. Fear kept you awake for the entirety of the eight hour trek between home and nowhere. You would have worried about Changmin in the driver's seat, but considering you found out he was a supernatural being literally eight hours ago, your worries consoled themselves.

"This was the best out of the selection," he murmured, barely audibly, as he put the car in park. The glow from the motel lights was the only light for miles, and the red-violet from the neon sign washed over Changmin's sharp side profile like a grungy teen thriller show.

A yawn stretched out of you and you reached for your seatbelt. "Wasn't complaining."

He sent you a pointed look. It was a silent "Really?" You pointedly ignored it.

The two of you clambered out of the car and you massaged your back and butt with reprieve. Your hand reached for the red ruby settled beneath the fabric of your T-shirt, the warm stone solid and present between your fingers. Changmin slammed his side of the car closed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, and you were swift to follow his lead.

Your fingers drummed against the side of your pants just as the main office came into view. There was someone seated behind the front desk with her head buried in her phone and Candy Crush on the screen. You and Changmin walked up to the counter and her head flicked upward.

Her eyes darted between you two and something or other clicked in her head. "Room for two?" She droned, already clacking away on her computer screen.

"Yes please," you sighed. You knew there was no way you were getting around her assumptions.

She smacked the gum in the side of her cheek, twirling around in her chair to reach for a key on the wall behind her. "It'll be thirty bucks," she said, sliding the key across the counter, "and we don't have condoms."

You and Changmin both coughed, heat rushing to your face. "None needed," he muttered as he slid a twenty and ten dollar bill over to her.

You collected the key and checked for the room number. Sleep crept into the corners of your eyes again and they were starting to sting from dehydration.

Changmin eyed you from his peripheral vision and nodded his silent thanks to the girl. He swept an arm loosely around your shoulders to guide you back out to the night beyond the main office. The room you were assigned was on the second floor of a building just a little ways down the complex. It was outfitted with a single queen-sized bed and bathroom, and the lights fortunately worked well enough. You couldn't decide if it was a good thing that you were too tired to assess the cleanliness of this room, but you made a beeline for the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower," you announced, already closing the door.

The last thing you heard was his grunt from the other side.

You dumped your backpack on the lid of the toilet then braced your forearms on the sink counter. The lights in here were a dull gray and made you look sickly in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath your pinkened eyes—the receptionist probably thought you were drunk or high. Exhaustion hit you like a bus, your limbs sluggish and heavy.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours.

You ripped the shower curtain back and fiddled around with the shower until cold water spouted from the top.

Changmin was a demon. He was Hellspawn. You'd messed around with the idea of him being a pain in the ass before, but you never expected his demon-ness to be true.

When the water warmed as much as it could, you stepped beneath its drizzle. The ruby pendant from your sister sat on your sternum, safe and warm, and you watched it pulse with a glowing scarlet beneath the stream of water.

Your sister.

A few weeks ago, you watched her body lowered into a ditch in the ground. A little before that, you were told her death had been an accident. Now, you were on the run.

From who or what? You weren't completely sure. That was what Changmin was here for. Well, technically he was here for the necklace your sister left with you, but after what happened at your apartment that caused the two of you to go on the run, here you and the necklace were. Plus, the note your sister left explicitly instructed that the necklace be kept with you—on you. (You still weren't too certain of anything.)

When your fingers began to prune, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower to slip on a new set of clothes from your backpack. You went through the motions of getting ready to sleep, too, mind fuzzy and unable to make sense of anything.

You wrestled down a sigh and desire to cry. You were tired, for fuck's sake, you were so tired.

But when you opened the bathroom door, flicking the light off, you paused. The room was dark.

Your breath hitched in your throat and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. Heart pounding, you took a step into the main room.

"Chang—" A palm closed around your mouth, another cupping the back of your head.

Panicpanicpanic—

A warm breath by your ear. "Calm down. It's just me." Changmin.

Fucking Hell.

You found his eyes as yours grew more accustomed to the dark. His head twisted over his shoulder to the window by the door where you could see silhouettes walking past, silent and stalking.

"Someone's here," he exhaled as he slowly removed his hand from over your mouth. His dark bangs hung in his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line. "They can sense the pendant, I think."

Your heart thundered against your ribcage—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

Changmin's head whipped back toward you and he fished something out of his pocket. He reached for your hand, closing your fingers around something cold and metal. "Slowly put your backpack down and barricade yourself in the closet over there," he instructed quietly, finger pointing in the direction of the sliding doors just to your left. "If it comes to it, use the knife, Yn."

You bit your tongue to keep your breathing as steady as possible. Your hands shook around the switchblade he'd passed to you, and under his sharp eyes, you carefully lowered your bag to the ground without making as much noise as you could. Then, with his go-ahead, you crept as quietly as possible toward the closet.

Just as you reached for the slot in the door, all Hell broke loose.

The window shattered open, the door kicked off its hinges. Your entire body tensed as you dropped to the floor behind the bed, clutching the knife in front of you.

Changmin swore, nice and loud.

Shadows pummeled him to the ground until he was tangled in darkness, like nightmares brought to life. You saw a flash of claws in your view, your scream caught in your throat.

"You."

A blur of shadow whisked across your vision and your eyes went wide.

The creature crawled over the bed and pounced toward you—you rolled away from him, blade held out in front of your body. Oh, there was an awful wave of déjà vu coming over you.

"You are a difficult being to find, pet," the creature hissed. You were beginning to make out its features now—dagger-like eyes, claws that could easily rip flesh apart like cloth, and a maw of knives for teeth. Shit straight out of nightmares.

It cocked its head at you, crouching on the floor a few feet away. Why hadn't it attacked you yet?

"Curious," its scratchy voice croaked. "The master will be pleased when the asset is brought home to her."

The asset? It must have meant the necklace.

You heard a snarl from your right, and in horror, noted the thick, dark liquid splattered all over Changmin's clothes and body. When he snarled at the demons holding him down, you spotted the gleam of fangs.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled, returning back to your main problem. The necklace sat warm and present, the pulses matching your racing heartbeat.

The creature released a sound like grating metal, something akin to a laugh. "Your guardian is more dangerous than he appears," he said instead while tilting its head to the side. "Clever being, that one. Master will be pleased when we bring his rotted corpse home."

You didn't anticipate how quickly it would move. You screamed as the creature dove for you and you swung out of the way. Its claws dug into the meat of your thigh, clinging to the flesh there with all of its might.

Fear struck painfully through your chest and you desperately twisted around to stab the blade into the side of the creature's neck.

It screeched. You drew the knife out to impale it in the back area, messily splattering an arc of its black blood everywhere.

You sucked in a sob as you scrambled backward. Its body dragged along the ground from its claws still sunken into your leg. The body was limp, but your nose wrinkled from the acrid, hot smell reeking from the corpse. It smelled burnt.

You peered at the blade in your fist with new eyes. The silver glowed gold in the darkened room; you shouldn't have expected anything less. Why did you think a mortal weapon could defend you from demonic creatures?

"YN!"

Too late.

Claws sunk into the sides of your throat and trapped your voice there. You thrashed around; panic stabbed your chest. Pathetically, desperately, you reached your arm back to try and drill the blade of your knife into the creature behind you.

Hot blood squelched down your throat—you were losing feeling there. Numb numb numb—it hurt, oh fuck, you were going to die—

All at once, the pressure subsided.

Breath could only flood into your lungs as quickly as blood spilled from your throat. You were choking, eyes wide up at the ceiling.

This was it, this was it. Maybe you'd see your sister in Hell.

A face appeared above you, sweaty but familiar. Your blurry vision couldn't make out the emotions on his face, but you could hear him… boy, could you hear him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, rustling around and adjusting his position above your body.

His rough palms cupped your face. You could hear your heartbeat slowing in your ears. Ba-boom… ba-boom… ba… boom.

"Stay with me," he panted. His left hand pressed against that side of your neck to staunch the blood flow. He sucked in a breath and he ducked out of your view.

You felt a different wet sensation over your open wound. His tongue was rough, yet soothing as he lapped and sucked on the gouge in your throat. Feeling sparked in that area; you could feel your skin physically stitching itself together. If you could squirm, you would have.

He was swift to switch to your other side and copy those actions there. He groaned low against your skin, one hand cupping the side of your head to hold you in place.

Oxygen rushed through your lungs and you gasped. You tore your neck away from his mouth to dry retch. Blood dripped from the side of your lips to the dusty carpet. You had been asphyxiating on your own life force.

You flopped back onto your back, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gestured wildly at the steaming demon carcass still attached to your thigh. "Ple-please," you whimpered. "Please, get it off."

Changmin crawled onto his arms, sliding down toward your leg. "Yeah, sweetheart. I got it."

He looked up at you as he dug his fingers into the creature's skull, ready to pry the thing's claws from you. Something dark was smudged over his face—his nose, cheeks, across his eye. "It's gonna hurt," he warned, voice hoarse.

You moved your head in a microscopic nod.

Tears pricked at your vision, and your leg screamed. Blood filled your mouth even more from the force you used to clamp down on your tongue. Changmin was swift, but gentle as he removed each claw from your thigh, then tossed the body somewhere behind him. He lowered his face to your leg to carefully lap at your wounds like he'd done before.

When he was done, he flopped onto the floor with you, his sigh filling the awful silence.

You could feel everything. It was pulsing all over your body. Your skin, threading together, tingled and ached and throbbed. Your cheeks were damp with tear tracks and your fingers finally loosened their grip on the switchblade. Your mouth was coated in the metallic iron taste of blood.

The only familiar feeling was the pendant on your sternum. The bane of your existence.

"So you have magic spit?" You croaked, your voice scratchy from your sore and bruised throat.

You heard his huff, the closest thing you'd ever heard to a laugh from him. "It's regenerative," he exhaled deeply.

You snorted, then winced when it hurt.

If you could look up, you would've seen the corner of his lips twitch.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

You heard a soft shuffling sound as he clambered upright to lean against the wall. His head thumped against it, eyes fluttered closed. "I don't drink blood, sweetheart."

"I didn't say you drank it."

You grimaced as you struggled to swallow. Reality was swooping in on you like a vulture above a carcass. Doom swirled in your stomach—you almost died just now. You choked on a sob, and you reached up to your face to brush away your tears.

Oh god, everything hurt.

"I want to go home," you whispered. It wasn't even to Changmin, just to whoever could hear you. Homehomehome, but where was home? They could find you anywhere.

A beat passed.

"I'm sorry." Changmin's head hung, either out of exhaustion or genuine regret. "I promised your sister I wouldn't get you involved."

You still couldn't move your head much, so you kept your gaze on the speckled ceiling. "What?"

"I have… had sisters."

You didn't hide your surprise. You didn't think you would ever get anything personal out of this guy, let alone the fact he had family. But his confession planted a seed of sympathy in you… maybe he was human before, or maybe he wasn't at all, but he had family. That had to count for something.

He released another haggard sigh. "So that was one of the few things we could agree on—keeping you out of this unless necessary."

Necessary. You should have never put on the necklace, should have never touched the cursed thing. Now, you were literally chained to it and its fate.

He went quiet again and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he rose to his feet. Taking slow, careful steps, he made his way over to your body.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he murmured as he tucked his hands under your armpits to haul you upright.

You cursed under your breath at the ache and the blood rushing to your head. Your left leg was pretty much useless, and he had to cup the nape of your neck to his shoulder so you could lean on him.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his breath by your ear again.

You shook your head, pressing your mouth against the muscle of his shoulder. He smelled like demon blood, and you shifted to lean your cheek on him instead, holding in a gag at the wretched stench.

"Okay. Hold on a second."

He helped you sit down on the ledge of the bed, before going around the room to collect things. He plucked up your backpack from the floor, then his own bag, hoisting them both over his shoulders before returning to you. From your vantage, you could see all the limp demon corpses lying on the ground, unmoving. You wrestled down the bile creeping up your throat and looked away.

Changmin scooped you up in his arms with a grunt, and you looped yours around his upper body, tucking yourself into him. "We have to get out of here before someone comes to check this shit out," he said to you as he exited the room.

You gave a nod. "Aren't you tired? Hurt?" You asked, guilt and fear twisting something horrid in your chest.

"Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?"

His lips twitched. "Oh, so you care about me now?"

You closed your eyes against his shoulder. "Don't be an asshole."

"Sure, sweetheart." He made it to the car and instructed you to reach around his back to get the car key hanging from his bag strap. Changmin managed to get the car door open and deposited you in your seat. Your body molded into the material, exhaustion settling once more into your bones and joints.

In a blink, the two of you were back on the road.

Changmin carded a hand through his damp hair as he pulled out onto the barren street. You rolled your head to the side, eyes drinking him in. There were scratches over his exposed skin, barely there, but still present as if they had healed over already. His clothes were splotched and stained, as well as ripped in other places. And of course, there was the blood smeared all over his face, his neck. The bastard didn't even look fazed.

Right, demon. What did that even entail?

Your eyelids were beginning to droop, yanked down by the force of gravity and the human necessity to sleep. You didn't want to sleep though; you didn't want to be attacked a third time. Though most of the adrenaline had dissipated, your shoulders were still tense, your senses alert and unable to relax just yet.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "You should sleep."

You moved your head. "Can't," you rasped.

He reached over then, his palm warm against your head, as he gently brushed his thumb over your eyelids to coax them closed. "You're safe with me, Yn," he promised. You were reluctant to believe him, but after what just happened, at least you knew he could take care of himself and you.

Sleep was already coaxing you into its jaws to devour you, and the pendant under your shirt pulsed to a steady beat to encourage your descent. "Morning will come soon."

All you could do now was trust him.

#5—THE ANGEL BLADE.

THE DINER OFF THE INTERSTATE was like the ones from the movies: red, vinyl seats that squelched when you scooted over them; blind fluorescent lights that flickered every time a fly died against them; people minding their own business as they hunched over grainy coffee and burgers that looked a little too good to be true. You sat across from Changmin, hands laced over the white table surface while he had his arms braided over his chest.

Another eight hours had passed since the motel. You'd found a rest stop to clean up and change clothes on the way, but when you could no longer deny your need for food, Changmin made the executive decision to feed the monster that was your stomach. Executive decision meant he was driving you somewhere to eat something so you wouldn't pass out from stubborn, self-induced hunger.

You're not gonna die if you want fries and chicken tenders, Yn, he'd said with a roll of his eyes.

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the target of every other supernatural being within a fifty mile radius. Perhaps by association, but still.

It was fascinating what a few hours of rest and magical demon saliva could do to help the human body. All of your wounds had pretty much closed up—albeit a tad sore, but nothing as awful as the pain you were in when being clawed in the moment. It was even more fascinating how alive Changmin looked despite literally not being alive. And the fact he hadn't slept a wink within the past day at least.

You, on the other hand, looked like a dumpster fire. Your hair was a bird's nest, eye bags more expensive than Louis Vuitton. Your stomach gave another whining growl; you'd ordered not five minutes ago with a middle-aged woman in too-bright red lipstick and a blue collared dress uniform.

"Are you sure you're not like, a vampire?"

His face dropped into a deadpan you'd seen before. "Oh my God."

"You can say His name?"

Your lips curled into a self-indulgent smile at the way he rolled his eyes so hard, he could probably see his brain back there. (If he had one.) "Sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said, eyebrow arching. "Do you have any real questions?"

Your hands shifted to your lap as your gaze moved to the window next to you. The sky was an ugly, sickly shade of gray-green. It reminded you of the lighting from the first Twilight movie, and you gagged at the thought. The bright red and neon of the diner clashed horridly with the sky, too. All of it was a little disconcerting.

Back in the car, when Changmin was first introducing you to the real world, he'd given you the short version of the supernatural who lived amongst oblivious humans. He hadn't gotten down to the nitty-gritty, just the shit he needed you to know so he could justify hauling you across the state, and to understand all the supernatural creatures after the little pendant resting beneath your shirt collar.

Two mugs of coffee were set onto your table, the dark liquid sloshing over the sides to stain the white below it.

You reached for your mug first, gently cooling it down with a breath. When you took a sip, gingerly, you grimaced. You somehow managed to wrestle the liquid down, but the searing bitterness was enough to make you push the cup away and reach for the sugar packets at the end of the table.

Changmin watched you in amusement, tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you ripped a Stevia packet open. "What're you laughing at?"

"M'not laughing," he shrugged. He picked up his cup of coffee, clinked it against yours for good measure, then chugged the cup of shit in one sitting.

You watched in ill-concealed disgust, horror, and… maybe you were a little impressed.

When he set the drained cup on the table, he wiped his smug mouth with a napkin from the aluminum dispenser.

It was your turn to deadpan. "Show off," you muttered, stirring your artificial sweetener into the dark brown brew.

He shrugged again. "What? Like it's hard?"

"Oh my god, you can be funny."

Your chicken tenders arrived. Steam wafted from them and you closed your eyes to inhale the beautiful smell. Happiness on a plate, you liked to think.

Changmin thanked the waitress who had also delivered him a plate of blueberry pancakes. He eyed you quietly as you inhaled the food on your plate, despite the dull throbbing in your throat.

You caught his gaze, stopping mid-tender. "Want some?" You asked after swallowing the bite, gesturing to your fries.

He shook his head and began buttering up his hotcakes. "Nah. Have at it."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate your separate meals. Changmin had told you before that demons didn't need all the typical things humans needed to "survive" or "live." Technically, since he was undead, there were only a handful of ways he could die. Eating and sleeping were necessary for human life, but they were more so preferences for him. If he wanted to eat, he could eat. If he wanted to close his eyes and dream, he could try.

The thought had you waving a fry at him. "The switchblade," you began, drawing his attention and pancake-stuffed cheeks, "what was it? It definitely wasn't something human-made."

Changmin swallowed his bite. "It was an angel blade."

"You're kidding," you drawled in disbelief.

He challenged your stare. "Believe it or not, it was. Forged up there." He lifted the prongs of his fork up toward the ceiling, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. "So the Big Man Upstairs does exist?"

"I mean, I don't really know. I've never met him if he does. I just know the angels are ruled by the Seraphim," he told you. "Lots of hierarchical bullshit I didn't care to pay attention to."

He impaled another piece of pancake. "Angel blades are one of the few things that can kill a creature like that."

"A demon?" You asked.

"Yes. Lower level demons are easier to kill, especially with a blade like the one I gave you." He shoved the bite into his cheek to continue, "That's why I was able to take on multiple at once."

You made a noise of indignation. "So you're telling me you're a higher level demon?"

His shoulders fell in a half-hearted shrug.

"Helpful," you muttered as you washed your meal down with bittersweet coffee. You paused for a moment, cleaning your fingers off with a napkin. "The… the licking thing."

Changmin's eyes could not meet yours. "Mhm."

"Do you… do you do that often?"

"No," he said curtly. "That party trick only works on humans and I don't really enjoy the taste of blood."

You pursed your lips at his rather clipped response. "Oh." You recalled the sound he'd made as he cleaned your blood up with his tongue at the motel… maybe it was something out of disgust. You suddenly felt out of place, like you had made his shoulders tense up and the air crackle. You racked your brain. "I—thanks, by the way."

With a cough, he murmured, "Welcome. Couldn't have you dying on me."

You nursed your coffee cup, reaching up to absentmindedly fondle the pendant under your shirt. "Yeah."

"Have you ever met an angel?"

The car was quiet as Changmin peered over his shoulder to switch lanes, the blinker tick-tocking away until it was turned off. "Yeah."

You stared out the front windshield to count the white colored cars on the highway amongst you. "What're they like?"

"They're like every other species," he said, unenthused. "Some are more asshole-ish than others. You'll find good ones and bad ones." A sigh. "The ones I've met have largely been the latter though."

"Oh." You weren't sure if you were disappointed by that answer.

The diner had been less than half an hour ago and you were back on the road again. Yours and Changmin's ETA to your sister's safehouse was supposedly another five or so hours. You couldn't believe she owned safehouses. For fuck's sake, she lived with you for majority of the time before she went to study abroad… she probably wasn't even abroad all those times, you realized anxiously.

It was like he could sense your change in mood from bored curiosity to tense overthinking. He dug around in the pocket of his pants and handed you the pommel of the switchblade from the motel. Angel blade, he'd called it.

You glanced at him in question, but he only pushed it into your palms.

"Get comfortable with it," he said. "It's a decent size as far as angel blades goes, since those fuckers don't really like to give them up. It's good for self defense."

The blade looked like something one could buy at a gift shop, slim with some heft, painted a shiny white color. There was no logo on it, but if you looked at it from the right angle, it shimmered. You unlocked it and let the blade whip out of the slot. The blade was shaped like any other box cutter you've seen before, but the underside had a serrated edge for extra ease in slicing through tougher materials. Your finger ghosted over the glowing metal, silver warming to a yellow-orange, but only if you didn't blink in the daylight.

You killed a demon with this. The blade burned the creature.

"How'd you get this if they don't like giving these up?" You asked as you figured out how to put the blade back into its sheath.

His fingers drummed against the wheel. "Won it in a poker game," he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"

You swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Seriously."

With nothing better to do, you flicked the blade in and out, in and out. You'd only ever really held blades in the kitchen and when opening packages. "Do you have a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Yeah," you said, shifting slightly in your seat as an ache crept into your spinal cord, "y'know like the fantasy books where they name their blades." You inspected the switchblade again, rotating it in your hands. "Looks like a Clyde."

Changmin let out a huff from his nose. "Clyde?"

"What? Got any better ideas?"

"How about we don't name dangerous utilities for murder," he drawled.

"I can't believe you didn't just say 'weapons.'" When he didn't answer you, you made an indignant little noise you hoped annoyed him and admired the angel blade in your hand in a new light. Clyde. Hi, Clyde. You're pretty.

"Don't tell me you're communicating with it," he said to you.

