#anyways its cold here and having to wake up so early in the morning for work is so tiring.... lol

[saccharisu-draws]

honk shoo honk shoo 💤💤💤

[obbystars]

Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6.3k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You pad slowly into the common room, rubbing your eyes.

Yoongi was abruptly called into work a few minutes ago – something about missing files and a tight deadline – so he had to usher you out of bed with gentle touches and soft apologies, sending you to wake up on the couch with Namjoon. 

"Hi darling," Namjoon croons as you collapse next to him, picking up one of the thick blankets strewn about to bundle you up with.

You let yourself be tucked in, the extra warmth is more than welcome with how chilly the cabin gets in the early mornings. The fireplace is barely crackling, the flames struggling to take hold with how recently they've been lit.

You mumble something unintelligible in return, pulling the blanket up to your nose to fend off the cold. Namjoon lets out a fond laugh as he scoots closer on the couch. He puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding your head to rest on his chest as he mindlessly plays with your hair. The soothing touches make your already heavy eyes flutter shut immediately, your consciousness drifting further away with every rise and fall of Namjoon's chest. 

You drift off for a while, the sounds of Yoongi's rushed goodbye as he runs out the door and Namjoon turning the pages of his book muffled under your sleepiness. Sitting curled up against Namjoon allows your body to slowly wake up, and lets you forget about everything that awaits you while you're caught in the in-between of sleep and reality. 

It's the sound of cupboards slamming that finally wakes you up, a sheepish sorry! being called from the kitchen. Namjoon's fingers still in your hair as you huff, your eyebrows creasing with displeasure as you realize it's time to open your eyes. 

"Morning," Namjoon murmurs warmly, "Jungkook doesn't always remember how strong he is, especially not when he's tired, so he has a bad habit of slamming things shut. I'm sorry he disturbed you." 

"'S okay," You yawn, "I should probably get up anyway." 

"Hmm, you don't have to," Namjoon curls his arm around your waist, holding you securely against his chest. "We can just stay here and cuddle until breakfast is ready." 

I'm sure you'd like that, you–

You stifle the vicious voice inside your head as soon as it rears its head. Even though you have decided to accept the cards you have been dealt, or rather, the cards that were forced into your hands; it's not something that can happen overnight. They've terrorized you for over a year so rewiring your brain to follow the path your soulbond is trying to lead you isn't easy. But you are trying.

"Sure," You concede, snuggling closer to Namjoon's firm chest. 

You watch as he delicately turns another page in the book he's reading, your eyes growing wide as you recognize the poem that's printed on it in faded letters. Your breath hitches as you blink, dumbstruck, down at the same collection you asked him about that day you visited him at the library. 

"Aren't these the poems Jungkook used in his letters?"

Namjoon tenses as he notices where your attention has drifted. His fingers subconsciously splay across the page, almost as if he's trying to hide the words, as he says, "Yeah, it is." 

"Why did you bring it here?" You ask as you eye the book warily. It's not like the book carries any good memories for you and on top of that, Namjoon seemed rather perturbed by the sight of it all those months ago. 

"It... I guess you can say it holds sentimental value," Namjoon murmurs. 

"My mom passed away when I was young so I don't remember much of her. I just have a blurry memory of us visiting a garden somewhere, her blue dress fluttering in the wind. Her passing broke my dad's heart. They were soulmates, so I think a part of him died that day too," He heaves a heavy sigh.

"Grief made him do stupid things and one of those was throwing away most of her belongings. I think it just hurt too much, that her things were still there but she wasn't, you know?"

You give a silent nod, heart squeezing at the way Namjoon's voice turns slightly shaky. 

"He luckily donated most of her books to the library. I don't think he knew she had written one of them," He gently taps the collection in his lap. "It wasn't until a few years ago that I found some old papers he had missed, once that were drafts of half-written poems and random thoughts. It was just luck, fate maybe, that I  recognized her writing. I had read through most of the local donations by that point to do a little feature stand and hers was one of them." 

"I'm sorry, about your mom, I mean," You push aside the throw to curl an arm around Namjoon's waist, giving him a comforting squeeze. 

"It's okay, it happened a long time ago," He whispers in return, resting his cheek on top of your head. 

"Do you know what happened – why she passed so young?" 

"I'm not sure," Namjoon says, "Dad never told me the full extent of it. I just know she had a lot of health issues." 

The pit of your stomach feels heavy as you rub your cheek against Namjoon's chest, hugging him close. His mom's history must be why he's been so adamant on making sure you're healthy and taking care of yourself, why he even went as far as scheduling medical check-ups for you. It doesn't make it right and it does not excuse his behaviour, but it does explain things.

"Do you know how Jungkook found the book? I remember the section being pretty hidden away," You tentatively say, trying to steer the conversation over to something a little lighter.

"Hm, I showed him that aisle a long time ago. It's probably the section that needs the least work since so few people know about it, so it would be easy for him to use it and put it back without me even noticing. He probably copied them down in his letters whenever I  wasn't on shift – I guess he didn't want me to notice and ask about it." 

You suppose that makes sense. No one besides Taehyung and Yoongi was open about their newfound soulmate connection and letters, so it adds up that Jungkook would want it to be a secret too.

"It's weird that he ended up with that particular collection out of every book in the library though," You muse. 

Namjoon's breath fans across your hair, his voice equally as thoughtful as he says, "Maybe it was our bond that did it. Even if it's just connected through you, it's still strong enough to influence us. That could explain why he was drawn to it." 

"Right," You swallow thickly. 

You suppress the shudder that wants to travel down your spine. It's a truly terrifying thought that everything has fallen into place like it was supposed to happen, like the universe made it that way. Even if Namjoon said that your bond is rare, there have to be others out there who are dealing with the same thing. Or, at the very least, there has to be some sort of explanation as to why all seven of them are acting this way – it surely can't be that it's just because they're feeling the bond more intensely than you are. 

"Actually, do you think you could do me favour?" You pull back just enough to glance up at Namjoon, giving him the sweetest look you can muster as you say, "Could you bring me some books on soulbonds from the library the next time you're there? I think knowing more about it will make everything a little... easier for me, you know?" 

Namjoon stares at you in silence, the second dragging on for much too long before he breaks out into a pleased smile. "Of course, darling, anything for you." 

"Thank you," You press a fleeting kiss to his jaw, hating how the action makes your own heart pick up speed.

You catch a glimpse of Namjoon's bright grin, dimples indented on his cheeks, as you hurriedly settle back down against his chest. He puts his book aside in favour of wrapping you up in his arms, humming something under his breath as he holds you close. 

Perhaps not all luck has left you just yet. Namjoon practically runs the local library, so if there's anyone who can bring you all the books you could ever want on soulmates and soulbonds, he's the right guy for it. 

You're sure there is some information out there that can be useful for you – you just need to find it first. 

"He's not giving up." 

You halt at Jimin's low hiss, wiping off the last bit of moisture on your hands on your sweats. You're halfway between the bathroom and your old room, shrouded in darkness as you wait with bated breath for Jimin to continue. 

"This is the second time he's come by this week and he even brought his boyfriend along to 'act as a witness'. I barely managed to keep them from making a scene." 

You can hear the agitation in Jimin's voice, can easily picture how his lips must be pressed together with annoyance as he paces around the room. You keep to the shadows as you creep closer, making sure you can't be seen from the open door. 

"It's Heejin– no wait, Heejun right? Y/n's friend?" 

Your heart jumps to your throat as you catch Seokjin's low murmur, gripping the wall for support as you listen to them talk. 

"That's the one," Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh. "He refuses to accept the story we came up with even though there's no evidence to suggest foul play. He keeps prodding and poking and if he continues, something will eventually lead him back to me, hyung. I don't care if he thinks I'm an incompetent cop; but if he's starting to suspect me, we'll have to deal with it – one way or another." 

You press your hand to your mouth, muffling the broken noise that squeezes past your lips. You have accepted your faith, have decided to work with it instead of against it, but your best friend doesn't know that. He just knows that you were being stalked and then one day, you were suddenly gone. If the situation was flipped, you would've been beside yourself with concern. You know he cares too much to give up but you can't let Heejun get hurt because of you. You miss him and Jaemin so much your body aches with it, but their safety is all that matters. You won't be able to live with yourself if the boys harm them in any way. 

You stumble back, ears ringing as Seokjin says something in return. You feel along the wall as you hurry back to the bathroom, your breaths falling quicker and quicker. You close the door behind you with shaking hands, leaning on it as you sink to the floor.

You're not sure how long you sit there, mind racing with possibilities of what you can do to stop them until Seokjin knocks on the door. 

"Angel, are you doing okay?" 

"Yeah! Just a minute," You clear your throat, legs unsteady as you clamber to your feet. 

You glance at the mirror, wincing at how disheveled you look. You brush your hair back with your fingers as you take deep breaths, attempting to make yourself look more put together and not like you weren't just tethering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. 

"There you are," Seokjin grins as you open the door. He doesn't seem to find anything amiss as he grabs your hand, leading you down the dark hallway toward Jimin's room. 

Should you ask Seokjin about what you heard? Should you beg him to stop Jimin from doing anything rash?

"Let me know if you need anything, angel, you know I'm right across the hall," Seokjin's long strides take you to Jimin's door before you can make up your mind. He pauses before he opens it, leaning down to deliver a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

Warmth blooms where he touched your skin, your burning face thankfully hidden by the low light. 

"Sleep well, Y/n," He whispers. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before he pushes the door open, guiding you in by your shoulders. 

"Angel delivery!" Seokjin announces as he walks you into the room, snickering at the embarrassed noise you make in protest to the cheesy line. 

