#PUT IT IN SOME DIRT GIVE IT SUN WATER WHEN IT DROOPS

[curiosity-killed]

The thing about plant people is that while it’s ostensibly all the same hobby, people approach it in very different ways so like I was raised on stories of stopping by the side of the road to harvest asparagus from the ditch and with the firm understanding that snagging bits for propagation from big box stores was an entirely morally neutral act MEANWHILE my friend raises fancy orchids and waits five years for a single bloom

Which is normally entirely fine except now I’m babysitting said friend’s peace lily, which seriously needs repotted, and having to weigh basic common sense (it’s a peace lily. Extremely unfuckupable plant) vs trying to guess what my friend would want done with it (extreme delicacy and concern)

[sensei-venus]

Gardening Adventures- Daniel LaRusso x Chubby!Reader (1/2)

(Unedited) (No big tags, Miyagi the matchmaker, Daniel being Daniel, Reader Sucks At Gardening? Can't decide when this takes place but probably around kk2 or kk3 y'all can decide.)

Reader didn't know the first thing about gardening and it showed. The multiple dead plants I her trash can made it obvious. Every single time she tries to care for a plant it always seems to die. From over watering, underwatering, not enough sun, to much sun. A few times they even died from bugs which she desperately tried to get rid of. Sadly it was too late and the poor thing would die anyway, no matter how hard she tried.

The pain of her non-green thumb only worsened when her mother moved away over the summer.

Reader thought it would be great now that she got her own place to stay rent-free with her mom moving and leaving the house to her.

The only condition? Take care of her prized garden.

The garden was huge, taking up the whole backyard with row after row of flowers and lush trees. But with Reader’s luck they would all be dead within the next year. Something that made her stomach turn.

“Now when I come to visit next spring all of my precious little plant baby better be doing good! You know that garden has won four years in a row at our HOA garden competition. I would hate to have to give up the beautiful plack that they awarded us.”

“Yes Mom I know! You go on and on about how we win every year. Don't worry I promise I will keep the garden happy and healthy while you're are gone. You can count on me.” Reader says on her weekly phone call with her mother. She tries her best to sound confident. On the inside, she panicked.

“I know you will dear. If you have any questions or need advice, feel free to check out the number and address I wrote down in my notebook in the garden shed. It's the number and address of Mr.Miyagi, he's a man I met a while ago when we first moved to town. He's very good with plants! He's single-handedly the one that even got me into gardening in the first place. Please don't hesitate to call him! Love you!” the phone call was short-lived as she hung up a second later.

The chubby girl sighed as she put the phone back on the receiver.

She had no chance of keeping the garden alive! She could have to call this “ Mr.Miyagi” and hoped he could help her out. Without any kind of guidance, she knew that there was no hope of keeping all of those beautiful plants alive. The garden needed daily care and she couldn't do it all without a little bit of help.

Advice and maybe some tips were her only chance to keep all of those healthy plants in tip-top shape.

The next week she tried her absolute best to keep everything in perfect order. From going out and watering all of the flowers that needed it, to trimming any dead branches from the trees. Flowers were mid-bloom this time of year. Buds poked out and flourished in the hot California sun. She even put out some high-quality fertilizer. She spent hours outside sitting in the grass and dirt making sure every little detail was looking good. Every leaf was nice and green, every flower bud bright or nice and dark.

Only the next day to be filled with dread as the flowers slowly started to wilt a little. Way too soon to be normal. Her heart started to break as she looked at every drooping flower. All that effort only for it to fall though. The feeling of failure washed through her like a too deep of wave pulling her in. Deeper and deeper into the sad feeling of knowing she couldn't keep the yard in line.

That morning she rushes inside the small shed. Going through every drawer she finally found the small notebook her mom had told her about. She flipped through the first few pages and found a number and address scribbled on the bottom of one of the later pages.

Quickly finding her telephone she punched in the number, a small ring going through. After a minute or two someone finally picked up.

“Miyagi hai.”

Oh um hi I’m ——- daughter. She moved away about two weeks ago leaving her garden to me. She left me your number if I had any questions about taking care of the greenery and plants. Sadly I don't seem to have much luck going for me, I'm afraid I might be doing something wrong. A few of the flowers already seem to be under the weather.”

Their was a long pause, then some loud banging sounds in the background of the call. Some shouts where heard and then possible a door slamming.

“Miyagi know mother well, nice lady. You come over to Miyagi house and I show you.” before she could say another word the phone disconnected. Reader pulled the phone from her ear and looked down at it. Chewing her lip she sighed a little before putting it back on the hook.

“He didn't even ask of I had the address….god thing mom left it in that book.”

The next day she headed over the Mr.Miyagi’s place. The drive over was short but sweet, the whole drive was silent besides the sound of her car radio. A few updeat song played as she drove across the more quiet part of town. Not much was out in these parts but land. Odd to say for California but here she was, on a street so desolate she could hardly tell of anyone actually live all the way out here.

A smile pulled at her lips as she watched the clear road.

Soon enough she found herself in front of a gate with a small house behind it.

She parked Inside the small lot, filled with old cars. She silently wondered if any of them still worked by the looks of them. Most of them looked old and abandoned, but oddly enough looked very clean. Like someone had taken the time to wash and shine every single one of them. Getting out of her car she followed the fence and found a small gate, pushing it open she was met with a beautiful sight.

A beautiful landing laid behind the simple fence. The grass was a lush green, light foliage around the yard. A pathway of wood paths with a pond right in the middle. It looked like a small paradise!

She quietly walked in and shut the gate behind her, walking slowly though the yard. She was careful to follow the small pathway. Walking along it she stared down at the pond as she got closer to it. Looking down she smiled, taking notice of the large koi fish that swam around the clear water. They varied in color and size, different patterns and even shapes.

Minutes passed just watching them until she remembered why she had come so far. Her eyes glance over to the small but nice-looking house in the back of the yard. Walking over to it she notices that the door is open. Looking inside she finds a quaint little home. Gently she knocks on the door, waiting for some kind of response.

An old man quickly came from out of a back room, his face relaxed as he walked over. His age seemed to give him no trouble in moving quickly to great her. He gave only a slight smile as he said “You must be Reader-San, your mother tell me many things about you. You say, need help, with plants, correct.” Reader smiled and nodded. Hopefully, she had not come out there for nothing.

Mr.Miyagi seemed nice enough from their small introduction. Her mom seemed pleased with the man as well so he had to be good at what he did. He was quick to usher her into his home.

She followed him as he guided her though the very small home.

“I will teach how to take care of plants.” He spoke to her in almost bear english. He led her to a small table where he motioned for her to sit down. He grabbed an old book off a nearby shelf and laid it on the table in front of her. With a brow raised she looked to him. He seemed to understand saying “Book good for learning. Lots of stuff on plants. Mother Love flowers, Miyagi write done for her in spare time. Hope it help.” Reader looks back at the book. There is no real cover just a hard-back lick notebook of some kind. Flipping it open there are some random notes. All of which are written in neat handwriting.

Tilting her head she starts to notice how the writing starts to drift off. Flipping a few pages Reader starts to question some things.

“Mr, Miyagi did your really write all of this yourself? The hand writing seems to change after a few pages-”

“Oh that is Daniel-Sa-”

Before could finish his sentence a loud crash came from outside the house followed by some swearing. Miyagi rolls his eyes as he slowly moves to look outside. He buffs before saying “Miyagi said move, not break!” he slaps at the door frame a little. Reader can't help but laugh a little with has Reader giggling a bit. Miyagi seems to hear that and gives her a glance making her they and cover up her laughter.

She doesn't notice the small smirk he has on his lips as he turns back to the door.

“Daniel-San, put down and come in. I want you to meet Reader-San!”

(Will be a part two of this, I have a few young Daniel asks but I really wanted to make this one. This is for the “Daniel sluts” as they have come to call themselves here on my blog.😂

Love that for y'all!)

[weatheredpileoftomes]

a reluctant envoy

For FFXIVWrite Day 1, “envoy”. Grishild, early A Realm Reborn, ~800 words. Reference to war, PTSD, a little internalized ableism.

There has to have been some kind of mistake.

“I don’t know what the Admiral’s thinking.” Grishild rests her head in her hands. Around her the kitchen of the Rowdy Minnow is unnaturally quiet, everyone gathered in and listening.

Dinner with the Admiral and no few of the rest of the thalassocracy had been bad enough. She owns a bloody tavern. She pays her dues at the Culinarians’ Guild, and they haven’t managed to find an excuse to get rid of her yet, but she’s no restauranteur, and even when she was a soldier she wasn’t the kind to get the attention of admirals, or generals.

“I had one of my fits while she was making speeches,” Grishild says, and starts shivering again.

She’d been there. Carteneau, the skies blood-black and lowering, and stars falling, and the screams of the fearful and the dying. She’d heard Flame General Aldynn giving orders. She’d never gotten the order to retreat, which means somewhere on the killing fields below the Admiral’s lofty viewpoint Grishild’s squadron was already dying, or dead.

And stars falling, and the moon, and the sky—

She drags her head up out of her hands. Outside the streets are quiet enough that she can hear the shushing of the sea, never far away in Limsa Lominsa, and she slows her breath to match it. Water drops glitter on the pans drying in the draining rack; herbs sway gently on their cords; steam rises from the stockpot; Linana is chewing worriedly on one of her fingers. There’s a gouge in the surface of the table, pale where a knife has slipped.

Baderon’s fancy shoes pinch her toes in a way she’s never put up with, and the weave of her dress is uncommonly smooth against her skin. The table is smooth under her elbows, too, scrubbed silken with honest use. She flexes her feet to feel the flagstone—not tile, nor dirt—scrape under them.

A log snaps in the fire. Outside a streetwalker is calling for a client, and always the sea—the lulling waves, and the salt tang that twists around the yeasty smell of rising bread as it reaches even into her kitchen. She’s glad it does.

Herlwyda hands her a mug, and Grishild drinks without asking what’s in it. There’s enough sun lemon in the water to make her eyes water, barely cut with honey, and she almost chokes but swallows it and feels better.

“Thanks,” she says. Her voice is hoarse. She wonders if she screamed, at the Admiral’s fancy dinner, or if it’s just the strain of not screaming that’s done it.

“I’ll make some tea,” Linana says, all her brightness dulled with worry.

Grishild stirs herself. “You will not.”

“I’ve got the tea,” Pfardoen says.

He can at least boil water, though not much more, and Grishild is too bone-tired to argue. “They want me to be an envoy,” she says instead, as the pump swishes and the kettle clangs onto the hook. “Some kind of politics. I thought for sure they’d change their minds when the…” She gestures, a weary flap of one unmoored hand. “But apparently it doesn’t bother them. At least I wouldn’t be flying the bloody airship, if I were going.”

Linana’s ears droop. “You’re not? But’d be such an honor!”

“Honor, hell.” Grishild stares at the gouge in the table again. “I said I’d help find Q’zazanh and the others, and I don’t like the Yellowjackets getting ideas much more than Jacke and V’kebbe do, and if I’m going to be stalked by wizards in robes I’m not going to just sit there and take it. That’s all… That happened. But it happened to me, you know?”

“And now politics are happening to you,” Herlwyda says dryly.

Grishild twists around so that Herlwyda can see her eye before she narrows it. “No, they’re not. I’m sending word to the Admiral in the morning she can find someone who knows how to handle all this shite to do it instead.”

“We’d take purr-fect care of the tavern.” Q’ralka clasps her hands pleadingly, giving Grishild the big-eyed look that never fails to get tips from the customers, or at least the ones who like women or have a protective streak. “Don’t you trust us?”

Grishild damn well knows better and even she feels herself wavering a little.

“We’ve got this, miss,” Pfardoen says from the hearth.

Herlwyda nods.

“But I don’t! There has to be someone better the Admiral can send.”

Linana rolls her eyes. “Oh, yes, there’s heaps of people better than you just lying around in piles at the marketplace. I wouldn’t work for just anyone, you know!”

Grishild looks around at her staff, all looking right back at her with pride and affection, and shakes her head. It’s just going to be the Culinarians’ Guild all over again. She might as well pack.

[nemeseos-noctua]

Here's the other: How'd they react to their S/O who cherishes their gift given by their beloved so much, that one day the gift was destroyed by a hilichurl and they went so livid they practically fought the creatures to death and threw them to a lake somewhere, and sulked the whole how they don't deserve them anymore cuz of how careless they were. For Razor, Albedo and Xiao 👉👈

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: razor, albedo, xiao (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, mc is referenced as an alchemist/adventurer in albedo’s, one swear word in xiao’s

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: im EMBARRASSED at how long this is and how MEANINGLESS THE WRITING IS IM SO SORRY 

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah. 

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...” 

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new. 

 “You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.

— constellations! 💫

[copias-thrall]

Hello there, your stories are great!! Can I ask this? A feverish Pappa III confess his love to his s/o ? Thank you

Thanks for this wholesome ask, nonny! 😊🥰

He’d sniffled his way through yesterday’s sermon.

He’d sneezed his way through dinner.

And while you’d thought the way he sounded all stuffed up was adorable, you hadn’t adored the way he’d coughed through half the night.

“Ai! I am fine!” he’d insisted right before bed. “Nothing a good rest won’t cure, hm?”

But when you’d woken up this morning, he was sweaty and moaning. HIs eyes were glazed, and he’d shivered despite the blankets.

“Papa?” you’d murmured as you’d brushed the damp locks from his hot forehead.

“I’m dying,” he’d groaned as he’d curled into a ball. “Tell The Rat he can’t have my quarters.”

You’d twisted your lips to prevent a smile.

“It’s a cold. Probably from pulling those all nighters last week. You’re not in your 20s anymore, you know…”

He’d cracked a gummy eyelid at you. “I am the picture of youth.”

“Yes, yes…you’re very sprightly. …Except for the whole ‘dying’ thing.”

He’d made a noise at you and had pulled the covers over his head.

“You are not nice to Papa. Go away.”

And then he’d kicked weakly at you as you’d tried not to laugh.

Though you’d wanted nothing more to stay and take care of him, you still had your duties to attend to. Just because you were having a fling with one of the Emeritus brothers didn't mean you were exempt from pulling your weight. (Sister Imperator had made that abundantly clear when she’d cornered you late one night in one of the corridors.)

You’d placed a kiss on the lump you were reasonably sure was his head.

“I’ll call the infirmary and have one of your Ghouls attend to your breakfast.”

The lump had merely nodded.

***

Though your relationship with Terzo wasn’t necessarily established, it wasn’t brand new, either. Of course anyone would have been flattered by his attentions—and you’d never been immune to the smolder in his eyes and his cheeky commentary at sermons—so when he’d propositioned you one morning after mass, you were quick to take him up on the offer.

And the sex had been…wow.

A little of what you had expected, some that you hadn’t, and a lot of “That should be illegal!”

But it was the time with him after that you had come to enjoy the most. That time had been fun. Comfortable. He’d laughed at your jokes, and you’d found him much deeper than his public persona. “Everybody loves a clown, eh?” he’d said as he’d winked at you. The two of you could just exist together quietly, but still have a rowdy good time when he started taking you out on actual dates. Obviously, you weren’t even close to being considered for Prime Mover, but you were no longer a casual liaison.

All of which meant: you still had to show up for your yardworking rotation as Primo micromanaged, but Terzo’s Ghouls gave you the courtesy of updating you on his status.

When you’d been updated midday that what Terzo has was definitely just a bad head-cold and not the flu, you’d still intended to check-in on your lunch break—but a snafu with the Venus Flytraps cut into it so severely that you’d barely had time to scarf down the sandwich and soda you’d selected.

Finally, with the sun hanging low in the sky, you’re cut for the day, and you can dash back to your room to shower off the sweat and dirt from the day.

Now, you can go care for your Papa.

***

The first stop is the kitchen for Terzo’s evening meal, which you find is a hearty steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and buttered spinach paired with a Chablis.

You eye the offering with disapproval; while delicious, this is not a meal for a sick man. When you direct the Kitchen Ghoul to instead make a simple chicken soup and buttered toast paired with coconut water, he chitters at you in annoyance, but in the end, follows your direction.

You’re Papa’s partner, after all.

Usually, Terzo will meet you at the door to his quarters in his ridiculous floral robe if the two of you are staying in, but today, you let yourself in. His living area is dark except for a small lamp giving off a warm glow. When you push open the door to his bed chambers with your hip, you find much the same, and one side of the bed has a humidifier going that exudes the scent of lavender and rosemary. He's still cocooned in his bed, but—despite the relaxing atmosphere of his room—he’s breathing heavily and twitching about.

Poor Papa.

You set the tray down so you can refresh the basin of cool water on his night table, then you kneel at his side so you can gently caress his face with the cool cloth.

He twitches, and then his eyes blink owlishly open.

“Is it time for the Ritual? Are the Ghouls here?” His glazed eyes try to focus on you. “Where’s the other PA?”

“No, Papa,” you murmur as you dip and wring the cloth for a pass down his neck. “You’re at the Abbey. You’re sick in bed, remember?”

“The Abbey?” He blinks rapidly. “Oh. Sí.”

You try to swipe the cloth across his chest, but he jerks away from the cool touch on his fevered skin; he whimpers and grabs his head, curling away from you.

“I know, Papa. It’s no fun being sick.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair. “Do you think you can get some food down, mm? Then I can give you some ibuprofen.”

He moans, but he shifts up just enough that you can feed him.

Perching on the edge of the bed, you press the spoon to his lips, and he slurps loudly as his wide, fever-bright eyes stare at you.

“My dolce.” 

You smile as you dab his chin and offer him a bite of toast.

“Yes, I am your dolce, Papa. And you are mine.”

“Mine,” he whines as he tries to wrap around you.

You chuckle and carefully unfurl him. “Food first, Papa.”

When you bring the glass to his mouth to wash down the toast, his moist palm wraps around your wrist.