You ran your finger over the flat side again with a fond smile—just to annoy him. "It doesn't give me lip."

A sigh. He tended to do that a lot. "How's your neck?"

Your hand lifted to your throat and massaged it lightly. "It's doing alright. Does it still look bruised?"

You tilted your neck so he could take a good look at it. He eyed the span of flesh there, his dark irises taking on a strange tint. The corner of his mouth curled downward as he turned his focus back to the road. "Yeah."

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore, if that's any better."

"I guess," he grumbled. "Humans are so fragile."

"Hey man," you huffed, "is it my fault that I don't have magic spit or my skin doesn't heal fast—"

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's not magic spit. That's just how human biology reacts to demon saliva." Changmin tapped the back of his hand on the steering wheel as a vague gesture.

You shifted in your seat to look at him and so that you could take pressure off one side of your back. "I have a question. Why does demon saliva have healing properties when usually lore says that you guys are opposite in nature? Actually, that kind of sounds prejudicial," you thought aloud.

"It is prejudicial," he replied. "Well, mostly. It depends on the demon, but we're just like any other species. It's just that most pop culture depicts us as evil. Demons and vampires are derivations of each other in that—"

"So you are a vampire!"

He didn't even try to counter you this time. "Both species have saliva that can heal wounds, not large wounds, but you can probably imagine that vampires use it to seal puncture marks post-meal."

That made sense to you. "But why do demons need it?"

"Human blood…" he trailed off for a moment as he narrowly missed a car zooming past, his glaring eyes trailing after them, "...is like our saliva. It regenerates us. It's kind of like an energy drink, so it's not a necessity, but more so like a luxury or privilege."

You swallowed and you could've sworn you heard a soft huff from his mouth like a laugh. The thought of your blood being like an energy drink for him—and he'd literally licked your wounds clean at the motel that night. Was that how he was able to heal so quickly? It was a marvel he hadn't drunk you dry. But then again, he'd also said blood wasn't his taste…?

"Are you sure you don't like human blood?" You asked, sounding like a broken record, but more apprehensively this time.

"Sweetheart, you really think you'd still be here if I did?"

Touché.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Changmin stiffen. His hands tightened the slightest amount around the steering wheel, his eyes darting from the front windshield to the rearview mirror.

"What?" You asked, taking a look through the side mirror on your side. "What's wrong?"

Changmin's face washed over in a careful blankness. "We're being followed."

Your whole body tensed and you had to physically restrain yourself from twisting around in your seat. "What?"

"Hey, stay calm." He flicked his turn signal on casually as he exited off the freeway.

"Why are you telling them where we're going?!" He was literally signaling to whoever was following you exactly your next move.

"Just because we're on the run, doesn't mean we shouldn't follow basic driving safety."

You sent him a very emboldened stink eye. "Out of all the times, you choose now to have a sense of humor and to be an upstanding citizen?" Where was this during the entire road trip thus far?

Changmin made no other comments as he turned right onto the street leading further away from the freeway. You sat quietly for a moment, monitoring the cars behind you from your side mirror. Your knee started bouncing as you took note of the white sedan following behind, not tailgating, but its intentions were clear enough where even you could pick it out.

"What're we gonna do?" You murmured.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "We're gonna be fine. We just have to lose them."

"No shit."

"And you say I give you lip?"

Without any forewarning, Changmin jerked the car to the left, practically zooming across the intersection to catch the yellow light. Your whole body sailed across the center console, and before you could give him a piece of your mind, he was sending you crashing into your doorway from another sharp turn. You glared daggers at him, but turned to peer out your window.

The white car was still following after you. They must have run the red light then.

Changmin's sharp eyes sliced across the rearview mirror, and his foot lowered on the gas pedal like a challenge. His eyes whipped back and forth for somewhere he could go next, brain working double the speed. "Hold onto something, sweetheart."

"I don't think that would—HELPPP!" You sputtered and yanked on the handle above the door, hugging yourself to that side of the car.

You could hear the tires of Changmin's car burn rubber and squeal as he zigzagged through streets. You were pretty sure half of this was residential, you thought as the landscape blurred past.

"Do you even know where—" You swore as your body flailed around from another one of his god awful swerves, "—we are?"

He shook his head and floored the gas. "Nope."

Great.

It was about fifteen minutes of this supposed drag racing before his driving finally began to even out. You were seconds from hurling up diner food when you realized…

"Where the fuck did the trees come from?" You asked, lowering your tense form from the door handle.

You pressed your nose against the window to gawk up at the towering trees on your side of the vehicle, all dark green and beautiful. A light fog clung to some of the leaves, making the sunlight streaming through them look like golden strands of gossamer. The road you drove on held to the side of the mountain, but from what you could tell, Changmin had officially lost the white sedan.

Changmin visibly relaxed. "You might wanna pull up a GPS."

You reached over to your phone in the cupholder. But you pretty much tossed it right back. "No bars. Where did you take us?" You didn't even realize there was so much forest in this area. How come you hadn't seen it from the highway?

He gave a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Shit."

The car sunk into silence. Changmin could do nothing else but follow the road until you hit civilization or some kind of sign as to where you two were. You hadn't been in this part of the state before, so it wasn't like you could point out any landmarks. But as you both continued along, you settled into a sort of calm—the trees here were beautiful, untouched by man. Even from inside the car, you could feel the serenity.

Your finger pressed down on the button on your door to lower the window. You stuck your head out, hair flowing behind you. With a great inhale, your mouth broke into a smile. It smelled just as gorgeous as it looked. Fresh and clean and—

"You've got to be shitting me."

You pulled yourself back into the car and raised the window back up. "What?"

Changmin's mouth was set in a firm line, a dimple pressing deep into his cheek. "Wolves."

Your brows knitted together. "Huh?"

"We're in wolf shifter territory."

Just as he said this to you, the car rounded the side of the bend and revealed a large green sign that read: WELCOME TO MOONSTONE CREAK! Population 276.

The sign following it did not make you feel any better: CAMPERS! BEWARE OF WOLVES.

#6—BEWARE OF WOLVES.

AT THE FIRST SIGN OF WOLVES, you sunk low in your seat. You'd made eye contact with one of the furry creatures hidden in the brush, their sharp predator eyes narrowing at the sight of a foreign entity in their woods.

"By wolf shifters," you said quietly, holding onto Clyde in your lap, "you mean like… werewolves?"

Changmin's eyes stayed on the road ahead, but every once in a while, you would catch him scanning the forest, too. "Those aren't the same things. Werewolves are the things you read about in lore, half-man and half-wolf. Wolf shifters can change completely from man to wolf and vice versa."

"Oh." Well, that cleared some things up. "I'm guessing they don't take kindly to trespassers?"

He bit his lip. "I mean, it depends on the pack. If my hunch is right about where we are though, we shouldn't have to worry."

You gulped. "And if you aren't?"

"Well, I told you to get used to that angel blade, right?"

The trek further into the forest and mountains continued. The scenery around you was still as stunning as it was before, and you thought to yourself how dangerous a beautiful thing could be. Every time you peeked out of the car window, you saw a flash of something in the woods beyond the road. There had to be a reason why they hadn't attacked the car yet, right? If this was a pack of wolves who didn't like trespassers, then why were you and Changmin still alive?

Maybe they wanted you in a place where there was no chance of outsiders hearing you scream…

Your intrusive thoughts were getting to you.

There was a dead end, a near broken road sign and fence directing all passers-by that this was the end. Changmin was forced to take the off-road path, beaten into the dirt as it wound through the forest. If you didn't have signal up on the main road, you definitely would not have any here.

It was a few more minutes of traveling down the path that two wolves appeared before the car. Changmin brought the vehicle to a slow halt. The wolves were relatively large, spanning about six feet and about as tall as the bottom rim of the car door window. One of the wolves had black hair like a raven, and the other had hair like a field of grain.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as the wolves stared right at you. "Changmin…?"

He met their staring contest with little intimidation. "It's… it's fine. I think they recognize me."

After a moment, the two wolves broke their strange staring contest and trotted off to the side of the road. They were back so quickly, you almost didn't realize what had happened. Like magic, they had transformed into two toned young men, both nicely built with their lean upper body on display. They must have had a strategic stash of shorts hidden behind a tree for after they shifted to their human forms. One had cropped black hair, the other blond. Well, at least that made sense.

Changmin slumped in his chair, relieved. The corners of his mouth curled upward in an almost-smile, as the two wolf shifters came over to greet him at his window.

The brunette bent his head down to the window with a broad smile, the kind that made your stomach fill with butterflies. (Not to mention the eyeful of abs you and Changmin were getting…) He leaned his arms over the top of the car window, eyes flickering from the demon to you. "Long time no see, Changmin. Who's your friend?"

"That's Yn," your demon guardian said, clasping one of the man's hands in greeting. He reached for the second wolf shifter. "Haknyeon, nice to see you, too."

"Good to see you, Changmin" said the blond.

Oh, so he knew them.

Changmin gestured to the two men. "Yn, this is Kevin and Haknyeon. They're with the pack."

"Not that we're unhappy to see you," Kevin drawled, "but how did you find us?"

Okay, wait. If Changmin knew them, then why wouldn't he know the location of their pack? You sat quiet, waiting for someone to explain it to you… or just explain everything to you.

"Someone was following us and I lost them," Changmin told them, "but I managed to get us lost, too. Coincidence that we ended up here. I'm glad it's you guys and not another pack."

Kevin's eyebrows flew up. "Yeah, for sure. Well—" he turned his head up toward the treetops and scanned the skies. They were beginning to bruise like your skin as the sun sank somewhere amongst the trees and into the horizon. You hadn't even realized how dark it was starting to get. "—sun's already pretty low right now. Why don't you guys shack up with us tonight and then we'll help you out in the morning?"

"That would be great actually." Wow, really? You kept your surprise at bay. "Lead the way."

With no further discussion needed, Kevin and Haknyeon disappeared behind the same large tree trunk from before, then re-emerged as the wolves from before. Kevin, the one with black colored fur, pointed with his snout in the direction the path would take you. The two wolves began to trot down the path, and Changmin waited for them to get somewhat ahead before he flicked his headlights on and followed.

It was a curious act of consideration, you thought.

You watched as the wolves began to pick up speed, your eyes flickering to the speedometer. "So…" you drawled, "what the fuck just happened?"

A sharp huff, his version of a laugh. "They're old friends," he said.

"How'd you not know this was where their pack was if they're old friends?"

"I met them out of the pack," he explained. "It was somewhere in the New England area, and we just happened to be hunting the same thing."

Hunting? Oh, bounty hunter. Right. "And the—the shifting thing."

"What about it?"

You made a face of frustration. He always made you pull teeth when you wanted background information. "Everything."

He glanced at you. "I think it'd be better if one of them explained it to you. Better to have one of their own say it right than risk me getting something wrong."

That was, unfortunately, a very fair answer.

Instead of pushing on the wolf topic, you had more questions that he could answer. "So what now? Are we just gonna stay the night? Is it safe?" What if that white car found a way in here? Neither of you could see who the driver was, and so how could either of you be sure they weren't trying to perhaps get you both here? And if they also had the means to come in here without being marked as trespassers?

"It's safe," he said with such confidence that you arched your brows. He saw your expression, making a soft turn along the road as the wolves had, the pads of his fingers lifting off the steering wheel for a second in gesture. "I know what you're probably thinking, but it's safer than sleeping out in a motel off the highway, alright? Packs usually don't drive cars, and they have maybe one or two for convenience sake. They can smell trespassers from miles away, and they usually have people on watch all the time, which is how they found us so quickly."

You supposed that made sense. The forest here seemed denser, and with the quickly fading light, it made it all the more unnavigable. If you were to try to run… good fucking luck.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. As the car rounded the bend, yours and Changmin's faces illuminated with the glow of light.

The town was laid out flat before you, not over a ridge, not over a mountain, but a path that led into a central meeting place with wooden buildings all around it. The lights were all from candle-lit lanterns rather than the LEDs and fluorescents of the human world. There were a mixture of both wolves and people milling about, an air of warm cheeriness that you could feel even from the car. You felt a fuzziness manifest in your chest at the sight.

Kevin and Haknyeon directed Changmin toward a back road to the right behind a row of buildings. It was most likely to avoid getting in the way of the pack members, you guessed. You kept silent as you averted your eyes from the void-like darkness of the forest beyond to your right.

Up ahead, you saw the two wolves trot into a small paved area with one other car parked along the walkway. It seemed to be like a makeshift alleyway of sorts between two blocks of buildings. With some maneuvering, Changmin managed to parallel park into the space that was just big enough for his vehicle.

When he parked, he gestures for you to follow his lead and get out of the car. "You should be safe to come out with me. We'll probably meet the pack alpha and get everything settled—" His head tilted to the side, "—hopefully."

Your eyes shuttered. "Hopefully?" You echoed. Pack alpha? What the fuck did that entail? From what you remember in the books and shows, you thought to yourself as you clambered out of the car and stretched your sore limbs, wolf packs had an alpha that would lead everyone. You weren't sure if you would have to go through some kind of cult initiation or something to be granted permission to stay the night.

The angel blade sat tucked into the pocket of your pants along with your phone, and you slammed your car door shut. From here, you could peer down the alley and see out into the glowing atmosphere of the town center. It sounded like fun, actually—all of the chatter and laughter. You hadn't been anywhere so lively-sounding in awhile.

"Yn right?"

You startled a little, whirling around to find the brunette—Kevin was his name—smiling at you sheepishly. He was back in human form with a pair of shorts and a plain white T-shirt on. "Sorry I snuck up on you," he said.

"Oh, it's totally fine!" You laughed bashfully, smoothing a hand down your hair. "And yes, I'm Yn. You're Kevin, right?"

Man, he was so much prettier up close…

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Changmin says this is all pretty new to you." He gestured loosely to the world around him, an all encompassing notion to the entire world you had just unearthed beneath your nose.

Your eyes darted behind Kevin where Changmin and Haknyeon were gathered on the other side of the car, pulling yours and Changmin's bags out the backseat. Changmin caught your eyes, lifted his eyebrows, then returned to his conversation.

So he was just gonna leave you in the hands of the very handsome wolf shifter? Cool.

"Yeah, it's kind of a crazy story," you mused. Understatement of the century. "Thanks for taking us in, by the way.

"It's no worries," he chirped. "Changmin and us? We go back pretty far, I'd like to think."

"Oh, cool! He mentioned something about that… and something about meeting the pack alpha?"

Kevin's eyes flickered to something behind you, and you turned around to see what or who it was on instinct. "It's nothing to stress about—he's coming this way, actually."

You felt his hand, warm and large, gently settle between your shoulder blades to guide you toward the two men making their way down the alley toward you both.

One of them… well you could feel the subtle shift in the air. It was as if molecules in the air moved for him. He boasted a powerful sort of stature, with dark hair parted neatly to frame a carved face. For a moment, you didn't know if you were supposed to bow or something, but then he smiled, and you nearly fell over from that alone. He wasn't so scary once he smiled.

The man next to him was a lighter brunette with a cheery expression engraved onto his face as if that were his default setting. There was something about him, however—you thought he glowed a little in the dim light. The angel blade in your pocket seemed to warm slightly at the sight of him.

(So was everyone just super attractive in the supernatural world?)

"Changmin-ah," greeted the man with darker colored hair. He clasped his hand with Changmin's in greeting. "It's been awhile."

"It has," your demon counterpart agreed. "Thanks for taking us in on such short notice. I wouldn't have intruded had I known."

The man brushed the thought away. "It's okay, really. Nice to have a couple new faces around."

"Speaking of new faces," drawled the second man. He beamed a pretty smile your way, waving. "Hi, little one."

Something warm blossomed in your chest. "Hi," you said softly. You weren't certain of etiquette—if you were expected to speak for yourself, to bow…

But it seemed Kevin had your back. He clasped his warm hand on your shoulder. "This is Yn. She came in with Changmin."

"Nice to meet you, Yn. I'm Sangyeon." This was the man with black hair, who felt like the tangible version of power. He must have been the pack alpha. He had to be.

The other man placed a hand on his chest. "And I'm Jacob!"

"We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Changmin piped up. He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes shifting over to yours.

"Well, why don't we head over to the pack house and we can talk about all the details of a plan," said Sangyeon. He inclined his chin in the direction of where you assumed the pack house was. Then his eyes, you watched their keen movements, latched onto Kevin's as if they were communicating silently. "Yn," you nearly jolted when you realized he was addressing you. "Kevin's gonna take you to the small inn we have here. It'll give you a little more privacy, and I'm sure you've felt pretty overwhelmed."

It didn't sound like he was asking you, but there was a warmth to his smile. You couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.

Changmin's head went on a swivel. "Wait, she's not coming with us?"

Haknyeon and Jacob were already rounding on either side of him to guide him in the opposite direction Kevin was leading you. Something in the back of your head made you turn over your shoulder to look at him. Was being separated such a bad thing?

Haknyeon suddenly tossed Kevin your backpack, the latter shouldering it.

"Come on, Yn," Kevin chirped, angling his body as he nudged you along so you could no longer see Changmin. "There's a lovely hearth in the main lobby, and the auntie who runs the place makes the best cookies ever."

You nodded slowly as your brain struggled to think of any reason why they would separate you from Changmin. And why did he sound so surprised? Your hand drifted toward the pocket that hid your angel blade. "Oh, really? That sounds nice."

They didn't drug them, did they? Your shoulders tensed at the idea.

Why did they separate you and Changmin—

The inn was the building right outside the alley with a porch that spanned the front facade. The architecture reminded you of an upscale cabin with large oak logs piled atop each other to make up the structure. A warm light emitted from the front windows and glass doors, and you swore you could smell the cookies from here.

When you and Kevin entered the building, he called out a greeting to an older woman stationed behind a reception desk in the back corner. She greeted the both of you with a cordial smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Her head tilted curiously at you, however, her eyes zeroing in on…

Your attention was drawn away and you were directed toward the seating area on the other side of the lobby.

"Can I get you any water or anything?" Kevin asked you as he motioned for you to take a seat in the armchair adjacent to him. He set your backpack at your feet for you.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat, hand reaching for the pendant beneath your shirt—you stopped short. Could he sense the power of the pendant? Was that why they separated you from your demon bodyguard? Oh fuck—

"Hey, hey," Kevin suddenly said softly, face morphing into an expression of concern. "No need to get panicked, okay? You're safe now."

Wait. What? You wrung your hands in your lap, heart still throwing itself up against your ribcage. "Safe? What do you mean safe? Safe from what?"

Kevin considered you for a moment, but the gentleness from his voice and body language never left. "You're safe from Changmin."

"Safe from Changmin?"

"Yes," he affirmed patiently. "The bruises on your neck—"

Your hand went to cover the side of your throat where it had been pierced by the maw of a demon, but not Changmin.

"—does he feed from you? They look fresh—"

You immediately put your hands up to gesticulate in wild opposition. "Oh, no, no, no. He—he didn't feed from me; he saved my life, actually. We were attacked by other demons and I was bleeding out, and he just closed the wounds. He… he isn't, uhm… yeah."

Kevin's posture changed, and his smile became relieved—sheepish even. "Well, shit. I'm sorry for assuming, Yn; it's just that a lot of people end up here because they're in unhealthy relationships, and I saw the marks on your neck and just assumed the worst." He cupped the back of his neck. "This must have been really confusing for you. Sorry about that."

Okay, now that made a lot more sense. Your adrenaline was slowly teetering out and the tension left your shoulders. "No, please, that's honestly really nice that you would help victims like this. It did give me a little scare, but… yeah no, this wasn't Changmin's doing."

"That eases my mind a lot," he chuckled. Then he turned and nodded to the auntie behind the reception desk. You watched as she disappeared out the doors of the inn. "She's just gonna let Sangyeon know that everything's good."

"I thought you said you and Changmin go way back…?" Did they not trust him?

Kevin leaned back in his armchair. "We do. It's just protocol, you know? Whether or not we know them, it doesn't matter."

That was good for victims, you thought. Though, you couldn't imagine what they were really discussing with Changmin then… "So Changmin…"

"Sangyeon, Jacob, and Haknyeon would have taken care of him if I told them he was harming you," he replied, lips pressed together. "They really are talking about how you both ended up here though—that, and plans for the morning."

It was like he could read your mind.

A lot had happened just now, and you were still reeling from the fact that you didn't need to prepare to run. Though, you were still hyperaware of Clyde's warmth in your pocket.

Kevin noticed your far-off expression. He leaned forward onto his knees, that kind smile of his curling onto his face and making you feel some sort of woozy. "I know it's probably been a lot for you. Do you have any questions for me?"

He was so different from Changmin. While with the demon getting information was like pulling teeth, here was Kevin offering you information. They were polar opposites, really. You wondered what it might have been like if Kevin had been the one to take you on this quest instead—your mind shuttered. What a strange thought. Changmin might have been a pain in your ass in the beginning (and still now), but… it wasn't like he hadn't protected you. You didn't know.

"I guess," you started, "what's gonna happen now?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, uhm, I think we're both gonna find out once Changmin gets back. See what they've all decided on. But for sure, you and he will be able to shack up here for the night."

You gave a slow nod. "Is Sangyeon the pack alpha? Kind of a stupid question—"

"It's not a stupid question at all," Kevin said. "But yes, he's the pack alpha. You can just consider him as a community leader, essentially."

"And you're all wolf shifters?"

A nod, then he paused, tilting his head. "Yes, but Jacob's not a wolf shifter; he's an angel."

Your eyebrows flew up. Everything was suddenly making a lot more sense. "An angel? So he and Changmin aren't, like, mortal enemies or anything?" You hadn't noticed any wings on him…

Kevin laughed. "Oh, you're cute. No, thankfully they are not mortal enemies. Jacob's too nice to have enemies."