"About time!" Jimin whines, "I thought hyung had stolen you away for the night." 

He pulls you out of Seokjin's grasp and into his arms before the older can hog more of his time, shuffling backward towards the bed as he says, "Close the door on your way out." 

"Excuse me?" Seokjin splutters, "Is that any way to treat your hyung?"

"Oh right," Jimin has his chin hooked over your shoulder, flashing Seokjin a teasing smile as he says, "Please close the door on your way out." 

"The disrespect! I swear– " Seokjin's voice tapers off into irritated mumbles as he shows himself out, closing the door behind him as Jimin requested. 

Jimin waits until he hears Seokjin's footsteps recede and another door close before he pulls back, making sure he isn't going to pop back in to ruin the moment. The boyish smile Jimin is sporting after teasing Seokjin softens as he meets your gaze. 

"Hi baby," Jimin cradles your face in his palm, running his thumb soothingly over your cheek. "I missed you." 

"Hi," You murmur back, easily returning his smile.

He's only been gone for two days, but something in you settles as you feel Jimin's touch; like a weird itch you didn't even know was there has been scratched. Jimin's shifts at the station often force him to be away for multiple days at a time and while it's a bitter pill to swallow, you've actually started to miss him while he's gone. It's not even just Jimin – if any of the boys are gone for more than twenty-four hours, your chest starts to feel hollow, like an important piece is missing. 

You hate it.

Jimin looks at you like he's drinking you in, his eyes never settling on one spot for too long.

If you're feeling their absence this strongly already, you're sure it must be a much worse experience for them. You've grown accustomed to the boys being a little more clingy than normal when they return and the extra skinship always seems to soothe you too. Yet, your breath still hitches as Jimin moves his thumb down to your mouth, lightly grazing over your bottom lip. 

The way Jimin's gaze keeps flickering back to your mouth makes it very obvious what he wants – craves – but he doesn't act on it; none of them do. So far the boys have seemed content, though perhaps somewhat resigned, to limit their kisses to your cheeks and hair. They know that pushing you past your limits will only backfire, that they'll only get what they truly want once you're willing and want them just as much as they desire you. They've already spent over twelve months watching you from afar, so you suppose a few months more doesn't make much of a difference now that they already have you in their grasp. 

It's only a matter of time before you break and you all know it. 

"Let's go to bed, baby. I've had a long day." 

"Everything okay?" You grip Jimin's hand a little tighter than intended as he leads you to bed, his earlier conversation with Seokjin echoing in your head.

"There's been a string of minor burglaries that have been giving me a headache, but there's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about," Jimin pulls the covers back, throwing you a reassuring look over his shoulder as he adds, "You're safe here with us, Y/n."

"I know. Thank you," You murmur, swallowing around the knot in your throat. 

You couldn't care less about some random break-ins, not in a situation like this and with Heejun's safety in jeopardy. Why would you worry about the monsters that are out and about in the city when you're fighting your own demons right here in the cabin? Regardless, you know that Jimin is speaking the truth. You pity anyone who would ever think to come to this cabin when you got seven, frankly unhinged, soulmates that are willing to do anything to 'keep you safe'. 

You crawl into bed first, getting yourself situated on your side as Jimin slips into place behind you. You raise your arm just in time for Jimin to curl his own around your waist, your legs slotting together with practiced ease. 

Jimin hugs you close to his chest, letting out a content sigh as he breathes in the slightly woodsy scent that lingers on your skin. "Sleep well baby, we'll catch up tomorrow," He drawls, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. 

"Good night," You whisper back.

You curl both hands beneath your chin, staring aimlessly out the dark window that's visible from the bed. The rapidly approaching winter has made the already dark nights almost pitch black, engulfing the trees despite the clinging snow that tries to brighten them. There are no stars out, nothing but endless darkness that stretches around the cabin like an all-consuming void. 

You find you can't quiet your mind, your thoughts racing much too fast for it to happen. You can't shake off the conversation you overheard earlier, of how annoyed Jimin sounded as he mentioned Heejun and Jaemin. The boys have already proven that they're willing to go to great lengths to ensure that they get what they want, so you don't doubt for a second that they'll hurt your friends if they deem them to be in their way. 

You can't let them harm them. You won't be able to live with yourself if they do. 

Jimin's breathing has almost evened out when you reach down to grab his hand, your mouth opening to blurt out a choked, "Please don't hurt them, Jimin." 

There's a second where you wonder if he's already asleep when there's no movement aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Maybe it would be better if he is asleep, at least that would give you time to come up with a plan, but you're too frazzled to think straight. All you know is that you need to convince Jimin to back off. 

"Jimin–" 

You're gently shushed as he intertwines your hands, resting them on your stomach. 

"I guess you heard us talking," Jimin mumbles drowsily. 

He rests his face against your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin as he asks, "Do you remember how I told you about the night I first felt the bond? That time your 'friends' ditched you at that club. Do you know how you got home that night, baby?" 

"What? Don't change the subject–" 

"Just indulge me," Jimin interrupts you with a squeeze to your hand.

"No, I... I don't remember. I don't know," You mumble, eyebrows creasing as you try to recall any details from that night. Everything is fractured into broken memories, blurred from the copious amounts of alcohol you had in your system. 

You can only picture the sneer one of your 'friends' was sporting behind your back, clearly not meant to be seen by you as you suddenly turned around to ask her something. The flashing lights on the dance floor. Your bleeding knee as you tripped outside the club. Dark, polished shoes barely visible through your tears.

"I didn't just see you that night you fell outside the club, baby. I was the one that brought you home." 

"You did?" You stare into the darkness, stomach twisting with emotions you can't quite place. 

"Yeah," Jimin confirms with a slight nod. "You were drunk as hell and all alone, it wasn't safe for you to attempt to find your way home on your own. I knew you were hurt so how could I just leave you there to fend for yourself?"

"I think you, or the bond maybe, recognized me right away. You were all over me as I was trying to walk you to my patrol car, touching my face and giggling about how handsome I was," Jimin lets out a breathy chuckle. "You're a touchy drunk, baby, I almost had to put you in handcuffs on the way over to your apartment." 

– handcuffs, but I'd rather not do that to you right now. Just keep your hands in your lap, alright Miss?

Baby, you hear your own voice sniffly grumble, not "miss" – that's so boring. 

You're not going to make this easy for me, hm? Okay then, baby it is. 

The memory comes out of nowhere, catching you off-guard. You were the one that permitted Jimin, no – practically begged him – to use such a nickname for you? 

"You weren't easy to handle, Y/n," Jimin snorts. "It took me way too long to wrangle you to your couch and you almost started crying again when I left the room to grab your first-aid kit. You kept stroking my hair as I patched up your knee, switching between acting pouty and cute as you tried to convince me to come to bed with you." 

"I didn't, by the way," He adds as he notes the tension in your body. "I just helped you into bed and made sure you fell asleep before I left. Nothing happened. I would never take advantage of you like that." 

You believe him. Jimin's letters were always so sexual, always so ready to describe the ways he would touch you as if he was picturing your first time together. If he had already done so, you can only imagine what kind of imagery he would've painted for you in his letters. 

"So that's how you know where I lived," You say, mind reeling with the new information. You just thought he had passed you by that night, just long enough to feel the bond. You had no idea that he was the one that safely got you home.  

Jimin hums. 

"If you knew, why didn't you tell me? All of this, everything, could've been avoided that way." 

You feel him pause and hold his breath, before he slowly releases it. "I don't know, baby. I was overwhelmed that I had finally found you – scared that you wouldn't like me when you were sober. It just felt easier to watch you from afar and try to build up the courage to approach you again." 

Your heart twists with the idea of what could have been.

Jimin was the first soulmate who felt your bond and who later sent you a letter. If he had just approached you normally the day after your night out, you're not so sure everything else would have transpired the way it did. Maybe you would have looked for your remaining soulmates with his help once you figured out there was more than one. Maybe you would've met the other boys through Jimin or perhaps they would've been more inclined to approach you normally once they realized you shared a bond with their friend. 

Perhaps everything would have been different if Jimin had tried.

"Why are you telling me this?" You whisper.

"I know I haven't given you a great first impression but I'm not a bad person, baby. I just.. wanted you to know that," Jimin says, lips moving against your skin. 

This new knowledge does paint him in a slightly better light. You're mortified over the way you acted that night and you clearly gave Jimin some signals as to how you felt about him, but it still doesn't excuse the way he has acted or the things he has said over the past year.

He lets out a small, sad sigh when he doesn't get a response. 

"You asked about your friend. What if we come to an agreement on how to deal with him?" 

"Yes," The word spills out before you can even consider the consequences. 

Jimin goes perfectly still behind you, his voice a low rumble as he says, "Do you even know what you just agreed to, baby? I haven't told you what I want in return yet." 

You swallow thickly, giving him a barely-there nod. He might not ask for what you're thinking about but when it comes to keeping your friends unharmed, you're willing to do anything. Giving Jimin what he's been craving for over a year should hopefully make him more inclined to listen to you, to trust you. 

Jimin's breath hitches as you slowly bring your intertwined hands up your body, not quite touching but still making the implications very clear. You untangle your fingers as you reach your chest, leaving his hand resting just shy of it. 

You bite your lip, heart racing, as you wait for Jimin to touch you. A beat passes, and another, but his hand stays frozen in place where you left it, not even a finger moving closer to your body. 

"Why aren’t you?–" 

"You're tense," Jimin murmurs, nudging his nose against your tight shoulder. "I’ll only touch you if you want it – want me." 

"Do you?" He asks.