“My dolce here to care for their Papa.”

He kisses the inside of your wrist, and you almost spill the contents of the glass all over him, so you gently extract yourself from his hold.

“Trying anyway.”

You bring the glass up again, and he takes a drink even as his eyes droop despite their lock on yours.

“You’re so good to Papa.”

His head weaves, and you realize you’re fighting a losing battle. But you’ve managed to get him to consume a third of the soup, a triangle of toast, and half the water, which is good enough!

“Because I care about you,” you say absently as you search for the ibuprofen bottle.

When you turn back around, his eyes are closed, and he breathes heavily through his mouth. You make a mental note to find his Irene Forte Pistachio lip balm—Terzo would be horrified if his lips were ever unkissable. 

Fever reducers in hand, you waffle between letting him rest and waking him up. On one hand, his body needs sleep to fight off the infection; on the other, he’ll sleep easier if his fever goes down…but when he lets out a soft moan, you decide that waking him will be brief enough.

You lean forward and gently thumb his hot, flushed cheek.

“Papa? My dolce?”

He twitches, and his eyes unstick. When they focus on you, he lights up and wraps you in an embrace that’s strong despite the fever.

“My dolce...my amore. Ah—I love you. I love you so much.” 

You freeze—you know he cares for you…but he’s never said he’s loved you before. And you’re not sure if the declaration is pure delirium, or if the fever has cleared his inhibitions…

But he pulls you close so he can nuzzle into you.

“My amore…you are the shining and the light. My perfect love, perfect for Papa…stay here. The best that’s happened to me. Stay by my side. Please, amore…”

He applies sloppy kisses to your face, and you give a wet laugh as you carefully extricate yourself from his affections. His words make you feel light and giddy now that you’re sure they’re genuine.

You’ve loved him for a while now.

As you help him lie back, you lean close to murmur in his ear, “I love too, Papa. Very much so.” His expression manages to be bright despite the fact that he’s pie-eyed. “And because I love you, I only want the best for you. So open up and take these pills, ok?”

He gives an exaggerated nod up and down. “And then you will stay?” 

You give him a soft smile. “Of course…love.”

A lazy grin spills across his face. “Okie dokie.” And then he’s opening his mouth wide.

True to your word, once you’re finished ministering to him, you crawl on top of the sheets next to him. He conked out before you had put the glass back down on his bedside table, but as you drape an arm cautiously across his middle, you think you can detect the hint of a smile on your lips.

[melzula]

Obstacles

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

requests: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb where Zuko struggles with how to approach being around Princess Reader when she avoids him and/or gives him the silent treatment? // Hi- I was wondering if you could write a fire lillies blurb where, when the gaang first starts interacts with zuko, they are more protective of the reader. Simply because they know the history between the two.

a/n: the format of this is a little different than how I normally write but I think it works :)

Though Zuko had finally become a part of Team Avatar, he still found himself to be the odd one out of the group. From Katara’s cold glare to Sokka’s reluctance of being left alone with the prince, Zuko struggled to find his place amongst the group. It was odd and new and strange, but at least it was a start in the right direction, and his first step included mending things with the Princess. He had gotten her to fall in love with him once, so it couldn’t be that hard to do it again, right?

In truth, it was very hard. Zuko faced many obstacles and many set backs, and it would probably be some time before she even so much as looked at him, let alone forgave him...

~~~

Katara

Zuko watched from afar as the Princess handled her chores for the day, sitting peacefully by the fountain as she washed the clothes. Her movements were delicate but precise, the water flowing smoothly through the dirt and the grime collected on Toph’s green robes, and a faint smile graced her features as she hummed softly through the work. She was at peace and completely relaxed, more relaxed than Zuko had ever seen y/n in years. Even in Ba Sing Se there had always been a nervous edge to her, an edge she did her best to hide from Zuko, and she had almost been completely rid of it until the caves. He cringed at the thought, guilt overcoming him at the fact that she seemed so much better off without him.

“What are you doing?” Katara scowls accusingly, startling the Prince from his silent watch over y/n.

“I-“

“Y/N’s been really happy ever since she left you, and you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you ruin that for her,” the water bender scolds harshly.

“I just want to apologize to her,” Zuko replies calmly, but Katara isn’t having it.

“A simple apology is never going to fix all the ways you’ve hurt her. Y/n deserves better, and if I ever see you make her upset or uncomfortable I won’t hesitate to step in.”

Zuko says nothing as Katara stalks away, he knows better than to get in her way when she’s angry, and when her retreating form finally disappears he looks back at the fountain.

The clothes have been washed, and the Princess is gone.

~~~

Sokka

The smell of stew was heavenly to Zuko’s rumbling tummy, and he was eager to join everyone by the fireside. Bowls had been served, seats had been chosen, and an empty spot beside the Princess was his for the taking.

“Excuse me, buddy,” Sokka chirps, patting Zuko heartily on the back before quickly sitting himself beside y/n. She smiles softly at the water tribe boy and offers him her leftovers to which he happily accepts.

Zuko deflates, choosing to sit next to Aang and enjoy his stew of failure. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last. He knew Sokka was just protecting her, and he couldn’t be mad at him for that. Sokka had probably done more for y/n in her time with him than Zuko had ever done, who was he to blame his protectiveness?

Y/n offers to take the empty dishes to wash, and as Zuko attempts to follow after her his path is quickly blocked by Sokka.

“Listen, I know you’re trying to make things right, and while I respect that, y/n’s asked me to keep you away from her,” he explains as gently as he can. “It’s nothing personal, but I care about her and I want to make sure she feels comfortable.”

“Oh... I understand,” Zuko utters quietly. “Will you at least tell her that I love her?”

“...I’ll do my best,” Sokka replies solemnly, watching with a pang of guilt as Zuko retreats to his room for the night.

~~~

Aang

“What am I supposed to do?” Zuko groans whilst tugging at his hair.

“You know I’m a firm believer in peace, and I do think that neither of you will be happy until your issues are resolved,” Aang comments wisely. “But I also think you should never force anything. Y/n will come around in her own time when she’s ready.”

“But that could take forever!” He protests. “I’ve already been away from her long enough, and being near her but not being able to speak to her is torture.”

Both boys turn their gazes towards y/n in the distance where she carefully brush Appa’s hair and talk to him about his day. The sight is very Princess like, which is fitting since she is a Princess after all, but the sweetness of it all makes Zuko’s heart ache with longing.

“What you did wasn’t right,” Aang sighs. “And she’s still healing. But, if she truly couldn’t stand you then she wouldn’t have given her blessing to let you stay.”

“She only let me stay so I could train you,” Zuko argues.

“Okay, that’s true. But she also washes your clothes, serves you dinner, and just the other day I saw her mending a hole in your boot. She won’t talk to you, but she does still care.”

“She’s always had such a big heart,” he murmurs dejectedly. “Back when I was still hunting you y/n always went out of her way to take care of me even if I didn’t want it. I was a fool to take her for granted.”

“I really do think you guys will work it out. Just don’t force anything, and you’ll be fine,” Aang comforts, and the two continue to watch the Princess as she tends to Appa.

~~~

Toph

With a bouquet of wild flowers in hand and his hair combed in that same horrid style his Uncle had given him back in Ba Sing Se, Zuko headed to her room in hopes of finally talking to the Princess. He knew how much y/n loved flowers, and he also knew how much she loved that ridiculously dorky hairstyle, so he hoped that the two combined together would at least earn him a smile in return.

But when he arrived to her part of the temple he found that her door was barricaded with a smooth slab of rock, and sitting a few feet away from said rock was Toph. The little girl sat leaning against the wall, legs crossed over each other and hands folded behind her head.

“Sorry, sparky, boss’s orders,” she explains with a small shrug, and Zuko deflates. “Personally I think she just needs to man up and face you, but until then I’ve been put under strict orders not to let you in.”

“She really hates me, doesn’t she?” Zuko sighs, joining Toph against the wall. The flowers in his hand are beginning to droop from the lack of water, much like his demeanor from his lack of y/n.

“No, but she’s very angry,” Toph corrects. “Really sad, too. Sokka’s already been in there three times tonight.”

“Are they...?”

“Together? He wishes,” the girl scoffs. “His heartbeat picks up a beat or two sometimes when he’s with her, but he’d never make a move on her. Not when she’s so upset and he’s the only one she can talk to.”

“Yeah, well maybe they should be together,” Zuko grumbles, the flower stems charring in his hands from the sudden heat that emits from his palms. “They’re both water tribe and he obviously takes care of her better than I ever could.”

“That’s true,” Toph nods much to Zuko’s dismay. “But she doesn’t love Sokka. She loves you.”

“Loved,” Zuko corrects only for Toph to roll her eyes.

“You dunderhead,” she mutters before punching him in the shoulder. “I should just knock your heads together and make you kiss and make up right now.”

“Can you do that?” Zuko asks hopefully only to receive another punch from Toph.