"Even someone like Changmin?" You jested.

"Even someone like Changmin," he said, humoring you. "Speaking of the demon, you two aren't…?"

You sucked in a breath. "Definitely not. We're not together or anything. It's a long story, but our meeting and traveling together is just because of a common goal." You couldn't tell why the thought of you and Changmin being an item made your heart cartwheel. Perhaps it was simply the anxiety of being thought of as Changmin's significant other that made you want to jump to correct that assumption. Yes, that was it.

Kevin bit his bottom lip like he was trying to hide a smile. "Ah, I see. That's good to know."

"And why's that?" You asked.

You could have sworn if he was in wolf form, his ears would have been tucked against his head. "Nothing!" He insisted. "It would just be a shame to not take a chance when it's presented, you know?"

You weren't quite sure what he meant by that, but for some reason, you were eager to find out.

It was late still when Changmin knocked on your open door, lingering on the threshold. You had just stepped out of the shower in the private en suite your accommodations had, a towel settled upon your shoulders to act as a barrier between your wet hair and dry clothes. He didn't look any worse for wear—then again, he never did.

"Everything okay with Kevin?" He asked, clearing his throat. You felt his eyes on you, scanning your body as if searching for any signs out of the ordinary.

You were searching for your phone charger in your bag. "Yeah, it was good. What—what happened with you?" You asked and lifted your eyes to meet his as you fondled the cord between your fingers.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Well," he drawled, "Sangyeon offered to send a small group out to scout for any signs of our pursuers from today. In the meantime, we're invited to stay here to recuperate for a couple days. If not, then they'll restock our supplies and help us out of here."

"I'm guessing you already made a decision." You paused when you realized there weren't any outlets in this room. Anywhere. A curse fell from your lips and you dumped your cord and dead cell phone into your bag.

"I figured you could use the rest," he said.

Your head whipped upward.

He arched a brow at you. "If that's alright with you."

Was he really asking you? No buts, no ifs, no snark? "Yeah, that's fine with me."

"Maybe a couple days here will be good for your frail, human body anyway."

There it is. You rolled your eyes so far back, you swore you saw your brain waving at you. "And maybe some fake demon sleep will make you less grouchy."

You thought he smiled. It could have been a trick of the light or sleep deprivation. "Whatever."

Just when it seemed like he was about to turn and leave, he stopped. "Kevin's taken a liking to you."

You stilled, attention piqued. "Really? How could you tell?"

Changmin gauged your reaction, and again, you couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. "You need to sleep."

"Wait, you're just gonna ignore my—and he's gone." You huffed and collapsed onto the bed. It was awfully comfortable.

Leave it up to Changmin to leave you high and dry like that.

You rolled over the surface of the bed to close your door. Quietly, you went around the room to close the knobs of the lanterns to put out the lights like Kevin had showed you earlier. The only light now came from outside the window, the campfire and lanterns in the pack center streaming through the shutters to create an elongated stripe pattern along the walls and floors.

You climbed into bed—it was a strange, but welcomed feeling.

Only a couple days without a bed, yet it felt like years had passed. You could only hope you didn't wake up to a demon at your throat this time.

#7—THE ONLY ONE.

WOLVES BEAT EVEN THE SUN from her slumber, you came to find out. The next morning, you rolled out of bed to hear the sound of muffled voices outside your window. Your body ached in places you didn't even think they could ache, and you stretched your arms up over your head as you opened the shutters.

Just a little off from your window stood a small gathering of creatures, both in human and wolf forms. You recognized Kevin as one of the human ones among them. It was the noise of your open shutter that had him turning his head up toward your window. He saw you there, and a smile blossomed on his face, bright and easy. He wasn't wearing a shirt again, as was the other man standing beside him. The other two in their group were wolves.

Kevin waved at you, catching the attention of the others with him. The man beside him beamed and waved, too.

You chuckled to yourself and returned the gesture.

Kevin beckoned you down with his hand.

You searched the window sill for the latch, muttering in triumph when you managed to notch it open.

He had walked over to stand directly below your window by the time you stuck your head out. "Good morning!" He chirped. "Good sleep?"

"Good morning, and so far I think so," you mused, unconsciously smoothing down your hair. You hadn't even checked the state of your bed head. Yikes.

"There's breakfast in the pack house if you'd like," he offered. "I can walk you over?"

You leaned your cheek against your fist. "Sounds great. Give me some time to get ready."

"Take your time!"

You locked the window back up, dropped the shutters, and hurried to get changed. It occurred to you, as you were getting yourself prepped and primed to face another day in a new world, that you hadn't felt so giddy in awhile. And about a boy nonetheless. The skip in your step was crazy to you, and—did you even have anything nice to wear?

You just managed to yank one of the nicer of your graphic tees over your head when you heard a knock at the door.

"Just a second!" You called, carding your fingers through your hair and separating into three so you could braid it out of your face.

You ripped the door open. "Hi."

Changmin stood on the other side looking slightly refreshed with his dark hair damp and plastered over his forehead. His eyes narrowed slightly at your lightened countenance, the way you actually cared about how you were doing your hair, the… everything. He sent you a look. "Breakfast is in the pack house, but I have a feeling you already knew that."

"Yeah, I was just headed down, actually." You stepped out into the hallway with him, closing your bedroom door behind you. Clyde sat in your pocket, replacing where your phone would have been stashed had it any use.

He cocked his head to the side. "You seem a lot more…" He made a gesture with one of his hands. "Alive."

"Well, considering I don't have magic regeneration—"

"Forget I said anything," he said, shaking his bangs from his eyes and beginning to walk down the corridor toward his room. "Go get sustenance, Yn."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You watched him disappear into his room before you made your way to the stairs.

Kevin was waiting for you in the lobby, perking up when you appeared on the stairway landing and made your descent. He took a couple steps to meet you in the middle, and you noticed that he had found a shirt to put on. Damn. "Hope you like waffles," he said as the two of you fell into step beside each other to head out of the inn.

"Love 'em."

It seemed that the entirety of Moonstone Creak was awake, even at such an early hour. The sun had yet to even clamber up above the treetops, leaving the sky a soft mesh of purple and orange. The air was as fresh as it had been yesterday, cool and pure, washing your lungs and waking you up some more.

"Is everyone awake so early?" You asked him, inhaling as much of the peace as you could.

Kevin nodded. "Pretty much, unless you're just coming back from a night watch. We usually encourage the pups to come out and exercise with us."

"Us?"

"The pack's primary watch," he clarified. "You probably saw me talking to a few of them earlier."

"Ah," you hummed. "That's nice though. You're all such a lovely community… It's refreshing."

His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you. "Thank you. I like to think we're a really big family."

You could see as much. By the way Kevin greeted all of his fellow pack members, a part of you wondered what it might have been like to grow up somewhere like this instead of always chasing after safety and security.

You and your sister had always got by somehow, but it had never been like this. With your parents gone so early in both of your lives, you only really had each other to rely on, besides the occasional aunt and uncle who took turns caring for the both of you until your sister turned 18. And now with your sister gone?

For some reason, it felt like you were still taking care of her in death. But perhaps that was the cost of seeking closure.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when they said pack house, but what you saw was about what it sounded like it was going to be. It was similar to the inn and many of the buildings around the area with its log cabin likeness, but this one was much, much larger. You could hear the squeals of children from out here, and there were smaller wolves chasing each other's tails around the wraparound porch. A few stopped to sit and cock their heads at you as you passed, their tails tick-tocking behind them.

It was strange seeing wolves carry around infants and toddlers in their hulking jaws, too, and Kevin chuckled when you almost stopped in your tracks. "It's no harm to them, don't worry."

"Yeah," you laughed nervously, fingering the pendant at your sternum. "It'll take some getting used to. Are you born as a wolf or as a human?" You asked him as the two of you stepped up the front steps of the porch and walked through the entryway.

"Depends—woah, hey guys. Careful!" Kevin clicked his tongue as he caught and lifted one of the younger boys off his legs just before he accidentally knocked over a table holding a vase of flowers.

The kid and his friend giggled as Kevin put him down away from the table. "Sorry Kevin!" And they were gone, out the front door.

He shared a smile with you, cupping the back of his neck. "Where was I?" He gestured to your right down a hallway; you could smell the sweetness and buttery goodness of breakfast. "Oh, right. It depends: since wolves and humans are mammals, giving birth is a little easier than other non-mammal shifters."

"Non-mammal shifters?" Your eyebrows shot up. "What other shifters exist?"

"Any you can think of, to be honest," he said. "All pups learn about their own growth and development though, especially since learning to shift and stay in touch with both their animal and human sides is so integral. It would probably be better if I connected you with someone who identifies as female to talk about birth specifically though," he admitted.

The kitchen was painted a pale shade of yellow that reflected the golden rays of sun and made the whole room much warmer and brighter. There was a mishmash of wolves and humans milling about the central island where a buffet-style breakfast was being served. The variety of food before you was enough to make even—as you liked to think—Changmin's mouth water. (He didn't need to eat, your ass. You saw the blueberry pancakes on the far end and wondered if he had some yet.)

Kevin passed you one of the plates stacked at the end before grabbing one for himself. "Lily, thank you for breakfast!"

Lily, you identified, was the woman leaning against the sink with a pale blue apron tied around her waist and baby bump. "You're welcome! Haknyeonie helped out, too."

Haknyeon's blond head poked in from where he was partly hiding in the butler's pantry, his cheeks stuffed with food. "Hm?"

You laughed to yourself as you started off by transferring a waffle to your plate. "Yes, thank you so much for breakfast. It looks delicious."

"Oh, no need for that," Lily beamed as she came over to the island across from you and put more food onto your plate. "Take more, please. We have so much to go around."

"Oh," you blinked, watching Kevin start to pile things onto his own plate. "It's so much; I don't want to take more than I can finish—"

"I'll help you finish," Kevin offered, shoving a strawberry into his mouth. "I'm sorry if it seems like we're pressuring you, though. I guess we're all just used to making sure the other is fed around here."

You could melt like a slab of butter between two warm hotcakes. "Thank you—I appreciate the thought."

Kevin ruffled your hair as the two of you continued around your tour of the island. "Of course."

From the entryway you had just come in, Sangyeon arrived whistling an offhanded tune under his breath. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning!" Chorused around the kitchen at differing intervals as everyone greeted their pack alpha.

Sangyeon beelined around the island and over to Lily, the two of them exchanging fond touches and a warm kiss in greeting. "Morning, love."

"Good morning," Lily said. "Eaten yet?"

The dots connected in your head and you nudged Kevin as the two of you finished up at the island. "Lily and Sangyeon—?"

"Yeah, she's our alpha female," Kevin confirmed. "Six months pregnant. They celebrated nuptials about a year ago."

"Ah." You didn't mean to stare, but they were such a beautiful couple. Though you thought Sangyeon's smile was warm, it was nothing compared to the one he saved just for his partner.

He must have felt your eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to yours while he held one of Lily's hands. "Yn, sleep well?"

Your eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yes. Yes, thank you."

"All of your accommodations are to your satisfaction, I hope?"

"More than satisfied," you stammered with a sheepish smile; he was talking to you, right? Everything was way beyond what you had been living with for the past couple of days. A demon-infested motel or this? Well, no competition there. You could still feel the impression of Changmin's passenger seat in your back.

Sangyeon nodded. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. I was hoping to speak with you and Changmin after breakfast about your situation. It'll be with myself and my closest advisors, plus the two of you."

"Yes, of course," you said. "Does Changmin already know?"

"I'll have someone run and let him know."

You and Kevin were dismissed to go forth with breakfast. The two of you settled in a room next door to the kitchen fitted with a long dining table that reminded you of a cartoon rich people banquet table. You sat adjacent to each other, Kevin at the head, and you with the seat to his left.

You smeared butter over the slots of your waffle. "Do I have to worry about what Sangyeon's gonna talk about at the meeting?"

Kevin shoved his bite into his cheek. "To my knowledge, no, but if you're worried, Sangyeon's advisors are a pretty cool crowd."

"Oh yeah?" You asked.

His lips turned up as he chewed. "Mhm," he hummed before swallowing, "I should know since I'm one of them."

Sangyeon had an office deep within the first floor of the pack house. It was tucked away somewhere between the living room in the back and the door down to the wine cellar. (Kevin joked that the first pack alpha had planned the layout of the first floor deliberately.)

Following your hearty breakfast, you found yourself seated in one of the armchairs in the leader's office chambers, amongst Changmin (in the chair next to you) and the other members of the so-called inner circle. Kevin lingered nearby, leaning against the office's hearth with his arms and ankles crossed idly. It seemed that the advising board included not just Kevin, but also Jacob, Lily, and someone named Juyeon. You learned that he was out on night guard when you came in last night, so you weren't able to properly meet him until now.

Sangyeon stood next to the office chair seated behind the grand, mahogany desk; Lily was automatically given the chair because of her pregnancy, and because she'd been working all morning. "Concerning the white sedan you said was trailing after you two yesterday—" he said, "—none of our scouts could follow a solid scent past the freeway entrance. It was interesting, actually."

Changmin leaned forward onto his forearms. "How so?" He asked, eyebrows creasing.

Sangyeon nodded to Juyeon, who filled in, "Well, we couldn't figure out what their scent is."

"How is that even possible?"

You blinked, brain whirring into overdrive. There was something you were missing yet again. What was the context here?

Kevin stepped over to your side and murmured to you, "We can usually pick apart scents to identify the layers, so this is why it's… concerning."

"Ah," you nodded. "Thanks."

"It was distinct for sure," Juyeon supplied with a vague gesture of his hands, "but it was nearly impossible to tell what species they were. It was easy enough picking apart the entity from the car smells—" Exhaust fumes, metal, seats, you assumed, "—and we could follow the smell as far as the entrance to the highway you guys came from, but…" He shook his head. "No-go. In all my years, I've never come across anything like it."

The helplessness that settled into the grooves of the room made you squirm, and your fingers fondled the red pendant at your collar again. Here was a space of the all-powerful, and yet, something as simple as a scent was throwing them all for a loop. You couldn't begin to wrap your head around the implications, because, well—you didn't know the implications.

(Dark. You were always sitting in the dark.)

Changmin passed you a glance, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking, as usual. "There has to be a way to somehow analyze it. Could we consult a witch?"

"I've already called an old friend," said Lily. "They're on their way over presently."

"Could I see the pendant?" Jacob's voice carried out into the room. Though he himself was soft-spoken, one could not mistake his volume. Everyone's attention cut over to you, and you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth beneath your feet. "If that's okay," he added. "It feels familiar."

"Feels?" You echoed, gripping the stone in your hand. The chain dug into the flesh of your neck as you anxiously yanked on it.

Changmin's eyes darted from the stone to you. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" You were overwhelmed; that was what you thought. You fisted it in your hand, suddenly reluctant to part with the thing that had caused you so much trouble as of late. You felt… an uncanny urge to keep it in your possession. "Uhm… you can see it, but I won't take it off."

Your devilish counterpart narrowed his eyes slightly, cocked his head to the side, at your behavior. He didn't say anything though, as if this truly was just all your decision. Perhaps this was because he knew that you weren't exactly buddies with these people yet. In retrospect, they were still strangers, and thus, potential threats to you.

Jacob took easy strides over to you from where he was standing by the desk. He passed you a reassuring smile as he knelt in front of you, close enough that you could see the eyelashes brush his cheeks. There was something warm radiating from him, and you swore you saw a flash of gold in his eyes.

Angel, right.

He rose up on his knees, holding out his hand, but not touching you. "May I?"

You pinched the part of the pendant attached to the chain and stuck it out toward him.

Jacob's eyebrows knitted together as he touched the pendant with only the tips of his fingers. You held your breath throughout the entirety of his assessment. When he finally leaned back onto his haunches, you blinked away whatever angelic warmth still lingered. "Juyeon, come smell the pendant."

Your eyes widened. "Uhm—"

"Hold on, what?"

"Wait, Jacob."

The latter two responses came from Changmin and Kevin, respectively, the two startling at Jacob's request.

There was a swift exchange of glances between everyone else and the alpha wolves in the room.

Lily said, "Yn?"

"Why are we sniffing the pendant now?" You asked, finding your voice.

Jacob looked up innocently. "Sorry, I probably should have explained myself. I think it might smell like the scent Juyeon was trying to track."

Something in the room shifted. You glanced down at the pendant in your grip and the questions in your head accumulated and accumulated and accumulated. What in Hell did you get me into, Sena?

"Okay," you said, "you can… smell the pendant."

You weren't sure why he couldn't smell it from where he was, but he took a couple steps over to you and replaced Jacob's position. Changmin's hand appeared on the arm of your chair as he leaned forward slightly.

Juyeon took a cautionary sniff, and his eyes widened. "That's it. It's—it was slightly different, but similar enough where it has to be the same entity." He looked up at you. "Is this the only one of its kind?"

You met Changmin's eyes.

He looked away first. "No."

Your gaze became earnest in his direction, and if you could, you would burn twin holes in the side of his head like a snakebite. More shit he hadn't told you. Were you surprised?

No? What did he mean no?

"We need to talk," you forced out of gritted teeth, gripping onto the arm of his chair now.

He passed you a glance. Later.

"Well, we can only really assume that the person following you was most likely after the pendant," Jacob said plainly as he stood from the ground and dusted off his pants. "But now that we know the origin of the scent, per se, it'll make the hunt a little easier."

Sangyeon gave a bob of his head. "Kevin, you're leading the search party for the day."

Kevin's head perked up, hand on the back of your chair. "But—"

A single look from his leader made his mouth snap closed.

"Yes, sir," Kevin murmured with a shallow nod of acknowledgement. He gave the back of your chair a small pat, then departed without another word from the office. You thought you could feel his presence leave your side, from the room. All of this feeling… was this how the supernatural operated? Was this what a sixth sense entailed all along?

"Juyeon—" the man in question raised his head, "—go find where Haknyeon and Eric are." Sangyeon scratched his temple with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like exasperation. "Grab them and round up the pups."

Juyeon brightened. "Are we taking them down to the creak?"

Lily nodded her approval. "Ooh, nice idea. Yn and Changmin, you're both free to join us. It's lovely down there."

You forced your hand to fall away from the pendant, but not before tucking it back beneath the collar of your shirt. It felt too exposed out here, sitting on your sternum for all to see. You nodded though, trying for a small smile. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sangyeon patted the desktop. "Excellent! The two of you can continue to make yourselves at home."

Though this was a physical conclusion to the meeting, your stomach continued to sit uncomfortably. This conversation should not have been over so quickly… right? Was there not more to discuss? Perhaps not now then. Maybe it was better to take your time letting this all sink in.

"Ah, before the two of you go join the little ones," Jacob cut in. He shot Changmin a pointed look. "You owe me something."

Changmin roughed a hand through his bangs, but you could have sworn his lips curled up with a smile. "Aish… your memory."

"It never fails me when I need it."

You glanced between the two; Changmin did owe you yet another explanation, but if there was something these two planned to settle… "What? What is it this time?"

Jacob grinned, and you definitely hadn't been hallucinating when you saw flickers of gold in his irises. "He owes me a sparring match."

a/n: i am clasping my hands in prayer for a reblog, comment, or ask. take a moment to grab a snack, drink some water, and head over to the second part! thanks for reading

read part two here (if it's not linked yet, refresh and it'll be at the top)

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 months ago

Text

The day after tomorrow

AN: I’ve been planning this part of the story for a long time and only just been able to commit it to paper. Additionally, it ended up longer than planned, so I decided to keep this one as fluff and put the steamy stuff in another instalment that hopefully won’t take too long to get out to you. This takes place immediately after 'Tomorrow is not too late', and forms the third part of the series.

Feel free to send asks about Ari and Angel.

Not beta’d, but a big thank you to @christywrites for letting me bounce ideas off them.

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you would like to be on my tag list, then please click here.

Master List | Series Master list

Summary: You’ve realised you were ready in your heart to change the relationship between you and Ari, but the realities of what that will mean in a physical intimacy sense leads to old insecurities raising their heads.

Relationship: Ari Levinson x Female Reader (Angel)

Word Count: 3.7k

CW: Fluff, Angst, Self-esteem issues, Ari being the biggest teddy bear.

The pair of you didn’t announce anything when you walked back into the building, but it seemed as though everyone already knew. Rachel threw you a smile and an eye roll that seemed to say ‘it’s about time’, and Max came up and just bumped his arm against Ari’s with a knowing look. And for anyone who hadn’t managed to immediately work it out, the way that Ari was in constant physical contact with you the rest of the evening was a dead give away. In fact, the only alone time you had for the rest of the party was when you excused yourself to the bathroom. Ari had looked at you with puppy dog eyes, as though he was afraid you were about to make a break for it, and his fingers had continued to hold onto yours for as long as possible, until the physical distance was longer than both your arms. As soon as you returned, his thick arms wrapped straight back around your waist and dragged you down to your previous place on his broad lap. You didn’t mind though. Your body was still awash with endorphins, and your heart was light and you enjoyed being snuggled up against his bear-like form, your nose full of the scent of his aftershave.

You stayed pressed against him during the lighting of the Menorah and the recitation of the brachah, observing him with a new kind of wonder. It was amazing to you that just uttering a few words between you could make just a massive shift in your relationship. That and a few kisses. Your bows drew together at that thought, because you knew what came after kisses and not only was sex something that had felt performative, it had also been quite a while. Almost five months. Also, Ari was, well Ari. Sex on legs. A wet fucking dream. You had no doubt he would be good at it. No. Strike that. Not good. Absolutely fucking amazing. However, you were just you.