The question hangs in the quiet air between you, pending, as you try to find your answer. Had Jimin asked you the same question a few months ago, you know what your response would have been. Your body would have curled up in disgust, you would have screamed and kicked and punched if he had so much as tried to put a finger on you. But now... You're not so sure anymore. While the thought of what he's put you through still sickens you, it's not repulsion you feel as you imagine him touching you. 

You want it. 

Whether it's the soulbond, the isolation or just your mind breaking apart, you don't know. But that doesn't change the fact that you don't mind the idea of Jimin touching you. You even brought it up first, not knowing if this is what he wanted out of your agreement or not. 

You want him.

You lick your lips, your mouth feeling dry as you whisper out a quiet, "Yes." 

"I need a full sentence, baby. I want to make sure."

"Jimin," You barely manage to raise your voice, but it sounds so loud, so damning, in the quiet night. "Please touch me." 

Jimin stifles a groan against your shoulder, sounding hoarse as he says, "Okay, baby, as you wish." 

He nudges your oversized shirt to the side with his nose, attaching his mouth to the revealed skin. You let out a soft mewl as you feel the slight sting of his teeth sink into your shoulder, the sensation soothed by his tongue as he licks over the bite, sucking the skin between his lips. 

Jimin moves his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and slowly forming bruises. He reaches out to grope your chest, moaning at the resulting shiver that runs through you. 

"Gods," He groans as he massages your breast, rolling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt, "Been thinking about this for so long." 

"Jimin–" You arch your back, gasping, as he suddenly pinches the nub. Jimin pulls and rubs at it in a way that makes your core throb, wetness coating your folds. As you push your breast into his hand, you feel something hard poke against your lower back, Jimin's hips rolling forward on instinct as he feels some friction. 

After all you've been through you know you shouldn't enjoy it, but it feels like your soul preens at the contact. You never thought you would end up here, that you would ever want to be in a position like this, but there's no denying that your body is practically vibrating with excitement as Jimin touches you. Still, there's a small knot in your stomach that only feels heavier the more skin you let him explore. You don't know how much of this is actually you and how much of it is just the bond that ties you together. 

"My pretty baby," Jimin murmurs as he moves his hand over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first as he slowly grinds his cock against your body. 

He gives your nipple one last mean tug, one that makes your cunt clench with need, before he slowly trails his hand down to your stomach. Your breath hitches as he moves his fingers under your shirt, the skin-on-skin contact causing you to let out a soft moan. Your body feels electrified as Jimin caresses your stomach and sides, his fingertips mapping out every inch of the area before he dips them down under the waistband of your sweats. 

"Please," The word barely has time to leave your mouth before Jimin obliges, hand sliding between your legs to cup your cunt. He glides his fingers between your folds, groaning as he feels how soaked the material of your underwear has become. 

"Fuck, you're dripping for me already, baby," Jimin curses as he continues to feel up your cunt, dragging the pad of his finger from your aching clit down to your slick hole, giving it just enough pressure to feel the tip of it dip in. 

The sensation makes you squirm with want, rolling your hips against Jimin's cock. He lets out a choked sound at the action, attaching his lips to your neck to give you another hickey. He hisses with frustration as he struggles to touch you properly, the angle awkward and your clothes restricting his hand. 

Jimin taps the inside of your thigh to make you spread your legs further. Heat floods your face as you feel just how wet you are as your legs part, hooking your foot over Jimin's calf to give him more room. 

"Good girl," He praises as he finally pushes your underwear aside. The first touch of his fingers against your aching cunt makes you both moan, your heart thumping harshly in your chest with anticipation. 

You know there's no going back after this. The knot in your belly, the lingering hostility, is practically overshadowed by your mounting pleasure. You can feel the part of you that's still angry quieting down more and more with each touch, the tight grip you've had on your resentment loosening. You know this is wrong, that you never should have let Jimin – your stalker – touch you like this regardless of how much your soul is yearning for him. But the horrible truth is that you're never getting away from them. And if this makes Jimin happy, then that means you should have it easier too, right? 

Gods, how could you sink so low–

Jimin doesn't waste much time teasing you, too impatient for it when you're already this dripping wet.

He drags his finger along your slit, coating it in your slick before he prods at your entrance. The digit slides into your wet heat easily, your walls fluttering around it as you try to get used to the feeling. He gently pumps his finger in and out at first, making sure you're relaxed before he adds another one. He thumbs at your clit as the second finger joins the first, the jolt of pleasure masking the slight discomfort as you're stretched out more. 

You can't quite believe how easily your body allows him in, how painless it feels compared to the previous times you've been with someone in the past. Maybe Jimin is just more skilled, but it feels like your body knows to relax in Jimin's hold, like it wants to be good for your soulmate.

"Shit," You whimper as Jimin's fingers curl against your walls, bumping into the spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. You clench down around him, trying to keep him in place and yet draw him in even deeper, desperate for that burst of pleasure again. 

"P-Please don't stop," You beg, your mind blissfully blank aside from the mounting pleasure in your core.

"I won't, baby, I won't," Jimin groans. He keeps up the steady motion of rolling his hips against your body, grunting as you work yourself on his fingers, pressing your ass harder against his cock. 

You bury your head into your pillow as Jimin's fingers begin pumping into you faster, stifling your increasing moans as he touches that sensitive spot over and over. Your leg trembles, toes curling, as Jimin angles his fingers, ceasing his thrusting in favour of rubbing your g-spot head-on. 

Desperate noises fall from your lips as your stomach begins to tighten, your release building so quickly that it leaves you gasping for air. You're almost there, your cunt clenching needily around Jimin's fingers. 

"Come for me, baby," Jimin rasps. The faintest brush of his slick thumb against your clit is all it takes for you to come undone. 

"Jimin!" You cry out his name as your pleasure unravels, your vision whitening out as your release hits you. You feel your slick gush around Jimin's fingers as he keeps brushing against your walls, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible. 

The sound of you moaning his name with so much passion makes Jimin growl, his hips snapping forward. Your wetness coating his fingers and your warm body twitching underneath his is all it takes for Jimin to find his own release; he grinds his hard cock against you once, twice, before he explodes with a deep groan.

You lay in bed, panting, as you try to catch your breath. You let out a choked whine as Jimin carefully pulls out his fingers, everything feeling so sensitive after the intense orgasm you just had. 

"You're amazing, Y/n," Jimin croons as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. He slips his hand out from your clothes, rubbing your stomach contently as he says, "Just give me a second to find something to clean us up with, baby, I'll be right back." 

You let out a soft noise in return. 

You wait for the deep regret and anger to come rushing in as you hear Jimin swiftly exit the room, for the high in your veins to turn to disgust as he returns to carefully wipe you down with a damp cloth and whisper sweet nothings about how much he adores you. 

It doesn't happen. 

Everything in you feels thrilled at Jimin's attentiveness, at how closely he wraps you up in his arms when he's done. Your heart flutters with excitement as he tucks you close to his chest, arms wrapped around your body securely. 

Your soul feels so content that you struggle to grasp onto the hatred you feel for them, the feeling buried deep beneath the happy emotions your soulbond tries to overwhelm you with. 

Your resentment hasn't changed. Won't ever change. But how do you explain that you wanted Jimin to touch you – that you enjoyed it? You don't want this or them so why do you feel so content? It breaks your heart to realize that while you do hate them, some small part of your is starting to like them too. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out Jimin's pleased hums as he runs his fingers up and down your arm. You know you won't get any answers tonight and letting your mind run around in circles won't do you much good either. You need the books Namjoon promised he would get for you, that's the only place you'll be able to find some answers. 

You let Jimin's repetitive motions soothe you towards sleep, your eyelids growing heavy. 

"Baby?" Jimin murmurs, the rhythmic fall and rise of his chest skipping a beat as he tenses up for a split second.

"Hmm?" You make an affirmative sound in return, brows furrowing at the sudden shift in Jimin's mood. 

"We've been pretending to be you on your phone, texting your friends and family to keep up appearances. Heejun doesn't buy it."

Your eyes snap open in the darkness, your breath catching in your throat. 

"He knows something is wrong since we can't pick up whenever he tries to call you. We won't hurt him or his boyfriend, I– we, know you'll never forgive us if something happens to them. But we need him to back off," Jimin grumbles.

You clutch at his tee, sleep washed away and voice bordering on frantic as you ask, "What do you need me to do?"

"Simple," Jimin sighs, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head, "You just have to convince him that you don't want to talk to him anymore. That's the only way he'll leave us alone." 

The thought makes you want to laugh. There's no way Heejun would ever believe something like that. You've practically been attached at the hip ever since you were young, been through so many highs and lows that you taking a trip to the moon sounds more possible than ever growing bored of him. Heejun would never buy such a simple excuse, hell, he would probably only double down harder to figure out why you're so hellbent on ignoring him. 

"Right, simple," You echo, deflating in Jimin's arms.

It's never going to work. 

You'll have to come up with a much better idea if you want to protect your friends and keep them safe. 

a/n: hhh.... so that happened?? 🫣 we got a lot of new information in this chapter! we finally learned more about namjoon's backstory and his connection with the poems, the mc needs to figure out how to convince her friends she's okay and well... we have finally reached the smut!!

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter and let's scream about what went down with jimin lol 💖

see you soon!

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[silverflqmes]

Okay hear me out, may I request Cloud x reader fluff where we spend lovely spring morning together? Nothing nsfw just pure comfort, our cat laying in bed with us, laziness at it finest.