“You sure do have a lot to learn, sparky.”

~~~

The Princess

The morning is quiet and calm as you rise with the sun, heading out to collect the dew on the plants of the temple so that you may use it as water for your group. Other than Momo, who sits comfortably on your shoulders, everyone is asleep, giving you some time to decompress and enjoy the solitude of the rising sun.

“Anything I can help with?”

Or so you thought. Of course Zuko would approach you now when there was no one to keep him away from you. You say nothing in response, refusing to even look at him as you set down your bucket and begin to remove the dew from the leaves.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs. “Let me make it better.”

Zuko is met with silence and an eye roll. Momo chitters curiously at the Princess, receiving a head scratch in return which is more than Zuko can say.

“I never stopped thinking of you,” he says. “And I wish I could take back everything I’ve done to hurt you.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” you utter quietly. “I want you to go away.”

Hearing your voice after being met with silence for so long brings the boy to tears, and with a hesitant demeanor Zuko reaches out for you. However, at the sight of the water glowing your palms the Prince takes a step back. You’re not afraid to turn your bending on him, not anymore, and it isn’t until now that he realizes he really has hurt you, more than he could ever have imagined.

“Y/n...”

“Go. Don’t make me ask again.”

With a defeated sigh Zuko turns away and leaves the Princess to her own devices. She goes back to tending to the dew, and the Prince goes back to his room to wallow in his shame.

Both have tears streaming down their faces.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @eridanuswave @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang |

[sithsecrets]

sacrifice | din djarin x reader

stranded in the tatooine desert, din and his crewmember (lover? girlfriend?) must make the long, impossible journey back to mos espa on foot.

---

4.2k words

mentions: near-death experiences, severe sunburn, sever dehydration, emotional conversations with a loved one, reader and din are not doing well at all, lots of talking about sand and the desert, minor medical procedures (kind of??)

this is part 4 of my valentine’s week special! you can see all the other parts here!

---

The deserts of Tatooine are legendary, the sandy dunes and rocky canyons teeming with tales and myths. The Tuskens are a spectacle all their own, with their banthas and covered bodies, and there’s not one person on this planet that hasn’t had the displeasure of doing business with a Jawa. Countless greats have passed through this planet’s cities, negotiating deals and perpetrating plots that will have an affect on the galaxy for years to come.

To you, though, Tatooine is not some great, propped up location from a fairytale. No, this place is your home, or was your home until you made the decision to leave. You were born here, and now you will die here, sucking in the same hot, dry air you breathed on your first day of life as you take your final breath.

Din had promised that it would be a quick mission, in and out. Mando lets you call him that now, lets you call him by his first name. He whispered it to you just a few days ago, revealing this piece of his identity in the darkness of the Crest’s hull. What you wouldn’t give to be there now, cool and fed and sprawled out naked beside him…

Din had said it would be a quick mission, that’s what he said. Just you and him on a pair of speeders out in the desserts, in and out and easy. He needed you to watch his back, wanted you to do surveillance from up high— that’s why you came in the first place. Peli said she’d keep the baby, she was thrilled to have him for a day or two, and so it wasn’t a problem—

The baby, oh Maker… Who’s going to take care of the baby?

Things didn’t go to plan once you left the city, not at all. One speeder went dead halfway to Din’s coordinates, and so you the two of you were left with one vehicle. You made it alright, though your time was worse with both of you weighing down the machine.

It was hot out there, so hot, but you knew it would be that way. You had water in your pack, and some food, and you’d be fine. It was only supposed to be a day or two, right? And the suns would set eventually, and then you might even be cold...

Din made you perch high up on some rock, and you watched for hours through the binocs looking for the quarries. Two spice smugglers, that’s who Din’d been tasked with finding, and they were supposed to be stupid, too— that’s what Greef had said. “These two clowns are idiots.”

The two smugglers did come, and they were idiots as promised, but their friend was not. The third man found your lookout spot somehow, and he snuck up on you. Din was down in the sand, and before he had time to fly up and stop him, the man had already cut your side. It was meant to be a stab, but you avoided that, thank the stars. Even still, the wound was no minor scrape, and you panicked when you saw just how much blood was coming out of you.

Being who he is, it didn’t take Din long to subdue your attacker and the two quarries. He propped their bodies in a cave and said he’d come back for them with the ship later on, and you thought that was a fine idea at the time.

A bad feeling set in when you saw what had been done to you and Din’s singular speeder. One of the smugglers had disabled it while Din was busy murdering the man that hurt you, and now it lay useless in the sand. The crew of criminals had been riding on some kind of pack animals when the violence broke out, and all the commotion sent the three of them off in all directions. Din’s jetpack seemed like a viable option, but the instant he tried to pick you up, you screamed in pain. There was no way for him to hold you that didn’t hurt you terribly, and it’s not like you could latch onto his back. After that conversation, it took you and Din about five seconds to realize that you were fucked. And then… And then it was time to start walking.

The first day wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. The rationing of water began almost immediately, and you worried every time Din declined his share.

“You need it more,” he had said to you, “you’re hurt.”

And you were hurt. Your side smarted all the time, and the heat of the sun caked your own fluids to your skin. The bleeding did eventually stop, but the pain never subsided, and it wasn’t long before you were trailing behind.

When the suns set, it was time to stop walking and start shivering. Din made a small fire, and you did have an extra shirt, but none of it was enough with the damage you’d sustained earlier in the day. Sleep did come, but it was fitful, and you’re not sure Din so much as closed his eyes that night.

The heat came back with the dawn, and after several hours, it was all you could do to keep moving. Thirst burned your throat, and the dull ache of hunger twisted your insides. Din acted like he was fine, but you saw it. You saw the change in his gait, saw how his head drooped from time to time under the weight of exhaustion.

That second night, you insisted Din sleep while you took watch. It as hard to stay awake, and even harder to focus on looking for threats, but you did it anyway. You’d known many people who got lost in the dunes, heard more stories than you could count of what happens when you perish out in the sand. And as you sat there staring into the distance, you marveled at the idea that you yourself would soon come to experience these things yourself.

This will be your third day of walking, walking and walking and walking… You and Din have been making your way across the desert for hours now, and you’re growing more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. Gone is the ache in your stomach, gone is the burn in your throat— all you want now is rest, rest and reprieve from the sun’s relentless rays. Yesterday, you took to imagining yourself anywhere but here— tropical locations, the icy surface of Hoth, a planet where fresh, drinkable water fills every pond and lake and river— now, though, all you picture is rest. Oh, if you could just rest…

It takes you a long time to realize that you’ve fallen, longer than it should. You’re face down on the ground, sand filling your mouth, your nose… The granules aggravate the sunburn you’ve developed after days and days exposed to the elements, though you hardly even feel the sting as you lie there. It’s so good to stop walking, so good to close your eyes…

“Stay awake, cyar’ika. You can’t go to sleep, not right now.”

Din’s voice rouses you, it makes you pay attention again. He’s picking you up, he’s holding you in his arms—

“I don’t want to walk anymore, Din,” you say, voice cracked and broken. Once again, you think of water, but the thought is fleeting at best.

“You don’t have to,” he says at once. “I’ll carry you. We just have to get back, mesh’la, and then we’ll be okay.”

In some deep recess of your mind, you decide that Din’s saying this to comfort himself as well as you.

“You’ll get back to Mos Espa,” you croak, shaking your head. “This is— I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes, you are, cyar’ika, don’t talk like that.” Din spits the words out as if you’ve insulted him, half offended and half terrified and entirely unlike himself. Some small part of you wants to laugh— you’ve always wanted him to be freer with his emotions, and all it took was being marooned in the desert to get him to do it.

“You have to leave me, Din,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, trying to make him drop you. But Din holds fast, clamping down on your body like you’re all that tethers him to this world. And maybe you are, at this point. “I’m slowing you down. If neither of us gets back, we’ll— The baby, Din, the baby. You have to go back for the baby. You’re all he has, he’ll… he’ll…”

You want to cry, but your body has no tears to offer you. Through the fog in your mind, you picture the Child playing with Peli and her droids, waiting patiently for you and his father to return. The thought of how he’ll feel when the both of you never do is almost too much to bear, and you redouble your efforts, pleading.

“Leave me, Din, leave me here so you can go on. I’ve been slowing you down since the start, and now— The Child needs you. I’m not important, Din, but you’re his father. Just put me down and let me—”

“Stop talking,” Din cuts, exhaustion and frustration warping his broken voice. “Save you energy, mesh’la, we’re almost there.”

Except you aren’t, and you know that. But even still, you do as Din says, too tired to argue with him any further.

There is more walking, and more feeling the sun on your face, and then your eyes are slipping closed. Far off in the distance, Din is telling you to look at him, to stay awake but you just can’t anymore. It’s so hot, and you just want to sleep…

The last thing you see before you fall unconscious is the sun, bright and blinding and all-consuming above you.

---

No one is more surprised than you when you open your eyes again.

Beige is all you see in front of you, beige like the color of the dunes. For one fleeting moment, you think you’ve died, that this is all there is for someone who’s succumb to the desert— the sand has swallowed you whole, and now you’ll lie here under it for all of eternity. But then everything comes into focus, and the fog lifts from your mind. Sand dunes aren’t held up by supports, and they certainly don’t billow in the breeze.

A tent, you say to yourself, dizzy as you try to sit up, I’m in a tent.

Someone’s attended to your wound, bandages and dressings where dirt and blood should be on your side. It still smarts when you try to stand, but you find yourself stronger overall. Somehow, someway, you’ve been revived, and even your sunburn doesn’t seem as bad as you know that it should be when you reach up to touch your face.

Carpets keep the sand off, three or four strewn on the ground in a patchwork. You’ve been laid out to rest on some sort of makeshift bed as well, nothing more than couple of pads and a blanket under your back, and not for the first time do you wonder where you are. Not for the first time do you wonder where Din is…

Heat envelopes you the second you pull back the flaps of the tent, but the temperature isn’t as high as it was when you collapsed. Sure enough, one look at the horizon tells you that it’s sunset, the sky purple-orange-pink as Tatoonie’s twin suns sink down further and further.

All around you are tents just like the one you emerged from, simple, beige structures made of coarse, thick fabric. You begin weaving your way through the complex, too afraid to cry out and ask for help. In any case, you’re not sure it would help, for you feel eerily alone, almost like everything around you is empty. That’s why it’s such a shock when someone jerks on your arm, the action catching you so off-guard that you cry out.

Cold fear is all you feel when you come to face the man that grabbed you, the dark eyes of his mask almost boring into you as he shouts and kicks up a fuss. You wait to be hurt, wait to be struck down and murdered, for you know how the Tuskens feel about outsiders, but the violence never comes. No, the man is actually leading you further into the camp, pulling on your arm, gesturing to more tents and beyond. The sounds he makes mean nothing to you, but if you could understand, you’re sure you’d hear, “Come with me, come on!”

And what else can you do except follow the Raider? What other choice do you have? He leads you past three or four more dwellings, and then the two of you stand before a larger, grander tent, one that makes the others look almost tiny. The Tusken calls out to whoever’s inside before you can so much as catch your breath, and then you’re being jerked through the flaps without a word of warning.

The first thing you see is fire, the smoke from the little blaze escaping out of an opening in the top of a tent. Small lanterns light the space inside, everything bathed in a warm, orange glow. There are carpets on the ground just like in your tent, layers and layers of them keeping the sand off everyone inside. Several Tuskens sit around the fire, but you barely see them after you notice the way the light glints off someone else.

When you told Din to leave you, you meant it. The baby couldn’t be orphaned a second time, and the idea of both of you dying under the sun didn’t bear thinking about. But to know that he didn’t abandon you, that he really was going to carry you back to the city…

All conversation ceases the second Din gets up from the ground, and then it’s like the two of you are the only people in the whole fucking desert. He asks you if you’re alright, one hand on the side of your head as he murmurs through the modulator. You say yes and ask him the same thing, worried something happened after you went out of commission. He’s all armored and covered, face concealed like it has been since the moment you met him, and yet still you worry. You worry he fell down like you did, worry that he’s been sick from not eating and drinking. But if Din did collapse or become incapacitated for a period of time, none of it’s had any lasting effects. He tells you that he’s eaten and drunk plenty since the Tuskens saved both of you, urging you to stop fussing and come sit with him beside the fire.

Only when Din turns around do you remember that you have an audience, and you feel all eyes on you walk around the pit in the center of the room. You feel vulnerable before your hosts, keenly aware of the fact that you stand before them with your face and hair and hands bare. Thankfully, you’re not the only woman present, several veiled Tusken women dotting the circle of people. They’re beautiful in their own way, draped in beads, some of their masks ornately decorated with embroidery and mental embellishments. You know little of Tusken culture, but you think that this is a tent reserved for important members of this clan, for even most of the men have on small bits of finery.

Din keeps you close, uncharacteristically affectionate in front of these strangers. He holds your hand as he leads you to your place in the group, urges you to tuck up against his side by the fire, and you wonder why he’s showing you off so openly. He either trusts these Tuskens, which would be a bold move, or this whole ordeal’s shaken him badly. Either way, you’re not about to complain, relieved to be here with him at all. You really could have died out there in the sand, and the fact that you didn’t is still sort of blowing your mind.

The first thing you do when you get settled is express your gratitude to the Tuskens around you, thanking them sincerely for saving your life and treating your injuries. Din translates for you and the man who speaks next, and then you’re told one of the most incredible stories you’ve ever heard.

For the better part of half an hour, Din and the Tuskens tell you about how they slayed the great krayt dragon, working in tandem with a small group of villagers from the middle of nowhere. Din downplays his role in it all, but you know that he was the one who really took the beast down. That’s why the Tuskens consider him a friend in the first place, and it’s the only reason they saved the both of you— otherwise, they would have let you die, a fact they admit openly.

You reprimand Din for not telling you sooner because seriously, he slayed a krayt dragon and made an alliance with the fucking Tusken Raiders, but all he offers is a humble, almost embarrassed, “It never came up, mesh’la.”

All you can do is huff at that, amazed not for the first time by how casual Din is about everything he does.

After the story’s done, a woman comes into the tent with a tray of thing for you. Because of their customs, the Tuskens won’t eat in front of you, and it’s not like Din’s about to take of his helmet for a meal, but you’re served food regardless. Neither the meat nor the hubba gourds taste very good, but you couldn’t care less— after days without food or water, even the bitter juice tastes like fine wine.

Din and the Tuskens talk as you eat, everything they say completely lost on you as you sit before the fire. Outside, the suns continue to set until it’s dark, and you feel yourself growing tired. You’re not sure if it would be rude to fall asleep in front of the Tuskens, the fear of offending your saviors forcing you to keep your eyes open every time they droop shut. Eventually, though, they take pity on you, and you and Din are given the Tuskens’ blessing to leave.

Back in your own tent, you and Din kneel on the carpets before one another, a single lantern lighting the space above your heads. He looks almost ominous like this, the dim, warm light casting him into shadow while simultaneously glinting off all the angles of his armor. Once again, you find yourself astounded by the fact that the two of you made it, that you’re here in Tusken encampment instead of dead out there in the sand somewhere. More and more often these days so you wish you could see Din’s face, but once again, you just can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, fishing around in your pack until he produces a small jar, “but you have to put more of this on your hands and your face before you go to sleep. That’s what the women told me.”

“Do it for me?” you ask, knowing just how childish you sound without caring one bit about it.

Miracle of miracles, you make the Mandalorian laugh. “You just want me to touch you,” he huffs, but he’s taking his gloves off anyway.

Everything is quiet for those first few minutes, Din bending to his work diligently. The salve in the jar isn’t bacta, but it soothes the burning and the itching almost like magic. And maybe it is some kind of Tusken sorcery. You should be covered in blisters and sores after so much time in but Din says your face is merely peeling when you ask how bad it is. You haven’t actually seen yourself yet, but the backs of your hands don’t lie, and anyway, why would he? The fact that you’re not in debilitating pain alone is enough to convince you that this stuff is a miracle cure, and you’d be content to put it on eight times a day for the next month if it means you won’t be disfigured by your sunburn.

“There,” Din declares softly, putting the lid back on the jar, and then the two of you are lying down on the little pallet bed together.

“Are you going to sleep?” you ask him, knowing how Din feels about resting when he’s not on the Crest.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, reaching out across the padding to hold your hand. “But you definitely should. The Tuskens are going to drop us off near the city tomorrow, and I still have to go back and collect the bodies.”

You’d nearly forgotten about that, about the quarries and how Din left their corpses sitting in the cave.

“We get the baby first, though. We said we’d be back days ago.”

You’re not one to make demands, but after all that’s happened, you need to hold the Child in your arms. You know for a fact that he misses Din, and you worry that he feels abandoned by the both of you after all this time apart.

“We get the baby first,” Din affirms, and only then do you feel like you can close your eyes.

---

Everything is hectic after you and Din finally make it back to Mos Espa. Peli wanted to know what happened, the baby wouldn’t stop clinging to either one of you, and then you still had to fly back out on the Crest and pick up the quarries…

All of that took hours, but now you’re finally back in the safety of hyperspace, your little family whole once again. The Child, after hours of holding fast to you and his father has decided that he’s tired now, dozing in his pram contentedly. You think it would be alright to leave him in the hull for a while, clicking the lid of the little bed shut before you climb up to the cockpit. Din, in his usual Din fashion, has been up here since takeoff, no doubt picking at the inner workings of his vambrace or studying one of those maps he loves so much.

You’re surprised to find Din unusually unoccupied when you make it up there, though, the dark T of his visor staring off in the blue streaks of light before him. For a moment, you think he might be sleeping, but that option’s crossed off the list the minute he turns to look at you.

“Everything alright?” you ask softly, coming around the pilot’s chair to sit beside him.

Din hums. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A long moment of silence follows your question, everything so definitively quiet around you. It’s always like this in hyperspace, like the physics of sound don’t apply. You always feel like you need to whisper, half-expecting no noise to come out of your mouth whenever you do decide to talk. After all these months of living on the Crest, it’s the only thing you haven’t gotten used to.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

Din’s words catch you completely off-guard, the sentence striking you across the face as hard as any slap. He’s never spoken to you like that before, never told you not to question him or whatever the fuck he means by that. You don’t—

“I mean—” Din blurts, huffing through the modulator like he’s frustrated. “I mean, just— the way you spoke to me in the desert. The things you said. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, not in front of me or anybody else.”