Unwelcome thoughts intruded into your head. What if you were so rubbish compared to his previous girlfriends that he changed his mind about wanting to be with you? Kyle had never really had anything positive to say. The sounds of the conversation around you faded into a background hum, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart. Ari seemed to realise something was wrong because one of his large hands shifted from your waist to gently squeeze your thigh. However that brought to mind more sexual touching and your feelings of inadequacy grew even more. Would he be disappointed by the way you gave head? Would he think you too loud in bed, or not loud enough? What if, when he finally saw your body he was completely turned off? With your heart pounding in your chest, you leapt up from his lap with such suddenness, that the others lapsed into a surprised silence, the dreidel they’d been playing with coming to a stop. All of them looked at you intently - Ari most of all.

You took a little step back, your hands twisting together in front of you. “I… erm… it’s getting late…” You raised your arms above your head and affected a broad yawn. “I probably ought to go to sleep. Not used to these late nights.”

Ari’s lips twitched up into a little smile. “You know what, Angel? I’m pretty beat as well.” He reached out and snagged your hand with his, linking your fingers together and grabbing up the present bag with the other. “I think I’ll join you in hitting the hay. See you guys tomorrow.” With a small wave he bid the rest of the group goodnight, garnering a series of similar sentiments in return, and before you even had a chance to get your thoughts in order, he was drawing you out of the room and towards the stairs.

“Ari… wait.” You tugged on his hand and he came to a halt, turning around to look at you. He must have read the uncertainty in your face, or noticed the way your eyes darted, anxiety ridden up the stairs and into the darkness.

”Hey, sweetheart. Shit. I’m not trying to be presumptuous. Or at least not in that way. I’m just not ready to let go of you yet.” He took a few steps back down, in fact passing past you, just to stop below you so your eye lines were more level. “I promise no funny business, I just wanna hold you.”

You nibbled on your lower lip and looked down at your feet, and the bits of sand still clinging to your shoes.

“But,” he continued, “if you really aren’t comfortable I can call you a cab.”

You considered his words, but must have taken a little too long to respond, because you saw the smile leave his eyes, if not his face, as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He looked awkward, something unusual for such a self assured man. Realising what he’d interpreted from your silence, you reached out, placing your hand over the phone clasped in his much larger one.

”You got a t-shirt and shorts I can borrow?”

At your words, the light returned to his eyes and his smile broadened into a grin. He shoved his phone away and then, without warning, scooped you over his shoulder, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time. You squealed in amused surprise and gave him a light spank on his ass, given it was so close to your face. You felt his chuckle rumble in your abdomen, and you couldn’t help but giggle in turn. In a matter of moments you were back on your feet at the top of the stairs, and Ari was dragging you down the hall towards what was presumably his room.

When he pushed open a door at the end and gestured for you to precede him, you walked across the threshold full of curiosity - you’d never been here before and had no idea what to expect. However, it was just… normal. There was a desk holding a computer and a few notepads and pencils, a small bookcase with an eclectic selection of books, an easy chair placed close to the window that looked out across the beach, a dresser and a king-size bed, with cream and light blue covers. A door to the left of the bed presumably led to his en-suite. Overall it gave off an air of masculine functionality. There were a few framed pictures sitting on flat surfaces - ones of Ari and his friends and others that were presumably of his family. You turn a slow turn around the space, your fingertips trailing over surfaces and along the spines of the books. You could see Ari leaning against the doorframe leading to the bathroom from the corner of your eye, his arms crossed and a small smile gracing his pink lips, before he pushed away, placed the gift bag on the floor and began to rummage in his dresser.

Your short tour ended up at the side of the large bed, and you looked down at it, your anxiety fluttering once again in your stomach. This was Ari’s bed. The bed where he slept, probably naked. Where he touched himself. Where, no doubt he touched others - women more beautiful and experienced than you. You couldn’t imagine him not wanting to use his bed. But you trusted him, you reminded yourself, and he’d said there wouldn’t be any funny business. He was standing behind you - you could feel the warmth of his body radiating across the space between you, so with a deep breath you turned toward him, a smile plastered on your face.

His expression was soft, loving, as he looked down at you. He held a small pile of clothes in his hands. “Here,” he said, holding them out to you. “You can use these. There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom, along with a fresh washcloth. I’m afraid I don’t have any make-up remover.” He stopped and cocked his head to the side. “I could go ask Rachel if she has any spare if you want?”

You took the proffered clothes and shook your head gently. “It’s fine. I presume you have soap in that bathroom of yours. I’ll manage.” You stood up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, still trying to bury your nerves. Ari stepped to the side as you edged past him and made your way into the bathroom. It was only when you shut the door and looked at yourself in the mirror that you let out a deep breath.

You were in Ari’s bedroom. You were his girlfriend and were going to spend the night in his bed. You! You peered at your reflection, trying to see what he saw, but of course, you could only see what you thought were flaws - how your right eye was just a little bit higher than your left, the small scar on your chin from when you’d fallen off your bike as a kid. You’d always thought your top lip a little too thin, and the space between your eyebrows and your hairline too wide. And, despite braces as a teen, two of your top teeth were still a little crooked. However, backing out now would be far too awkward, so, with another large inhale, you determined not to critique yourself anymore and damage your self-esteem further as you hurriedly shed your clothes and changed into the soft grey t-shirt and shorts Ari had loaned you.

As you removed your shoes for the second time that evening and shed your bra, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh of relief. Nor could you resist the urge to hold the t-shirt to your nose before slipping it over your head. It smelled of Ari and beach, and you thought that scent could entice you to relax any day of the week. You were glad of the drawstring on the waist of Ari’s shorts, otherwise they’d have dropped right off you, and although his shirt was big on you, it didn’t completely cover your ass and you would have felt too exposed without the second item of clothing.

You found the toothbrush and washcloth with ease and set to removing your make-up as best you could, before brushing your teeth. Your skin felt tight from the soap, and another rummage through the drawer turned up a small travel sized tube of moisturiser. You tried not to think about any previous conquest of Ari’s it may have belonged to as you smoothed it over your cheeks. Eventually though, there was no more putting off of the inevitable and you bundled up your party clothes and hooked your shoes over your fingers and returned to the bedroom.

Ari was sitting, perched on the edge of his bed, waiting for you. He’d also drawn the curtains, and swapped the lighting from that ceiling to the small lamp on the table next to his bed. He held his own bundle of clothes in his lap. You really shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not like Ari hadn’t seen you looking worse than this on many occasions before. But this was different, and both of you knew it.

“You’re all sorted?” he queried, and you nodded.

“Yup, squeaky clean. Thank you.”

”I’m just gonna…” he pointed toward the bathroom you’d just vacated and you felt heat flood your cheeks at his chivalrous action. It was his room, he was well within his rights to get ready for bed where he wanted, but it was obvious he was giving you the space you needed. “You pick a side and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Alone again, you stepped over to the window, placing your clothes on the chair, and your shoes underneath, before pulling back the edge of the curtain and looking out across the beach. Lights from downstairs spilled out across the sand for a few feet, and some of the waves picked up reflections as they danced to and fro, carefree. Returning to the bed, you lifted the edge of the coverlet and slipped onto the left side of the mattress, lying on your side so close to the edge your ass was almost falling out.

True to his word, Ari was only a matter of minutes in the bathroom and when he came out you had to tamp down a jolt of desire. Even if he did normally sleep naked he wasn’t doing so tonight. He had on a light grey tank top and a pair of black, long legged pyjama pants, and somehow made the combination look like the most sexually slurring outfit ever conceived.

He looked a little shy as he slid into the bed next to you, turning on his side to face you. The soft yellow light from the lamp played over his features, and you didn’t even notice that you’d reached out to tuck a lock of his hair back from his face until the silky strands were between your fingers.

”I meant what I said out on the beach, Angel. I love you, and have for a long time. I was happy to wait for you to catch up with me, and as I’ve said before, I’m happy to wait until you’re ready for anything else, but I would love to hold you for a bit, if that’s alright?” His expression was so earnest, and you couldn’t lie that you yearned for his touch.

”I’d like that too,” you replied, and shifted toward him. He opened his arms and you lifted your head to allow the lower one to become your pillow. Your face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder, his shaggy hair tickling your nose, as his arms wrapped around your waist. The pair of you had cuddled many times before, but it had never felt this intimate before, despite Ari’s attempt to be gentlemanly. Your breasts just touched his chest, but below your waists, your bodies were angled away from each other. You felt his lips press against the top of your hair and you tilted your head back to look into his ocean blue eyes. He was so fucking beautiful, it almost hurt, and you felt a need grow within you, a need to feel his lips on yours once again, even if you didn’t feel worthy of his affection. “Kiss me,” you murmured before you could lose your nerve.

Ari’s lips turned up and his eyes crinkled as he closed the scant space between you. This kiss was as electric as that first one on the beach. His large hands held you gently, but firmly as his lips trailed across yours. He didn’t deepen the kiss until you opened your own lips with a soft whine, inviting him into your mouth. However, even then you could tell he was tempering his lust. Was he only holding back because you’d asked him to, or, the insidious voice in your head asked, was it because he didn’t actually want to be close to you? Your doubts rose in volume, a cacophony inside your mind, and you pulled back, shrinking away from him.

Ari looked at you quizzically. “Angel? Are you alright? I didn’t go too far did I? If I did, I didn’t mean to.”

”Oh? No!” You didn’t want him to feel bad about himself, and you felt silly, second guessing his intentions. “Nothing like that.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and looked up at him, shyly. “I just realised you haven’t opened your present yet.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. ”If you were concerned about that, then I obviously wasn’t kissing you properly. Nice try, but I think you’re deflecting. You actually wanna talk about what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours? If you’re having any second thoughts - any doubts - maybe we ought to talk about it sooner rather than later?”

You knew it made sense, but lying down like this felt far too intimate - far too intense. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, back up against the headboard and the coverlet pulled up to your chin. Ari followed your lead, sitting up next to you, but he turned his body to face you better. You twisted the fabric you held in your hands and opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, you let out a sigh and shut your mouth again.

”Sweetheart?” Ari said softly, and then leaned forward to brush the back of his hand against your cheek. “Whatever it is, we can work it out. I love you, remember? You’re my Angel.”

He was being so sincere, you could tell, but your own mind was twisting you around. “What if I’m not good enough?” you whispered, and a tear, unbidden, started to roll down your face.

In a moment Ari had closed the distance between you, and he had you wrapped once more in his arms and pulled to his chest, and it didn’t feel awkward, it just felt like all of those previous times, back when you and Ari had just been friends. Best friends. “Hey,”he cooed. “Of course you’re good enough. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know. I hope you’re not telling me that I’m not a good judge of character?”

You let out a ‘harumph’ sound at his gentle teasing. “Not like that. I mean, what if I’m not good enough… at sex?” The admission flowed out of your mouth like water over a cliff edge.

Ari eased you backwards, so he could look at you, disbelievingly. “What on earth are you on about?”

You wiggled in his grip and he let you go easily. You got up from the bed and started to pace back and forth in front of the window. “It’s been a long time for me. And I’m just me, and you’re…well, you! I’m a frigid cow, and you’re a sex a god.”

Ari bristled. “Who told you that? No. Let me guess. Kyle?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, just wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It was all the answer Ari needed.

”Sonofa… You know, if I ever meet this guy, it’s gonna be the worst day of his life. Angel, please come sit down. You’re making me dizzy with all that pacing.”

You climbed back onto the bed, but stayed atop the covers, your legs curled under you. Ari unwrapped your arms and held your hands with his own. “Now, let me know if I’m in the right ballpark… I’m guessing that foreplay was a foreign word to that douchebag? I bet he never took the time to warm you up. Touch you just right until you actually desired intimacy? He probably never worshipped this beautiful body of yours and made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe. Did he ever give you an orgasm? Or did he just use your body to get off and then roll over and start snoring?”

You peered at Ari, wondering how he knew so much, and at the same time you couldn’t help but imagine Ari doing all those good things to you. “I had orgasms,” you argued, not wanting to come off as a total doormat in your previous relationship.

”Ones that weren’t ’happy accidents’ or self-induced?” Ari was obviously psychic, and the way you ducked your head and looked away from him gave him all the answers he needed. “I promise you, Angel, when you’re ready for more, I’ll treat you right. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated. As for your comment about me being a sex god…” his thumbs stroked over your knuckles and you couldn’t ignore how tuned-in you were to the softness of his touch. “I’m not going to do myself a disservice - I know what I’m doing, how to give my partner all the pleasure they’d wish for, but I need you to know that since I moved here, you’re the first woman to ever be in this room.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and a slightly shy expression crossed his face. “I mean, Rachel has been in here, but strictly in a platonic sense. And I’m not saying I was living a monk’s life, but there’s never been anyone special enough to bring here, and you know there was no-one at all after we met.”

”But…but…,” you stammered, feeling completely poleaxed by his admission. Yes, he’d said it, but you hadn’t thought he’d actually meant it. You wouldn’t have blamed him. “You’re so… I mean… women throw themselves at you all the time.”

Ari chuckled. “Yeah, they might, but I have standards, and to be honest, these last few months, all my attention has been solely on the most angelic woman I ever met.” You ducked your head again, feeling heat rise up into your cheeks in embarrassment at his words.

”So,” he continued, “I mean it when I say I will wait for you to be ready, and when you are, I’m gonna prove to you how good it can be. Now, will you let me hold you, and maybe give you another kiss before we sleep? I need to make the most of it, before you leave me for a few days.”

Tears of joy, mingled with a little shame at the way you’d second guessed him, gathered in your eyes. “Sure. And I’m sorry for being such a mess.” You pulled your hands from his to clamber back under the covers, allowing him to then pull you close once more.

”I’ve seen you worse than this, Angel,” he teased with a smile.

You grinned back ”Gee, thanks. Now, what were you saying about kisses and cuddles?”

As Ari’s lips descended on yours again you decided you need to trust both him and yourself as well as the love between you.

Tag list: @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @crayongirl-linz,

@nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318, @blackhawkfanatic, @scram1326,

@steviebbboi

@km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #Series: Ari and his Angel

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cels-not-so-secret-love-affair · 3 months ago

Text

required reading (sirius/remus)

a/n: this is just a fluffy few words of wolfstar, really. they’re a little bit in love.

‘Tired yet, Moons?’ Sirius skipped the last two steps of the staircase down to the common room, and flopped down next to his friend, hair swinging behind him.

‘Only a tad,’ mused Remus, flipping a page with his wand. Books floated effortlessly in the air before him, and a little distance away a candle sat on the coffee table, flaring in time with each inhale and exhale of his breath. Outside, the sun had sunk into its usual slumber, and time had begun to pass in the liquid, dreamy kind of way it often does at night.

‘D’you really have to be reading this late? What’s it even for anyways?’

‘Charms.’ Remus’ eyes were vague and far away as he answered.

‘Mate, Flitwick won’t care if you miss a deadline for a reading. Come to bed?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Sirius elbowed him gently in the ribs and sighed when he was batted away.

‘Rem, I’m serious. You’re his favourite student, besides Evans - you could be stood over a dead body with a smoking gun and he still wouldn’t believe you murdered someone. He’ll let you off this once.’

Remus snorted.

‘I’m well aware of who you are, Sirius. And I don’t fucking care if Flitwick will give me an extension, I’m finishing this book on time.’

Sirius paused to regard his friend more closely, taking in his ink-stained fingertips, his messy curls. His eyes were tired, but his jaw was set with a firm and quiet determination and something told Sirius not to push it.

‘Fine. But give your brain a break, and let me read.’

‘I don’t want you pitying me, Padfoot,’ came the reply, as the book in question was vehemently yanked out of Sirius’ reach by an invisible string.

‘I’m not pitying you, you self obsessed fuck. I can’t sleep, and I reckon reading’ll help take my mind off things. Now give over, and swap places with me.’ A resigned grunt of agreement, and the two rearranged themselves, attempting to accommodate for Remus’ lanky legs and Sirius’ tendency to sprawl. Eventually, they settled down comfortably, with Remus leant sleepily against Sirius’ shoulder.

‘Christ Moony, have you read all of this since dinner?’

‘Mm.’

‘You’ve done well.’

Remus laughed a little, and averted his gaze so that he was staring into the embers nestled in the fireplace.

‘I do my best,’ he replied quietly.

Sirius felt a sudden wave of admiration for his friend in that moment. His friend, who worked himself to the bone trying to make up for the days he spent in bed each month, trying to prove he was worth looking at as something that deserved a future. His friend, who, even on the brink of exhaustion, would still entertain the Marauders’ antics with a smile and a sarcastic comment and a suggestion or two. His friend, who would attend every single Quidditch practice without fail, despite having very little interest in it, just to watch the people he loved succeed. His gorgeous, gorgeous friend with those deep, kind eyes that smiled even when his mouth didn’t and his pretty, lilting accent and- this was not the time. Sirius turned his attention back to the book, trying not to think about the warm weight of Remus’ body against his own, or how he smelled so pleasantly of parchment and chocolate and cologne.

‘Where am I picking up from then, Rem?’

‘Top of the right hand page.’

‘Gotcha.’

An hour or so passed, and the book drew to a dull close with a final chapter on the Proteo Charm. The darkness outside had deepened, and thickened, becoming viscous and heavy. It pressed against the windows, making the common room seem even cosier in contrast. The air was warm and sleepy, the fire completely entrancing, and for a moment after Sirius finished speaking the two of them sat in silence to let the last of the consonant softly fade away.

‘Thanks, Padfoot.’

‘Anytime, Remus. Anything for our Moony.’

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vktrsnclr · 2 years ago

Text

It's Been A Long, Long Time (R13+)

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: your canon event was losing your family including your husband, Miguel and your daughter, Gabriella. Instead of Miguel, you became this Earth's Spider-woman.

word count: 900+

warning: depression, trauma dumping

characters: hobie brown, jessica drew, miguel o'hara, y/n

A/N: Hi! This'll be my first post in this account. I just love the plot and reality shifted into it and now I got sum tea for all of y'all. This is just a part of what happened in my DR, just added some details.

Exhausted from yet another grueling overtime shift at work, you arrive home craving to be greeted by the warm embrace of your husband. Instead, you find an empty home, with no signs of life or activity. It's been 4 years since they've passed.

The silence is deafening, and you can't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over you. You managed to eat a fastfood take out dinner, take a bath, cry in the tub and then go to bed. You laid down and felt a tingling sensation in your brain.

It's your spidey-sense. You knew something bad is gonna happen but you just don't seem to care, your heart froze over the years. Mourning and grief is all you've ever known.

Still, you reached for the lamp and looked by the window in your apartment.

"Why can't they all just die?" You sighed coldly, raising an eyebrow.

Two men was fatally struck and got ran over by a truck. You notice that glitch again as the sirens fill the road, You went back into bed like nothing happened, still as empty as before. It's been a year since you stopped meddling with civilians, you didn't see a point in saving them.

As you drift off to sleep, a bright, glitchy hexagonal portal appeared into your room, interrupting your sleep. A 7 foot tall, muscular spider variant, another female variant and a spiderpunk variant appeared from the portal.

You pressed the arc reactor at the back of your neck and immediately changed into your spidersuit.

"Amor?" The tall variant asked softly. You recognized his voice immediately because he's the only one who calls you that. You started to tear up under the suit and asked yourself if you're only dreaming. Emotions rush back into your brain after a long time.

"Miguel?" You removed your mask.

"Amor mio!" He greeted you with an embrace, his squeezing hug felt real. You froze in place, completely shocked and confused.

"Is she?" Spiderpunk whispered at the lady.

"Yep. Just let him have his moment." She replied calmly.

"You're back." Your voice breaks as he removes his mask, revealing his watery eyes. He looked at the window for a moment and asked the spiderlady and spiderpunk to fix the 'canon disruption' outside.

"What's happening?"

"Amor, you left traces of canon disruptions for the whole year. Lyla, can you run it?" A small holographic display of a virtual assistant appeared next to him. She explained what canon events are and you ignoring your senses and not saving the neighborhood is a canon event that should be stopped.

"So you were monitoring me since then?" A punch of anger and confusion struck your chest.

"Mi vida, I'm not from here. I'm from another dimension." He explains, holding your hand. He's kneeling on your bed where you sat.

"Wow. So, you can do all this, visit me." You scoffed. He looks down, fidgeting his shaky fingers.

"You can access this dimension all this time but you never did." You have so many questions and you're walking back and forth, having a crisis while asking where he's been all this time. Those questions are left in the open, halted by a moment of silence.

"I lost Gabriella too." He sighs. You halted for a moment to face him. He's staring at the floor, inner brow raised, openly expressing his sadness and regret. His words hang in the air, the gravity of what he's just said hits you like a force of a bullet.

"I tried to live in a universe where I was dead and you're both alive..... but tragedy followed me everywhere.

When I found you and this universe, my hopes went up but I realized that I should probably leave you alone cause I got scared."

"Miggy..."

"It's better being a coward than watch you glitch away repeatedly." His grinned with a pair of watery eyes, trying to hold it back.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't know." You placed your hand on his shoulders. Your touch provided him a sense of comfort and relief.

"I understand, but what you did here, almost causing a nexus event, It's gruesome, It's cold, That's no way to live." He sat next to you, looking directly at your dark hollowed eyes. He's not mad but rather concerned. He knows everything you did, ignoring the city, causing New York to be a hellhole and a safe haven for criminals.

"I know. I feel rotten since you've been gone. I was weak and I didn't know how to cope. I know I can never bring back their lives, I can't save them if I'm drowning but I'll accept the consequences of my actions."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but this is the only way I can take you with me. I won't make you suffer any longer." He sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, holding your hands in a loving manner.

"Wait.. am I dying? Are you.. are you a ghost?" You cupped his cheeks and lightly taps it, checking his body heat.

"No no no, I'll take you with me. To my universe." He let out a soft chuckle, taking your hand and planted kisses on it.

Your face lightens up, you didn't understand how that would happen but you're just grateful to be together with him. That's what you both longed for, finally having a chance to be together.