Off the topic I really adore your work! I'm quite new to ffvii, basically I've just started playing, but your work made me fall head over heels for Cloud haha. Anyway have a good day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐖.

notes. hello! thank you so much for the request and the kind words akajsks i’m still fairly new to ff7 myself, but i’m glad to have amplified your love for it and cloud<3 the cat saga continues✨ i did something experimental here so it’s a little shorter, but i hope it’s okay :’)

genre. fluff + comfort

disclaimer. before any confusion arises.. sora is the name of your cat, who was first mentioned in this post if you are eager to see more of her!

cloud strife x gn!reader.

sora’s purring joins the gentle whistle sung by the breeze that swept through the bedroom window, chiffon curtains dancing to the soft tune like delicate petals.

cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a taste of spring weather — of bitter cold melting into tender warmth.

the change of seasons was hardly ever noticeable without trees to flourish the busy streets with life, lakes to freeze over at the gradual drop of temperature, and flowers to splash the otherwise monochrome edge with color in the spring.

perhaps, it made the planet worth saving after all. to have been rewarded for his efforts at the very end with the beauty of the world, along with his beloved partner.. and a feline friend.

your chest rose and fell with breath, quietly, but surely, eyes fluttered shut. an unspoken trust, which your boyfriend treasured more than he could verbally express.

it was too early to even be up right now for most people.. but cloud, unfortunately, had to represent his little company as its only delivery guy and employee within the next two hours.

he fought back an annoyed sigh at the mental reminder of it.. only to remember that you had still been fast asleep.

any indicative sound that threatened to portray his irritation and spill from his lips all but melted away, falling completely silent on his tongue. because how could he possibly ruin the serene image of you all bundled up and cozy.

the exasperated exhale died all together in the stream of his windpipe as his features relaxed once more in repose.

normally he preferred taking up long distant deliveries by himself, but on this particular occasion, the client happened to live in your seaside hometown — costa del sol. a place that was untouched by the unpleasant smog of edge, and instead painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant coats.. rather than a trillion shades of gray.

a shift in movement made his mako tinted sapphires flash just briefly before sliding to your stirring form.

his ears caught a jumbled, almost incoherent murmur ( were it not for his amplified hearing ) and cloud wondered to himself for a moment what dreams had joined you in your slumber. something lovely, he hoped, a gentle caress to your conscience.. and not the nightmares that haunted him until dawn on some evenings.

moonless nights when cloud thought too hard for comfort, let alone decent rest.

although, those had been few now. infrequent, thankfully, all because of your solace-filled presence — pressed into his chest.. and the light nuzzling of your calico kitty tucked into his side.

a silent, meow-less request for breakfast.. or maybe not. maybe it was just to ask cloud to stay a little while longer, and enjoy that which he could not back in edge.

waking up to unsullied air- a mixture of floral aromas and the soft, but welcome dripping of morning dew traveling from petal to petal, was.. sadly a rarity, the former infantryman realized.

which is why he found himself sinking into the pillows and duvets in submission, allowing darkness to greet his eyes for another round of sleep. two hours were more than enough to get dressed and to his destination. so truly, all he needed was thirty minutes to be dressed and out of your childhood home.

the hour and a half remaining could blissfully go to cuddling you a little while longer, all else drowning into background noise as he would slip further and further, deeper and deeper. surrendering himself completely to your warm company, the serendipitous quiet, and spring morn.

notes. okay this is way shorter than what i normally write, but i hope it’s still good😭 not much dialogue, just cloud being soft and at ease for a change ahaha

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[volturiprincess]

Better than a cup of coffee

Alec Volturi x human mate Warnings: Just pure fluff A/N: This one is short and sweet, i apologize to anyone who does not drink coffee but as I was writing this I was drinking coffee and I'm a coffee person anyways. I wasn't sure if I was going to work on this today but I needed some fluff and well here is it. There will be a second A/N in the end. Enjoy 🤗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☕️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(My love🖤)

I have never been a morning person, just the thought of having to wake up early makes me want to cry. I applaud the people who wake up early. But when I meet my mate Alec, mornings have officially become my favorite part of the day. What makes it so special, is Alec wakes me up with a fresh cup of coffee that he made just for me. I'm not sure how he picked up on how to make coffee or how to make it how I like it but I guess he really does pay attention to my every move in the mornings.  I have told him before that for me to function as a human I need a cup of coffee or else I will not be a delightful person to be around.

He unfortunately witnessed that side of me and has made it his mission to have that cup of coffee ready for me when I wake up. But that's not what makes it special, when he wakes me up, the first thing I see is his face. He has this small smile and his eyes are full of warmth and love that makes me feel like i'm in a dream still. He's like my personal fallen angel that I have the honor to call mine. 

This morning did not start any differently, the sunlight was gazing on me with its million mini rays hitting my face. I heard a small thud hit my nightstand, and I opened my eyes slightly to be blessed by the sight of my stunning mate looking at me already with his face slightly having that unhuman sparkle. His burgundy eyes also already having that intense but loving look he gives me whenever he looks at me, even if I probably look like crap he never fails to lose that look. 

With his small warming smile already on his face, he again blesses me with his soothing voice “Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello”

I make “grabby hands” toward him and he comes closer to lay on top of me with laying his face on my chest. I bury my face into his hair and mumble groggily 

“Someone’s been paying attention to the movies I make them watch”

“Always my love”

He tilted his head up and gave my neck multiple kisses, the temperature difference between his cold lips and my warm skin made me feel that familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Being like this with him makes me forget there is a real world out there, almost makes me feel like we are the only two people on this planet. These small moments we share I hold dearly to my heart because I am the only person that gets to see Alec in such a vulnerable and relaxed form, not even Jane has seen him like this, the honor I have. While he continues to give me now soft kisses instead of multiple, I run my hands through his dark locks. I'm glad he has kind of long hair so I am able to run my hands through his hair. So soft and silky, makes me slightly jealous he has nicer hair than me but he tells me it's a vampire thing. The way his soft kisses leave me in a state of bliss that makes me mumble nonsense 

“Better than a cup of coffee”

He lifts his face to looks up at me with a pure astonish look and exclaims 

“Are you serious? But you said you always need a cup of coffee to be human”

I pull him into a deep gentle kiss that he reciprocates, I pull away and say with a small sleepy smile 

‘Your my cup of coffee now”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So cuteeee. I like how I did a little reference of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (2005), its actually my alarm sound 🤭. I just wanted to say that Im working on a Caius one-shot, this one is taking a bit longer to get done because its longer than my usual ones and I was thinking of doing a 2 part to it. But also I have my finals this week so I wont be posting to often, I may have part one of my Caius one-shot out this week but I been having some small difficulties with it and I keep changing my mind in how to write it plus studying keeps me occupied the majority of my day. But I.m happy to have gotten this one out in the open because its so sweet and adorable, I almost made it a Carlisle one-shot but as I kept thinking about this it just screamed Alec.

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝ just a human ❞

⟶ neteyam x fem!human!reader

⟶ he should've never fallen for a human

⟶ cw. rough drabble ⭒ headcanons ⭒ jealousy ⭒ angsty ⭒ aged up ⭒ BREAKUP ⭒ interspecies relationship ⭒ alien x human ⭒ established situation-ship

⟶ note. i've never tried to write something like this before, but i was feelin angsty. lmk what you think, i dont really know what style this is but i guess its a drabble/hc kinda thing?? it's fun! not edited or anything really

⭒ it wasn't obvious when things started to change, but slowly it became more and more noticeable the way you were being treated.

⭒ he'd leave early in the day before you'd even wake up, when he'd come back he'd say that he was in a rush and didn't think.

"i didn't mean to okay?" he said, bluntly. he moves past you rather quickly. "you wouldn't have been up yet, anyway."

your eyebrows are stitched together, feeling that odd feeling inside your chest as if something was wrong. it felt like a bad time to press matters, even if it hurts to keep those feelings in.

"you could've still asked, i would've gone with you."

neteyam sighs, putting away his bow. his eyes can't meet yours, darting anywhere but at them. "yea, i know."

⭒ you can't pinpoint the reason for his coldness. inside the lab, everyone could feel it. you weren't good at hiding your feelings but neither was he.

⭒ kiri likes to visit her mom, bring lo'ak and neteyam who's body stiffens the seconds he sees you. it wasn't just him though, they all seemed to be acting differently. only kiri remained truly nice to you.

"hey!" kiri waves her hand at you as if there wasn't a huge chill in the room from the tension.

you smiled at her from your desk, continuing with your daily reports without uttering a word.

⭒ neteyam can't keep his feelings off his face, it was obvious. his coldness was within reason, it was out of his control even if he hates it.

⭒ it hurts him to see you that way. alone most of the day, no one really your age since you were closer in range with them. most were far beyond adulthood and nothing much to really talk to about.

⭒ you were the closest to kiri, and well kiri couldn't help it but talk to you. he notices the way you've been avoiding her now, because of him.

⭒ it wasn't until the day that neteyam noticed you weren't in the lab, that his heart leaps and feels that surging feeling of impending doom.

"she went out in the morning," one of the lab guys said. neteyam rushes to your desk, the same one you've always sat at and looks through piles of sticky notes and journals. his large hands practically destroying everything in it's path.

a gasp from behind him was heard, "what are you doing neteyam, she's going to be so pissed you decided to ruin her stuff."

kiri didn't seem to feel that awful gut feeling he felt. he turns to her with a frantic look on his face, finally looking over at the monitor to find a sticky note with your small handwriting, 'out for the day, i think it's hunting season but don't worry, i'll be back later.'

"she's not stupid," kiri said, following her brother as he gathers his weapons and ionar. he was on a mission, his lips are in the tight line.

neteyam shakes his head, going towards the edge of the cliffs where his ikran rests, "i know, but right now she's really stupid–she knows it's hunting season why would she go?"