Everything clicks, but words fail you. All you can do is sit there before Din and stare at him, trying to find the words over and over again.

“When we were out there,” Din begins, filling the void when you cannot, “when you fell down and I picked you up, you told me to leave you, cyare. You wanted me to abandon you. You told me that you didn’t matter.”

“I wanted you to live,” you clarify. “Someone had to go back for the baby, and you’re his father. He needs you—”

“And he needs you too, mesh’la.” Din pauses, voice breaking when he goes to speak again. “I need you. So don’t ever ask me to do something like that again. You’re very important, more important than you know, and I don’t think I could handle hearing you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

You stand up to hug him, suddenly hit with the realization that you’re crying.

“I understand, Din.”

And then you’re holding each other like it’s all you know how to do— holding each other like you’re the only two people in the whole fucking galaxy.

[poptod]

I don’t know if you take requests for Benjamin but could you do a fic between him and a sorceress/sorcerer reader. Maybe they meet in the forest and he watches her/him (maybe it becomes a series)?

notes: ooo that's a good idea! i've never written for him before (or seen twilight) but ill try my best. notes extra: i just finished watching a compilation of rami in twilight and holy shit twilight is so fucking bad its hilarious anyway. didn’t stay all that true to the prompt (sorry) but I hope it’s sufficient nonetheless

+

That's not quite right.

For several weeks now, there's been something off about the scents in the forest. He's not the only one to have noticed the change, but he is the only one suspicious of it, which he assumes is part due to his connection with the earth. It doesn't bother him, their lack of concern – for some reason, he prefers searching on his own. Hours spent alone amongst the tall, dark trees lined with glittering snow, humming to himself, and tracking the changes in the air.

Today is especially quiet. Almost silent. While it's uncharacteristic for the world to fall silent, it's a common sight in this forest, where nothing quite lives anymore. The trees feel more like stone beneath his fingertips than like wood, and the snow at his feet freezes his skin far colder than it should. 

As the strange scent grows stronger the feeling begins to linger in his own steps, tracing the only walkway through the snow in all the forest, marking him as the singular disturber of the peace. His heart pounds as the dread weighs heavier yet in his chest.

It comes to a point where the pressure is overwhelming, pulling down on his shoulders and legs, begging him to kneel in the presence of nothing more than a sun-lit clearing. Nothing grows in the dirt circle, but there has to be something about it; the snow doesn't cover the earth like it does in meters just steps away. He pauses just outside the edge. Here is where the scent is strongest – there is no doubt.

When he raises his hand to where the sunlight streams from above, he finds a hard surface to press his hand against. His brow quirks upward as he presses harder, gauging the invisible material, wondering as to its' origins. It's a sort of magic, though he can't tell the type. Maybe pagan.

Warmth flows through him when he chants reveal in a silent language. A simple command, and the protection spell around the circle is weak enough to fall at the utterance of his spell.

The mirage falls in just a second, dripping down from the sky like a cloak till what remains is a stone tower. Moss and vines creep their way up the cracks and fissures, somehow still a vibrant green in winter, and presumably kept that way by the warm sunshine falling on this particular spot. The scent, though – it's intoxicating. Not quite good, but not unpleasant either. More like a potion mix of lavender and mustard seed. It overpowers all his other senses, begging him to give in further to his curiosity.

Muttering and footsteps sound from behind him, and in a flash he's hidden behind a small cluster of trees, peeking through the bark to see the clearing and tower.

You appear from the dark, and the first thing he notices is the comically large hat on your head. It covers your face entirely in shade, and though most of your other clothes are just as comically too big for you, it's... cute. You look smaller than you already are, and for some reason Benjamin finds himself blushing. The walking stick in your hand rises high above your head, carrying a crystal atop it that reflects the sunlight in a red hue, casted like stained glass on the white snow.

You're mumbling to yourself as you slowly make your way to the tower's entrance. His eyes widen when he notices a trail following you – half-baked spells and enchantments that glitter like dust in the sun's rays, dissipating in the air before they can fall to the ground. It draws his eyes to the book in your hands that's the size of his head, with old tattered pages covered in notes.

There's a druid in the forest.

He decides it's best if he's the only one to know. The others can get far too protective of territory, misunderstanding the modern way of the world all too easily. It takes a little work to make sure they don't wander too close to your hidden tower, or catch onto your scent and rambling spells, and soon he finds himself with a full-time job of protecting you. Oh well – it's something to do, and in the evenings he can watch you beside the river almost fully frozen over with ice.

The scarf wrapped around your neck is a little too big, drooping onto the ground from your shoulders hunched over the ice. Benjamin's beginning curiosity surrounding you has by now grown into a fondness, strange as it may be. You aren't all that good at protection spells or defensive spells, but you can bend life to your will, moving the water and plants without the power of crystals or runes. The trees seem to whisper everywhere you go, leaves and pines breaking off the branches to simply follow you. He can hardly blame them – he's following you too, after all.

Your nose has turned a blushing pink from the cold, a hint that leads him to believe you're human. Blood and all. Maybe that's part of the reason he likes watching you. You're the only creature within fifty miles that still has warm blood, as all the creatures of the forest have long been driven away by the mere presence of Benjamin and his cult.

It's a few weeks in before he notices that you're humming each time you speak. As though put under a curse, each word you mumble goes to a tune, one that haunts his dreams the second he hears it. All that long term exposure to you must be doing something to his brain – something that convinces him he needs to protect you, something that tells him he shouldn't dare speak to you.

He knows that since you're a druid, you're aware of the existence of the supernatural, but that fact brings little comfort to him as his tongue traces his fangs, watching you with hooded, red eyes. Your magic is different from his own, though to the outside eye the two of you are far more similar than he'd deem correct. The definitions of your different magics are a little shaky, but after some thought he decides that yes, you are a druid. Not a witch, or a warlock, or a sorcerer – none of them quite fit the powers that you have. The way the earth bends to your step.

If Benjamin can't find you at the tower there's only one other place you are; the river. It's still half-frozen over, but as of recent you haven't been all that focused on the water. For the most part you're focusing on the earth, melting the snow beneath you in order to reach it.

You're humming again. Watching the ground with focused eyes, holding glowing fingertips above the fertile earth.

"Idir ann is idir as," you sing, and it must be the first time he's clearly heard your voice, as it circles his head like whiskey and sways the trees into a gentle dance.

Whatever language you're singing, it must be a sort of enchantment. Maybe an offering of good wealth to the lifeless forest. All the world seems to hum in harmony with you, creating your own orchestra that swells with every breath you take.

"As an sliogán, Amhrán na farraige..."

"Suaimhneach nó ciúin – Ag cuardú go damanta."

When did he start humming?

How does he know the tune?

Something is in the air. It's like that scent all over again – all he can think of, all he can feel is you and your magic, overpowering the thoughts of ancient trees and godless skies.

"Between the here, between the now," you sing softly, and he could swear he almost had a heartbeat again, just to lose it in your hypnotic song.

Now you're singing in English – a language he can obviously understand – and with his curiosity towards the meaning of the lyrics gone, he can concentrate on the spells falling from your hand. Tiny stars, tiny universes drift down from your fingertips, landing on the earth as a sprout of vibrant green begins to stretch upwards, a small, white bud on the end.

"Neither quiet nor calm... searching for love again."

It doesn't feel like something so heavenly could come from you. Actually, the way your voice echoes in the forest, the way it combines with your magic makes it feel as though it's coming down from the sky like rain, falling on waiting ears and eager eyes.

When did he start singing with you, under his breath?

How does he know the lyrics?

"Between the stones, between the storm Between belief, between the sea I am in tune..."

And then it stops. The swell dissipates and what you're left with is a white flower sprouted in the ground, the center a vibrant purple that fades into the soft petals.

It's the only color the frozen forest has.

He doesn't quite know what he's doing, when he emerges from his hiding spot long after you return to your home. The sun will rise soon and the others expect him back before then, but something pulls him, something forces him to stay as 'something' always does. It's probably your lingering magic – that's what he reasons as he steps closer to your flower, wide eyes observing every detail of the white and purple petals.

Kneeling in the snow, he raises his hand above the flower, shifting the wind to brush against the single leaf and allow the pollen to float into the air. Magic like yours falls from his hand – golden stars, drifting onto the ground where they stay like gemstones. It takes a moment before the earth willingly absorbs them, but the moment it does another flower sprouts and blooms much faster than yours did.

Two of them sit there now, one purple and the other blood red. You'll find it - he knows you will. You come here almost every day.

He walks back home with your song occupying all his thoughts, twisting and tweaking him even hours after. It echoes in his head, over and over and over again, until all he can think of is you.

Neither quiet nor calm

Searching for love again...

[boymeetsweevil]

SS7 - KTH, FANTASY!AU, 3623w

The sun was high in the sky when Taehyung met her for the first time. He was feeling the effects of the heat under his cloak and took some time to squat under the shade of a large, drooping tree.

Losing his chaperone was starting to seem like a bad decision as he rubbed at his growling stomach. He wasn’t certain that he could remember the last time he was hungry for this long. Normally, in the palace, he would have eaten at least a snack by now while the kitchen staff prepared lunch for him and his mother. But with only the palace towers visible against the northern mountains, he knew he wouldn’t get back until at least dinner time. Maybe longer.

He dozed off to fight the hunger pangs briefly only to be woken by the sound rustling. The stories about ferocious wolves he sometimes read from his chaperone's library came flooding back to him. He still wasn’t old enough or far enough in training to carry a sword like the knights at the palace did, so there was no way to defend himself against an attack. Did wolves even like the taste of princes, he wondered with watery eyes.

The rustling grew louder and he began to cry in earnest. He didn’t know much about wolves, but he did know that at some point his chaperone tried to teach him about the wildlife in the kingdom’s terrain. If only he’d listened instead of doodling on the margins of his parchment. Taehyung dropped his head to whisper a silent prayer to the gods like he sometimes heard the maids do over his bed when he got chills in the winter.

If he made it out of this, he promised to study harder, stay with his chaperone, and stop playing tricks on the palace seamstress.

A twig snapped and he screamed a high and childish sound. Then from the bushes emerged not a wolf, but another child.

Instantly he could tell the child was clearly not from any of the allying kingdoms. There was no gold woven into her cloak or lacework on the bodice of her gown, nor were there any pearls or smaller jewels sewn into the hem of her skirts. Instead the girl before him stood with a dirty face and a thin, greying frock with a dusty looking apron tied to her front. It reminded him of something some of the servant girls in the palace might wear. And then he thought of home and how far he was from it.

And then he started to cry again.

“You’ve got some funny clothes,” the girl mumbled almost to herself as she approached. “What you cryin' for?”

Taehyung couldn’t do much else but give a wet cough and keep crying in response.

“M’hungryyy,” he managed between heaving sobs.

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?”

The girl reached out and grabbed at Taehyung’s arm, quickly at first and then softer a second time to marvel at the smooth silk of his sleeve. He would have balked at the sudden intrusion, but the crying made his throat sore and he was still whimpering too much to say anything.

He let the other child pull him down some invisible path, ducking under low hanging branches and pushing through high weeds until they reached a small clearing with a gently babbling brook running through it.

“Water!”

Taehyung chucked himself to the ground and pulled off his leather gloves to cup the cool water in his hands. The girl watched off to the side as he drank until he was no longer feeling like he was being baked alive in his velvet trousers. When he stood, she stared at the dirt clinging to the knees of his pants.

“Wait here,” she said before turning on her heel and disappearing further into the surrounding shrubbery.

Taehyung almost panicked but she returned not a few minutes later with her apron gathered awkwardly in her two hands.

“Why are you holding it like that?”

“I’ve got you something.” The smile she gave him was so large it made her eyes small. She was missing a front tooth, just like him. She must have 7 birthdays as well.

Taehyung found himself trying to peek into the makeshift basket of her apron. 

“No peeking! Sit first, then I’ll show you.”

Taehyung bristled. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m the prin—”

“Are you hungry or not?”

With that, he pursed his lips and mulled over his options before settling back down on the ground. Once he was seated, the girl sat down as well. As soon as she was low enough, Taehyung could see exactly what she was hiding. In her apron lay dozens of wild strawberries, each one glistening like a large ruby in the afternoon sun. He realized then that the material of her apron was darkened with what must be water from the brook that she used to wash the berries first.

“These are my favorite,” he looked back up at her in shock. “How did you know,” he asked sincerely.

“I dunno. I just knew they were there. Sometimes I eat them when I’m out here and we've no bread in the house.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you have any bread?” Taehyung chuckles at the ridiculous thought and scoops up a handful of berries. “Just ask the cook to bake you some.”

“What cook? You mean my Ma?”

“Why on earth would your mother make the bread?”

“Well, who else is gonna make it? She says I’m too young yet to put the loaf the fire by myself.”

Taehyung couldn’t find fault with the girl’s logic when she put it that way, though he also couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of his own mother in the kitchen. The few times she’d tried to go in, the cooks promptly chased her out. He’d have to ask when he got home.

“Oh!" He chirped, cheeks slightly grubby with berries. "Do you know how to get back to the palace?”

“The palace,” the girl asked while chewing on a strawberry of her own. “I don’t think so. I’ve never been there, I thought only adults went to the palace.”

“I live there.”

“No, you don’t! Only the king and his family live at the palace.”

“The king is my father, so of course I live there.”

The girl was silent again. She stared for a long time at Taehyung’s clean, neat brown hair, his un-tattered clothes, his delicate beaded shoes. She still wasn't sure he was telling the truth until she saw his hands.

“Woah! You really are from the palace!”

She reached out for the hand nearest to her but he yanked it back fearfully.

“Just let me see your hand. I want to see something.”

“No!”

Taehyung gulped and brough his hand to his chest. He knew he wasn’t supposed to take his gloves off outside of the palace, but he was so excited to see fresh water and food that he took them off and forgot to put them back on. The girl stood up and let the remaining berries fall to the ground, leaving small blood-red stains on her apron. If he didn’t fend her off, he’d have to deal with the burning and the splotches again.

“I just want to see really quick. I won’t do anything bad.”

“If you touch me, my skin will get sick,” he parroted the dialogue he heard from the town herbalist told him, nearly 3 suns ago.

“Really?”

He was about to explain more but the girl ambushed him by tackling him to the ground. The air in his lungs was knocked out and he could only lay there at first to get his bearings back. With the sleeve of his silk shirt rucked up, the girl grabbed his bare wrist delicately and peered at his hand. The skin of his palm was free of calluses or scars, smooth and soft. His nails were clean with no soot or soil wedged underneath. Just like her Ma had told her. He truly was a prince.

Taehyung yanked his wrist back and clutched it once more, waiting for the pain to start. But as the seconds passed, his skin remained free of the prickly fire that would raise underneath when his mother used to stroke his cheek or the herbalist would check his pulse.

“What are you,” he breathed with wide eyes up her.

“What?”

“I mean, why doesn’t my skin burn?”

“Does it really burn? I thought you were just pretending,” she blinked in surprise.

Taehyung was about to grab at the girl himself this time, but a call rang through the forest.

“Your Majesty! Taehyung, your grace! Are you here?”

The voice of his chaperone, Namjoon, should have been a welcome sound. But now that he was no longer tired, overheated, or hungry, Taehyung didn’t really feel like going home as badly as he had. In fact, he wanted to spend more time with his new friend. Happiness bubbled inside him at the thought. He could finally have a friend to play with now that he was cured. He could finally get rid of his stuffy gloves and hooded cloaks and go on adventures with someone.

“Who’s Taehyung?”

“Me! I’m Taehyung.” He puffed out his chest proudly. “I’m the first in line to the throne. So I’ll be king one day.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Taehyung pointed a chubby finger in the direction of the sound. “That’s my chaperone, Namjoon. Come on, I’ll let you meet him. He’s nice and he knows everything.”

He grabbed at the girl’s hand first this time. He marveled at the simple warmth he felt, a sensation he hadn’t felt for years without a fiery blaze accompanying it soon after. He smiled down at his fingers intertwined with hers.

“Namjoon, I’m here!”

“Don’t move,” Namjoon's disembodied voice called.

The sound of twigs snapping and flora brushing continued for a few more minutes before a young man of 21 came stumbling through. He nearly fell over a distended tree root while making his way over, but as soon as he righted himself he came charging at Taehyung. Realizing that he had sent his chaperone into a rage, Taehyung ran to hide behind his new friend, still clutching her hand.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours, Kim Taehyung. Do you hear me? Hours!”

“I’m sorry!”

“And now I see that you’ve managed to drag some poor child into your mischief as well.” Namjoon peered down his nose at the two children in front of him when he saw Taehyung’s bare hand nestled in the little girl’s hand.

“What are you doing—where are your gloves?”

Namjoon turned to search the forest floor for the handcrafted leather gloves that always traveled with the prince when he left his chambers or received company. He spotted the deep red garments strewn about nearby and dove for them.

“Put these back on,” he hissed before reaching out and yanking the young prince over to his side. Taehyung whined a little but let Namjoon mandhandle him away from his friend.

“How long have you been touching? Do you feel fit to ride on my horse?”

“Namjoon—”

“I’m afraid we’re too far from the palace to prevent the sickness this time, your majesty. You may faint on the ride back.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you need to keep your gloves if you’re going to be free of the sickness?”

Namjoon looked into Taehyung’s face openly, clearly dreading seeing the little prince in pain.

“But I’m cured, Namjoon! We touched hands before—a long time ago—and I didn’t feel a thing. Look!”

Taehyung held out his arm and showed the smooth, clear skin there. Namjoon looked angry still but turned to the little girl.

“Is this true?”

She averted her eyes and curtsied like her mother had shown her to do in front of important people. Judging by this chaperone Namjoon’s clothing, he might be a prince as well.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Huh?” Taehyung looked up at his guardian before letting a giggle spill from between his lips. “He’s not royal, he’s just my chaperone.”

“What’s a chaperone?”

“It’s the person that follows you around when you leave the grounds or when you have to visit another palace’s prince or princess. Don’t you have one?”

Namjoon shushed Taehyung before the small girl could answer. Of course she didn’t have a chaperone, but Taehyung wouldn't have known that.

“Taehyung, your Majesty, we really must be going back to the palace. I fear that the queen may worry herself ill if we do not return soon.”

“And what of my friend?”

Namjoon didn’t have the heart to tell Taehyung that there was no way he could bring a common child back to the palace to play. Nor did he have the heart to explain why in front of the common child herself.

“There...is no room on my horse this time. Perhaps you’ll meet again when you finally make your debut in the village.”

Taehyung’s eyes grew wide at what was supposed to be Namjoon’s reassuring statement. He’d heard from his advisors enough times that he wouldn’t be debuting in the town until his 18th birthday, nearly Namjoon’s age. That would be ages from now, he knew. Which meant that he’d have to endure playing alone and wearing itchy layers and gloves and cloaks for another 11 birthdays.

“But—but I don’t want to leave her,” Taehyung sniffled as Namjoon hefted him up onto his hip. Namjoon ignored the beginning of the tears in favor of looking back down at the girl in front of him.