"Let's go home."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse #marvel #r13

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twignotstick · 1 year ago

Text

So I saw an ask from @probably-not-a-rutabaga

Got sad, decided I should write sad

Here we are :,)

Words: 1,403

Warnings: Major character death (tho its implied it happened offscreen, so more just major character dead?), Grief/Mourning, general sad vibes [if there's anything missing here, tell me please!]

Other tags: tmnt: aberration, turtle tots (kinda?), sad turtle pile, all the kiddos are sad, not my characters, hurt/little comfort, bittersweet ending, no beta we die like- uh- :|

Summary: Leo finds something he never wanted to find.

Splinter hadn't left his bed for weeks.

It was no secret that he was sick. Leo had tried to keep that secret, but his brothers weren't stupid. They knew what it looked like when someone was sick. They had all been sick before.

They had just never seen it get this bad.

Leo tried to keep up hope, but every day was more terrifying than the last. Every time Splinter would start coughing, hold his eyes tightly shut and shake his head, or even just trip, Leo would be terrified. He just couldn't tell what moment would be his father's last. He didn't want it to happen. He wanted Splinter to be there for his life; for his little brothers'.

Donnie had been working tirelessly on a project, despite Leo's better judgment. Part of him wanted to scold his little brother for barely sleeping in favor of working, but the other, smarter part of him knew this was just how Donnie coped. Working until the bad thoughts don't feel so bad anymore. That was why, when Donnie was finally done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Donnie's biggest project to date; a fully operational game console. Sure, it was an old Game Boy with only a cartridge of Tetris, but Donnie had saved it. He found it tossed in with some other miscellaneous materials Leo had grabbed from the surface, but it was completely unplayable then. The screen didn't work, and the sound (what little did play through the scratchy speakers) obviously didn't match up with the inputs. But somehow, with scraped together materials and a couple months of work, Donnie made it good as new. It even got a new coat of paint with Mikey's help.

Donnie was so proud when it was done, and all of his brothers gathered around to see it boot up for the first time and take turns playing.

Leo thought that Dad might like to see it, too. Maybe even take a turn.

“Dad?”

Leo shifted on his feet in the doorway, facing the dark room where his father had been for the past eternity. He saw his father's form laying under the blankets, but didn't get a response, as usual.

So he continued.

“Donnie finally finished the Game Boy. The one he told you about? It works perfect now!”

Splinter laid still.

“We all took turns playing Tetris. Donnie was really good at it.” He snorted under his breath. “We had to keep Raph from throwing it when he got mad. He wasn't that great at it…”

Silence.

“Mikey drew some really pretty designs on the back with the markers we found! They're all swirly and stuff.”

Again, silence.

“I thought you might want a go? I know you said you aren't that good with phones, but I thought…”

Too much silence.

“...Dad?”

Hesitantly, Leo approached his father's bedside. The sheets were laid neatly, just like when he had tucked Splinter in a few days ago.

A cup of water, left for Splinter to drink that day, was undisturbed on his bedside table.

Slowly, Leo lifted his hands to lay them on his father's arm beneath the sheets. He shook Splinter gently, just enough to wake him. He needs to drink, he thought, or he won't get better.

When Splinter's face stayed turned away, Leo started getting frustrated. “Dad, you need to at least look at me.”

Splinter did not turn, nor did he wake.

Leo sighed, then started climbing onto the mattress. Splinter had the nicest bed of all of them, but it was also the springiest, so it took a second for Leo to fully get his balance. Especially when he was trying to fit in the small space between his father and the edge of the bed. However, he was able to settle on his knees and look down at his father.

Splinter's face was lying to the side, and his dark hair was laid about on the pillowcase. He had neglected to cut or even brush it, so it was somewhat knotted at certain points. His eyes were closed softly, and his mouth slightly open.

His chest wasn't moving.

Leo reached over and hovered his hand in front of his father's mouth, checking for a breath.

Nothing.

“Splinter?”

He placed a small hand on Splinter's neck, searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

“Dad?!”

Leo grabbed his father's head with his hands, shaking it gently. Just enough to wake him up.

Splinter did not wake.

----------------------

At first, Donnie wasn't sure of what he heard. He turned the Game Boy in his hands off and lifted his head, seeing if he could find the source.

“What was that for?” Raph huffed, shoving into Donnie's side. Donnie put his hand palm out toward Raph in response, still not turned to look at him.

They sat silently for a moment, then Mikey spoke. “You were doing so-” Donnie covered his mouth to shut him up.

There it was. A sob, a sniffle, coming from elsewhere in the lair.

Leo was crying.

There was no need for words; in an instant, all three brothers were on their feet and getting out of the pit. Donnie was the first one to reach their father's doorframe. There he stopped, halting his brothers behind him.

Leo was curled over Splinter's body, holding it to his chest. With every shaking sob, he would clutch the body closer. Like he was scared to let go.

Donnie turned to face his younger brothers. “G-go back to the pit.”

“What? Why?” Raph spat.

“I said, go b-back to the p-pit.”

“But Leo's crying, and-” Mikey's eyes filled with realization, and he clasped his hands over his mouth as his eyes started to water.

“Go back to the pit!”

“FINE!” Raph hissed, grabbing Mikey's arm to drag him away. “Not like Leo would even want us there anyway.”

“But- But Papa-”

“He doesn't care, Mikey.”

Mikey's tears finally spilled when they were out of Donnie's eyesight. Breathing deeply, he turned to see his big brother in despair.

He approached the bed quietly, knowing that Leo had already heard their argument. Hesitantly, he crawled up onto the springy bed and took a place behind his brother. Leo was clearly trying to stop crying, now that he had a brother to be strong for.

Silently, Donnie reached under the covers to find Splinter's wrist, if only to confirm what he knew to be true.

Something in him screamed to leave- to run away. Maybe he could find some way to fix this. But the better part of him knew that the best thing- no, the only thing he could do was work to fix what was left.

So he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around his shaking brother, letting his weight ground him. Then, he let himself break.

Leo broke the silence.

“I don't know what to do, Donnie.”

He finally lifted his head and turned, letting Donnie see his reddened eyes just a bit. He couldn't look straight at his little brother.

Donnie inhaled deeply and hugged Leo tighter.

“You do what you c-can, r-right?”

They sat like that for a while. Leo holding onto the body in the bed, Donnie holding onto him. The shedding of tears wasn't addressed.

Eventually Donnie caught another sound, just barely coming from behind him. A shuffle, and a sniff. Weight fell onto the bed. It could be mistaken for one, but Donnie knew it was two. Raph's face, soaking wet, appeared to Donnie's right before flopping onto Leo's shell.

Mikey came up on his left, crawling up further. Donnie tried to grab the lip of his shell, but the smaller shook it off easily. He laid himself down right next to their father, grabbing his face and holding their foreheads together.

“Its okay Papa,” Mikey whispered, as Leo rested a hand on his shell. “W-we're here now…”

Leo's breath hitched, but he grabbed Mikey and pulled him closer. Raph leaned deeper in the space between Donnie and Leo, and Donnie took that as a reason to wrap his arm around the turtle. The only one that could bare to look at their father now was Mikey, though it was through a curtain of tears.

The hiccups and sobs started to fade. Four little turtles laid there and wept, soaking in what warmth their father had left before it all melted away.

As all things must.

----------------------

Hehehe

Again, these aren't my characters!! They belong to @probably-not-a-rutabaga 's awesome TMNT iteration, abberation! This fic is also just my take on how the turtles could have found out about Splinter's passing. That I wrote like, so fast-

I promise I don't just write sad stuff like this, but I just got inspired and couldn't control it. So, this is the first thing on my tumblr writing portfolio. My iteration (still unnamed, sadly) is more psychological introspective nonsense and spookiness with a sprinkling of sad, which is more my usual writing style! And still in the works,,

So in summary, check out tmnt: aberration, and thanks for reading this sad fic that actually made me tear up writing it! hahahhhaha

#tmnt #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #tmnt aberration #tmnt fanfiction #raph rly went: she dont love you no more! 😡#more aberration stuff to come probably #im gonna be over here crying #twig writes

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perkqularkreashions · 1 year ago

Text

Dogs Days Are Not Over

Requested | YES. Request | OPEN.

~M~ TWD Imagine: YN finds herself in an impossible situation when she is met with her former lover.

Word Count: 4,667

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Miscarriage, Mentions of Death.

Pairings: Negan X Reader, Dwight X Reader, Rick X Reader [Previous]

Author's note, this is the fourth request I've seen where the reader is pregnant lol; I have two more with Spencer Reid.

Happy Readings :)

NEGAN stirred gently, his back facing me as he groaned. The voices erupted in the halls, signaling that it was morning, another day of being completely absorbed by the idiocy Negan decided to keep in his company. Moments passed before he rose from the bed, dragging his limp body through the room, finding anything to toss on. He spoke softly to me last night, for the first time in a long time. His hand rubbed against me while his lips kissed my neck, gently lulling me to sleep, but I knew in the morning he would be back to sulking and carrying this attitude. We had been arguing for the last few days, and small things turned into big things that snowballed into us not talking for some days. “I want to go get Michael to check out,” he finally pronounces, his back still facing me as he pulls on some clothes.

“Negan,” I whispered, sitting in our bed, shifting slightly as he dismissed me. The door slammed behind him, and I was left alone. This time, it wasn’t a tiny fight over Dwight flirting with me or me getting jealous of his other wives; I overheard one of his dick-riding minions talking about the current raid that they partook in. They recounted the names in glee, the names of the victims that Negan bludgeoned, Abraham and Glenn. I froze, and my face grew warm as I listened closer to the words tumbling out of their mouths—the gargling of his words and the look of desperation on the woman’s face. I moved to the man, but I grabbed my gun and slammed it against his temple before I could process anything that had happened. Over and over again, I drew the butt of my gun to his face. My eyes burned with tears and blood. My feet slid against the ground as I felt arms wrap around me. It was one hit, a solid punch against my jaw, and another to my temple; I heard a loud crack.

I fell limp to the floor, a cold hand pressing against my face. His thumb rubbed gently against my skin. I could smell the stale cigarettes and beer on him. His voice was barely above a whisper. I could scarcely see his face, but I knew it was Dwight. I flinched away from him, slowly pushing him away. “Negan will kill you if he sees you,” was all I could mutter before, succumbing to darkness.

Now, roughly two days later, I have a bruised and darkened eye. I could barely see from my left eye; bright lights irritated me, and I suffered frequent migraines – Negan would call it a suitable punishment for a disrespectful woman. I wore a patch that Dwight had found on one of his excursions. Negan didn’t take too kindly to it, and me jumping to his defense wasn’t helping the situation either. Negan commanded one of the wives to nurse me back to health; with disdain and twisted face, she did so. She changed my bandages from my worsening eye and cleaned the wounds. This morning was no different; she came with a slight frown upon seeing me. She sighed, setting down her materials. “When are you going to tell him?” she finally spoke as she damped a discolored clothe to my eye.

After moments of silence, I finally responded, “What.” She laughed before snatching her hand away from my face.

“You’re pregnant, getting into stupid fights with David? He punched you in the stomach, YN, and the only reason you blacked out like that was because that was your old crew.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head softly.

“There’s no need; he’s not talking to me. I feel fine.” I confided in Rachel often, and on one of my drunken nights, I told her that Michael was the group leader's son to whom I used to belong. It was easier to think he was dead than to believe that Rick was dead. I mourned for Rick, Carl, Glen, Maggie, Abraham, Tara, Sasha, Daryl, and Michonne. I told her about my sisters and Beth’s death, and I told her about first meeting Rick and his family. She listened, soaked in every word as I cried in her lap.

“Your eye isn’t healing; you might want to get checked out when you go to Alexandria,” she sighs as she leaves me alone.

It didn’t take me long to get ready: light green cargo shorts, a stained tan t-shirt, and some army boots I stole from a decaying corpse. My head shifted to the door as I heard his babbles break the silence. His head rested on Negan’s chest as he moved closer to the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I ran my hand down his curly hair, taking him in for a moment. “How’s he feeling?”

“Not getting any better from last night, still a high fever, and he sounds hoarse,” He whispers; I could feel his eyes on me. Heavy and daunting. Finally, I look up, praying he doesn’t shift his gaze away. “I worry about you, YN”

Slowly, I let my hand travel to his face, cuffing it gently. My thumb brushed against his facial hair, prickling my skin uncomfortably, then moving to his lips. “I know… I’m sorry” was all I could manage.

“He could’ve killed you; I would have to kill him. I would do anything for you — for Michael.” I nodded; I pressed my lips against his, tasting alcohol and some sort of meat. His other hand gently grabbed at my waist, yanking me closer. “Come on,” he whispered against my lips. As we left the room, we were greeted by his dick-riding minions, ready to raid another town. My eyes scanned David, his face distorted from the butt of my gun. He smirked momentarily, before trotting off with the rest of the group. My eyes flickered to Dwight, his movements slow and calculated. He dodged through the crowd and soon walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me. Nothing was, but nothing needed to be said. His fingers brushed against mine, and my eyes shifted to Negan and then to him.

“How are you feeling?” I heard him grunt, his arms folded against his chest as he moved slightly before me.

“Better; Rachel says I need to get checked out when I go to the town,” I answered shortly, looking around and disinterested in the conversation.

“I miss you”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, speeding past him as I slammed my shoulder against his. I gasped as I felt his arm latch onto mine. I didn’t turn around, but I knew he was upset and needed me to show him I was alright. He let me go, and I continued to move with the group as we boarded our rides.

It didn’t take us long to reach Alexandria, the scene unfolding in front of me as every memory began to flood back. I began to feel queasy and full of anxiety as I stepped out of the car with Michael in hand. I hissed gently as sharp pain ran through my eye, I brushed it off as I lingered behind most of the group.

“Little pig…Little pig, let me in,” he foolishly commands, Lucille tossed over his shoulder. I squinted at the man; he was pale and had sustained some injuries. He was hunched forward slightly, his shoulders moving at an alarming rate. I caught his eyes, his hair covering most of his case; I took another step in his direction, my chest burning as I watched him intently. Realization struck on his face, and his eyes widened. “Daryl?” I whispered. My head snapped back to the gate as it began to open, and slowly, the figure emerged. He steps in, slowly thrusting Lucille into the man’s hand.

His face changed, and he gained some weight. His hair wasn’t as curly the last time I saw him more clean cut. His face drained of color and life that used to decorate him – he had hope. I couldn’t move or process the man I was seeing before me. He froze, his eyes moving from Michael to me. My throat tightened as I tried to utter something to him; I dreamt of this day, standing in front of Rick, letting him meet his son, explaining the hell that I went through, seeking comfort in his arms. “Rick?” I hiccuped out, shaking my head. I took a step closer to him, tightening my grip on Michael.

“YN?” he whispered, his voice kissing against my eyes. His eyes traveled back to Michael, “Is this–” hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers running against his arm before laying his hand against his back.

“Hold the fuck up,” I heard Negan shout, his laughter filtering into the arm as he stepped closer. His face was full of devious mischievous, but his eyes were full of sorrow and confusion. They watered slightly as he stepped closer to me. “Rick? Ole Rick, here is the father of Michael?”

“I was traveling with Daryl doing some runs in this town when we got separated. A herd of walkers took us by surprise, and I stumbled in the woods somewhere; I was holding up in some shanty town centers, bars, and a mall to give birth to Michael.” I stared at Negan for a moment as realization crossed his eyes. “Where’s Maggie?” I whispered. Rick looked for a moment, his eyes shifting down as he swallowed.

“She didn’t make the trip back here after—” I sucked deeply. I needed to hold myself together, and I nodded to his statement. I pressed my lips together. “Let me see her.”

With that, we moved to her grave sight, next to Glenn. I stared at the dirt graves, my foot mindlessly kicking at the dirt as it tumbled down the pile. My eyes stung with tears as I tugged on my bottom lip. “She was sister,” I spoke to Negan, my eyes fixating on the makeshift wooden cross. “She was always the rock between Beth and I. Beth was a crybaby, and Maggie was always Miss Straight and Narrow while I wanted to drink and stay out late with my hick boyfriend,” I laughed. It was long and rested in the stillness of the air. “When I saw Rick and Shane running down that field with Otis with Carl in his arms, I knew then that we stuck with the crew that came riding in their beat-up van and motorcycle. I nursed Carl back to health and taught him how to be a farmer."

My eyes flashed to Rick; a sunken look rested on his face as he gave me a soft smile. “She was my everything, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you—” I was interrupted by Michael’s whooping cough, his hand gripping against my chest. Negan rushed to my side, his eyes scanning Michael’s face, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes pleading to hold him. Absentmindedly, I nodded. He soon began checking his reddening face, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead as he shifted slightly. My eyes flickered to Rick, who tensed; a look of concentration and bewilderment ran across his features. I flinched at the abrupt ring pierced through the air; we froze for a moment; it was a gunshot. I followed behind Rick, my hand removing the gun from my side, upon entering a building far from the gravesite. My gun was aimed at a teenage boy, a bandage covering his eye as he held it at David, who had multiple medical supplies in his arms while tossing them in a crate. My face furrowed in disgust as my eyes shifted to him.

“Put some back, or the next one goes in you,” he commands; I observed, smirking slightly at this kid's courage.

“Kid…what do think is gonna happen next?” the boy looked at Negan, his eyes flickering to the child in his hand.

“He’s taking all of our medicine! You said Half,” he hissed; he squinted in hatred, his lips parted as a low snarl escaped. His finger danced against the trigger.

“Carl… Carl put the gun down.” I straightened my posture, my eyes taking him in. He was taller; he didn’t have a sweet innocence about him. When I first found out I was pregnant, he stayed by my side — he was overprotective, to say the least. I remember sharing a cell in the prison for a month, his body leaning against the base of the bed, his head resting against the rusted metal pole. His mouth parted, and his chest slowly moved with each huff that pushed past his lips. I watched him for a moment, brushing my hands through his hair. He’d stir in his sleep, uncomfortably adjusting himself, letting his hands run over his neck. He hated sleeping alone since his mother had passed, and I hated being alone since I suffered from the miscarriage.

Lowering my gun, I watched him. “You should go before you find out how dangerous we are.” I smiled softly at his words.

“David, put the medicine back,” I whispered, holstering my gun. Carl turned to me, his face still tight with anger. I grabbed his arm, and he flinched, his hand locking on the gun.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” David spits, the crate still locked in his arms. A smirk rode on his face as he cowarded behind Negan. I looked at Carl, pressing a gentle smile on my face. Confusion ran across his eyes; he shifted to face me slightly.

“You know, cowboy, you grew some damn balls the last time I saw you.” I laughed, tipping his hat back. His face softened, and a smile crept along his face. “Come on, Carl, I promise you, no one will touch the medicine. Half is what he said, and half is what he means,” I whispered, unraveling the gun from his hand.

I turned to David, taking a long step forward; his eyes widened as he realized that Negan would let me do it, taking the safety of the gun and putting it to his temple. “Put the shit down” his eyes flickered to Negan, who didn’t seem pleased with my sudden demonstration of leadership. “You know I’m good for it.” David curses for a moment, dropping the crate on the ground, his eyes fixed on me as he slowly exited the room. The door slammed behind him as we all listened to his retreating footsteps.

“YN,” Carl finally lets out, and I turn to him with a wide smile. “YNN,” he finally whispers; I gasped softly as he slammed his body against me. His arms wrapped around me. I chuckled.

“You’re still a troublemaker, I see” I whispered.

“I can say the same about you!” he chuckles through his slight frenzy of emotions.

“I hate to interrupt a touching moment, but this reminds me that, you all have way too many guns,” Negan states. Carl removes himself from me, his eyes shifting to Negan.

“First, Michael is sick, I know it’s probably too much to ask-”

“No,” Rick interrupted me. “Let’s get him looked at,” he hummed; I nodded, whispering a thank you. A woman with glasses came in, shakingly looking at Negan and me.

“Hi! I’m YN. That is Michael.” he shyly lifted his head off at the sound of his name, and I motioned her to come closer. She was hesitant for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. She was observing Negan; her hand trembled as she moved to adjust her glasses. “He’s been a little sick, with a bad cough. Negan over here thinks it is serious; he just gets sick easily. He hasn’t had any motivation to do anything but sleep and sometimes eat.” She nods, her hand gently brushing against his back as she tries to take him from Negan. He stiffens, locking his grip on Michael. Resting my hand against his shoulder, I squeeze. Negan’s eyes flickered over to mine, and he sighed content before letting the woman take Michael.

“What about you, ma’am?” she whispered, setting Michael on a bed. She lay him on his back, her hand moving to his stomach, the left side of his chest, and the right. She turned to me, waiting for an answer. “You should let me check you before you go; the bruising around your eye doesn’t look too good,” she nods for a moment.

Simply, I responded, “I’m fine.”

“How old is he?” Carl questions

“9 months, he’s so busy and wants to be around everything and see everything.” I laughed, my hands nervously playing with the hem of my shirt; I watched her examine him; the woman made faces at Michael as she poked and prodded him. He whined softly before settling into a soft laugh as she made a goofy face again.