"i'm sure she's fine."

⭒ you were indeed fine. but neteyam was not.

⭒ neteyam rushes off his ikran with a mission. angry rushes through his bones as he pushes himself through the vegetation to spot you with a boy, a na'vi boy.

"what are you doing?"

you seemed unphased by him. not even bothering to reply. this seemed to make his blood boil by the second. the na'vi boy looks awkwardly been the two of you.

"and what are you doing here?"

the na'vi boy stutters, unable to say a word to the first born son of the clan leader.

your voice was flat, lacking emotion, "he gave me a ride." you get up off the ground, hands filled with bags of random plants and rocks.

⭒ he's never been so annoyed. he didn't think he'd get jealous easily, he thought things like this wouldn't bother him.

⭒ lo'ak always bothered him, pointing out his mood which doesn't make it any better.

"just talk to her man, she'll hate you forever if you don't."

⭒ he did. he talked to you, he stood there. the boy you liked, stands there telling you how he couldn't be with you. he was scared, of his feelings and what others would think.

you scoff, angrily you shoved him. pointing at him, "you of all people, i didn't think would care so much of what people think."

"i don't, i–look, my mother doesn't like humans, she hates spider–he's like my brother and she never sees him," he explains. feeling the moisture in his eyes gather, he wipes them off quickly. his eyes trail the ground at your feet.

you look away, "so it's your mom?"

"it's everyone," he kicks the ground, "i should've never fallen for a human."

"is that what you see us as?"

his eyebrows are stitched together, unable to form words as his mind is frazzled.

"aliens, i am just a human to you–not anything more." it hurts, it really does.

⭒ it was then that you listed the possibilities of what was wrong with you. what didn't you have that he wanted. you didn't want to believe that he would let that affect him, what others think or see.

⭒ he's lying to himself, he kicks himself after being reminded of how much of a skxawng he was.

⭒ tuk found out what he did, she was really angry. she really liked you, you always took her places with you. everytime she'd see neteyam she'd hiss at him.

"hah, she hates you," kiri sings. she's also not his biggest fan after finding out from the source how much of his asshole her brother was.

⭒ it was then, they needed to leave. to save the tribe–to save everyone. neteyam and his family had to leave.

⭒ the weather was awful that day, as if even eywa knew. he's completely covered in rainwater, head to toe trying to find you.

⭒ you're saying bye to kiri and tuk.

"you're not coming?" it was the first words he'd spoken to you since, almost a month ago. it wasn't like he didn't try, his mouth always tried to say something but the moment you'd spot him–felt his energy, you were gone, avoiding him like the plague.

kiri took tuk away, knowing that this was about to get dirty. you shrugged, watching the way the water fell from his pretty face after not really getting a look at him all this time, "what do you mean?"

"since you're saying bye, i assume you know–but you're not going with us? but you're my fa–"

an ironic laugh leaves your lips, interrupting him, "i'm just a human, neteyam, i know my place."

⭒ neteyam never had felt heartbreak before, not before today. irony, your heart broke a month ago. he'd not only lost his home, but he lost...his true home.

end note. if you made it this far I HAVE A TAGLIST, if you wanna be tagged that is &lt;;3

© moongumi 2023. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

[saetoru]

[ DEAL ] ITOSHI SAE.

sae’s strict.

his schedule’s packed and his time is precious and he doesn’t waste a second on the clock. you’re pretty sure his body doesn’t need the blaring alarm in the early hours of the morning—you’re almost certain he can wake up on his own.

and it’s dreadful, it’s downright torturous when you’re pulled from the clutches of sleep by the shrill noise of his phone—but even worse is the warmth of his chest being peeled from under you, his body slowly climbing out of bed and leaving you alone.

“no,” you whine, “sae, it’s cold.”

“there’s a blanket here for a reason,” he mumbles—and he doesn’t even sound tired, doesn’t even sound like the achingly long hours of practice and the few hours of sleep bother him in the slightest.

“it’s not the same,” you say woefully, staring up at him. to your credit, you try, you really do. you try to give him your best pout, tugging his wrist gently to convince him back into bed.

but sae’s strict—he doesn’t skip a single thing off his schedule, and he doesn’t waste a single second in the process.

“don’t be dramatic. it’ll keep you warm,” he insists. he flicks your forehead gently, pulling the covers over your body and tucking them under your chin. “good?”

“no,” you huff.

he gives you a blank stare, eyeing you before moving to leave the bed again. but you have other plans, much more important plans than the stupid morning jog he insists on every day. you’re already clinging to him before he can fully rise, face buried into his back as your arms wrap around his waist.

“sae, i’ll die. do you want me to freeze to death?”

“it’ll be silent at least,” he grumbles, pulling a gasp from you. and you don’t see it, but there’s a twitch of his lips, a small fond smile painting across his features at the way you huff at his statement.

“you’re rude,” you grumble, “just give me like…fifteen more minutes, please?”

“five,” he bargains.

“twenty.”

“that’s not how that works,” he raises a brow, making you giggle as you curl into the sheets. he stares, watches the traces of sleep linger in your eyes, watches as the sun pouring through the cracks of the curtains makes them a shade lighter, watches as you throw him that sickeningly sweet grin.

and then he’s back under the covers—and it happens before he can even register it, before he even fully understands what he’s doing. sae’s not sure why he lets you have your way, but his body’s tugged before he can even lay down properly, your cheek snuggled against his bicep as you hug his arm.

he thinks maybe he doesn’t mind it as much as he should.

and then he looks down at you, sees the way you give him that giddy smile, “i knew you’d cave. thirty more minutes, kay?”

“we agreed five,” he says flatly.

“sae, we did not.”

“okay, seven—”

“i raise you a great offer,” you cut him off, “twenty and i’ll even make breakfast.”

“it’s your turn anyway.”

“you’re a terrible business partner,” you pout, and he chuckles—in that soft, quiet way he only does around you, in that way where his eyes are crinkled and his smile is fond and his chest rumbles.

itoshi sae is beautiful like this, under the morning sun against your skin, when he lets you lace your fingers with his as his eyes soften just a little.

“ten,” he mumbles, “that’s my last offer.”

“fifteen and i’ll wash the dishes,” you plead. and you’re a cheater, he thinks, using dirty tricks as you lean up and press a delicate kiss to his cheek, trailing them along his jaw so convincingly, he closes his eyes and forgets for a moment about that strict schedule of his. he forgets about his morning run and practice and that match that’s coming up—because you’re here, and your lips are gentle and your voice is sweet as it murmurs, “i love you.”

“you’re cheating,” he mumbles, hand tightening its grip on yours. you smile, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead as you press a delicate kiss there too.

“‘s not cheating,” you hum, “it’s called good business tactics.” and then your lips hover over his own, and they’re so agonizingly close, so close that he can practically feel the soft press even as they don’t close the gap.

he waits for you to fill the space between you, aching for a taste of you, aching for you to press against him and complete every part that’s missing.

and almost like you know, almost like you know he’s waiting, you pull away, denying him what he craves so desperately.

there’s a grin on your face with just a hint of trouble in your eyes as you whisper, “twenty. deal?”

“you said—”

you peck the corner of his mouth, so close yet so far from where he needs you, “twenty and i promise i’ll let you leave on time tomorrow.”

“that’s a lie,” he snorts, “that was yesterday’s deal.”

“you keep agreeing,” you shrug.

“fine,” he sighs, “twenty. this is the last time,” he warns.

“kay, deal,” you nod. and it’s never really the last time—he knows you’ll tug him back into bed tomorrow too, just like today, just like yesterday, just like always.

sae’s strict, but maybe not so much with you. he’ll keep letting you have your way—he’s not entirely sure why, but maybe he understands a little when your lips finally press against his, firm and gentle at the same time, slow yet so desperately needy.

i love you, he says through extra morning cuddles and slow kisses and fond flicks to your forehead. i love you, you hear through the slow circles he rubs against the small of your back, through the blanket pulled over your shoulders and tucked under your chin, through that soft look he only has around you.

“you’re so annoying,” he grunts.

“you’re just mad because you suck at making deals,” you giggle.

“yeah? hope you have fun washing the dishes,” he smirks, and because he’s every bit of a cheater as you, he flicks your forehead as you whine, that quiet chuckle rumbling from his chest again.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [9 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You find unexpected acceptance within the pack.  

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

When you wake, it is to thick fog.  It is early, the pale shadow of the sun barely visible above the damp grass. You wake before most of the pack, the majority of them still tucked away in their sleeping rolls. Carol is too, you spy the top of her blonde head some twenty, thirty paces away.

You rise quietly, rolling your pack up before slinging the bow Steve had given you across your shoulders—just in case. Your short-sword, a mere dagger in an Orc’s hands—remains strapped to your waist. The grass sea is dangerous.  You’d known it before, but now you understand it. ‘Tis an accursed land, far from Halith’s light. You have found no curses here, though. No angry, vengeful Gods; at least no more or less vengeful than your father’s own. 

The grass parts for you easily, though your feet stick in the mud. The bound leathers Carol had fitted for your “tiny human feet” do better at keeping out the damp and the cold than any shoes made in the village ever had, and you are especially grateful for them now. It hasn’t taken long—only a matter of weeks, really—for the village that had been your home for every summer its walls had stood to belong to another you, another life. You have no desire to return to the clutches of the Kingdom, nor the Church of Undying Light. They are as dead to you as the ones lost in the pass. 