“Do you know how to get home from here, child?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good.” He reached for a small animal skin pouch tied to his opposite hip and untied its leather drawstrings. The pouched jingled when he passed it to her and weighed heavy in her hands. “Hide this in your apron and don’t take it out until you get inside your home. Understood?”

The small girl chanced a look at Taehyung, whose lip was quivering with the silent dribble of frustrated tears, before nodding.

Namjoon turned and began making his way back to the horse he had tied nearby. Taehyung whipped his head around and dug his little hands into the hood of Namjoon’s deep blue cloak.

“I don’t want to leave, Namjoon.” Taehyung’s voice was watery but rang loud through the trees. “I want to stay with my friend. I’m going to stay with my friend!”

It was an empty promise, but the young girl still locked eyes with him and even gave a little wave as she watched the prince and his chaperone disappear into the tree line.

3 weeks later you woke from your slumber to the grey-blue of early morning. Judging by the sky’s hue, you were certain you should be allowed at least a few more hours of sleep. But, at your mother’s request, you rose from your bed.

You wanted to complain about it not being fair, but you were too sleepy to think up a good complaint. So you let your mother drag a wet rag along your face and hands, and silently marveled when she put you in your good dress. You watched with sleepy eyes as she pocketed the small bag of gold coins you brought home nearly a month ago.

“Where we goin', Ma?” You asked after leaving the baker’s with a warm chunk of fresh bread in one hand and a hunk of cheese your mother bought in the other.

“To the palace,” she replied with furrowed brows. Almost like she couldn't believe it herself.

“Why?”

“The King has asked for all the families with daughters to pay him a visit.”

The King was a mysterious entity to you. You knew that you were supposed to be grateful to him, according to your mother. But you also knew that every year your mother would become frantic and take on as many jobs as she could to pay taxes to that same King. Without a father to help earn money for the household, you were convinced your mother worked harder than anyone in the town. Your hand found a nearby pleat in her long skirt when you were done eating and you walked a bit closer to her.

When you reached the castle, there was a long line. There hadn’t been many people in town earlier in the morning when you left home but you understood why then. Every family with a daughter was lined up before the palace doors. You didn’t even realize there were so many people in the kingdom.

Your mother stood in line while you stepped to the side to get a better view of all the daughters being escorted. Some girls you recognized as girls you played with on days when you finished your chores early. Other girls you’d never seen before. You weren’t sure what you were all there for, but you knew it must have been serious.

Despite the winding line ahead of you, it still wasn't noon when there were only a few families left between you and the palace entrance. Whatever the King wanted you there for, it was quick. Families that were ahead of you entered in, ushered by stern looking guards, and left almost as quickly as they came. Some parents left looking deeply relieved but others looked disgruntled at having to spend so much of the day in line only to be dismissed by the King so quickly.

Your mother stroked your hair gently as you neared the palace gates. It was something she did to calm herself down. Knowing that much, your heartbeat jumped into your throat when the guards finally ushered you in.

The palace’s high stone walls seemed to swallow you up as the daylight left and only torches lit the way down a long passage. The first hall you entered was much brighter than the hallway thanks to the windows lining the walls that looked onto the mountains. Two families ahead of you stood before a group of palace staff and a man in a large, ornate chair. The King, you realized. To his right, in a smaller chair, sat a young boy. He looked familiar and as you moved up in line, you recalled the prince you ran into weeks before. The hand you had bunched in your mother’s skirts tightened when you realized he was telling the truth and you had tackled a real prince.

“Come forward and let his Majesty see the girl,” called one of the guards.

Your mother bowed deeply before the King before pulling you forward and pushing you into a similar bow. The two of you stepped forward with your heads lowered. The same guard stepped forward then and laid a heavy hand between your shoulder blades to bring your closer to the King.

“Father’s name?” The King addressed you, eyes bored and looking through you. You turned back to your mother with nervous eyes.

“Her father fell ill when she was only a few moons old, your Majesty,” your mother called.

“They reside in the Western quadrant, your Majesty. Near the grain fields.” Another guard off to the side read off a long scroll. “The woman does sartorial tasks for coin.”

“I see.” The King then turned to his son beside him. “Taehyung, my boy. Is this she?”

The boy hopped off his perch and approached the place where you stood. Your mother had drawn your cloak's hood up to protect you from the early morning chill, but you kept it up because it felt safer while entering the palace. Taehyung didn’t make any move to pull the hood back, but crouched low enough to peer at you with a discerning look pinching his small features. As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up.

“It’s you! It’s really you!”

“Thank the gods,” the King sighed. “Send the rest back, then. Let us finish this.”

At once the guards not holding you and your mother in place moved from their posts to guide the two families behind you back through the hallway. There was a low murmur running through the adults of the retreating families and some of the lingering court members.

“Do you know how to read?” Taehyung turned to you suddenly as the palace staff began milling around busily.

“N-no. Ma says it costs too much to attend the school for girls in the South.”

“That’s okay. You can come to my lessons with me.”

He reached out a gloved hand and tried to pull you away, but a guard leaned down to let him know that the King still had some words to exchange with you and your mother. You tried to stay quiet while the adults discussed something about you and your mother becoming part of the palace staff and moving into a house behind the palace. At some point your mother cried a little bit, but it didn’t seem like the times when she cried because you had to skip supper multiple days in a row.

Eventually Taehyung managed to get the guards to let you go outside. In a secluded part of the palace gardens he threw off his stuffy extra layers and gloves and took you by the hand with a gigantic grin. You quickly forgot about the heavy mood that radiated off your mother from earlier and made you match her quick breathing. Taehyung scooped up a tiny frog from a pond he led you to and deposited the creature into your hands, palms brushing and bell-like giggles leaving him.

And so it began.

A/N: I really want to continue this, but idk if i will/how so this is being put in the SS collection until further notice.

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

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A/N: it’s summer timeee and this chapter came out longer than i thought it would First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

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[Early Summer]

Your friend Spring was apparently on their way out with Summer on the way in, and with that came more heat and unfortunately, more bugs. It was noticeably getting more crowded in the fields where you would usually gather.

But you had a plan! The plan being that you’d just wait until later in the day to get your food. It was slightly less crowded later in the day so you might as well save yourself some trouble.

So after spending the majority of your day doing what you pleased, you’d go later in the day to get nectar and usually not a moment later after returning home, Bruno would show up. But then one day he doesn’t, which is fair. He could be busy. But then one day turns into three. Then soon a whole week passes.

It wasn’t a long time, but it wasn’t what you were used to. You wanted to confide in Abby but you were worried that it might give them reason to think negatively about Bruno. So at this point, you can't help the negative thoughts swarming your mind.

Did I do something wrong?….Did he get tired of me?

You didn’t want to spend the whole day like this so going to where you both first met seemed like the best option. Unfortunately, there was a good possibility that he wouldn’t be there. 

Well even if he doesn’t show, you were out of Datura nectar and you really wanted--no-- needed some, so at least it wouldn’t be all for nothing. You reason that you could feel your way back home too. It had been awhile since you had been to that area but you felt like you still remembered the path back. 

The worst thing that could happen is Bruno being upset with me...

So you purposely wait at home until the late evening to leave. 

Flying there doesn’t take too long, and soon your feet land on one of the leaves of the many flowers in the area. All the Daturas’ petals were still shut so you have to wait. 

Standing around, you realize the grass has gotten much taller and much more easy to get lost in. Your head droops slightly as you stare at the dirt paths being overtaken by the grass a distance below you. You could already see the predicament future you would be in if you decided to stay.

“I swear you’re the only butterfly that would willingly travel in the dark.”

Your body jumps, almost sending you off the edge of the leaf. 

You turn towards the familiar voice wide-eyed. “Y-You scared me!” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

While steadying yourself, you almost miss the slight look of worry the moth is giving you. “I’m okay...Uh, it’s been awhile?” 

Bruno nods. “It has. I had to deal with an emergency so that’s why I couldn’t visit you. My son got sick.”

“You have a kid!?” You cover your mouth “Ah, sorry! Is he okay?”

“Yes. It got pretty bad at one point, but he’s back on his feet now. 

“That's good…”

You stare at the Daturas in the distance. You wonder how long they'll stick around.

The silence feels awkward but you didn't know what to say next, but luckily Bruno speaks first.

“I'm sorry, for disappearing without a word.”

You tilt your head, confused on why he was apologizing. “You shouldn't apologize. Your child comes first, you know?”

“But you were worried though and I caused that.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was clearly on your face--you were struggling to look at me a moment ago,” Bruno points out.

“Yea...Okay, I was worried but it's not something you should feel guilty about either!” You frown, trying to get things past this moth was too hard. 

Not being able to control your anxieties has finally worn you down so you sit down on the leaf. The urge to climb into any flowers was gone for the moment.

Bruno watches you before walking closer and sitting next to you.  

“Soooo , how come you never mentioned having a kid?”

“There wasn’t really a reason to.”

Maybe that was a valid answer, but it was kind of weird . Most bugs were ready to mention they have children at any given moment, but it’s not like Bruno was keeping some terrible secret from you so you shrug it off.

“How old is he?”

“Narancia--he turned 3 recently.”

You trace the irregular lines on the leaf with your finger. “That’s a cute name. You and your m-mate must be really happy.”

“Actually, I’m the only one taking care of him.”

You backtrack immediately. "OH! W-Well now I want to visit your home even more now." 

That came out way too rushed and you meant it jokingly, but it didn't mean you hadn’t considered it before.

“I wouldn't mind that. We just need to plan accordingly.”

You didn't expect him to agree so quickly so it shows on your face before you can prevent it.

“What?” Bruno asked.

“Nothing--Maybe it would be better to go at night so it won’t disturb your sleep?”

“No, it’s fine. The day would actually be best and it’s safer.”

The two of you continue to sit together like that, talking until the moon is fully out. 

You lean back on your hands as you stare at the freckled night sky. “I never really get to look at the stars much so this is kind of nice.” 

“There’s a lot of them out tonight. Slightly more than usual,” Bruno says.

You enjoy the view a little longer before standing up. You smile a bit bashfully at Bruno.

“Can you help me back home please?”

“Of course, you don’t even need to ask. Do you want to fly back?”

“Lets just walk...” This was a good way to spend extra time with your friend. You weren’t exactly sure how you would manage to fly back anyways.

It took twice as much time to get back home by walking, but Bruno didn’t seem bothered at all as he held your hand and guided you through the overgrown foliage in the path you'd taken before with him.

All that happened had cleared a good amount of your worries, but some of the original doubt you had before not seeing the moth for a week still sat within you. So when you both reach your home you thank Bruno for his help, but before he can leave you ask him a question. 

“I know this is dumb, but do you enjoy my company?”

“Yes.” The answer comes with no hesitation and Bruno’s glowing eyes stare intently at you. His head tilts slightly. “Do I not seem like it?”

“Oh no! I just needed to make sure…”

“You seem to overthink a lot.”

There was no denying that so you look off to the side unsure what to say.

“Trust me when I say that I do like you, and if I don't like something I'll make sure to tell you.”

Your brows raise at the somewhat intense declaration but it did help reassure you so you nod.

Once you say your goodbyes and Bruno departs, you go back inside. And as you get ready for bed you realize that you forgot about the Datura nectar.

----

“Are you ready for this?”

Bruno gives you the most skeptical look you’ve seen from him. There’s also a pinch of exhaustion on his face. It’s so well hidden, if you hadn’t spent so much time with him you wouldn’t have noticed. 

“I really don’t think it's hot enough for this.”

“What do you mean? It's super hot!

“Not really. Your heat tolerance must not be very high.” 

“I don’t know about that, but it’s whatever. Whatever happens, happens,” you laugh a bit. 

“Do you have the proper tools?”

“I do! I managed to get a whole oven, it's on the lower quality side though.”

So I'm really hoping I’m not overestimating the weather today.

“Anyways it’s outside in the back!”

You move excitedly ahead of Bruno as you walk-jog outside to the back of your home.

You stop in front of your oven and wait for Bruno to catch up.

“I don't know how it exactly works but the bug I got it from showed me how to use it. All you have to do is turn this knob.”

You shield your eyes from the sun shining from the center of the sky and reach for the nob. Your hand stops when you realize you don’t remember where you were supposed to actually turn it. Barely a second passes before you decide to make an educated guess. As long as it was hot enough it shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Probably.

“Thanks for coming over in the middle of the day by the way. Did you find someone to watch Narancia?”

“Yes. He wanted to come but I didn’t want to risk it with him just getting over his sickness. On top of that, carrying him all the way over here would be annoyi--difficult. Staying still can be a struggle for him.”

Between his slip up and the image of a cute squirmy little moth in Bruno’s arms, you can’t help smiling. “I guess I’ll just have to take the cooking to your home then.”

You wonder how much the little moth took after his father.

“Let's go back inside. We actually gotta mix the stuff together now.”

After you both enter the kitchen, you start pulling out the ingredients, which you should have definitely done earlier. 

“What are we making exactly?” Bruno asks, watching you flit back and forth.

“A simple pound cake. We can use whatever nectar in it too. So it’s gonna be a Datura one!”

“You are obsessed with that flower…”

You grin, “And you help nurture the obsession.”

“Like you wouldn't run to get it yourself if I stopped giving it to you.”

“Sounds like a tough spot pal.”

You almost laugh at the look the moth gives you.

Bruno assists you in the kitchen, your personal sous-chef , while you follow the recipe to make the cake. Once the batter is in the baking pan, you go out and put it in the preheated oven.

You make sure to grab the small hourglass you had gotten along with the oven and flip it over. After placing it on the low table in front of your daybed, you relax back into the bed’s comfortable cotton. 

“You know, it would be better if the oven was inside.”

“I think that’s something they're working on actually.” 

You rest your head onto the arm of the daybed. “By the way, what do you do at lakes? You said you liked to visit them but I forgot to ask about that.”

“I just like to look out at them. It doesn’t have to be a lake though. A pond or beach works too.”

There’s a beach around here?!

“A-Aren't you worried about being attacked?” There were all sorts of dangerous things near water. Especially ponds! You shudder remembering an encounter you had with a frog. You just wanted to get a closer look at the tadpoles...

“We could be attacked in most places though, and I’m not exactly playing in the water.”

“Hmm, I think you’re just too friendly with danger!”

“Guess that makes two of us.”

You couldn't exactly argue with that. “I'm not as bad as you though.”

“Sure.”

“I'm not…” You stare at Bruno, legs crossed and looking effortly graceful as usual. He probably had no issue avoiding predators but all it took is one mistake

“Are you sure it’s okay?” You didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

“I promise it really isn't dangerous. I’ll show you one day, if you'd like,” Bruno smiles reassuringly.

Your heart may have skipped a beat. “That--that actually sounds kinda nice.”

You and Bruno stay in the living space while waiting for the cake to finish baking. You do little talking before you encourage Bruno to fall asleep. Then you spend the rest of the time quietly keeping yourself busy around the house, making sure to keep an eye on the hourglass. When the top of it is finally empty, you go to wake up Bruno and are surprised when he starts moving before you even touch him.

“Did you actually sleep?”

“Somewhat. I’m a light sleeper.”

He did look a little more alert. “Well let's go get the cake!”

You run outside excited to see the result. You're already pulling it out once Bruno strolls outside. You then place it on top of the oven, but it seemed... off .

Bruno takes one look at it. “It doesn't look like it cooked properly.”

The cake didn't rise much at all, but the top looked burnt.

“I know. Darn…” you whine. You were sure it was hot enough! “Maybe it doesn't taste bad?”

You look at Bruno and his face says it all. 

“Fine, I’ll taste it myself then,” you sigh.

You run to go get a fork so you can grab a piece of the top and realize that the middle still seems raw. But It couldn't be that bad! However, the moment you put the food in your mouth, you regret it. The taste of burnt cake and soggy texture overrode anything else about it, but you force yourself to swallow nonetheless. 

You shudder and pout. What a waste.

“Guess you were right about it being hot,” Bruno says.

“Bruno!” You glare at him but he simply raises a brow and you’re sure you see a hint of a smirk! 

You groan, “Did I do something wrong...It definitely can’t be the oven though.” The ant you got it from prided themselves on their creations and reliability. 

You get so caught up in your thoughts, that you don’t realize that Bruno’s trying to get your attention until he lightly touches your shoulder.

“Huh?”

“I said there's always next time. Let's try again later into the season, okay?”

You couldn't stay mad at him, you weren't exactly mad in the first place. “You don't mind being awake again?”

“I’ll make sure to get enough sleep beforehand.”

“Still we should do some type of cooking at night to make up for it. It wouldn't really be cooking though.”

“What about ice cream?”

You perk up at that. “Ice cream in winter? Narancia has to be there for that for sure!”

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 5 - Up in Smoke

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2094

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents

Notes: Hey an entire chapter from the POV of the Monkey King himself! Enjoy! But also fair warning, this chapter contains more fire and injury, so if those things bother you, read with caution. Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Sun Wukong looks at the fire demon on his figurative doorstep, mildly perturbed at the intrusion to his home. He knew of Red Son from what MK had told him, but other than some eavesdropping on the Demon Bull King family, he knows very little about him. But what he did know is that he is sure that he could beat someone like him on any normal day. Red Son is strong, but he’s unpolished and potentially a bit unstable. He wouldn't usually be the type to pose a threat.

But there is something odd about that blue fire wreathed around his hands. Wukong is pretty sure that Red Son had red flames. And despite his confidence in himself and in his student, there is something off about how MK is acting.  Perhaps this isn't the time to challenge his student with the whole hero thing right now.  MK has this fearful look in his eyes and it puts Wukong on guard. Maybe there is something more to DBK's son than he had anticipated.

Still, he puts on an easy face and relaxes his posture, and tells MK, "It's cool, kid. No need to worry about me. I can handle this. You can go home. We'll train some other time."

His smile falters ever so slightly when MK instead takes a step towards him. "But Monkey King, that's what he wants! You didn't hear - he wants to beat you and bring you to DBK!"

Wukong barks out a laugh. "Ha! He can certainly try!" He makes a shoo motion with a hand. "Now go along, I got this," he says with a wink.

"HEY!" Red Son yells. "You fools underestimate my new power!" Red Son flings a fireball at Wukong who easily dodges out of the way. The smile never leaves Wukong’s features and the scowl never leaves Red Son’s as he continues to dodge several blasts of fire from the demon.

Frustrated that the smaller blasts aren’t working, Red Son whips up a giant fireball and flings it at Wukong. The Monkey King makes a practiced movement with his arms right before the wall of fire hits. The blaze expands over the Monkey King.

MK looks on in horror and yells “Monkey King!” He leaps towards Red Son swinging his staff. Red Son jumps back, dodging the strike, and cackles. But his laugh is slowly drowned out by a more booming series of laughs coming from the flames.

The flames part like a curtain and Wukong steps out with a slight glow surrounding him. “You didn’t think I had flame wards up my sleeve?”