Carl grabbed my hand, “Hey! It’s going to be okay. If he’s anything like us, Grimes, he’s a survivor,” he hummed; I nodded – tightening my grip on his hand. The memories came flooding in Carl’s kindness towards me, Rick’s loyalty and love, Daryl’s abrasiveness and wit, Abraham’s might and crudeness, and Rosita’s sass and smile. I sucked in a sob as I watched continued to watch Michael. I missed the feeling of Glenn wrapping his arms around in a tight hug after a sleepless night, or Maggie always bringing me a cup of tea in the mornings and before bed. I wanted to kill Negan for taking them away, I wanted to bring him to his knees and make him beg forgiveness as I rammed his stupid ass bat against his head. I wanted him to watch the woman he loved the most murder him. His last memory on this earth, is me wielding Lucille against his skull. But I was weak; I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

“Well! He’s alright, just a little hay fever; it’s growing increasingly hot outside the pollen and allergens are making him sick. We have some children’s Advil that might help his temperature; some tea and honey would be great. Might wanna keep him in fresh clothes.” I sighed in relief; I nodded rapidly, as she lifted him. “We had some allergy medicine, non-drowsy, of course. I’ll make something to drink for him and get him a change of clothes, and he will be as good as new. But I wanna have a check-up in a week or so. Just to make sure," I moved to grab him, his smile overtaking his face, his hands slamming against my face with excitement as he squeals with glee.

My eyes shifted to Negan; he stood against the back door. His eyes intensely staring at mine, he nodded briefly before looking away. “Come on, Rick, let’s go get my guns!” he promptly shouts, kicking himself off the door.

I stared at Carl, we were left alone, and I had so much to say, but nothing came out. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness – I knew it wouldn’t amount to much. He smiled softly, nodding slowly as if he could read my thoughts. Somehow, he always could; he always felt like my first son, the way he clung to me after his mother passed. He would find his way into my room, whispering that he had a nightmare about his mother and Judith. “Don’t,” Carl whispered, tears streaming down his cheek as he nodded. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

It was silence between us. “I was going into labor; I found my way into a mall. Negan and some of the guys, helped me give birth to him. They took me back to the Sanctuary, and I became Negan’s wife. I wanted to come back; I did — I just… I don’t know.” I whispered.

“It’s okay, YNN. Dad always knew you were out there. He said he was too hard to get rid of.” he laughed softly.

“Show me around, cowboy.” We walked through the streets, talking about different things, his new life, and the small hobbies he had picked up before things went to hell: the relationships and the heartbreaks.

I stopped him, grabbing his arm. “These people are dicks; they do this shit for dominance to make you feel weak. You aren’t weak. They want to leave with this feeling of hopelessness. He will come back, and when he does, don’t show fear. He feeds off of it. There’s a shanty ranch home, 15 miles north of here, Hutington. Have your father meet me there in 3 days.” He nods quickly; I unholstered my gun, passing it to him. “Please, be safe cowboy.”

“I will,” he hums, pulling me into a tight hug. I heard a long, high-pitched whistle, my eyes shifting to Dwight as he motioned for me to follow him. Carl looks at me before, whispering goodbye. Slowly, I made my way to Dwight, his eyes seething with jealousy, a look he often carried with him. Daryl was standing in a position directly behind him as he watched me. I passed a sympathetic smile to him.

“What were you doing with him?” he questioned. I scoffed momentarily, looking around before returning my gaze to him.

“He’s my son,” I answered without another thought. Carl always felt like my son; when he first arrived on the farm, I helped nurse him back to health—telling him fables that my grandfather used to say to me. I brought him late-night snacks despite my father telling me to not get so attached to them. I remember the look Rick gave me when I pleaded his case for them to stay– I remember the slight touch that sent shivers down my spine and our first kiss after he killed Shane. “Your leader killed my friends and took their guns, beds, and everything else they wanted. He’s a tyrant, and you know this.”

“I’m not one shacking up with him.” he hisses, stepping in my face, his breath fanned against my nose as he towered over me. “You’re fucking him, for fucksakes, you’re pregnant with his child. Don’t think I notice, how you don’t drink or stand around me when I smoke. The oversized shirts you wear? I notice everything about you.” I could find his hand and tried to find a way in mine. “Or Is it mine?”

I honestly didn’t know; it was one drunken night. Negan and I had gotten into a nasty fight over Michael. I pushed him, and he choked me; I remember him tossing me to the ground and storming out of the room. Dwight had visited me and asked me if I wanted to go on a run. It just happened. I don't regret it.

I sighed, looking away and noticing everyone gathering at the gate. Their chatter and humming, the teasing and provocation. Finally turning to him, he shifts, his head focused on me, “I love them, and I love him. No matter where I go, I will always be a part of this family,” I whispered to him before moving to Negan. I stood at Negan's side, staring at Rick for a moment. He looked at me, and nodded gently, mouthing a slight OK.

“Oh-ho,” Negan calls out, “What the fuck is that?” he grabs me by the waist, yanking me closer to him. “Are you trying to get at my wife?” He laughs momentarily and harshly grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were delicate, full of curiosity and jealousy. He loosened his hold on my face, his thumb gently rubbing against my bruised cheek. Stunned, I stumbled back as he slammed his lips against mine. I didn’t kiss back; I stood their wide eyes and throbbing upper lip. He continued to kiss me, and soon, we fell into a rhythm, something that came so naturally to us. He pulled back and let out a slight howl. “You see that! She’s mine; I don’t know what you think… is going to happen, but she’s my wife.”

I looked away from him, my head throbbing, my eyes burning for a moment as he continued with his speech. I closed my eyes briefly, sucking a deep breath before letting it fall against the air. I grew increasingly dizzy as the moments passed, and the longer I stood there, the more irritated I became. I drifted off in the background as Rick and Negan discussed formalities. I brushed past the Saviours as I moved to the truck.

Night fell as quickly as I was back in my room, breastfeeding Michael, shutting my eyes as I rocked against the rocking chair. The soft sound of the chatter outside of the window calmed me slightly. The door slammed shut; I could hear his footsteps thudding against the ground. His boots slid off and tumbled against the floor. “I love you; I will never let Rick, Dwight, or any man have you. You mean everything to me; you’re mine, and I intend on keeping it that way.” I pried open my eyes, watching him through blurred vision. He stood there, leaning against the wall.

I got up, placing Michael in a wooden crib covered with soft, thin blankets to prevent him from getting splinters as he would chew on the surroundings if he were up early enough. I tasked Dwight with finding me a different crib for him; after each run, whatever team partakes in, I always receive a report back with an update on any cribs. I brushed his hair out of his face; I tensed as I felt Negan’s body press against mine. I could feel the warmth radiating over me and his head nuzzled in my neck. His lips gently pecked at my skin, slowly as he moaned softly. His hands danced against my waist momentarily, pulling me back into the bedroom. I spun around to face him, noticing a look on his face. I could smell it on him. I chuckled for a moment, tossing my hand in his face. I moved our shared bed.

Before I could make it to bed, his hand gripped my upper arm. I stumbled back into him. “Don’t walk away from me,” his voice was stern. “Stop walking away for me.” his voice now pleading. His grip loosened as his thumb gently caressed my skin. His hand swiftly moved to my neck –gasping, my hand immediately covered his. He forced my head to the left, our noses meeting slowly he brushed his against mine. “Stop walking away from me,” he repeats, his handcuffing my cheek.

Our lips collided, my hands moving to his neck as I yanked him closer, letting our bodies tumble onto the bed. I crawled back, trying to keep our lips connected. He pulls back; I fall against the bed and watch him yank my pants down. He doesn’t speak; he usually never does. His fingers, moved on my thighs as he dragged me closer to him. I gasped softly, at the feel of his lips against my clit, his warm tongue tracing patterns as I grabbed his head. “Oh my-” I moaned softly, bucking my hips against my face.

He kissed the inside of my thighs, moving to my stomach before, kissing my clit again, his finger slid inside me. Slowly he pumped, his knuckles pounding against my lips as he continued eating me out. Holding my breath, I let out disgruntled moans. My hands gripped the sides of his head before moving to my face, and my knuckles moved to my mouth as I bit down. I called out his name softly, he pushed my hand away shoving his finger into my mouth. He shoved it deeper into my mouth as he watched me choke on his finger, my eyes watered as my tongue moved to push his fingers out of my mouth, and yanking them out, I cursed at him. Shutting my legs slowly.

He moved back on top of me, his body weight resting on his hand. “Put it in,” he commanded; I sat there for a moment. My hand hesitantly moving to his dick, I grabbed at it, not bothering to jerk him off. I lined him up at my entrance; I tugged on my bottom, expecting him to shove it in as he usually does. His tip slowly slides in; his face contorts for a moment.

He moves slowly; I gasp softly, taking sparse and sporadic breaths as he fills me. Finally, he puts all his weight on his forearm, his face closer to mine as he grabs my leg, tossing it around his waist. “I love you” he whispers, into my ear. His thrusts were slow and passionate; he moaned gently in my ear as he nibbled at my ears. “Do you love me?”, I opened my mouth but was interrupted by him thrusting into me. I struggled to push out a yes, my hands clawing at his back as I tightened my legs around his waist.

“Say it”

“I love you, D,” I paused, my heart thudding against my chest. I began to notice how heavier he was, how his stomach pressed against mine, and how he just stopped breathing. Fuck. He stopped thrusting; I could feel the anger seething from his skin. I didn’t know what to say. Should I just continue moaning? Should I be aloof?

He lifts himself, and I swiftly close my eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I-I wasn’t thinking about him.” was all I mustered out.

“No?” he chuckles, the cool air brushing against my body. He was leaving. “You’re fucking moaning his name when I’m fucking you,” he shouts; I look away.

“You’re going to wake Michael,” I whispered, his footsteps thudding against the room. His hand gripped my arm as he pulled me up. I opened my eyes, watching him.

“Do you love him?” His voice was eerily calm.

“No,” I lied; of course, I did. I loved how he made me feel, how wanted he made me feel, and how precious I was to him. How he was so gentle with me, no matter what I did. But I would never love him the way I love Negan…No matter what this sadistic maniac does, I would never love anyone as I loved him.

He chuckles, tossing me back on the bed. “Fuck you YN.”

#imagines #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #negan imagine #negan smith imagine #negan imagines #negan smith x reader #negan smith imganes #the walking dead dwight #dwight x reader #the walking dead #imagine #requests are open #requested

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flbrokensoldier · 2 years ago

Note

Scoot..scoot 👀

(ignore if you don't take requests)

Soooooooooo... *Whispers*

A Mercy X gn!reader

General idea: Reader takes up a risky mission not knowing if they'll come back or not, they give Mercy a kiss and promise to come back,

After a year they still haven't come back until she heard knocking and found reader kneeling and asking for her hand in marriage 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

-Mei Mei (^_-)-☆

OH MY GOD. I LOVE THIS IDEA HOLY SHIT. AHHHH SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE BTW 😭

I hope you love it though! I loved writing it, none of your ideas fail to make me super happy <3 (ALSO SORRY IF IT FEELS RUSHED I TRIED REALLY HARD AT THE END 😭)

HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL!

Mercy x GN!Reader

"Far Away For Far Too Long."

(Song: Far Away - Nickelback <3)

Honestly she couldn't tell how long it had been now. She couldn't focus on it anyways, she had work to do, all she knew is she stopped counting after a few months. Everyday she tried to push the worry she still felt deep inside, knowing the possibility came down to that you could have been dead, or hospitalized for God knows how long. She truthfully didn't like both outcomes, especially the first one. For the second one, she'd rather you were in her care rather than someone else. She just couldn't stand it but, after a while she had to push back her worry and grief she felt so she could still work.

That day you left was burned in her mind, it stayed there for the past year. The blue sky was almost nonexistent from the sunlight pouring in and drinking up your figure. She could remember how the beautiful morning light drew the edges of your body perfectly. She could almost swore you were a Greek statue, hand carved and brought to life. She looked into your eyes, a deep sadness laid in them but it was covered with complete love and adoration.

You were wearing your uniform, all suited up and ready to go on a dangerous mission. It involved Talon, that's all she needed to know, she understood immediately as soon as the word Talon fell off your lips. That didn't matter yet, what mattered is you were leaving, soon and you had to say your goodbyes.

You cupped her face with your hand as your thumb traced over her cheek. The soft touch was almost too much, how badly she wanted to come with or keep you in bed all day so you couldn't go. Her eyes were filling with tears slowly, but she tried to suppress the tears so you wouldn't worry about her. You caught on rather quickly though, her silence said it all.

"I'll be back.. I promise you that.." You whispered at her softly, your eyes never leaving hers.

"I know." She grabbed your hand and pushed your hand onto her face a bit more.

You leaned forward, brushing her hair out if the way of her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Mark my words.. I'll be back.."

She gripped your hand and she pulled your face back to her, kissing your lips softly yet deeply. Her other hand found it's way to your hair, running her fingers through it and holding your head close. After a bit you both parted for air, but kept your foreheads touching as you both took in the pure comfort of these last few moments together, the last moment together for a whole year.

"I'll hold you to that." She smiled softly.

Currently, she was in her living room, resting after a long day of work. She had the TV on, but she wasn't listening. The background sound was almost too much, despite trying to distract herself. It didn't work though, she was caught up in her thoughts, thinking of you. That smile planted on your face before you left, the soft kiss, everything. She missed you so deeply, it was almost unbearable. Oh how she wanted to feel your touch, see your face, and kiss you again.

In the midst of her thoughts a knock came to her door and she paused. She muted the TV as she had stood up, walking to the door. Her eyes locked on the door handle, hesitating for a long moment before she turned the handle and pulled the door open. Her eyes widened at who she had seen, she nearly dropped to the ground out of shock and pure happiness.

There you stood with flowers, bandages wrapped around your arm that she could see peaking out of what appeared to be a nice suit/dress. You had a few wounds but nothing too terrible, at least not anymore. You had several scars too but those were hidden as well, right now you just wanted to be in Angela's arms, but first you had to do something.

Tears filled her eyes as she smiled at you. "It's been far too long."

"Yet I came back, as promised." You handed her the flowers.

She took them and set them on a shelf next to the door before she wrapped her arms around you. Hiding her face in your neck while she cried. Happy tears mixed with laughter of relief. You instinctively wrapped your arms around her too, holding her close. The moment was like finally achieving your goal you wanted to pursue most of your life. The relief, the happiness, and the overwhelming feeling of love.

You both took a moment to calm down before you let go. You smiled confidently as you took a step forward.

"I have one more thing.." You said as you grabbed a box from your pocket. (Yes the dress has a pocket if you picked that)

She tilted her head before it hit her.

You were suddenly on your knee, a ring sitting in the box. "I know, it's been a long time since you saw me.. But I wanted to make it right. So Angela, what do you say?"

Her eyes poured tears as she nodded quickly. "Yes."

#oneshot #x reader oneshot #overwatch #mercy x reader #mercy overwatch #mercy #angela ziegler #she loves you #tehe #<3333

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storyofmychoices · 1 year ago

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The Princess + the Dragon

[Troy Hassan x Astraea Callen Masterlist]

Pairing: Troy Hassan x Astraea Callen (F!MC)

Book: Wake the Dead

Word Count: ~600

Rating : General, no warnings

Prompts: @choicesjuly2023challenge ~fairytale; "You're so cute when you're half asleep and irritable" "I'll show you irritable" requested by @jerzwriter from this list.

Synopsis: Astraea is ready to start the day, but Troy just wants to sleep.

The soft hues of blue began to lighten the sky as the golden glow of the sun began to peak over the horizon, painting the sky with its watercolor rays. Astraea gently stirred from her slumber. She blinked her eyes open and admired the quiet morning waiting to dawn.

Eager to seize the day and start on the next adventure that awaited them, Astraea rolled to face Troy but found him still buried under the cozy comforter, deep in sleep. Her fingers threaded softly through his black hair, brushing it off his forehead.

"Good morning," she offered, her voice soft and melodic, pulling him from his dreamy state. She pressed a kiss on his forehead.

His eyes fluttered open a moment and closed again. "Just a few more minutes." He pulled the blanket more snuggly around his head.

"Come on, sleepy head!" Astraea drew back the blanket from him, exposing his bare skin to the cool morning air. "It's time to rise and shine."

Troy let out a low groan, feigning a shiver. He buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Can't we have a few more minutes of beauty sleep? How else do you expect me to maintain this flawless complexion!"

A mischievous twinkle sparkled in her eyes. "Of course, princess! We wouldn't want to jeopardize that gorgeous complexion of yours. After all, beauty sleep is a sacred ritual for a majestic beauty like yourself. Shall I roll out the red carpet too?"

"That would be nice, thank you," he muttered, pulling the blanket back up. "You finally understand!"

Astraea shook her head in amusement and chuckled in reply. A sly grin spread on her face. "I think I do understand." She kissed his forehead once more and turned to get out of bed.

Troy relaxed back into their mattress, waiting for sleep to once again overtake him as he listened to Astraea move about the room.

Without warning, Astraea hopped back onto the bed, showering him in kisses. "You're so adorable when you're half asleep and irritable."

Troy smirked, his eyes opening, knowing his slumber was over. "Oh, really? Well, if you insist, I'll show you irritable."

Troy threw the covers over his head with a theatrical flourish. He growled, pretending to be a grumpy dragon. His arms shot out toward Astraea, trying to capture her in his grasp.

Astraea burst into laughter, giving in to his monster's attack. "Oh, no! I'm being attacked. If only I had one of my weapons."

"You're mine, now." Troy snickered as he held her down. "Who's the helpless princess now?"

"Still you, babe!" She rolled away quickly, her fingers slipping under the blanket, finding just the right spot to tame her dragon and return him to his former princess state.

"Stop!" Troy's body jerked away.

"Gotcha!" Astraea pounced on him, tickling him relentlessly as he laughed and squirmed beneath her until he wiggled his way out of the blankets.

"Alright, alright!" He breathed between bursts of laughter. "I concede. You win!"

She gazed down at him, completely at his mercy. "That's what I thought."

"Just this once, though!" He insisted while trying to catch his breath.

"Keep telling yourself that, princess." She lifted his arms above his head, pinning them down as she kissed him, silencing any reply he might have. "I'll always win."

The sun's light began to seep into the window, illuminating her from behind. He smiled into her next kiss, letting her take control. As far as he was concerned, this was still a win for him.

Thank you for the request @jerzwriter! I absolutely missed these two as well and would not have discovered this fic without your request. 💖

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my chaotic WtD pairing. They're so much fun to write.

#troy hassan #troy hassan x mc #troy wtd #wake the dead #choices wtd #choices #playchoices #choices game #fan fiction #astraea #troy x astraea #astroy #lovealexhunt #july2023

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libidomechanica · 5 months ago

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“The hills of silent shades of golden hour for private”

A curtal sonnet sequence

Be neither mine; a life that lay the clouds. Bright, or with your limbs and sweet, rings Eden threaded some one: the sun.-Grown energies of bridal flower of her legs I drew figs. And where the boughs, where else shallop, floating soul. The hills of silent shades of golden hour for private sorrows flow; and self, so I was obviously a forlorne? Ill brethren, bleating: Winder of the Sorrow, cruel destiny content to its wounded heart.

So now fayre flown, for unremembered star, thou roll’st above these men are they know; for knows why we are the crowd of she knew the new, ring, half expression—cannot say that much. The laughed at in the fields and ways? To hear the Dead, and fluctuate all that bounty from its rocky cave e’er tripped with your life. Twas better Fortune may try. Lie foreshorten’d in peace: so that vague desire; yet feels, as in mirror through, clasp and sad.

Now ryse vp Elisa, decked at their proud was half bare, warm French perfume, and string. Nay, laugh when we first her eyes; in earth a bald streams. Stand helpless discontent to many worlds, so much lov’d friend among mankind, poor rivals in the true, and with an ease my pleasant spot in whispering, choking, drowning cup, the two great plans: yet speak an idle think the inverted back return I take to your eyes, gender and gray, the soft Sh!

Hum about me; and all ye gentle winds that are we two must be all about the hearer in its fiery courses of the suns. Do you said something stem—save that she ran, hear us, great cats close round the ground; confusion worse than Dead, depriv’d of Thessaly: some on wing, lingered species, on! So lovely street, but for the grandeur of the lists they fled? A noise about the voice, that then will whispers, in its chipped and whole young.

His nervy knees and mine own land for ever narrow days, of a youth and get the thoughts to her goe. Was drown’d with joyful cries, that on which makes bread out one night with thy balmy air, see the sweet and to be; and we’ll live—such virtue hath made the same, simple sports with good conceives how tiptoe Night well might all beside the names are beset with you there were as in mine; strange, although the tree, nor human neighbor. With mid- day heat.

Completed forms of speech two negatiues affirme! Tho’ truths in many a flutters unto those who slumbrous rest: whether the sky like her I go; I cannot say whatever happen to you it was but a wife ere noon? View and loyal unto its crystal ball, by blood run upward, working in my deeds to come, quick while thy marble flood of sister: of all you among. Yet knows not why, nor can it foote to the air: is this?

Strait is to bear thro’ the high perfect note. Out through the dumb-sister Jane; in bed she moanings of Satanic power, the herald Hesperus away, then are hard sky limits. Mid-sentence, but by year to year before my helpless eye, silent; but when I have known, dead to fold, of mountain to man, and the world grew like a line you must be cured besides that breath to myriads more, tho’ follow, from them together I would have them?

Twelve steps of Age, trod down by gladness like a beacon in the plain, at noon or when the valiant man and drivers in rank come Down, O Maid cradle sheep. See what I have tossed irresolute steals a silence and so laid the aged priest eyed them something else, you have imaginative land. This ditties sigh above the hues are animals, well enough,&then into bounds of faith, but patient level mead, and soul abroad, he can.

’Twas better used to call the same; and no one answer. With overthrow. A hand to turned half of life and descended from reddened eve he views the rill. And therefore we wreathe a thousand flowers, before we went free: the cabin-window he hoped some bare-headed bubbles in her milky way among familiar names, and the much- beloved face, for more completed for a chosen bow: and, when they send: for each year the rill.

How many gazers might, nay more, Peona! Till over down, till Pan and his last are circumstance, at last year’s bitter scorn drew from the best wits still garden! You said, Sweet you. Love, first thy burthen the silent fingers; pour thy soft nervelets were wan and fair Syrinx—do thou no roses; and one fine morning; but there; and in the all-golden honeycombs; our visit. And not to do is wrought; nor can I dreamed I stood like a fish.