Still, though, you cannot help but wonder what lies ahead as you move slowly through the grass. What future Tarrath holds for you. Steve had spoken of a vast city on the edge of an endless salt-sea, and you long to gaze upon it with your own eyes, to learn its mysteries. 

You are not far from the camp now, close enough to see it over the tops of the grass if you stand on the very tips of your toes. By the time you’ve crested the nearby hill, your cheeks warm with exertion and brow damp, the morning mist has all but dissipated. You stare down at the valley spread out below you with awe.

In the distance to the east, you can see the dark shape of that treacherous pass, dotted against the landscape. But in truth, you can see so much more. The sky is a pale, sickly blue, still a shadow of its former self after the might of the storm, but even so, you are glad to see it anyway. The grass sea stretches on for uncountable leagues in every direction, rolling into a horizon so vast your head spins at the thought of it. Mountains rise and fall, emerging and disappearing into the green. 

The world is quite a bit bigger than I imagined.

You had never really imagined it at all, existence beyond the village was immaterial and unimportant, your life a strange combination of droll, unending horror that you’d known would one day end in your unremarkable death. But now the land itself unfurls before you like the most tempting of scrolls, begging you to look, to see, to know and understand, to learn and experience—and you want to. 

The shifting hiss of grass parting makes you turn, a hand flying to the hilt of the sword at your hip, but you drop it back to your side almost instantly. The young orc before you holds his hands out placatingly. 

“Apologies,” you say with a wry smile.

“None needed. The zikaegina is a wild place. An old place, is what my mahem tells me.” He is young, much younger than Steve. Perhaps one of the youngest in the entire pack. Bright, warm brown eyes crease at the corners as he grins at you boyishly, his short tusks gleaming. “But beautiful, also.” He gestures at the view. 

“It is,” you agree. “I thought… I thought when I looked upon it that it must never end,” you admit, and he chuckles. 

“All things have an end.” He says amusedly, returning his gaze to the sea. “I am Peter.” You tell him your name, and he repeats it in that matter-of-fact way that Steve had done, like he means to taste each syllable, though it doesn’t make the skin on the back of your neck prickle like it had when Steve had said it. If he were human, you might’ve placed Peter at twenty summers, perhaps two or three more at a push, but as he’s decidedly not, it is hard to tell. Your eyes stray to the string of rabbits tied at his  waist, and he looses a little laugh. 

“Ah, yes. I thought it important to hunt this morning.” He unties them from his waist, hoisting them up proudly. It is quite a good catch, they are all plump and fat, much larger than the one you’d managed to bring down, before your rather dumb luck with the stag. “Do you like them?”

His question takes you aback, and you squint at him confusedly. 

“I—I suppose? I know Carol and the others will surely appreciate the addition to the stores.” Peter shakes his head, frowning. 

“They are not for the stores.” He brandishes them again, and you see now that they are an offering. He presses them into your hands, smiling. “They are for you.” Your face heats. 

“I, er—why?” Your brows crease. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”  Peter’s brows knit together in confusion. His eyes drop to your throat, and the bewilderment in his eyes only grows. 

“You are unmated, are you not?” He asks, nervously rubbing his shoulder with the opposite hand. “I-I know many females prefer jewelry, but I thought perhaps the rabbits might be more pertinent…” He trails off awkwardly, and the nervous fluttering in your belly turns into full blown panic. 

Oh no.

“I, well, that is to say—” You sputter out nonsense, wringing your skirts in your hands. You admit the hope had blossomed within you that one day you might truly be seen as pack too, but it had not yet occurred to you that attraction might also follow suit. You lick your lips before trying again.

“I’m not, but I, well I don’t think this is—”

“I am a good warrior, strong.” He says confidently. “I will never fail to provide, this I vow.” You swallow thickly.

“I’m sure you are,” you say slowly. “But—I—there are certain things to—”

“What is going on here?” Steve’s voice is icy, and his stony expression is just as cold. His eyes flick down to the rabbits in your hand, and then back to Peter before narrowing. “You shouldn’t be off hunting alone.” It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to everyone—just to you. The weight of his admonishment makes your cheeks burn. It does not help when Peter puffs his chest out, looking decidedly childish before Steve, standing half a head higher and two paces wider. 

“I am blooded, and a capable warrior. Twenty-two summers is more than old enough to take a mate. Maavuman usok. The gift is given.” Peter fixes Steve with a stubborn, challenging expression. 

“She does not understand our ways.” Steve’s frustration is palpable. “You would as well claim a youngling.” Your eyes narrow at the comparison even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. While you can admit  to a certain lack of skill, you are certainly no child. 

“I am not a child.” You snap, and Steve’s deep answering laugh only stokes your ire.

“So you would take Peter as your own?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “From now till hereafter?” Cold fills your belly at his words, and you shake your head furiously.

“I—n-no,” The words escape your mouth in a clumsy stampede. “I just, I er, I’m not…” 

“You do not accept the gift?” Peter looks absolutely crestfallen, his brows knitting together. You’re tempted to ramble, to attempt to soften the blow of your rejection the way you’ve been taught to, but somehow you get the feeling that that will not translate particularly well. If these weeks with the pack have taught you anything, it is that Orcs appreciate blunt honesty. Excuses, on the other hand…

“No.” You wince. “I do not.” 

You fully expect Peter’s anger, but it does not come. Instead, he adopts a fierce expression, curling his hand into a fist before slamming it against his chest. 

“Then I will find a gift you will accept, promikun ni.” The smile that curls across his lips is cheeky. “Something worthy of you.” Peter is retreating back into the grass sea, his face a mask of determination before you can tell him not to. 

“Maker have mercy,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Steve chuckles derisively. 

“You would not take Peter as your mate, little human?” He asks amusedly as you wrinkle your nose. 

“He’s so…young,” you reply, still watching the place where the grass had closed around him. 

“A youngling in all but name. Barely blooded.” Steve’s lips curl back around his tusks with remembered irritation. “He has no business—” he stops himself abruptly, shaking his head. He seems more relaxed now, less frustrated. “No matter. It is finished, now.” 

“Surely there are those much more… suited in Tarrath?” You do not know why you so fiercely desire for him to know that the young Orc’s desires are unrequited, but you feel driven to do so. “Unless it is common in Orc culture to raid for one’s wife.” Steve’s laughter feels heavier somehow, as if weighted with knowledge only he is aware of. 

“Only sometimes, Sweetmeat. Only the very strongest.” Warm lead settles in your belly, though you will it not to.  “We will ride for Tarrath tomorrow.” You nod. Of course—this had been the destination all along. “I would much like it if you were to ride with me, Sweetmeat.” 

“A-at the front?” You ask incredulously, and he nods.

“Yes. I should much like to see your face when you look upon the Red City for the first time,” he replies, before hoisting the rabbits. You don’t miss the fleeting scowl as it crosses his lips. “I will give these to Carol.” He slings them across his broad shoulders, and turns on his heel. 

“Steve?” He pauses at the sound of his name. 

“Yes, Sweetmeat?”

“What is m-maa-mawvwuman usak?” You know the words are clumsy and incorrect in your mouth, but you try anyway. He licks his lips slowly, grinning. The bare skin of your arms prickles as gooseflesh spreads up them. 

“Maavuman usok.” Steve repeats it slowly, each syllable rolling from his tongue like drops of honey. “The mating promise.” The sticky lump in your throat feels nearly impossible to speak around.

“And prum—prum—”

“It means promised one.”  

to be continued…

Brave Masterlist

next chapter

[rizsu]

project: i'm going insane suna rintarō.

sum. when a project brings together two students & possible crushes. ( no part two sry !! )

a quiet room with only the sweet melody of birds singing tales as the sun kisses your skin. ah, how sweet. it's such a blessing—being lost in paradise as you gaze upon the dancing flowers. truly a magicial scenery! oh, how divine. how divine it is indeed—

“students are to pair up with their deskmate for the project.”

right, you're still in class. reality is truly a pain. you really could've been listening to the sweet melody of birds but instead you got the sweet melody of hell (school).

you haven't turned to face your partner yet. you're not gonna face suna rintaro right now—especially not after he witnessed you graciously trip on nothing this morning.

“so are you gonna talk or are you gonna continue looking at me every five seconds from the side of your eye?” suna asked, tilting his head into his palm while he knocks his pen against the desk.

“i'd rather not honestly.”

“i don't care about your excellent fall this morning, y/n.”

that got it. that sentence awards itself as the sentence that made you whip your head to suna.

“don't spread lies. anyways, what're we gonna do for that project?”

raising his eyebrow, suna thinks. what are you guys going to do actually? he's sure that he'd forget about the whole project after three days.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, typing in random numbers into his calculator before continuing, “here, save my number we can talk more about it later.”

leaning into his side of the desk, you secretly pull your phone out from your bag, trying to save his contact as fast as you can before your homeroom teacher turns back facing the class.

“why the fuck did you save me as ‘some hoe’?!”

“mind your business.”

ಇ. AT HOME

it's 7 pm. you're just coming out of the shower, patting your face with a towel before reaching for your phone.

i should text suna, you think. double tapping your screen, you eyes widen slightly in surprise. it seems as though the other party had the same plans as you did.

snickering at the spammed messages, you opened his chat.

“what a fucking loser.” giggling at his text, you place your phone down going back to finishing your nightly routine.

ಇ. NEXT DAY

if there's one word to describe your mood right now it'll be annoyed. it's far too early for anything nor do you have the time and patience to talk with anyone at 06:45 am. releasing your earbuds from its jail, you put both on at max volume and try to continue your previous slumber.