Red Son makes a frustrated grunt at the display, but then smirks once again. “I might not have been able to set you on fire, but too bad for your little home here. He gestures at some of the surrounding bushes that are still lit with blue flames.

“Oh that?” Wukong shrugs. I can take care of that. He sweeps his arm over the area causing a gust of wind to sweep sand and dirt over the bushes. For a moment, the fire seems to flicker and spit, but then immediately blazes brighter, almost angrily. “Huh.” Wukong’s shoulders droop and along with his expression. “That’s… odd.” He looks back at a chuckling Red Son.

“You’ll find that my fire isn’t so easily extinguished.” He summons flames to his hands as his hair flickers with equally blue flames, one eye seemingly sparking with fire, and he turns menacingly to MK who is still beside him. “And even though you may have some protection against fire, he doesn’t.” He pulls back a hand and twists around to deliver a flaming punch at MK.

Wukong’s eyes widen as he sees his student get attacked by the strange fire.

MK instinctively brings up his staff to block the strike, but his footing is not proper and he gets pushed back. He stumbles over some debris on the ground and in his efforts to keep his footing, he is unable to defend the next blow that comes toward him. He lets out a small squeak and flinches, squeezing his eyes shut. But the blow doesn’t come. Wukong won’t allow that.

Wukong flies in between the two and manages to force Red Son away from his student, the fire in his fist only just glancing off of Wukong’s shoulder. Red Son is taken off guard from the interference, but maintains a fighting stance and turns his concentration onto the Monkey King. His eye glides to his shoulder and he smirks. “Not so fireproof after all, huh, Monkey King?” Wukong raises his eyebrows and looks to where Red Son is looking. His upper sleeve is on fire.

The Monkey King makes an extremely dignified yelp, and rushes comically over to the waterfall and shoves his arm in the water. However, the water only seems to add a pathway for the fire to spread, as if it were covered in oil, and his entire sleeve starts to catch fire. Wukong rapidly takes the sleeve from his shoulder and rips it off of his arm, throwing the still-flaming piece of garment to the ground. He checks his fur and it is thankfully not on fire. He gives a rueful look back to Red Son and huffs out an angry puff of air.

“Kid,” he says sternly this time, to MK. “You really should go home.”

MK looks nervously back at his mentor, and thankfully, this time takes a small, hesitant step backwards. “But…” he starts.

Wukong can’t keep an upset face for long. “Don’t worry,” he repeats, a relaxed smile spreading back on his face. “I got this.”

In the span of time that it takes Red Son and MK to even blink, Wukong has disappeared from his spot by the waterfall and closed the distance between him and them, appearing just before Red Son, delivering a kick to his stomach that flings him across the cove. From the dust and dirt that was kicked up by the action, comes coughing and hacking from the fire demon, as he holds his stomach and struggles uselessly to get up.

Wukong turns back to MK and smiles again, just as easy as anything. “See?”

MK gives a tentative smile and a nod and begins to take leave of the area.

“No!” comes a determined growl from the now settling dust. Red Son pushes himself onto his elbows, and looks up at them hatefully. “I will NOT be ignored! I will NOT be underestimated! Not again!” Smoke starts billowing from his mouth and nostrils as he talks. He huffs out some more smoke and his expression shifts into a wicked smile. “And I know now, what it takes to cook a monkey.” He starts to laugh and with each chuckle more smoke covers the area, blocking Wukong’s view from his surroundings, from Red Son, from the kid!

Wukong turns to the last direction he saw MK, calling his name. He activates his true sight, everything turning gold and clear as can be, the smoke becoming a transparent mist to his eyes. He spots the kid swiping at the smoke ineffectively, eyes screwed shut. But he’s at the outer edges of the smoke. “Kid! Just keep walking backwards! You’re nearly to the exit! Just keep running in that direction!” he calls.

The boy coughs as he tries to call for him, “Monkey King?!” But thankfully he starts stepping backwards at Wukong’s command.

Good now, all he has to do is deal with-- Red Son is suddenly directly in front of him. Wukong reflexively starts to form a fire repellant ward, but it’s not fire that comes his way, but smoke and soot. Red Son breathes a puff of air that blows darkness into Wukong’s eyes.

The Monkey King yells in surprise and pain, as he brings his hands to his eyes and tries to swipe away the foreign substance. It stings, and no matter what he does he can’t seem to remove the smoke fast enough. Despite the tiny needles of pain digging into his vision he frantically tries to look back to his student. His true sight allows him to finally see that MK has gotten out of the smoke and is continuing to back away anxiously, but it does nothing to stop the pain. Nor does it prevent the fact that Red Son is charging right towards MK, blue flames swirling in his wake.

Wukong doesn’t stop, doesn’t think, he moves.

He is directly in front of MK. He’s put himself between his student and the charging Red Son. MK looks at him in surprise and fear and worry. Wukong can feel heat lapping at his feet, and MK’s eyes widen and become watery. Wukong can see blue light reflected in them. But he smiles at the kid. His kid. And he speaks the next words cheerfully, smiling, easy as anything, “Be safe out there, okay, kid?” He can’t keep the tears, most definitely from the smoke, and not the proud feeling swelling in his chest, from dripping out of his eyes.

MK is about to say something, but his voice and breath are knocked out of him, as Wukong makes some practiced movements with his arms, and presses his hands to the kid’s chest. There’s a golden tone that rings in the air before MK is launched out of sight, out of danger, and back home. Just as he sees MK disappear over the horizon, blue flames wreathe around his entire body, and suddenly his whole world is fire.

Air leaves his lungs, leaving him no room to scream and all he can simply do, is cling. He clutches at his own body tightly, which does nothing more than to allow the fire to envelop him further, spreading up his shaking arms, singeing his fur, keeping him in an unyielding grip of pain. It hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced. He thinks so, at least. It’s hard to tell, as the pain has pushed all semblance of thought or memory from his brain. Everything is white hot agony.

He is suddenly aware that he is on the ground. He immediately starts trying to roll around in the dirt, frantically trying to put out the flames. However, all this does is prevent the fire from going anywhere else except for clutching him tighter. The fire, like daggers, stab into his body, having nowhere else to go, nothing else to catch onto.

As suddenly as the fire came it stopped. He is left on the ground, panting and shaking. His throat burns, but he’s not sure if it is from actual burns or if he managed to get air to his lungs and spent his time on the ground screaming. He is vaguely aware of a voice talking above him, so he moves his head the few inches that he is able to see Red Son.

“...can’t have you dying on me right now, I need to deliver you alive to my father.”

Wukong grits his teeth and digs his fingers into the dirt. Like he’d allow himself to be taken that easily. But right as he moves to try to push himself up, pain blooms on his left side, and he lets out a strangled gasp of pain, dropping back down. He tries to clasp his side, but upon touching the spot, his hand gets enveloped by the pain. He looks down to see that his side is burning with blue fire, and that his hand has caught the flames.

“Uh-uh-uh!” Red Son tuts. “Can’t have you regaining your strength and getting up. That should be enough fire to immobilize you. After all, the more you move, the more it could spread.”

Wukong gives a feral snarl at Red Son, who merely smiles coolly back at him. The smile on Red Son’s face becomes blurry, and at first Wukong thinks that the smoke has gotten in his eyes again, but, no, it’s just that he’s about to pass out. He is somewhat aware that he is being picked up and carried away, with blue flames propelling both him and Red Son away, supposedly back to DBK. But his brain is losing its ability to keep his thoughts straight again. The pain in his side won’t go away. He can’t move or it will spread. DBK likely will want to have his revenge. But at least MK is safe. At least he is safe. And it’s that small comforting thought that he maintains as he loses his battle with unconsciousness.

start || <– previous // next –>

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

for the one word prompt— butterflies

Title: through murky waters and twisted paths

Summary: Only fools with a death wish enter the Forgotten Forest. Everyone knows trickster spirits lived there that would love nothing more than to make a quick meal or gain amusement out of a human. Virgil knows all the stories–he’s told them to the village children himself. None of that matters to him any longer.

Pairings: platonic intruxiety

Word-Count: 1.5k

Warnings: G/T, morally grey Remus, fantasy racism, body horror, ostracization, self-hatred & deprecation, suicidal ideations, hunger, death mention, blood mention, non-graphic references to violence, angst with a happy ending

hi I spent way more research on this fic than intended. I also forgot about this for like two months, opps. pls enjoy :)

-

As the sun sinks low into its’ grave Virgil ventures deeper into the Forgotten Forest, where the trees grow as tall as giants and the moss grows thick. Spirits live in the forest. Trickster spirits, ones that view humans as nothing more than amusement or an easy meal. He’s heard all the stories, he’s told them to the village children himself. None of that matters now.

(First came the cravings. He devoured everything in sight–his stomach never satisfied. At night he’d clutch his stomach as it growled. Always growling, wanting more, more, more)

With each step, he fights against the fear building with each heartbeat. It is quiet in the woods. Too quiet. Where are the bustling of the squirrels and chirping of the birds? Have they been eaten? Will that be his fate as well? As if to answer him, the earth trembles beneath his feet. Virgil stumbles, grasping a tree trunk for support. A choked cry escapes his lips.

(Then, as quickly as the cravings came, they stopped. He had little time to ponder this as exhaustion seeped into his bones. Sleep, he needed sleep. He pulled a blanket over his head, enclosing himself into a husk of darkness.)

“Whoa! You okay, little fella?”

Virgil’s breath seizes. The voice. It’s big and booming like thunder during a fierce storm. Quivering, he tilts his head up, up, up to a figure as tall as the trees themselves. A figure with pale-green skin and dressed in earthy colors. A crown of leaves rests atop their head. A spirit–a giant to be exact.

Virgil tries screaming. All that comes out is a pitiful squeaky click of his teeth.

(He awoke thrashing, constrained in an impossibly tight space. His first immediate thought was that he’d been buried alive. He needed to break out of the coffin. Out, out, out! He scratched and clawed to no avail. Fluid oozed out of him–blood? It had to be blood.)

“Whoa! Aggressive, I like it! Hiya, my name’s Remus, what’s yours?” The giant crouches down, his movements shaking the forest floor. Virgil barely manages to keep a hold on the tree trunk.

“V-virgil.” He tells the giant. He really shouldn’t give his name away just like that. Everybody knows you don’t give spirits that type of power. But he can hardly bring himself to care. 

“Virgil? Ooh what a juicy name,” Remus smacks his lips, “You know I could totally squash you with one finger!”

“Do it.”

“What?” The giant blinks, mouth agape. 

“Did I stutter?” Virgil asks, jaw clenching, “Do it–kill me, put me out my misery. I’m a monstrosity–I shouldn’t exist anyways.”

(His coffin cracked open. Except dirt didn’t come pouring in–sunlight did. He clung to the edge of it and froze. Something was wrong. His breathing–he couldn’t breathe! At least not in the way he was most intimately familiar with. Oxygen seeped through passageways. Not his nose or mouth but elsewhere. He looked down at not one, but two pairs of hands. He screamed. His skin no longer a pale complexion but an unnatural shade of purple. A pair of hands frantically clutched his face. He felt two normal ears, two normal eyes and two long strands of…hair?)

The giant’s grin vanishes as anger seeps onto his very large face. Virgil shudders, his instincts urging him to flee. He can feel air rushing behind him, his feet leaving the forest ground. Nothing happens because the giant snatches him up faster than he can blink. 

(It wasn’t hair. It twitched out of its own volition, smelling his very sweaty palms. With a shriek, he leapt backwards as the spot between his shoulder blades burned. Two brightly-colored appendages flare out from the corner of his eye–surely something horrid like another set of arms. He kept scrambling backwards, as if he could run away from himself. He never stood a chance against that rock. His foot caught the edge of it and Virgil went tumbling down.)

“Hey! Who says you shouldn’t exist?” Remus demands, lips curling backwards to reveal sharp teeth. He holds Virgil in a grip much looser than he expects. It still doesn’t stop Virgil’s heart rate from accelerating.

“I–I do.”

 “Well, I’ll mash up their insides and feed it to the–wait, you do?” Remus blinks, “why?” 

(He woke up to voices. Angry voices. Voices that once familiar and warm now bent with vitriol and disgust. Voices of people he’d called friends and neighbors. Voices of people that called him a demon and a monster. Voices that welcomed him in, gave him food and a honest living. Voices that drove him out, casting charms and wards against him.)

“Just–just look at me!” Virgil says, swallowing nervously, “I’m a demon, I’ll–I’ll possess your soul if you don’t kill me.”

“A demon?” Remus asks, before bellowing with laughter, “I’ve seen plenty of demons before. Best friends with one, lemme tell ya. I know them when I see ‘em and you ain’t a demon.”

“Then…what do you think I am?” 

(He found himself on the edge of the Forgotten Woods. Forgotten because it was so ancient. Forgotten because it was best to forget about it. Long before he was born, spirits took hold of the forest. Killing or thralling any humans who dared enter their domain. But he wasn’t quite human now, was he?)

Remus doesn’t directly answer Virgil. He summons something with his other hand. An oval-shaped object, with wooden trim and vines growing around it. A mirror. One that looms enormous over Virgil, but scaled to the giant is a hand-mirror. Remus’ grip on Virgil releases, causing him to fall back onto the giant’s  palm. Virgil’s teeth click again as he stands on shaky legs. His eyes trail upwards, into the face of his reflection.

(Black horns. Glowing eyes. A long forked tongue. These were the details he could make out in the murky puddle he came across)

Black antennas poking out of plum-colored locks. Watery, lilac-tinged spotted eyes. A thin long curled tongue between fangs. Violet skin smooth and hardened. Four arms entangle together in a tight embrace. His shoulder blades twinges as slightly crumpled wings emerge from behind his back. Dark velvet wings reminiscent of butterflies.

“See!” Remus asks, almost bouncing in place, “You’re a bruise-colored nightmare of a changeling! Why shouldn’t you exist?”

“Changeling?” 

“Yeah changeling–” Remus’ eyes widen, “Ooohhh. You didn’t know, did ya? What was it like? The hunger, I mean? What weird shit did you eat to satiate it? Or the chrysalis! Did you retain any memory inside of it while you turned into a gooey liquid? I bet it was cool–”

“I can’t be a changeling,” Virgil interrupts, a hand gripping at his hair, “I wasn’t super smart, or–or sickly. I was–”

“–a child,” Remus says, his voice suddenly calm and serious, “just a child no different than a human’s young no matter what those hypocritical bastards believe.”

(A few months ago he stood in the middle of the village, Mable’s and Urtha’s children swarming him. ‘Please Virgil,’ they chanted, ‘one more story! One more story!’ ‘Alright,’ he said laughing, ‘alright but just one more okay? I got work to do.

‘One day a mother checked on her child’s crib and cried out in anguish. For her child sported a beard and had long thin teeth. Sharp and spindly, good at tearing through flesh. The child’s grey eyes held a spark too wise. Its head was too small, disproportionate from its body. For it was not her child in the crib. It was a changeling.’)

“I don’t want this, please.” Virgil begs, slumping his head downwards.

The giant’s eyes, more than twice the size of him, regard him. With a flick, the mirror disappears. He reaches out with his other hand. Virgil tenses, waiting for the spirit to crush him. A single finger raises his chin up gently.

“I won’t kill you,” Remus says and with it Virgil’s heart plummets, “I mean, killing is fun. But this wouldn’t be fun for me or you, I promise. Ya know what’d be fun?”

“What?” Virgil asks. He wonders if he’s about to become Remus’ servant. Or worse, a plaything. Something for the giant to screw around with until he played too rough. There’s nothing Virgil could do to stop him. He’s too small to fight back even if he wanted to. 

“If we became friends.”

“Friends? What? Why?!”

“Why not?” The giant grins crookedly, “does there have to be a reason?”

“…I guess not.”

“Sooo?”

“Okay, fine, it’s whatever.” Virgil concedes, body drooping with exhaustion. He hasn’t eaten since he woke up changed and disoriented. He yelps, a jolt of adrenaline pumping through his veins as the giant presses him against his chest in a hug of some sort.

“Great! You won’t regret this!” 

“I think I do.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remus cheers, oddly unfazed as he still holds Virgil close to his chest, “now woulda like to meet my demon friend? Half his face is a snake!”

“Sure,” Virgil yawns. He can’t help it–Remus is warm and for the moment, doesn’t seem interested in maiming him. He falls asleep to the rhythmic stomps of Remus as he traverses through the woods, rambling all the way.

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 7 - Lunch Date With My Victim 7.1. Eden's Errand Boy

It was awfully quiet. Haru and the boys looked each other straight in the eye but no one said a single word. The wind was gently blowing, mixing the fragrance of the thousand blossoms into the air, gently caressing the animals’ noses. Finally, Haru broke the silence…

‘I don’t usually have visitors in the Gardening Club, so this is really a pleasant surprise’ she said.

The other two were still speechless, sunken deep in thought. Haru was pacing them with her eyes, waiting for them to say anything.

‘My word, they are helpless’ she thought. ‘I wonder what they might be thinking.’

Both boys were uncomfortable with the situation. Legoshi could feel his stomach shake. He just wanted to leave this mess, never to come back.

‘It’s the girl from that night! I didn’t think she’d be so small… I must leave… now!’ he thought. ‘But what excuse do I make…? Stomachache or perhaps emergency bathroom break? How about »I just remembered, I’ve got some errands to take care of!«? Yeah… I think that might work.’

‘Oh, umm… I…’ Legoshi tried to say but Kibi was faster.

‘Oh, I just remembered some errands I have to take care of!”

Legoshi was devastated. Just when he came up with the perfect excuse, it was used against him to leave him in the stickiest of situations. He sent a shocked and angry look towards Kibi. If looks could kill, Kibi would’ve died right then and there. Legoshi crouched down to him.

‘Wait, why are you leaving?’ he whispered.

‘Sorry, I’ll buy you an ant shake, but please don’t try to stop me’ Kibi replied. ‘I’ll leave the rest to you – I owe you one.’ And with that, he said his goodbyes to Haru and left through the rusty green door.

As Haru watched them fight, she thought of two possible reasons, why the other two acted like this. One, they were seriously afraid of girls. Two, this was some sort of act on their sides – perhaps a prank of the Drama Club.

‘I thought you came here to get some flowers for the New Student Welcome Event’ she said, momentarily breaking the tension. ‘Am I wrong?’

‘No, of course not!’ Kibi replied to her. ‘We’re gonna need your flowers… It’s just that I really need to take care of some errands. This friendly wolf knows everything you need to know’ he said with a forced smile from the other side of the entrance. Legoshi sent some devastating glares towards him. He tried his best to make Kibi stay, but all was in vain.

‘Look, I’m really sorry about this’ Kibi said. ‘You need to do this for the Drama Club, okay?’

He could finally gather enough strength and slammed the door on Legoshi, almost jamming his fingers in the process.

There was at least a good half minute of awkward silence before anyone said anything.

‘We’re alone’ Legoshi thought.

‘Well, your friend’s gone’ Haru said, while dusting off her uniform. There was some mud on it from watering the flowerbeds at the back of the club previously. ‘It’s always the bad rumors that spread the fastest. I probably scared him off.’ Haru sighed.

Legoshi was still afraid to say a word.

‘Well, all boys are scared of girls in some respect, so it doesn’t really bother me’ Haru said while putting her hands on her waist. ‘Are you different?’ she asked Legoshi with a soft smile on her face.

‘No… not really’ Legoshi responded – his ears drooped.

‘This can’t be happening right now’ he thought. ‘I literally tried to eat you! Of course I’m scared of talking to you! I don’t have the right to talk to you!’

‘Every club gets busy every year, trying to do something big for the event. What club are you in?’ Haru asked, trying to finally break the ice.

‘The Drama Club…’ Legoshi answered. He really just wanted to get this over with. ‘I’m a stagehand and I really need flowers to decorate the assembly hall.’

He handed Dom’s plans to Haru about the decoration. She inspected them thoroughly.

‘I see. So you want to decorate with roses, huh? Well, you shouldn’t decorate the entire hall with pure red roses. They are very poisonous.’

‘Oh, I see…’

‘I’ve got many other roses of many different colors. I’ll show them to you.’

‘Thank you.’

Haru took the lead from then on and they walked to a huge flowerbed, covered densely in roses of all colors. The rabbit girl was not kidding; every color of the rainbow was there, proudly blooming in the golden rays of sunshine, emitting their incredible fragrance in the air for everyone to smell. It was a sight to behold and a scent to enjoy. But Legoshi still couldn’t escape his thoughts.

‘Her head is so far away from mine. I bet she sees the world in a much different way than I do. This may be the first time I’ve ever talked to a small animal.’

‘See, here they are’ Haru said. ‘You can take as many as you want… On one condition.’

‘What condition?’ Legoshi asked nervously. ‘Damn, I can’t look her in the eye!’ he thought.