-Shores by my strange flower, shining fair, poor child: I found his lips uncurled and chaff, and create, and ancient games had place, the tents with power and my past, making worse than a gin rummy is a Roarer, plunge your third, look for you is here, my lover’s eyes bronze valves, and flowers, her slim hand reach in treasury, as I in it recite. He asks not the whispering blades of Nature know how vertue, I could not from each other’s gain.

—Felt too, I was afraid, stood stupefied with those command is Nature’s breathe my loss in his comfort me. Then, whether or not the strange overgrowth; bethinking although evening has the clothed with an awed face, as parting foam; your battle: kiss her; take her I say: is this beuie of Latona, which inward sunne to have strown it, and can find, ere yet that was suddenness did not, to a race of youth, and silver throat. In endless shore.

Us, the Shadow fear’d of children’s cries, who touch thy lost desire speak? To put a kiss, thou tread’st with the Fantom of his name is Shame, but for a flightless range was love filled with thoughts to envelope those though it overtop your great head—for he is become a sweeter seeing that fed or arm that bears immortal too. Let us go: your crooked heart. Of heauen is to guide philosophy: looke at my head thee lying lips?

The prophecyings rave round him worthier to be loved myself have heaved a wind of memory. Tones ravisher through this hour when first by them for teeth. Say bulldaggers blindly run; a web is wov’n across your pity is enough, soon enough for one— all people who are wrong the Early Season satisfied—then for reply, seven boys and high in heavy heart rouses thinking at the oaken log lay on their merriment.

Have thought she should have been falling, should sting us fancy set, where in due time thou canst not cry to you. My arms fit you like that dances of the bird into the solid- set, and, crowned souls; they had sail’d below. Where we to draw him home—mothers that like a Bow, but Arrow-like in Flight, your sheepwalk up the brain; I heard not this. Echoing grottos, full of the soil, left behind: return, to fill or mend the spirit melts. And man.

So draw him home thrice again but it must part will not see them all, one at a touch your head, each under the masterfully rude, that swift or slow draw down Æonian hills, yet slays me with dew? The tide ebbs in sunshine, or gloom o’ercast, thro’ life of my loss is come, my sweet, if human frailty do me wrong that saps the mountain freshly into boundless as their arms, descend the God curst sun, and she that earlier, the luster fades!

By Phoebus thrust out of the sycamore; how often, hitherward every gaze upwards from shepherds to naebody cares than the wine, and whining, and shook to see another’s life, I knew a beautiful olives. The vast abyss: whatever happens with tender human strife come in forest crack’d, the glass; bring her breast, and wrings will be the foliaged elms, and humming a triple hour, O Love, I striven half thy draught besides.

My spear aloft, as signal for the weariness, all-subtilising in thy way, but that Virgins, then complain. We leaves about the drains he’d met her Remembered the man; you wrought could breathe, with me now and swung the Eagle the Flame that heart the sky. Of bright; and the trembling knee and thro’. Were taken fairy phantasies to and frost, that they will never dim and dippest toward her bosom erst: henceforward count the enchanting.

The Grandmother the blacke face so stremes the keen seraphic flame up the breathed with fancies like a flower to the ditty. Enrich they are but to be made, and tuft with aught else, aught the first, but over all our lord. Join our necks, we glided winding rice, of salt, of freedom in her hunger mouthed, and sow the sea. A hollow cheek with showers and sighes stormed be! Thy tablets round the mornings, morning; but there; abiding love.

I feel her groan; where quince and gone, ankle, touch the small knuckle on my knees then brake the rooms of a romantic rose, full of high and feel, tho’ widow’d hour sharp pittances on the village greene embellish paine, of a youth who loves and line by link, my chain of after them then showed the unquiet heart is full of fire. Once her with face vnarmed marcht, either chances in the desert in the tip-top, there came too, joining life closet.

Scarce seen it and the railway: love has no ending, so to bring me this, or was no more than a gin rummy is a breath is six days long. And the start a scene or two, advise the night in gold with Psyche, sorrows freshly alive, a lad plays with amber studs, my hunting larks, to this ardent listless spirit’s inner vileness he seemed, or simple heart, as now; day, mark’d of me: then she wearing the less—so lovely young flame.

Of rimless feast, then, a dream? Not all: the soul exults, and fitful whims of sloth; nor any want-begotten fields of May poetry left on in their death; and think that are seen to truths transfers to the king in the couering over him grew tall as dead: o let me die, and they look’d about the dreadful leisure of wearied mind draw forth of Christmas heard No hungry general onslaught. Feel safe then—i never knew the new vastness.

But, but as servants in a circling row, with one life began to slant the sands, adown yon windingly by it, so they shed along the leader of the Nine, one would do. And set thy leaden looks: the solid- set, and break. Since first her silver at my face salutes them riding sense gives it not for thee. The low dark velvet edges them— maidens with dark tree the vapour sail and passion poesy, glories, and make old bitter scorn.

Witch-elms that slides along; and through the scale of racing to run off with these enfold is given to hide. Dry flame of gentle roar that succeeds it; by the quiet pain for unremember, and freesing firmly set on Vertues great snake, whose ragged brow: thou shall rise and red wine-spilith that to meet it, with words: nor did mine are seven! Whose session-—swung the darkness of touch I yield; this should have golden hair there we hurried in.

So rapt I was noise of sorrow shut, or breast, and pledge of my harmful deeds. What which be they know transport, gentle heaven, and some Socratic dream; for words, and sea and sky, till all at ocean’s roar: but bound thy changes on that I have ears in virgins, then these kings we embrace, believe me. And graven with dew? And touch or hold hands. She has really two ages. Conduct by paths are in her throat along with you entombed in you.

Ay me, the twilight, drawn after a time. And so it seemed borrow frae naebody! Her carriage lay; in that is drawn to her your Highness—verily I think and bright in light. ’Re wet with a wife. At night keep herbage; and now and read the common is the cool depth.&Then into frightful bard sits lonely thought otherwise,—past whirling pillar steadfastness. To those faire of nearness increase of men. Flower beat with ease the daisies.

To where is about her breast, light and cast as rubbish to the coals to blame not the steep-up heaven; and I laugh’d and looked again: but trust that through certain spot, as upon a plane of earthly Muse, now Io Pæn sing; heau’ns enuy not alone, embrace where Beauty with truth in worry vaguely life shall babbled Uncle’ on my knee is presence I adore! Fear in its way to show her father near; and what I meant forgiven.

Like mountain to seek, but this cool cell, far as the years to come, quick while the blowing gauze and then destroyed. Dance, and ruth was fiery course, with flowers that well-proportion of the witch hazel eye, bright to the household fount of flies the flood seems a separate from man, O Lord, to where all the rocket molten up, and round the cooler air, and poppies stole a little Tippler leaning her fair neck did crawl never think the cool depth.

Deep tulips, we do not know that, but he was rich when I’m poor and those simplicitie breathed with banquet. Be sunder’d from me. Let us go and the birth of time within a little maidens with the rest in her hear my mother the Palace of Art the little hill, and moves away in their fountain air; I loved and many a summers they endures with pangs that now dilate, and every place, and down by gladness unforgiven.

Hour with the yard looking each his lips impart the living wore to evening, he cannot find you have it not meet otherwise,— past whirling pillars and yet I have been worth my Emma lay; and, from the dead. His bright be redeem’d a second friends remain’d, whose morning words and what she can’t interpret where thou, perchance, and the chuckling brightening mixt their house the wine-flask lying covert make ’gainst my waking up for ever, and go.

But those skies warm and pledgest not a word. Walk as ere I did I’d grab your hand music in the kindly tear, cool’d with lamps, and anxieties, and sank, and keep off mildews, and white flannel trousers rolled at the light staves of monotone, or as mine; for I’m as freezing reasons cleared to ashes; whatever changed. Test his creed—who lov’st to see how you’re not a windless footsteps; and perpetual maiden mild! Could I presume?

And every sport at cherry-pit: she shall mark you eyeing me, and vale, the Dragons of ours. We went from off my bed the mouth and graceful jest; whose fair fingers to the Love without the otherwise but the liberal air the dusk, with elation you will he cannot see it half alive, a lad plays Tipperary to the garden flew, and dead surround the map of my harp would keep our Christmas-eve. Yet Hope had not love thee more.

I should stoop from coast to coast, and, star and high in her. In circle round athwart, and wonder, fair subjected to some settled end, that full soberly, begirt with women’s tears: they countenance? Beats out the body, and o’er her stamp of this planets all flower bells; and this, and answer, or redress to be with velvet moss uprose; and guide her footsteps; and whirl’d away, like life remain their fate. The low love growth. Wound an alas!

Again our memories old. Not entering to write down. Lovers, what kind of child and watered with pangs that from whence radiate: fierce extreme, the mimic picture of a singles, leaning here and fancy, wherefore, on every one alive moment of my desire speaks; he bearing of the couering sun of spring of Flora and then once more I rais’d my spear aloft, and o’er the sky like horses fit for his report.

Streets and dust and feels her playmates, with the hearth: I know a winter when the air but when they’re wet with a nose, one liuerie, both sadly fell our side was vanquished and done to meet their out-peeping; or to delight: the marge, whose morning dew. Lingered in the railway: on his chambers of anguishing main: calm as to suit a calm ravished by sun. And answer: These did practise here, ’ they endures wild of o’er-hanging bowstring, should I give?

I became wedded to the creeds in love. And shaping of Flora and the tremble; in looking back to you. From my mother to the fountain head, and the God curst sun, and boy, his eyes below, and arms and days, because at the time of our near-dwellers wit. I watched the hall the fond eyes,—in this richly shrine! And flood a fresh ruffled; the very much? To raise to prove as light her mild, if all your love. Now, Madam’s faulty features!

What flower and earth gives it not mean enough for hymns divine, their dark and could solace can I doubt and fair wert thou, like supporters on the gay, like cloud in night, of the beach under the sky, that come and go but it looks as may breed with blessing even now in the air be music of the oar! Fed by traduction came along, and panting, that I, considerate boy, as in thy natural good; the free informing the floor.

Light fair faces and trance, she could endure; what seems to slake my own steed from low-grown branches: late, and mother’s judgment to let occasion die, while yet be made, and many a summer loath to go and leaves are blown about my ear: hushed willow keeps a thousand tropics in an abyss. Wrapping hand, unask’d, in the night was heard beginning, and I have grows colder parted, all alone, a hunger seized my hair? At first shall go.

Streets the field into the house, by which her skin growing—whether or not this. Again at Christ: the sweets, enkindling sad sickens our flockes doe graze about thee: I vow and when clasp’d no more! By park and cold, and for thy state’s decrees, and each will say: How his friend; if not so freely given, and drown’d, let darkness and in my heart, tho’ veil’d, was known: but that we have clothes, and break at season; the mind, but Wisdom dealt with gyfts to win.

Why should men shall live—such virtue. Bewildered shards the cold relief to this wreckage. The grass, a wailful gnat, a breathed the solitary bard sits lonely men in baby clothes, and fading vnto me near me, with his presence I adore the rooms of my spirit ere our love, work, children being too hard to understood the merry and fair I take to you in the iron heels: and suck’d from his breast, and pledge vastly now parting.

The enchased crocodile, or wrap about my ear: hushed the rolling hands; they miss the pail, and, therefore would it known and with thy loued Lillies: the spirit himself in the love thee with flecks of Chance—the Lady Blanche: and melt the thicket, and swear that keeps the stars. Then let me take the stem but it is at a loss what times the world. And lo, thy footsteps of Age, trod down he came by, thorn and ev’ry side. By, Gray nurses; but dead hands.

Ah false fears untrue: shall be our trust should have thee die! While below, if such treasures of the spoons and pains. Navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, and whereto my hope doth learn how fares it with speed of dark. But clear religious spring; with my whole creature to row; in the end of my powers away. But die ye must quickly with loss of my dream, Love had not love thee lying lips? Straight, the multitude arose, the sport which I can see.

While in higher think, and see’st the voice I her shape, that on which I leant? Peace some majestic peace. World—no Road to reasons firmly set on Vertue is made of Tempe sit, and close, a shout most wish’d no more, Peona! From thy brethren lay; there upon the Weirdlaw Hill, in Ettrick’s shore. From star that strife; ring out the raft branch down some Celestial king moved me first, but this expectant nature, stare Aghast. And the whole creation moves.

That steals shadow on the blood, and home to the creeds in endless permutations, continuing in complicated changed from its Hollow roused, then pauses ere he in English earth my Emma lay; and glad, and had our wishes, to think once more in the world I leave me wise; yet do it to put an idle thinks my friend? And drinking and scorn. Once more graveyard, lie down unto the other unnested was an arbour, overworn.

Of our longing eye could they are come by the brain of Demons? With law; if thou wert thou wilt not be long, all my life from bower quiet bones sweated that will soon reach; but if they lose the weeks but turns his burthen of too much, and Fancy blows, the soft Sh! In that stand amaze tossing tears, my clenched hands, who built me a counterpart shall wear which doth flowers would kiss me, love, I only know my life provide thee, clumsy Will!

Endeavour after, through certain spot, its wings: from every movement sure with what desire; yet oft when I was the dark, and many a green and goodnesse show. Quick was there thou, light a haloed ascetic gloom; and pale, and in, from love, abiding with vain devotion, pays. Shut her head. Full in the happy hour, behold the birds may take so long. This rounds he to a sigh I take the darkness and left Thee Living when we do cry.

Cannot claim: let the flower, like a statue veil’d, to where the magic shore. Nor let thy wisdom less, that woke the prow, and quivering of beauty moves him yet, like a razor he will. But a wife of love! Be near her weeping on some dead leaf trembling hand, unask’d, in the skies the foolish sleep till dusk reveal! Is a lower track, the promptings of foregone Reproaches, half smiles, anxieties, and jest? Close by, began to swerve.

Million times each landscape to mine eternal home; and twining, and girl whose diapason knells on scrolls of Yule. But shall set me from marge to make, and the blue eyes swim across the things are vainely spent: for the stars began to foam, and grope, and therefore I loved, a little bent; and only tend and many a level mead, or simple pin—they will ne’er will I seek supply of that she does not yet dead, and last up that says most?

What art thou look back to tell, but, if your names are fools of hands their God adore: so am I us’d by Love, for Caesar’s I am, and makes me cold baptismal font, make one who thus were in Siberia a godly ocean rivers, churning, shake the distance of things. The violets blow. Cleft where a serpent then were gone to meet and future Lord was drowned in silken kerchief fear and the garden. And Jill goes down on her owne.

That balances the burrow or nest for the mind from Tankards scoop’d huge dens and retards: already, known the foliage, towering sycamore; how often, hither. And blurr’d their state and is stay’d my foolish tongue, although, if I would prelude, fashion is, but as thou art wrecked sailor to hour, when men were God and Nature, half a single murmur on the starry Hope! Whiles our fearful ewes; and pearl in rubies set: bayleaues between.

Now that might regret, regret to his wit, making words, like a water that men, who mused rhyme, to take the squares, and hall, and talk of others of thee, sweet maid, my Stellaes face, among seer leave. For I too am constrain’d, spurd with a sigh has brought the flower, like a waste place of reverence and go talking of a skull, a rib, a pelvis, is it you? Whether in peace: so happy, I was still the broad water than I am.

She sang. Are not how; our willows, the trouble crossing guard blinking it, and orbed brow: thou promise tied, on horsebacke met him but come, we will become soon dear as the will come on with pangs that please? Kiss the banquet. Then laurels and cresses from his embraced in my sorrow shut, or breaking me behind. To Sleep I give me it: I will die. When, by magic, ghosts of men. That none you don’t know as spectral doubt is Devil-born.

I hae a wife ere noon? If so, then complex too, but there I find nothing Will Die now Sleeps the sky might know that in Vienna’s fatal loss did ever mine; a life that comes to make Cupid a boy, as in the great them at once declined, when your skies, and Cowslips, and strong bow into the pleasure for who can have heard not the visions and calm that harvest, or the fair, still light all the unimaginative earth and fell asleep.

Becomes a sentinel who moves away in the widow’d hour sharp pittances of years to comfort in the loved and night, light and sickly too? I should put within a helmless bark, and in thy shame give physic to my grief makes dayly mone, warning lightly call vesper, the later year, as not Love’s fire! To Virgil ulysses wages walking to write my latest leaves are in her resign; and we three steeds of domestic peace.

Where cheek, and over-spangled caves, and caught there coming as it seemed, or simple, which I became, and roll’d the gross. I almost, at time me put in worry vaguely life leaks away, to point to point they went and mingle all the plain that sleep, and sigh-shrilled albatross’s white, plainer and sticks together a life that bene so lewdly bent. And, leaving us fancy-sick. Like all your mouth was full of child would ease me of men.

Lines of Lady Blanche: and men shall I part my hair? My prosperous flowerets from the northern shore will drink, pouring for words are falling what in the rose-mark on her conquer’d woe; give not how; our wild whim: and wonder what you may tend and kissing so as scarce had guide her force, becomes on Fortune may lie in a long row of Thessaly: some on me, who at a distance on a flea-ridden day when two, until we closet.

Who loves to make of their disturbing courses of an eye, that if it can it suit me to draw, to sheathe. Queen Virtues Court, which they raise, whatever wilt, remember the cargo and make me to a separate from the struggle in his neck; where Loue is sinking this is the unsatisfied—then for my life. And so with joined hands, saying, Accept all have free adit; we will be, as thou with me no casual mistress bids me wear thee!

And a wholesome law, and thine in undiscover’d up with each; and if thou cast thing urgent I have your credit give of Melrose rise in ruin’d shells before the sea. We had our wills are ours, to mock its own sweeping, eye-earnestly round our state and men shall not be, that eddy round thy full within a love for his brothers and dead surrounds her cheeke depeincten liuely chere. And my Melpomene replies, a touch some face I know.

I, who, for very charlatan, and lazy lengths on boundless footsteps, moving in— I too would preach it as a dove would do. His mother do I remembered thee live; that is; tho’ I seem no more—behold, a spectre-thin, and hether, in this the closet case. My centre stood with ebon-tipped flutes: close in our Sonnet-A-Day Newsletter below and they begin now while bright; but thrice again. That buzz about here where thy bier.

For Forty Morning-Shower—one Mornings did an Evil Cloud rain Sorrows flow; and so long stream beneath his wind-tossed hair was twined with any trifle please him best, ’ she takes a sightless range with wings of the past will be, as the lilies a few, and boys of all the women are we keep on talking offerings the ground, save again. More savage than Dead, depriv’d of The Shah beheld again will turn their golden pits: ’twas too- too kind?

—Jamie, come to the clock beats out the ford, or kill’d in a rabbit’s foot, and made appeal to change, for the past, and fair Syrinx daughters, that self-same fixed trance and pendant pearl makes the grot of Proserpine, when her sexe doth fall? A grateful love, Jamie, come try me. The herald thou thy place the same! Is here on things brooding. Were in the love be blame; to put on more content, and Love would rather lovely, lordlier than the isle of Death.

From our should have told, and lingering feet, more precious relics brought in fairest booke: whatever personal narrative burns to speak that makes your brest, forsake your fists around me wave, be quick for now her father charms for him. Dear as crystal mocking plan; for merit lives to make of the anchor weeps its red light of poesy which are daffodils with lamps, and wrings with delays, and dear to this which sometimes come away: we do cry.

But for fancies, which they anoint to me at midnight empties the darkly join, deep- seated in my arm and everybody sees that I have clothes and to constancy. The howlings from its beams and deep peace in the central to thee resort. From little child in doubts and bramble, tracing oars among the wrist; stare, stare Aghast. I’ll love you yet one lonely, smoothest echoes out a shawl, and breasts, tired of these; if so, then avowed.

Ask me why I send this secret letters from man to muse what a sense of wind the gift of the moment, or taffata cap, rank’d in the cycled time to prepare a face that shines: and after all, whence clear as old: but when the places, where my mistress, and let thy waves rear more strangers’ voices sleep, and what answer. Arrive with pain his golden ball, whose jest among mankind, poor child: for she turns him round, no more: we humbly screened.

No clock counts hours and was thick with my breast which they rise, that warms another, the alarm broke out of wings above the world which, Perilla, after the warm South, and fill the mazy worlds of May poetry could endure; what see my pleasure. My stockings there will relieve, except once I met; nor can I tell the skirts there swims the nurses, loving not the wheels their merriment. To answer’d: Wherefore, but trust that I had to see.

Said I, low voic’d: Ah whither do I remember what defect watch the great snake, when they two are gone. Which were brighter vision I ask’d a Master, By the Stripling, howsoever stept. Away; for still the chalice of Parliament, fondle your names, and a sweet it is to slight, star kissing, and round to Psyche, sorrowing the windows sudden, hast thou sinn’d in the viewless wings, are given a life from out the eyes, my friend is changed.

What didst thou back to boy-hood: make me wise. The heart hath been beguiled. My thirst without aid! In the dead man to the other passes into things round the hearer in its girth, the blowing heifers sleeked wings; yea, the free? Leave they burned into the Eye and Lip forbid! But, O, what merest whim, seems a separate whole night I lay awake and fro. Of each ear was pricked to attend! So in the full of fire, the best; like a winter day!

Thoughts on all. Outside the polar star; who breaks the track whereof the space against a wall, then pauses ere he bleeds, an eagle in high sentence, but yet, I’ll say, I heard those crimson colors it to many a figure out and tell me where Beauty with a heart—just ere she died: and through, clasp and kissing so blind, he reach’d a jarring lyre at first, but where grey dust up,. Let knowledge of unaccomplish’d years old, she sits, they are killed.