“no way you're sleeping right now.” a soft voice speaks, the owner of the voice wraps his palm around your neck squeezing it a little.

you don't respond. you know what they say, don't respond to the devil!

oh but that doesn't stop suna. not at all! who is he if not your number one bully? suna knows your aware that he's next to you so how dare you ignore him! clicking his tongue, the boy pulls out one of your buds and places it in his ear before sitting down copying the exact way you're sitting.

suna looks at you. his eyes scanning through your features with a small smile. you're pretty, really. he notes every little feature on you mentally—noting how you always have two fringes/braids framing your face, noting how you actually fell asleep, noting how good your music taste is.

lemme save these songs too, suna thinks. he reaches over for your phone before dropping his hoodie on you. it's quite cold this morning and he'd rather not hear your ten-thousand complaints when you wake up from the nap.

──

“CAN YOU NOT WALK SO FAST?!”

“can't help that i'm an athlete.”

“NO ONE CARES! SLOW DOWN A LITTLE.”

it's 5:42 pm, the beams of the evening sky color the area in its glory. it'd be a beautiful scenery if two teenagers weren't bickering down the street.

a young boy, around six feet tall, walks with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a yogurt. behind him stands a young girl, around (your height), walks with anger as she playfully throws her school bag at the boy.

“keep hitting me and see if i won't throw you down the street.” the boy says, wiggling his finger at the girl as he warns her.

“are you trying to tussle and bussle?” the girl answers back, rolling her eyes at him.

“bussle... what is your vocabulary?” the boy questions, fighting back a smile. he finds her sentence amusing.

“don't question it. anyways, can we go to a café?”

“yeah, i'll grab some snacks for my sister too.”

and so, they set off (still bickering).

ಇ. MIDNIGHT

giggling at your convo, you smile hard before coming to realization.

“did i just fucking giggle at suna?!” questioning yourself out loud, you raise one eyebrow before switching off your phone. i'm going insane, you think.

laying down in a starfish position, you look up at the ceiling wondering about your feelings towards the one and only suna rintarō.

do you like him? yes.

is he annoying? yes.

do you like his company? yes.

do you wish to bash his head in with a rock sometimes? yes.

your romantic emotions clash with your platonic emotions which then clashes with your confusion and creates a whole new headache!

i don't have time for this.

meanwhile at suna's

“ayah, do you think i'm crazy?” suna asks. he's sitting at the end of his bed staring at a wall.

“yes!” the little girl answered, playing with her toys as she ignores her older brother's reaction.

ಇ. NEXT DAY

at the school's gym holds two teenagers that sit side by side, judging other students. one student named suna rintarō aggressively chews on his gum agreeing with the words being said as the other named y/n l/n continues to judge.

“y'know the girl in the right's cheating on her boyfriend?” you say, raising your eyebrows at you look at suna.

gasping, suna looks at you, “you're lying oh my god.”

“no i swear. like, if i was her boyfriend i'd just go home right now.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you reach for one of suna's gums.

“that's crazy but who are we to judge honestly.” suna says, popping his gum before standing up.

“i have practice until six today—” he stops before leaning down to your ground level, “don't miss me.” he continues, slightly smirking before pinching your cheek.

“hands OFF. and no, i won't miss you.” shoving his hand away, you stand up to walk out the gym with him (even though there's no reason to).

— at suna's.

suna walks into his home, greeting his family before dragging himself up to his room. he's whipped and absolutely battered. sometimes, he thinks he's not cut out for volleyball—well at least not with mr. perfect kita who does indeed follow a properly written routine.

i'm fucking beat, suna thinks. he plops onto his bed face down but immediately turns around. he thinks about the little interaction from earlier today; you guys were close. he's not really a teasing person but he doesn't know what possessed him to get that close—close to the point he could've moved five centimetres and your lips would meet.

you know that little cartoon effect where a red blush rushes from the character's neck to the head? yeah, that's suna right now. he's done and DUSTED.

“this cannot be real.” suna whispers, he thinks he's going insane. no way he can't stop thinking about you. no way. reaching over for his phone, suna looks at the screen before thinking, should i text her or nah.

he goes with the “nah” option and decides to take a nap. maybe he'll sort his feelings out after his nap.

[unidentifiedly]

Eventful Morning

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah almost scares the reader to death. Or at the very least, scares them enough for it to have consequences.

"Tip, tip, tip" Soft sounds of rain droplets made their way into your ears.

"No, no. Just a few more minutes." You thought to yourself, unable to open your eyes just yet. Slowly but surely you adjusted to the idea of waking up and opened your eyes. The off white canvas tent filtered the morning light beautifully. Glancing around yourself, looking for your favourite blouse and overdress, your gaze fell on the small dusty mirror in front of you, perched atop a trunk and supported by a stack of hardcover copies of romance novels.

In the mirror, yourself staring right back. You glanced at the intricately engraved brass pocket watch by the side of the bed. The watch itself was a birthday gift from Arthur a couple months back. The arms reaching toward four and twelve, it was way too early to get up and start one's day. Yet, here you were.

Softly humming to yourself you tied your hair up lazily with a ribbon, deciding to spend the hours of the morning organizing your safe haven. The gang had only recently arrived at the new spot, Horseshoe Overlook they called it. Far too east for Arthur's liking, but to you about anything sounded better than heading back up those cold mountains toward Colter. You were used to it at this point, the constant moving around. It was a way of life that held you tightly in its grip.

That being said, the new camp was still unorganized and there was sure to be work around that needed doing. This was a chance to have some private time, peace and quiet for yourself.

Sorting through the mementos and trinkets from throughout the years was quick, you wiped the dust off of the little mirror with the corner of your nightgown. Gathering up the few clothes you had laying around and neatly folding them up you realized the growing pile of fabric by the end of your bed was clothes and linen that needed washing, not something that should just be sorted back into the trunks right away. "I think it was Charles who mentioned there was a river just west of here?" Mumbling to yourself, you picked up the dirty clothes and put them in a basket, not bothering to dress up all the way. "Everyone will be asleep at this hour anyways, and if not, it'll be Miss Grimshaw awake. It's nothing that'll bother her too much." Pulling on your trusty leather boots you untied the strings holding the fabric flap door of your tent shut. A prompt walk to your horse, a beautiful paint mare, and you were off along with your basket of laundry. With the carelessness, soft hums and the skip on your step you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch you leave the camp. The observer finished smoking his cicarette, let his legs fall from the log they were resting on while chucking the cigarette butt over his shoulder, and rubbed his hands together. What on on God's green Earth were you up to this early in the morning, and barely dressed to boot?

The sound of a running stream reached your ears fast. Charles had of course been right, even a blind man would notice the Dakota River from this close by. Hopping off your horse and tying the reins to a nearby tree you swung the basket on your elbow and kicked the boots off your feet, walking straight into the cold running water. Oh how sweet the feeling was! In a low point of the river, a rock stood taller than the surface of the water, so you took a seat and began the chore.

"Eeeasy there boy" Micah huffed to Baylock, staying well hidden in the trees, observing you from afar. A smirk spread on his lips as he saw your boots and gun belt scattered on the riverbank, and you sitting on a rock in the middle of the water, with your back facing him. Dismounting with an agile leap, he slowly but surely started making his way toward you.

Completely lost in your activity and the sweet warm sunshine of the spring morning you were singing to yourself, getting ready to leave. Looking at the last blouse, and squeezing the extra water out of it a surprisingly strong wave hit the rock and splashed water all over you, soaking your thin white linen undergarments. "Fuck!" You stood up and turned around, screaming out loud.

"Mic- Mr.Bell! What the fuck are you doing?"

Keeping his eyes locked on your body, his smirk widened, his arms reaching out toward you. "Just call me Micah, and I could ask ya the same thing, sweetcheeks. Now come on here." He beckoned with his hands, but you refused.

"No, I don't think so, you can't just creep up on me like that Mr Bell. I could have dropped my laundry basket, or worse, fallen down and then drowned out of shock!"

You took a step back, lifting the now heavier basket full of wet clothes up to rest against your hipbone.

For every step you took back, Micah took one forward, and the man had both the advantage of longer legs and facing the direction he was going. It didn't take long for things to go south.

"I'm warning you Mr Bell, I'm going to tell Arthur about this, and you know he is not going to be happy!" You tried in vain.

"Hrmph. The cowpoke ain't got nothing to do with how I conduct my business with a lady such as yerself."

You were taken aback, "what did you just call me? You never- Ah!"

Slipping on a rock and falling back, you reached out to Micah for support, and closed your eyes in anticipation of the cold hard surface of the river. The sensation never came.

"Gotcha." Eyeing down at you was Micah, who effortlessly supported your almost naked body by your waist and left arm. "Now how about ya let me show you a good time as a thanks?" One of his eyebrows rising up and his face forming a seductive expression.

You, however, were too occupied to notice or care. "Micah you idiot! All of my clothes are fucking gone!"

And indeed, the river was decorated with the various pieces of clothing running merrily downstream, way too fast to catch up to.

"Well, ya won't be needin' any of those for th- Ow!" "Shut the fuck up and help me get dressed before anyone else notices!"

The ride to the camp was one of the worst you had ever experienced. For Micah, it was the opposite. A prideful smirk on his cocky face, throwing you the occasional remark about the curve of your waist and ass, and how good you looked in just his jacket as you rode, and making no attempts to be quiet and discreet as you arrived in camp. You tried your best to ignore him and get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Hopping off your horse, not even bothering to tie the rains to the hitchpost, you walked briskly toward your tent only to run straight into Sean.

"Oi, watch where ya- Y/N, wow, let me tell ya, could not see this one comin'!" A smirk instantly grew on his face, and he slapped a hand on Micah's jacket, on your shoulder.