‘Well, these plants are like my children and I won’t give them away for free. Could you take those plants over to that other flowerbed? I’ll be perfectly honest, I really care about these children, but a girl can only do so much by herself’ she said while pointing towards a dozen of potted plants.

Legoshi sent a kind of confused look towards Haru, but he still agreed to help.

‘It’s settled then’ Haru said, while grabbing Legoshi’s tail. She squeezed it under his suspenders. The situation was definitely shocking for the shy wolf.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I can’t just have you break my plants with this big monster tail of yours. Don’t worry, I won’t chop it off’ Haru giggled.

‘She... touched me…’ Legoshi thought.

Legoshi had never seen a small animal touch a large-breed carnivore before, but to experience it himself was something he would’ve never even imagined in his life. After all was settled, Legoshi picked up one of the pots Haru instructed him to and carried it to its new place: next to the club’s fence.

‘I’m a third year student by the way’ Haru said. ‘Which year are you in?’

‘I’m a second year.’

There were quite many of the pots Legoshi had to carry but it was not a task he couldn’t manage. He actually began to enjoy himself and started to become more open towards Haru.

‘Are there any other members in this club?’ he asked.

‘You don’t have to be so formal. There were two older students before but they graduated four years ago. No one joined ever since.’

Legoshi was surprised and amazed. ‘Wow! She’s been taking care of all these plants for four years all by herself? What’s this if not dedication?’

After putting the last pot at the designated area, he picked up a notepad he found nearby. On it, he found a calendar, on which besides the weather, there was a detailed list of the days’ achievements, and how the plants were progressing.

‘It must be rough to do all this work alone’ Legoshi said.

‘Well, it’s not easy for sure, but there are other events where clubs need my flowers so it all works out’ Haru said, while watering some of the flowers nearby. After finishing, she picked up a pot with a beautiful lotus inside it and proceeded to put it to a place with more sun.

‘These plants are like my children: they need me. And I need them. Perhaps a wolf like you wouldn’t understand, but weak creatures need to live by depending on each other. Acting brave doesn’t do me any favors. Sometimes it could be fatal’ she said with a soft smile on her face.

These words sent Legoshi’s mind running to the events of that night. How he hunted down the rabbit girl, how he caused her injury and how she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Zoe to break him away from his feral side. He looked at Haru’s arm and gulped. Seeing her wearing all those bandages was a painful sight for Legoshi, knowing it was because of him. ‘Don’t say a word’ he thought. But he couldn’t help himself.

‘What happened to your arm?’ he asked. ‘I know exactly. It was me! It was all me! I’m so cruel!’

‘Well... to be honest, I don’t know’ Haru said. Legoshi raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘I wonder what it was though’ Haru continued. ‘I know it hurt a lot but I don’t have a clear memory of what happened.’

‘You don’t?’ Legoshi asked in disbelief.

‘Nope. Anyway, I’m sorry if I scared you or anything. I know it’s creepy for a small animal like me to be wearing a bandage now of all times, but I’m doing fine. I’m sure it was just a nightmare’ she said with a wide smile on her face.

Legoshi couldn’t believe what he just heard. Does he tell her, or keep it a secret forever? It would’ve ended horribly anyway – never seeing this rabbit again. He finally decided not to say anything else.

‘I bought some scarlet sage seeds by the way. Would you like to plant some with me?’ Haru asked.

‘Sure!’ Legoshi nodded. ‘Her words don’t fill me with salvation or guilt. I just can’t stop looking at her. I enjoy talking to her so much. I usually rarely enjoy getting to know others… I want to become her friend.’

The work was soon done with all the seeds planted and watered in just a couple of minutes. Gardening, of course however, is a dirty job so it’s no wonder both their hands were covered in mud and dirt.

‘We should probably go to the club room to wash our hands’ Haru said. Legoshi nodded in acceptance. The club room was only a few steps away. When they arrived there, they washed their hands with warm water.

The room was filled with furniture and books mostly. There was a bed in the corner with a desk next to it. A table full of pots and watering cans. Underneath the table were pesticides and on the walls, there were gardening tools neatly placed. Even though it felt quite crowded, Legoshi felt cozy in that environment.

‘Thank you so much for moving all those heavy plants for me! They haven’t been feeling well at all, but now they can recover and have flowers, too. Let me give you a reward. What kind of food do you like?’

Legoshi was surprised by the question. Did that rabbit really just ask him about his favorite foods? Does she actually want to spend more time with him?

‘Well, honestly, I’m not really hungry right now’ Legoshi said. ‘But I’m in the mood for some ant shakes. What do you think?’

Haru nodded in agreement and together, they headed for the cafeteria for their late afternoon snacks: shakes.

[keanuvibe]

Noses In Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 4.5

A/N: well hi! I was sad so I did some writing y'all!!!! wowwww abby actually wrote something!!!! it's a miracle!!!!

Words: 2.8k (this is longer than I meant for it to be)

Warnings: none, good ole family fluff!

June 27th, 4:03PM

The afternoon summer sun poured into the kitchen, illuminating the space in a golden haze. Classic rock played over the small portable speaker John had gotten you last Christmas as your hands dug into some fresh bread dough; kneading it gently. Patterned footsteps and cheerful giggles of two little bodies could be heard from the backyard, signalling that your kids were having fun.

It’s been three and a half years since Heather was born. Since then, a few things have changed. First, you and John are married now. He proposed shortly after Heather turned seven months old, and you were joined in holy matrimony at the courthouse the following Monday. Of course, you couldn’t find a sitter for the occasion so James sat quietly playing his Gameboy while Heather slept in her car seat. Although once the kids were put to bed, you and John did celebrate that night.

Second, you adopted James. Over the course of your relationship, John had always made little comments about how much James loves you and sees you as a mother. And after Heather was born, the boy actually started to call you ‘mom’. It took a few years for everything to fall in place, but, on your birthday last year, John and James surprised you with the adoption certificate, proving that you are now the legal parent to your eldest. You were a blubbery, lovey, emotional mess for a couple days afterwards.

And the third thing to mention, you’re pregnant again; a couple days away from seven months. After careful consideration regarding both yours and John’s ages, the two of you decided to have one more baby. You wanted a sibling closer in age to Heather, that way she’d have someone to grow up with. Yes, James will always be there, but he’s six years older than her. What nine-year-old wants their three-year-old baby sister hanging around?

“Mommy!” Heather’s small voice hollered from the backyard; breaking your thought train. Hurriedly wiping the dough from your hands, you made your way to the sliding door.

“Yes?” You answered, stepping outside. The afternoon heat hit you immediately, but you pushed it aside. Resting a hand on your belly and furrowing your brows, you scanned the yard not immediately seeing your children.

“Where are you two?” You then yelled.

“Mom, you’ll never believe what we found!” James spoke, rounding the corner from the side of the house. He held a mischievous grin; a grin you’ve seen plenty of times. Whatever he’s about to show you probably isn’t going to end well.

“If it’s another gross bug, James, I swear-” You started, but the boy cut you off.

“It’s not! I promise! You’ll like this surprise, mom.” James grabbed your hand as he spoke, pulling you towards the side of the house he’d appeared from.

“Mhm, just like how Dad and I liked our ‘pond’?” You spoke sarcastically. When Heather was in her ‘terrible twos’ phase, the two of them got into the most trouble; Heather being the instigator, and James gas lighting her. One afternoon, they had filled the tub in yours and John’s bathroom with dirt, twigs, rocks, and even a handful of worms, before proceeding to fill the tub until it overflowed and ruined the tile and rugs. Of course, you had fallen asleep on the couch from pure parental exhaustion and didn't discover the scene until John came home an hour later.

“That was almost two years ago mom, you’re going to have to let it go.” James spoke with faux sincerity, finally rounding the corner. You narrowed your eyes at him, ready to retaliate, however a very obvious bark caught your attention.

“Ta-Da!” Heather cheesed, grinning from ear to ear. Laying next to your daughter in the grass was a dog; A chocolate labradoodle to be exact.

“Oh my god- How- Whose- What?” You were stuttering over your words, too shocked to form a complete sentence. The dog perked it’s head up at your voice, tail wagging as the tongue hung out from its mouth.

“We found it!” James reassured, letting go of your hand and walking over to where they sat. Kneeling in the grass, your son began to pet the dog. It seemed to like the kids, not putting up a fuss wherever they touched it.

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet?” You pursed your lips, placing a hand over your temple and rubbing to ease the oncoming headache. The two of them chorused cheerful answers, even prompting the dog to let out a soft bark.

“Do you think dad will let us keep it?” James then asked, sadness clearly lacing his tone. You stepped closer to the dog, trying to form some sort of answer; but couldn’t think of one. The kids have been begging for a pet, ever since Heather was old enough to speak. You and John have been avoiding it, knowing you’d rather have your third baby then introduce a dog. But, I guess the universe had other plans for your little family.

“We’ll just have to see when he gets home.” You responded finally, kneeling next to the pet with a huff. You quickly looked over the animal, checking for a collar or any type of tags. It looked skinny as well, like it is malnourished and has been wandering for a bit; picking up a spare meal here and there.

“We found it in the field!” Heather cheerfully explained, pointing towards the open field behind your fenced yard. When John purchased this home, he also purchased the land behind him so no further development could be made. Living in New Jersey, it always baffled you how he’d managed to pull that off.

“Poor thing.” You spoke, a frown growing across your face. The animal gently lift its head from laying to look up at you. His tongue drooped from its mouth as it panted, the heat and fluffy hair not helping the fact.

“Is it a boy or a girl, mommy?” Heather then asked, lovingly grabbing its face and petting. You gently lifted the dog's leg to check before answering your daughter.

“It’s a… Boy.”

“Can we name him Rex? Like a T-Rex?” James mused, eagerly bouncing where he sat. You chuckled at his enthusiasm, however Heather was quick to join the decision making.

“No! I want Mr. Fluffy!”

“How about we choose names later, once Dad gets home.” You interjected yourself before a full fight was to break out. The two kids seemed in agreement, nodding quietly, letting the scuffle fade away.

“Let’s make sure he gets some food and water in his tummy.” You smiled towards your kids and the dog. The two of them nodded eagerly, probably also wanting a snack themselves. Using the side of the house for balance, you stood back up, resting a hand on your bump once again. James and Heather also stood, prompting the dog to jump up as well.

“Mommy, will the dog meet our new baby?” Heather's soft voice spoke. Her small fingers wrapped themselves around your own as the four of you made your way back into the house. Ever since you got pregnant, Heather has been fascinated. Her favorite thing is to feel the baby move and kick, and some days, she's even fallen asleep cuddling up to your belly.

“I'm sure he will, baby.” You smiled down at your daughter, ruffling her messy hair. She gave you a cheesy smile in return, showing her crooked baby-teeth.

Once inside, the dog seemed slightly intimidated by the new environment, however the comforting presence of the kids seemed to be helping. Firstly, you put your unfinished bread dough back into the fridge and turned off the radio before grabbing a spare bowl and filling it with water. James was quick to help, searching the pantry and fridge before pulling out the sandwich meat.

Setting down the bowl, you gently coaxed the dog over. He sniffed around the bowl before eagerly lapping up the water; spilling it all over onto the floor. Heather's giggle-fueled reaction only added to the silly situation. James gently set down a plate containing a few slices of the sandwich meat next to the water bowl. The dog sniffed the plate as well before realizing it was food and swiftly munched down the meat in a few bites.

The three of you hung around by the dog for a few moments before the sound of the garage door opening signaled that John is home. The familiar engine hum of his vintage vehicle echoed loudly before it was promptly cut off, and a few moments later the door to the garage swung open.

“I’m home!” The man called out, hanging his keys.

“Daddy!” Heather yelped, jumping off of a seat at the table and rushing over to her father. John bent down onto one knee, eagerly catching the little girl into his arms.

John, despite your wishes, still works as an assassin. When Heather turned one and things became more manageable, he insisted on going back. Money was the main reasoning, claiming the family will need more income with a new baby. You didn't agree, but went along with it anyways. John is going to do as he pleases anyways; you learned that early on.

“We found a dog!” James gushed, petting the animals head softly. Setting Heather back down, John's dark eyes met those of the dog, laying on the floor next to the food and water. The dog's tail began wagging at the interaction, and he popped his head up.

“How?” John asked, dropping the overnight bag on his shoulder and stepping over to the pet. You, James and Heather all looked at each other, hopeful for a positive reaction. Your husband gently knelt down, admiring the dog; his large hands then gently began to pet the animal.

“Behind the fence in the field, he was stuck.” James answered, “I had to jump it. I got a hole in my shorts because of it.” He added, standing up and showing off the small hole. Both you and John made eye contact at his statement, parental alarms blaring over the fact your son could jump the fence; nevermind the hole in his clothes. James is growing like a weed anyways, you buy him new jeans at least twice a month.

“Does he have a name?” John then asked, giving the dog a few more pets before standing back up.

“No, we were waiting for your input.” You smiled while answering your husband, waddling over to the table and taking a seat. Heather and James still sat around the dog, showering it with affection. John nodded, grabbing the bag he dropped and moving it out of the doorway.

“I want to name him Rex, and Heather wants to name him Mr. Fluffy. Mom didn't give an option, so, it's up to you, dad.” James explained, looking up towards his father. John nodded silently, joining you over by the kitchen table.

“Dog.” The man answered, looking towards his children. They sat quietly before looking between each other, almost having a silent conversation. The dog even let out a sigh, as though he too hated the name.

“That’s stupid.” James finally deadpanned, looking back towards John. You had to stifle a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. James, as you've come to learn, is basically a copy and paste of his father. He's strong-willed, confident and extremely dry-humored. Sometimes it's humorous, and other times it can be very frustrating.

“Well, maybe Mom should take part in the decision.” John then spoke, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. You scoffed and leaned away from his touch, annoyed that your neutral ground has been destroyed. The mischievous smile that crossed your husband's face said all that it needed.

“Well, if you must have my input, I've always liked the name Winston.” You then spoke, looking between your family. James and Heather looked at each other again, having another silent conversation. The dog’s head shot up at the mention, eagerly panting.

“We like it.” Heather finally chimed in, a wide smile covering her cheeks. “Mr. Winston Wick.”

“Can we get toys for him?” James added, enthusiastically standing up, which also promoted Heather and Winston to get up as well. The pair jumped into an excited babble, Winston panting cheerfully below them.

“I think there's an old tennis ball in the backyard, if you want to go play right now?” You cut the two of them off, gesturing to the sliding glass door. Nodding, they quickly took off with the dog close behind. With a sigh, you looked up to your husband who was still hovering over your shoulder.

“I can't believe you let them keep the dog.” The humor that laced your tone caused your husband to let out a soft chuckle.

“I know we wanted to wait,” John began, pulling out the chair next to yours and sitting, “But the look on their hopeful faces? How could I say no?”

“A dog will be nice, though. Sometimes I get lonely when you leave.” You spoke, adjusting so you were comfortable and could face him better. Resting a hand on your bump, you let out a soft sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry.” John's response wasn't what you really wanted to hear. You wished he’d retire and stay home to help with raising the family. And with the third baby on the way, while you are very excited, you're also scared. The same fear you held while pregnant with Heather and after discovering his line of work; what if you lose John?

“James seems to have really bonded with the dog. God knows how long they've been hiding it from us.” You changed the subject, turning to face your husband better. Scanning the side of his face, you could see a small cut donning his cheek bone. Must've gotten that from his most recent job.

“It’ll be good for him, teach him some responsibility.” John chimed. His large hand gently placed itself on your bump, thumb rubbing circles. The baby kicked at the feeling; always getting extra jumpy and excited when John touches you. This pregnancy, you wanted to keep the gender a surprise. Honestly, you weren't hoping for a girl or boy; just as long as the baby is healthy. Being an ‘older’ mom, the risk of complications are higher. So far, however, it's been easy. In fact, this pregnancy has been easier than Heather was.

“He's quite responsible already. He basically helped me raise Heather on the days you were gone.” You answered, placing your smaller hand atop John’s. “He’s such a brilliant boy. I can't believe he’s going into the fifth grade this fall.”

“If you keep reminiscing, you're going to cry Darling.” John’s voice gently spoke. You couldn't help but chuckle and sniffle down some tears that threatened to escape.

“Sorry,” You humored, standing up from the table and grabbing a tissue. “But, he’s basically become the man of the house, though. He helps with chores, and even learned how to mow the grass so I wouldn't have to.”

“We can hire a Maid and Gardener.” John deadpanned, standing up from the table and stepping over to you.

“With your career, I don't trust a lot of people. Aurelio is the only one allowed past the driveway.” You didn't mean for your words to come out harsh, but they did. John knows how you feel about his job, especially now that your kids are the perfect ‘kidnap and hold for ransom’ age. You don't even want to be reminded of when Helen kidnapped James.

The man didn't respond, instead his face told all that it needed. He was upset, understandably, but he knows and understands why you lashed out. It's not easy trying to keep your family a secret from your job and vice versa. Especially when your job is highly dangerous and deals with world class criminals.

“I’m sorry, you just got home. Let's not argue.” You sighed, stepping up to your husband. Grabbing his hand, you pulled yourselves as close as your bump would allow. John complied, placing his hands on your sides to hold you tighter.

“No, you're rightfully upset.” The man's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He gently kissed the top of your head before your lips met. Running your hands up his suited chest, a quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as the kiss broke. The two of you rested your foreheads together, a silent gesture of romance. Your relationship is strong; the love you hold for John trumps your hate of his profession. All that matters is when he comes home and leaves the harsh reality of work behind, he’s greeted with a happy home and family.

“I love you, Mr. Wick.” You spoke gently, running your fingers through his long hair. A small smile overtook his face as he answered.

“I love you too, Mrs. Wick.”

[serararku]

Back from the Black

Giggles whispered in the wind. Soft voices mumbled amongst each other. In the hot dark Era felt things touching her face, but she was powerless to stop it; her arms and legs were bound, and she was drifting, spinning, spiraling onward into the void again. Not that it mattered to her anymore… all she wanted was to be in his arms again, to feel his breath on her neck, to hear him tell her everything was going to be okay. But he was gone. They all were. Lost their lives in the sacking of Ul’dah, their peaceful eternal slumber cut short by the will of a necromancer. “I will avenge you all…” She thought, writhing and wiggling in her invisible cocoon. “I will kill that creature and put you all back to-”

Era opened her eyes to sudden blinding sunlight and three pairs of big bright eyes. “EEP!” The kittens shrieked, leaping a dozen ilms off the ground as their stubby tails bristled. Yuun suddenly snapped awake as well, rising from her seat with fury burning in her eyes.

“You little brats! I told you not to touch her!” Her mother grabbed the closest thing she could- a makeshift broom, and gave the fleeing children beatings they wouldn’t soon forget. Era winced at the glare of the sun, but when she tried to roll over, she found herself swaddled tightly in blankets- just like she was when she was still a misbehaving kitten. “Era honey… are you okay?!”

“Euugh…” Was all she could manage. Her head ached, her mouth was dry, and she was sore from teeth to tail; but something about the concern in her mother’s face and the soothing warmth of the sun helped convince this was real. 

“Don’t try to move… here.” She sat down beside her and pulled her head into her lap. Era’s ears perked when ice cold water touched her lips. Gulp… gulp… gulp… “Slowly, Era… I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“Guhh… a… again…?” She repeated, trying to catch her breath with lungs that weren’t ruptured in a body that wasn’t torn apart by wolves.