Landing-place, and hung up to mind that waitest form and pledge we ne’er will and clapping hand drove her? A shelter of the worlds to be. This year I slept along the death, and saints—to winter night, knight, the songs are trances and then what it is to die; and every span of shame to murder added praises: nothing quicker than any moods the soul on highest mission richly shrined; but I’ll have a care; so seems all this mortal love.

Be cheerful day from the native woe, that in an hundred spiritual rock, flow thro’ darkness at the happy hour, behold I fell through an interstice caught that Virgins, may find a soul of Shakspeare wrong; delaying for giraffes. A second friend and scarce had guide her forward with delights and goodnesse shine, and blushing, waning, and long, the window and they are dead and make me wise below and while if one, settling across the hill.

Of what is all the light as thou and time yet for us, and then, while I, thy nearest, in the greatest wealth, my bonie lass, gude nicht and black from thee the sun and one is sad; her not fear; well roars the sun; who usherest in the canker Love, whate’er he be, and high, the hills; and if the world should fail from coast to me of me and go but it looks as may breed with female whisper of the sea. That much. A hand thaw before the end?

’Er who rest to-night cheap hotels and sacrilege, three lives in God, than if with the barren branch and ran in on the silk was, and love. Upon their disturb the universe is this? Of the bed a shipwrecked at the Shadow cloak’d from home; he saddens, all oblivion, and profligate there had come in their cheek of virgin splendour far and struck; with tangle all those which wit so poor as mine more like him thro’ our destinies!

Debased to ashes; whatever change to spring wakens too; and my old affection no bitterness swept. She said a sin, nor stretching the poppies hung dew-dabbled on my bliss—I was not flint to prayer, who kept me stedfast aim a love enduring, give or die. At first as Death, and wrapt about me when Hope was bright striped urchins flay each cold her fingers, me thy lip, and sticks together until they came; the black from me.

Them all—arms that there we almost ridiculous— almost wise by Phoebus doom, with sidelong glance, like dull brain perplexes and strong bow into the bed a shipwrecked sailor to hour, lest life shall meet and fearfully,—how their earthly walk; comparing, joyful cries, confused and undressed. My stockings there to meet and bear along with your large experience, till the floweth Helicon the well-beloved; my words thee here!

While thou, I see the rose conception to the eclipse, arguing home increases; it will be the fountain to match? Haunt us till the brook the streets were renew’d; whilst, like one music for the grades of light bard from clime to my soul abroad and puts apparel on my brethren with faint breathed words and knows, and beam for roof and flowers and lessening the widow’d, may no more in colossal calm. Thus wasted breathe again the praise.

Turned the sweeter far than a cubit in its hand, a hand tight. A love of nature’s willful moods; and heart was taught beside the balm was infusing all. Were brightnesse confirme: for grammer-rules, O now your strong the princely grace is youth, yet who would pierce high- fronted honour of rest by that all was good. Of the sycamore; how often beat in tune, then being shall now thy prevailing my lance from out the darkens, and sad, alas!

Her scarf into a ball to what awful wail of loss is common would touch, which crawling rhymes, but, if your name. I feare, I haue the onely reading these, as tho’ they slander and trust, not ask. A purple from me? There stashed in Patty’s room. Laid an army down-sunken hours, and pass the soot that that afterward your watry bowres, and beauty still, and then my face, with thee, who wears they in skin of Phoebus daunce, she could not sleep.

The joys of the creation’s final room. Of foliaged elms, and song and me and I was a time, time to ride backward fancy, till the household ways, in the fields of May, as once to bear the hill, resemblance of you that loves have we played about our lives from chimney glows in expectant, still streams that lays of Latona, which in good truth, as dying lips impart that all the whole I felt so fix’d in each base, no mortal too.

And twining, and girl with unseen film, an orbed brows thro’ four sweet lies in me; what a sense of hoof and chains regret for a hundred air sighing and wind is surpris’d and loves not thou of perfectly complain ask me no second self-involves the couering ore: ’twas that am I? I walk in haste, and answers they raise, and dreaming against his lips, which the South morte D’Arthur new Year’s Eve northern shore and Love thee in such the Song.

A shade can last its beams that I will trace them round elbow, from April of ovation rolled at all. But pass’d in art, must, surer bound, the little live with thee, thro’ prospect and free of space, and slept, and in thee, for change them all your lovesick land to turned him that dwell on the deepest grief for one to hell that wears away. Elements in a dove trembling change wrought me to blame the nobler leaves; in Paris, and defaced, the wheel.

Then did through the sobbing rain on the Lily- white Boy is a joy for ever at a time and I was that face I recognize. Calm and far from his tomb, a part of mine more like the same, simple than all round to Psyche as she sprang to many a figures also, we went to let occasion die, while our eyes when your siluer song, nor game, nor lose. Between the creed of delight. And yet I see, and bats went on, and thee low.

He play; he thoughts so sick? Or own one port of oneness, I might be, i, falling stand! In the firmament reflective pace past the cry: so stood up and bring the proud lap pluck sweet milk and trance, shall but his wealthy count it shall be crushed the flood seems all the clocks in the beast that others and knew his Father vouch for his Foot, trampled from harm at last into leaf: the voice the House, and follow, tho’ faith thro’ thy dark freight, and catch at each.

The rock. You apt to kill in fairest-blossom wavering: not a word. It has been a garden-walks I move, and in the night, the sun strike a sudden leap, and his loue such as this. Politic, cautious, and extinguished and undressed. Have golden reed; so reaching here; and thou spend his claws wept. But you did tomorrow and swung the heat more blessed Brooke doe bathe young. Holden, especially after hours with moon-flowers in heaven’s brink.

Bliss, thou triumph where was a purer laws. How many lambs might have been a girl and bound up for home, that solace bring me quickly with these darkens, and other strange flames of sloth; nor did I wondering cries, confuse a lifelong tract of fair musk-rose bloom to room, and this, which a man in the Blind man’s arms, wi’ a’ her cheeks drop by drop the selves from upper air, at those bright, what thy sweet, if human worth while bay leave unsaid, nor speak.

We are even more content, he wylfully hath been done, such precious to be. The will sing to my sights cannot pursue, and down beside; and meet so nearly, rich, and while it did, though I oft myself of the glancing blade of grass, the strength reserved. Some pendulum soul, do with hood-wink’d chance: so happy, I was a man. With buds and be friend? In my rose-wet cave—whatever way my days and gazing; and heated hot line- no voice.

Not that throb that loves in a mountain head, and me Dead, not Living words, and over April’s tender palm is press with nozzle searching that smile before the poppies hung dew-dabbled Uncle’ on my blood: so wert to shed, presume? All the last as pure at hears, whiles he each gale blows chill, as will bestow it; till the stream. To count it vain as but unity of love solemnized the sands, islands, O my Prodigal, completeness?

If such are but to her should fall remerging in the Robe of Perfect rose. And gird in you this deed: but be no coward back, and a few hours and days, suppose it is esteem’d, so are them dyingly-—send honey- feel of bliss since were blacke, both blackly from the waning woods, and the matron-temple of the gentle ears for your hair. The want, the lips of the bird into the sky and had a cousin tumbled half opened to their tents.

Into a shady, fresh budding years its richest-toned that Time deceive to ease my breasts, tired of all sweetness more for the wide in time and haply till he said; her nobler modes of my friend remember, and have been. And lazy lengthened on the later years: the offender’s shuttled overthrow. Ah, desperate mortal ark behind, again I look less at its will with golden light and loth, ’tis scar’d away by slow return.

Lighthouse to see me, day by day prepar’d by Nature made appeal to chance meet some were fair, in the noon is plain and the thing alive enough to higher; as gentle heavenly power sprang up from home, and cloistered in its harvesting the child! You cannot take: I list not be for lack of what from a cup. Again they scorn my love, could that some one lost, a little I thought; and in the bright in gold with all the universe?

To cramp the street, i’ll love you as much as ay muster where swung a vase, milk-white, plainer and swans, powdred with a wife of my love; and cries, softly lulling the further range; that man could you stood the universal tinge of life the turmoils they endure that my years are just now.—The very worst of foregone Reproach abode not by common genders that poison-cup, he drank the thing but you probably tried to me and come try me!

Then that trail along the possess the years that sittest ranging happens with face her little clouds o’ertake me move thro’ form is pure as the Greeks’ love of the Night, how dare we keep our Christmas-eve: the limit past my way, but before; my love has never yet to rue my smart, so now fayre Rosalind hath power to give these; which the widow’d race be run. The heavy-shotted hammock- shroud drops in wine, arrange the world’s dusky brink.

But give me time, has brought be fifty, we might also flee, yet let the words were not a presence I came at last, and bless there will be time to prepare the sea, knew it, clamouring out a purple from her hair stirs with leaves her temples I behung, so thin a losing game, and o’er-darkened ways shall live or die. Mark how he used to call the murmur on the storm unfolds. Pass into the light the flowers also in heaven’s brink.

He breasts, navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, and that they play, and wishing, and chains who through the skill, but, in embalms: but in the tea, among the floor. Twists, facing Lucifer, and wealth is found the hill, resembles to this early song and twining, and gummy frankincense hangs by unseen, and Jill goes down the end of the wild pulsations under dark slide from sea plains who thus to blacknesse run, to those thousand those cloth, I blow the hills.

Nor knowledge grow from, soul in soul to keep the dam, to her I go; I cannot come down wherefore wake to the lesser grieve from the seas, and died of fright but a trembling chance, submitting crown’d the quick, thou hadst touch of scorn, sweet-hearted, all alone. My blessing, taking of their petty cells, and flashes into memory of my love, a golden place so stremes employ thy spiritual strife come inmate the churl in spirit’s.

That thou art wrecked at my life, but fortune strain, an early, rich, and Beauty with their day and rests with my own nostrils, should push beyond it spry cordage of his life is to play unfair! Forgive my grief I leave us in the air like a poll of ash and see’st the widest all distant What else— it is perfectly could not from too will in me sinfull though it overteem with me till Ida heard, looked back at us, amazed.

Soul within the assembly, in a clouded tombs; old ditties bene so trimly dight, I pray you, then, keen lessons that beats within your hair, flying splendor; in the wakeful bird; behind her, will be time, time. Which ranges round the hill is pealing, folded and smile of an averted are thee too common genders are only way, my friend, come back your crooked hearth; and come, I must be near us when a lawn’s cast over.

And forthwith upturn’d to something that stays him from me hys madding mynd is surprise the likest God within the trouble of my ain, i’ll say ’tis naught—and hear one bird in native land where was all above yon slope of rings. Which we two, and suffer’d, is but a lambent-flame which we two, and there, and the beggars raffle thy mirror, o look on Spirit, not long, and retain us still; the Charge of light on me. His message sent?

Narrower perfectly could scan a lurking trouble of womankind, and how he would kiss. And white bliss, and justice, ev’n yet, if thou would say, sit here. Of a world’s dusky brink. Chilled adieus! And I assure ye even those that beats his chiefest Nymph of all the World nothing my spirits advance to meet thy face! Storm; but knows a thousand arms another, praying and the inviolably blue latitudes and leaden looks: the stone.

My Lady’s nose, that, when Hope was born to vex us? Bronze valves, and human worth a lively prelude woe—I cannot move, she dark confess it didn’t see my pleasant days before or you and probably didn’t tell you that all was Gardener’s Daughter’s grave; ghosts are made a man in the stony bases of anguishing blessing, like some great dame of friend? And what divine, since Heaven opened bell of Echo, wherefore love to sink thus low!

100

The door: I linger overhead, rock’d me to a sightless range was love’s door and each other’s face, like feeble soul, going the sides of loue it in my arms. And let the bright for once admires my Lady unto Madam says: Thereof the bells again, should be, i say if this written, her loves; but deplore: can make you for heroes, kings. For the greatest wealth and lines and a colour of the plants into flakes of crime, whence could not stop.

101

Tis held them on to-night ungather’d stalks, the ouzel sung a heavy heart hath melt my heart with fifty seeds she often that precede the bride; she sets her for the apple breaker breaking into bed, the wine, to rob the rest remain orbed in my deep regret. After bliss since it is to slaye with Maiesty.—Ere these, as the sea by sea-girls wreathe a useless sword, to feel the pearliest doubt, an easy task; for she is thy peers.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #160 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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lt-catbolt · 1 year ago

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Lieutenant's Log October 28th, 2023

I'm not sure what happened to the previous owner of this journal. The great city of Gamedev that they speak of is nowhere in sight, but the towers of Animation loom over me like great clouds. Surely a city could not have fallen and risen within a day? This must have belonged to a great General indeed; or perhaps this is merely the doings of those creatures called Fate, tossing me memoirs of great heroes who have succumbed to Procrasination even as I now feel its sting.

Perhaps the matching date is a lie, a trick of Fate. Yes, I think that must be it.

Even so, I feel compelled to share my struggles with these fragile leatherbound pages. Today's conquest was a grave one, and it seems unfit to leave the many fallen unhonoured.

The day started out so simple. Our men and women were better rested than ever before, a blessing of which we were quite undeserving, but for which I will nevertheless praise our Guide. We tackled the task at hand with little delay, only the small towns of Breakfast and the siren-song of Dance Break luring us momentarily astray. We tore through the kingdom of Animation with little mercy, but it tore back with equal vehemence.

At noon we found many of our soldiers dead and wounded, and the remnant suffering heavily from exhaustion despite our earlier rest. We drew back, regrouped, and permitted a brief amble through the lands of Secret Life as we regained our strength. A cheery song carried through our ranks as we returned to battle, targeting the structural Towers of Title Cards in the hopes of removing the kingdom's fundamental defences.

We had barely completed this mission when a great Dread fell upon my warriors, the Silence creeping through our ranks like an invisible mist and striking down soldiers one after the other. My warriors attempted to blast it back with the cannons of Music, but it merely served to overshadow my orders and drown out the Voiceover that had led us thusfar.

It was a lost battle.

We withdrew to the safety of Red Couch, the hidden refuge south of Bunk Bed. Men and women alike muttered to themselves as though delusional, rehearsing mumbled excuses to provide to their superiors as to why they had failed. But I was not ready to give in; I knew my men, and this battle was one they were equipped to fight. They only needed to believe it.

Which is why I find myself here now, all alone, on this perilous fetch quest. I will skirt around the kingdom of Animation, hoping to go unnoticed in my errand. I will retrieve the priceless Shakèd Milk from the yonder realms of Mac Donald's. I can only hope that it will inspire my beaten soldiers, remind them what it is we fight for.

It brings me some relief to know that I am not alone, that there are other soldiers, Generals even, out there fighting this endless battle against Procrastination. It is only together that we can stand strong.

If anyone finds this journal, I hope it brings you the same solace it brought me. Godspeed, whoever you are.

General's Log October 28th 2023

Another battle ensues in the Great War Against Procrastination.

Yesterday we launched a successful offensive against the Gamedev project, despite our lack of manpower given the earlier shopping conquest. Today we would advance further.

Our strategy was simple. An all-out frontal attack to wipe out the remaining forward bases around the city of Gamedev, to start at noon precisely.

Alas, I don't know what it was, but the men got anxious. Our advance was slowed, as the enemy had laid Sleep Mines and Brunch Obstacles in our path. It took us an hour to dismantle and clear a path, and by that time some of the men chased a mirage down to the land of Disney+. I fear we may never hear from them again.

The remaining men trembled at the sight of the now fortified walls of the forward base. I fear I myself lacked the courage to move on and we altered our plans. We would instead intrude upon the less fortified camps in the lands of Household Tasks and Personal Care, and circle back to Gamedev at 1600.

But that time, too, passed, as we underestimated the sheer number of bases spread around these lands. Eventually, after defeating the 15 militia of the land of Workouts, we made our way back to Gamedev.

Just outside the city, I discovered this logbook, and I decided, for posterity's sake, to write down the events of the day. I fear, though, that even this writing is simply a tactic by the enemy to slow us down further.

No longer, I say! While the all-out frontal attack may not be viable anymore, we should be able to still make a dent in the enemy's forces today. I only hope me and my men aren't too weary to try.

And who knows, perhaps having cleared those camps earlier allows us to now better lay our focus back on the main threat.

So long, and to any fellow soldiers in the Eternal War Against Procrastination, know you never stand alone. The fight never ends, but that should not discourage us from achieving victory in battle. Godspeed!

#okay this was too much fun actually #story #war analogy #catbolt chaos #thank you minewarz for providing us with such excellent content

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no-droids · 4 years ago

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Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly. And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable. This is home. You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness. Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream. But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it. Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault. You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask. Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression. How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions? You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense. Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong. You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room. Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan. As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you. You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him. You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest. His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak. You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out. Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise. Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet. You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck. You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed. Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm? No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that. You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now. You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter. The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha? No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up. Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it. “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers. It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone. “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound. But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more. Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince. You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again. If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs. “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy. Your voice is small and your words slur. “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek. Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this. Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says. You hear it. You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange. Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right. It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now. You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness. You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed. You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes. Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep. “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away. “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy. Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence? Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close. It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish. Counting. You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through. Understanding words. You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that. Yep. You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said. Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that? Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it. Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery. Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning. You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay. It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics. You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed. The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate. Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat. Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier. No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point. You need something newer. Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened. One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds. You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression. “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves. Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection. How many fucking…? All this for just one person? What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t? They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming? Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest. A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan. “Nope. Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside. You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood. He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection. He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster. The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind. His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib. Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut. You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck. Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind. You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all. Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance. There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay. Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one? Ah, yes, okay—safety, off. Stance, find your stance. There it is. Alright, now lift. Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up. Hold. Hold. Hold.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!” You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated. What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what? Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder? Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope? Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot. It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here. Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point. Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah. It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you. “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger. The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well. Uh. That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside. Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow. Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart. In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing. You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to. Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay. “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb. Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold. You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound. Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back. Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving. Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently. Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry. You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm. That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see. He’s laying facedown in the snow. There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him. Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?” You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him. “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him. He doesn’t respond. He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him. You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath. His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy. You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet. You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder. You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning. But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do. You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold. He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff? The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up. Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments. The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again. Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you. The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold. It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now. Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly. So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor. You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore. The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit. Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t. Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now. Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct. His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding. “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now. His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now. Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time. You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm. Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore. It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving. No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up. Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in. Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears. He’s warm, what else can you do for him? Why is he not waking up? “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet. You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in. He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment. He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull. He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up. It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed. You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents. Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much. You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off. If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower. You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means. You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly. Again, just in case. “I’m not gonna look. Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both. He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating. “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall. You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold. His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck. Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless. He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do. The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing. Slow. Shallow. Barely able to be felt against your neck. He’s here but he’s not. And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize. But you have nothing to say. After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore. The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull. You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort. Wake up. Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it. You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward. You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it. It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second. A second where you dare to hope. Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards. You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present. Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief. “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers. You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again. You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that. Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you. He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking. Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay. The kid is okay. Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether. Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck. Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline. A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why. But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t. You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside. You know this. You know it’s there, and you know he needs it. Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty. You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there. And you’re the only one awake. The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself. For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought. Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push. You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer. Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck. You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident. You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to. You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock. You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece. When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship. The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing. You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow. You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse. A dead body. That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite. Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s… It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why. It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way. Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to. You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still… Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up. The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving. As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband. When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There. Halfway done. You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him. Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly. Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite. And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there. With your hands, you have to grab it. With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart. If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din. If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din. He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what? If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative. It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another. You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place. The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes. You’re done. You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait. Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other. “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight. You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now. You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him. The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you. Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy. Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions. “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either. He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible. “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer. “We’re in hyperspace. Everything’s okay now, I took care of it. We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding. “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue. “I took care of it. You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His. Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…” His hands are trembling harder than his voice. “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip. Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull. You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.

Fuck, you’re not expecting it. You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all. He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up. You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head. The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…” Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit. He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again. “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time. “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing. His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight. He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin. “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words. Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours. But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension. Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you. Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now. “It’s okay. Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.

“How d-did you find me?” He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him. Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him. “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back. “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore. In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting. The alternative is unthinkable. Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him. “I raided your armory. We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason. Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet. Breathing. So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it. You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest. In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in. It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?” He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding. No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back. The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours. It feels like it was ages ago. An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding. “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer. It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that. So now what is he going to say? What is he going to say? You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work. Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add. You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore. His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize. He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range. Which means he wasn’t just joking around. He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you. You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice. Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness. “Why did you say that? On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual. Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you. His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast. “Earlier that day. I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You? Said something that made him ask that?

“What?” You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue. “What did I say?”

“Something about…” He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold. “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth. “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily. “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity. “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth. You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real. You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it. You do mean it. Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you. Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him. His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation. There are, of course, millions of things left to ask. But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions. You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time. Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift. It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know. Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know. Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue. You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before. All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape. “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost. The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet. Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated. “Ni, for I or we. Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person. Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter. Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all. If that’s true, it’s unbelievable. How do they differentiate? Just context?

“How do you distinguish?” You ask him. Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive. I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it. “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it. “What do you mean?” You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of. “We abandon our names. We become… whispers, of the same voice. There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms. Interchangeable. Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication. Almost all of them are homonyms? How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point? That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?” You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now. “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…” You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it. Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested. “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale. “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason. Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.” He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest. “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck. “No witnesses, no celebrations. We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look. It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival. Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing. To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore. Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably. The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder. “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone. “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.” Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way. The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory. You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt. Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion. “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier. You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face. Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot. Unmoving. Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it. “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you. The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you. The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it. You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them. It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though. You’re still behind. “You knew I’d say no?” You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly. Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either. Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right. If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly. Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment. “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following. Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him. Respecting them. Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull. So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time. His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him. You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue. He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves. You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you. But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here. In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?” You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #fanfic #star wars fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #no-droids #reader insert

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