Yuun closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “I thought I knew them. The Elders… they’re supposed to be the bridge between Azeyma and her children. But once that accursed cave was discovered a few moons ago, they’ve done nothing but devour strange foods and hallucinate, and they’re taking more and more of our tribe down with them. When I heard the Elders had summoned you, I thought… I would lose you.” She opened her eyes and began wiping away the ‘art’ those three kittens were drawing on Era’s face. “The next time Grandmother puts her vile hands on you will be the last time she has hands.”

Now that she had birthed five daughters, one for each astral moon in accordance to Azeyma, Yuun was officially recognized as a Matron when her last daughter and final kitten was born two years ago, and therefore was under no obligation to mate with Vahli or any other Tia that would eventually take his place in the years to come. Following closely behind the spiritual leadership of the Elders, and the military prowess of the Nunh, the Matrons represented the third pillar of the Zu Tribe, providing guidance to the kittens and new mothers alike. Thanks to the combined tragedies of the drought eight years ago and the addicts in that ‘sacred’ cave, Yuun was now the only Matron left. And she took this responsibility very seriously.

“Ahem…” Vahli cleared his throat loudly outside the tent, making his presence known long before he revealed himself. “Yuun, good morning. May I speak with Era alone?”

“Of course.” Her mother planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling a corner of her blanket out of its knot, unraveling Era and setting her free from her prison. Their Nunh took her offered hand when she rose to her feet, and lightly kissed her knuckles on her way out. Era remained quiet, awkwardly laying on her back, waiting for him to say something. For a long time he simply stared off in the distance, before crossing his arms and sitting down beside her. “I’m sorry for sending you to the Elders.” Vahli was reluctant to speak; apologies must be a rarity for such a proud and accomplished man. “They told me they could help you. I should have asked for details.”

“It’s not your fault.” Era assured him. “I planned on speaking with them the day I decided to return to the tribe. Though… now knowing what happened... and what the search party had to do to me...”

“It was for your own protection.” He explained, finally glancing down to meet her gaze. “Your mother demanded I stop the Elders from influencing you. Once I formed a party to storm the caves, you were already gone. It took us… a lot of time and effort to comb the surrounding lands.”

Era didn’t like how vague he insisted on being. “How long was I missing?!”

“Three days.” 

That knocked the wind out of her lungs. She felt like she had been trapped in that hellscape for almost a full year, but to know she was hallucinating for just over half of a week…

Vahli wasn’t finished. “We found you out in the wastes, completely naked and covered in blood that wasn’t yours, dancing alone in the middle of nowhere... laughing, crying and screaming. We thought you were possessed by an evil spirit, or worse… suffering from the salivating sickness. Everyone feared you would need to be put down… myself included. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Era didn’t want to think about that nightmare any longer than she had to- that trip was not something she would ever endure again. “So I’ve snapped out of it… what’s next?”

Her Nunh leaned against a post and furrowed his brow. “Some of our youngest are scratching at themselves enough to remove hair. Others aren’t able to hold solid food down for long. The mothers insist they’re sick and they don’t feel safe with the Elders treating them. I’m at my wits end.” Slowly he rose back up to his feet, and began pacing nervously. “I know the tribeless cities may have the solution we need. Can I count on you to be our emissary?”

“Yes…!” Era answered quickly, jumping at the chance to be with Zevi again. “I know just the woman who can help them! I won’t let you down!”

Vahli pursed his lips disapprovingly at her sudden enthusiasm. “I’ve heard of the tribeless cities and their… vices. Make sure anyone you bring back to our lands is dependable… and willing to adhere to our way of life.” He paused for a moment before adding, “No witchcraft. Thanalan suffers enough already.”

“I understand…”

“Do you?” Vahli began to pace back and forth. “My instincts are telling me to keep you here. That sending you off to those havens of heresy is a grave mistake. But… our kittens need your help. I need your help.” He stopped near the entrance and placed his hand on the drape. “Come back to us. I know you’ve spent a lot of time out there… but your place is here. With me.” Era’s ears drooped as she slowly nodded. When she rose to her feet, and her blanket slipped from her body, Vahli couldn’t help but stare at her scars again.

Unable to stand this awkward staring contest anymore, Era scooped the spare change of clothes waiting for her in the corner to cover herself and assuredly muttered, “I won’t abandon my family. Not now… not ever.”

“Good.” Once her body was covered and her scars were out of sight, her Nunh blinked away his stupor and left without another word. Era was left alone to put her clothes on in silence.

The intense Thanalan sunlight began its ruthless beating the moment she stepped out of her tent. The glare from the morning was not doing Era’s headache any favors- it was difficult to focus on just about anything, and she was still disoriented and uncharacteristically clumsy. That bitter soup the Elders gave her had surely run through her system by now; if any one of these side effects became permanent, she could kiss her training goodbye. Hopefully Zevi wouldn’t mind shouldering their financial burdens if she was left unfit for wor-

"BLOOD SPEAKS TO ME!"

"BWAH!" Era leapt a full three fulms into the air before she was snatched up and pulled into a strong hug; the side of her face was smashed against the coarse beak of a zu skull, and her blood ran cold. There was only one woman in the entire tribe that would even wear a skull outside of an actual battle. 

Yhaba the Undying. The leader of the Zu Tribe’s warrior clowder, and top contender for the most deranged and bloodthirsty Miqo’te in Thanalan. To call this woman a lunatic would be an understatement. She was as unpredictable as she was ferocious, and amidst the chaos of battle, she had no equal. Drenched in the blood of her tribe’s enemies was perhaps the only time she ever felt truly home. She had lost her tail ages ago along with most of her fingers and toes, but she could eviscerate and disembowel a fully grown goobbue patriarch in a matter of seconds. If she wasn’t so good at killing, she would have likely died a long time ago.

"Yhaba…! Unnf! You're c-crushing me…!" Era squeaked out, before being suddenly released and dropped into the dirt. She stopped herself from gazing up into that skull, clutching at her pounding heart while gasping for breath. Only a fool with a deathwish would provoke Yhaba’s malignant barbarism; as a result, no one truly knows what she even looks like under her bone helmet anymore. No one that lived to tell about it at least. 

"Mountains watch us. Wait for us to die." Yhaba mumbled, scratching at the scabs on her arm. "The green speaks of buckets filled with tongues. Don’t open your mouth if you see them."

"R-right… I'll be careful…" Era slowly rose to her feet, more than eager to give this psychopath a wide berth before her mere presence set her off.

Yhaba watched her turn and leave in an unsettling silence before she opened her beak and said, “You hear the ringing? Feel the seething sickness? The voice telling you to paint with blood?”

Era stopped dead in her tracks but she didn’t turn around. “How do you know this…?” She demanded indignantly. “How could you know?!”

“I hear them too.” Yhaba pulled an ear from her necklace and held it to her temple, as if she was listening to something. “Silence loves to talk. Don’t answer when they call your name. Fly away little bird. Go where the mountains can’t watch you.” She took a few long strides toward Era and grabbed her by the wrist; she then pushed a small linen sack into her hand, and refused to let go until she closed her fingers around it.

“What is this…?” Era meekly asked, fearing it was a small bag of ears.

“Eat when the ringing returns.” Yhaba began slinking back toward a shady nook in between two tents. “Then you will never die. Spite the mountains.”

Then she was left alone, standing under the pummeling sun with more questions than answers. Era slowly opened her palm and hesitantly opened the small sack- the substance closely resembled fine red sand, or perhaps even cinnamon. A cautious sniff revealed nothing, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to taste it; that would make it the third time she ate something given to her that she shouldn’t have. Instead the woman tucked it into her pocket for safe keeping, and aptly decided to put this strange encounter behind her. 

The fastest way back was the same route she took reaching the heart of her tribe’s territory; through the air. Nossk took her up into the sky to soar high above the barren wastes again, only this time she did it by herself. With the wind in her hair and the sun tanning her skin, all she could think about was leaping into Zevi’s arms again. A relief washed over her when she saw Ul’dah emerging through the brown dusty haze, glad everything was going better than she expected; one slip up and she would have had to choose between her lover and her family. She wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet, but the hardest part was behind her. Now she could just lean back, close her eyes, and let the wind pass across her face as this giant zu cut down her return trip by over half of a day.

It was evening by the time she felt safe enough to fly over the city. Using the cover of night, Era remained far and above, partially hidden between the sparse clouds, before identifying the Goblet and diving earthbound. Nossk opened his wings last minute, swooping down through the canyon along the border of the residential district to avoid startling any guards. As silent as the grave it soared below, slipping beneath two bridges before spreading its tail feathers and tilting up toward the ledge; his long curved talons easily shattered the stone railing, crumbling it into dust beneath his weight. 

“Crap…!” Era squeaked, hoping no one heard that. She slipped from his back and wrapped her arms around his jagged beak to press her lips atop his head. “Go home, Nossk…! I’ll see you soon, okay?” The bird clicked his tongue against his beak a few times before spreading his wings wide. Era made the horrible mistake of stepping back to let him take off, thinking he would follow the same path they took to get here.

He didn’t.

Nossk launched himself high into the air with a single flap of his mighty wings, and almost scraped against a nearby tower as he made a bee-line back toward Valhaas Barrow to the southeast. Era’s ears flattened when she heard the startled screams of Lalafellin residents having heart attacks at the sheer size of Nossk soaring above their heads. He was certainly fast enough to escape before the Immortal Flames could organize a task force to shoot him down… hopefully he doesn’t stop on the way home to snack on any fleeing citizens. Instead of waiting around for a passing guard to start asking questions as to why and how that railing got destroyed, Era slipped through the main gate of the estate and quickly stepped inside.

She heard familiar voices singing an unfamiliar song. Hurrying down the steps, and through the large sliding doors of iron, and across the metal grated rafters, Era finally reached the last flight of stairs that led into the basement bar.

“Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o! Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o!” K’thalen still had his pipes, with his boisterous singing echoing off the walls and carrying far throughout the whole of the estate. Mizuna was sitting on the piano bench with her back turned to the expensive instrument, clapping in unison with the rhythm and singing along in her own shy way. A Lalafell she didn’t recognize was doing a hearty jig in the middle of the group, his tiny legs kicking and twisting faster than she expected; the room was fairly crowded with faces she didn’t recognize, in fact. But sitting alone on the opposite side of the room, invested in the party but barely involved, sat her best friend and lover. R’zevi was nodding his head to K’thalen’s catchy song and half-heartedly clapping his hands together to the tune, but he looked like he was struggling to stay awake.

That is until he locked eyes with S’era, and his face lit up like a Starlight fireworks show.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​

[httpjeon]

— 04. bunny blues: guilt | yoongi & jungkook

yoongi/reader/jungkook | angst, fluff | hybrid!au

wordcount: 1.7k

― synopsis: you’re left alone for the first time with jungkook.

contents: mentions of past hybrid abuse, mentions of abandonment, mentions of weight loss & depressive behavior, (hybrid)scenting, still fluff tho

note: short update but,,,we got shit comin’. reminder reader is a bunny hybrid, jk is a dog hybrid, and yoongs is human!

blog masterlist ɪɴᴅᴇx: 01 | 02 | 03 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

By hiding in your bedroom for the next couple days, you managed to avoid all confrontation with Yoongi. Neither man bothered you, opting to give you space. However, they would come to your room to let you know food was ready. You'd taken to simply eating in your room, or getting up after they went to bed to eat leftovers that Yoongi always left wrapped in the refrigerator for you; all to avoid them. It wasn't healthy and you were sure you were losing weight but you couldn't shake yourself out of the negative headspace you'd dug yourself into.

You took Jungkook's words to heart so seriously that you couldn't even realize the damage you were causing in the process.

It was a Monday, you knew because Yoongi came in to let you know. If not for him, you were completely out of the loop on the day.

"Wake up, honey," He whispered, using the opportunity to pet your ears until your eyes opened. "I've got to go to work, my leave is over."

"You're leaving?" You whispered, sitting up a little bit to see it was still dark outside.

"I'll be back tonight, don't worry," He smiled, petting your bedhead down. "Jungkookie will be here with you, so you won't be alone, alright?"

"Okay," You muttered and laid back in bed. You felt the urge to hug him but managed to suppress it.

"See you," He called before leaving the room.

You faintly heard him leave the house altogether as you drifted back to sleep.

The sun was peeking through your curtains the next time your eyes opened, but it wasn't the sun that woke you up ― it was a knock on your bedroom door. It could only be one person.

"Yes?" You grumbled, sitting up in bed.

"Get up and come eat," Jungkook ordered, voice more strict than you'd ever heard it.

"I-I'm not hungry," You muttered, still feeling bad about lying to him.

"I don't care. Get up," He snapped before turning away and walking down the hall, footsteps fading.

You sighed, knowing you had no choice but to do as he told you to do. You pulled yourself out of bed and changed into some comfortable house clothes ― just a sweater and some shorts.

Once you were in the living room, you found a plate on the coffee table of what appeared to be some kind of soup. Jungkook was sitting on the floor, watching cartoons on the television.

"I uh...I've never made food for bunnies so...I hope it's okay," He admitted, looking over his shoulder after pausing his own eating. "Yoongi-hyung left me the instructions so if it's bad, blame him."

You smiled fondly at his admission and picked up the spoon, immediately fishing out a couple of the cooked carrots. You hummed, sipping the soup to help wash them down.

"It's yummy, Jungkook," You complimented and though he didn't turn around, his tail thumped against the floor happily.

You finished the rest of the soup just as he finished his own food.

"I'll wash the dishes," He offered, taking your bowl. But instead of going to the kitchen with them, he put them on the table to bother with them later.

Typical Jungkook move.

It fell into sudden silence and you found yourself fidgeting. You didn't feel comfortable but Jungkook didn’t seem to even notice as his gaze was fixed on the TV.

"I-I guess I'll leave," You finally stuttered into the awkward atmosphere, preparing to go back to hiding in your room.

Jungkook reached out and snatched a hold of your wrist, halting you from taking even a step. He scooted back so he was sitting on the couch as well, pulling you to sit beside him.

"Don't go," He muttered, his ears drooping sadly. You both sat in silence for a moment, the cartoon playing on the TV while Jungkook continued to hold your wrist.

"I'm sorry," He said suddenly and it had your ears twitching in interest.

"F-For what?"

"You know for what," He whispered, reaching up to scratch nervously at his own ear. "I-I didn't mean anything I said that night. I was scared and jealous and...it was an ugly feeling. I lashed out on you and I shouldn't have done that."

"...Scared of what?" You asked, taking his hand in yours as you sat beside him, ready to listen to everything he had to say.

"O-Of losing Yoongi-hyung," He admitted, voice beginning to wobble as he admitted his fear.

"Yoongi wouldn't leave you just because I was there, Jungkook. He loves you," You reassured, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

"I know that, but...at the time I just...all I could think was that he'd choose you over me and I'd be all alone again," He croaked, swallowing thickly.

"Again?" You pried.

"My owner before Yoongi-hyung," Jungkook sniffled, beginning to cry. "He was really mean and he would leave me alone for days with no food, When he was home he would be really mean to me ― you know, he'd hit me and call me names. It was horrible."

Your heart ached at Jungkook's confession. You'd never guess he had such a horrible life before you met him.

"Y-Yoongi-hyung saved me," Jungkook choked out, leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder. "And I was excited you were here, I was! B-But I didn't want him to love you more than me and I'm sorry..."

"It's okay Jungkookie," You admitted, wrapping your arm around him to give him a hug. "M-My first owner was a little boy when I was young," You began, earning his attention. “His mom got me because she thought I'd be easier to care for than a kitty or puppy. But...when they found out how much care I needed, they sent me to a shelter."

"That's so mean," Jungkook whispered, his full attention on you.

"Joonie brought me to his home...and now I'm here." You sighed. "I-I got scared when you told me Yoongi didn't like it when I was needy because that's the reason I lost my last two homes. I really like you and Yoongi and I didn't want to mess up my chance again."

"I shouldn't have ever opened my mouth," He sniffled. "I saw how much my words hurt you but I was...I was too self-absorbed in being the only one Yoongi-hyung paid attention to again! And then I heard you crying the other night and I knew I went too far and that it wasn't fair for you to be miserable because I'm a jealous baby."

"You're not a baby, Kookie," You whined, wrapping your arms around his middle to hug him. "I understand why you did it, I really do. And I forgive you!"

"You do?" He asked, looking down to peek at how sincere you were.

"I do," You smiled, pulling away so he could see your face.

"I'm so glad," He hugged you back. This time the hug lasted for a long while. "And Yoongi-hyung will be glad too. He was really worried about you."

"I know," You whispered. "I felt bad...I could tell he was worried but I thought he just didn't want to get in trouble for mistreating a hybrid."

"Yoongi isn't like that. He cares about you and I more than he cares about himself," His words had you smiling because you knew, deep down, that it was true. Yoongi was selfless, a kind and gentle soul who would give up anything to make others happy. He had a big heart and you could feel his love.

The two of you finally settled down, laying on the couch together to watch the cartoon.

"So what is this?" You asked, making Jungkook gasp.

"You don't know Scooby-Doo?!"

You and Jungkook were sitting together on the floor, you in his lap, watching Scooby-Doo when the front doorknob began to jiggle.You bolted out of Jungkook's lap and raced to the front door. Jungkook trudged along behind you, obviously not understanding your utter excitement.

The second Yoongi stepped into the house, loosening his tie, you launched yourself against him. He sputtered in surprise, eyes wide as he looked at Jungkook, who began to grin.

"Y-You're in a good mood," Yoongi stuttered, slowly returning your hug until he was holding you tightly against him.

"Did you have a nice day?" You chirped, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him while keeping your arms around his waist.

"Yeah I-I did," He laughed, petting your head so your ears were pressed against your head. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah!" You replied, finally pulling away from the hug.

"Go wash up and I'll start dinner," Yoongi cooed, gently tapping your back s you bounced away into the bathroom. Once you were gone, he fixed his questioning gaze on the dog-hybrid.

"We had a talk," Jungkook confessed, shrugging sheepishly.

"I see it did some good," Yoongi reached up and scratched Jungkook's ears fondly, showing how proud he was of his hybrid's work. "Come help me make dinner."

You splashed water on your face, wiping away whatever dirt or sweat accumulated through the day. You made sure the clean under your fingernails with the sweet-smelling soap Yoongi had chosen for you; a special kind made for bunnies.

You looked in the mirror, smiling to yourself. You looked much happier than you had in days. It was like there was a huge weight lifted off your shoulders thanks to Jungkook apologizing. To say you were happy everything could go back to normal was an understatement.

After drying your hands, you crept out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where Jungkook was sitting at the table doodling on a paper and Yoongi was standing at the stove.

"How do you feel about vegetable stir-fry, ______?" Yoongi asked, tossing you a beaming smile over his shoulder.

"Sounds delicious," Just as you were about to sit in your chair, Jungkook was tugging you to sit in his lap.

"Draw with me," He whispered, his breath fanning over your ears, making you shiver.

"I don't know how," You admitted, taking the colored pencil in your hand. You nearly shrieked when you suddenly felt lips grazing across your neck, right where your scent gland was. You shivered at the realization of what was happening.

Jungkook was scenting you ― for the first time.

"That's okay, I'll teach you," He cooed, kissing your neck ever so softly that you missed it.

With Yoongi humming and cooking and Jungkook wrapping you up in his arms with his scent emanating off of you ― you felt happier than ever.