"Sean it's NOT what it looks like, and don't you dare mention this to anyone either!" You whisper yelled while taking off the jacket, exposing your still wet and thus transparent garments. Sean blushed bright red, poor guy, and you stomped right in to your tent.

Not being able to face the rest of the day, the longer you stayed in your tent the more intimidating the prospect of leaving felt. Surely Sean had told everyone about what he saw, and you'd be mocked til eternity.

No, there was no way you'd ever leave that tent again.

A few hours later you were starving for a snack and stuck your head out to find the main area empty. Great! An opening. As soon as you stepped out, a voice rang: "Y/N!" You turned around, mouth open to start defending yourself, only to face a very noticeably beat-up looking Sean. "Listen, sorry about the earlier, I never saw nothing, alright?" You nodded in confusion and he smiled, thanked you quickly and scurried off. You got the food you were after, and returned to your tent to eat it. There, on your cot, rested a shirt and a dress, folded in a way which looked like a very bad attempt, with a piece of paper on top. There, in barely legible rough handwriting:

"The idiot won't bother ya about it. M"

You smiled to yourself, feeling the fabric of the clothes. Both of good quality fabrics, a white undershirt and a red simple dress. Just like the ones you usually wear every day.

Observing from a distance as you emerged from your tent in your red dress, Micah Bell smiled to himself as he sharpened his knife, softly murmuring to himself: "Gotcha ta call me by my name at least. That's a start."

note: Yay! My first ever piece of writing I've published online :) do suggest if you get any good ideas and like my writing style.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Lost to Change~ Childe

featuring:- Tartaglia as Ajax when he was 14 yrs old, his family, gn!reader (no pronouns used) warnings:- implied angst, minor mention of injuries towards the end, nothing actually its just sad a/n:- oml my first actual writing in like weeks i kinda like it ngl. can be read as platonic or non platonic since ajax is 14 here and reader is close to his age too

wc:- 1.6k || masterlists

“Why isnt Dad back yet?” A little girl questioned you, her worry clear on her face. There’s nothing you can say, though, because you have no answer. “He must still be searching, Tonia.” you try to reassure her, watching over little Teucer who was still sleeping. “Try to go to sleep, Tonia. Tomorrow’s a holiday, but you should still get your sleep. If- When Ajax comes back home, he wouldn’t like to see you all exhausted now, would he?” Sensing her reluctance, you add, “I’m staying here. I’ll keep watch. Nothing will happen, I promise. I’ll wake you up when Uncle comes back home.”

Tonia eventually trudges away to her shared bedroom with Anthon, socked feet moving soundlessly across the carpeted floor. Her elder sister follows to tuck her in, leaving you alone with Teucer as you sigh, gazing out at the moon high in the sky, anxious.

Its been two nights since Ajax had suddenly disappeared without a trace. He’d borrowed some bread for some reason before he left, and no one’s heard of him since. He hadn’t left Morepesok, that much was certain, because his parents had already confirmed it with the police. Which meant that he was certainly somewhere within this quaint little village, or he was lost in the forest. You sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter, as a distant howl of a wolf was heard.

The police were searching for him too, but his dad had been unable to sit still and wait for any news, so he left to search for Ajax himself. He knows how to protect himself... He would be fine.

“Thank you for staying here, dear. I’m sorry to have asked you to, but sometimes the kids only listen to you, not me. You can go to sleep in the guest bedroom too, its alright. I’m staying awake” Ajax’s mother spoke up from beside the fireplace. At this point, she treats you like you’re her one of her own kids too, and its somewhat reassuring. You quickly reply, “No no, its completely fine, I understand. I don’t mind watching the kids at all. And I’ll give you company till he comes back, don’t worry. I’m used to sleepless nights.”

Ajax’s father comes back in the early morning, alone. The disappointment and worry is very visible on everyone’s faces. You wake Tonia and Anthon up, as promised. Ajax’s elder sister, Maria, and his two elder brothers had stayed awake through the night too. Breakfast is silent as the dim sunrays filter through the forest canopy. You insist on him getting some sleep. The house is silent as everyone goes to their bedrooms after breakfast to try and rest. You use the spare bedroom- its practically yours anyways, with how many times you’ve stayed here for sleepovers with Ajax. There’s a hoard of blankets in one corner of the room that was used to make a fort every single sleepover. It was like an unofficial tradition of yours. 

You try to sleep. Its better than drowning in worry, anyways.

******

Ajax had a guilty frown on his face as he observed your near-sleeping figure. He should have realised that you’d be tired, it had been a long day after all. But he’d been dying to watch the newest movie of their favorite series with you, and of course, you never said no to him. He’d been too engrossed in the movie to notice when your head dropped onto his shoulder- a usual thing between you two. You mumble some gibberish as he carries you to the bed (not without his struggles, you two were children after all) and switches off the T.V. “Is the movie over? I didn’t realise…” You yawn as you sleepily pull up the blankets to your chin. The nights in Snezhnaya were always freezing cold after all, which is why you dont hesitate to do the same with the second blanket Ajax drapes over you. “Nops, but we can watch it tomorrow morning after breakfast. I think Anthon would like to watch it too, if you don’t mind?” “Mm, I don’t, he’s such an adorable kid. They grow up so fast, don’t they?” you mumble. “Are you coming to sleep too?” “..Yeah.” He responds quietly, snuggling into another set of blankets beside you. “Goodnight, [Y/N].” Because you’re already in dreamland by then, having been content to see him resting beside you, you miss the swirling childlike emotions, the sparkle in his eyes. You’re so used to it, seeing it is like second nature to you, an undeniable part of every day.

You wouldn’t have believed it if you had been told that one day, soon, that innocence, that sparkle in his eyes would vanish, to never reappear again.

******

You tried to cling on to the distant memory of your dream that was rapidly fading away as you awoke. You liked the dream. The memory… you were rather untroubled in it because of the presence of your best friend. Much unlike your conscious self’s distress and concern caused due to the same person. 

The sun was glaring through the thin air and the gaps between the curtains.”She’s awake.” A small voice whispered, and another retorted, “You were too loud.” Tonia and Anthon. They’re arguing in hushed tones, startling with an incredibly guilty look as you sit up. And that face is so, so familiar that it instantly reminds you of the person they learnt it from, which reminds you that Ajax is still missing and it has been almost 3 days since then. “Is something the matter?” You question them as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. You’re surprised you even manage to fall asleep.

“Well, Mom, Dad, Maria and Atlas are going out to search for Ajax, and me and Tonia are going with them too. Maria and Dad know how to fight, so we should be safe. Alex is staying home to take care of Teucer. Dad told us to ask you if you wanted to come along too.” Anton says quickly. You nod without hesitation as you briskly put on extra layers suited for the chill outside.

As you walk, they inform you that they’re splitting into two groups, one with their dad, Anthon and Atlas and one with you, his elder sister Maria, Tonia and their mom, to scour the forest. You’ll keep in contact with each other if someone needs help or finds Ajax. You all are strictly to return home an hour before the sun starts setting.

******

There’s not much time left before dusk when finally Maria calls their dad. He immediately answers, starting to tell them to return home now, before Maria swiftly cuts him off. “We found Ajax. He’s injured. We’re bringing him home immediately, please call a doctor in the meanwhile.” She states bluntly. Nearby, you and his mom are doing your best to wrap the wounds and stop the bleeding for a while. 

Ajax was unconscious and looked much worse for wear. Somehow, his hair had grown longer than it should have in three days. Same with his height too, he was definitely taller by a few centimetres from when you had last seen him, as you and Maria carried him home together, his mother and Tonia right behind you. You meet Atlas near their house, who takes Ajax from you as he can carry him faster to the doctor awaiting you all at the house.

Despite the concern, there’s definitely relief mixed in everyone’s emotions to finally finding the runaway. There’s silence in the living room, because the doctor shooed everyone out while he did a checkup and took care of his injuries. After some time that felt like an eternity, he finally reports to you that physically Ajax was alright, he was ordered bedrest for atleast a day, to take care to not reopen his wounds, and that he was awake now. 

You were the first one out of your seat as you immediately hurried to Ajax’s room, eager to finally talk to him, maybe scold him for his recklessness.

Ajax is facing the setting sun in the window, away from you when you enter. “Ajax, you-” You stop short when he turns to face you.

Something’s not quite right.

His smile is the same, if not a bit wider and more cheerful than you’d ever seen him. There was self-confidence in his posture, something he’d lacked before. Make no mistake, you’re happy about that, but…

“Hey [Y/N]! Long time no see!” Ajax blithely exclaims with a grin, and something about it is so off. 

It’s him, its definitely him, your instincts tell you so. But at the same time, its not him. Not the Ajax you knew.

His eyes are completely dull, two dark pools of blue without any shine or light in them. Not a hint of emotion was displayed in them, just a vast emptiness that contradicted his demeanor. His eyes, which used to be your gateway to his thoughts, have locked you out firmly now, no key in hand. 

As the rest of his worried family crowds behind and around you, you realise with a bone-crushing certainty, looking at him, that the Ajax you all knew, loved and missed was gone, lost to the world in those past three days, perhaps never to return. It would never be the same again, he would never be the same again.

(help this isnt even the main plot point i had for this idea this was supposed to be the background not a whole fic on its own-) anyways reblogs, tags and comments are very appreciated thank you <333

[licorice-tea]

Apricity

Pairing: Sabo x reader

Content: fluff, a little kissing, gender neutral reader, short and sweet <3

Word Count: 0.7k

A/N: just a little something i wrote about sabo! i rlly thought about making it longer, bc usually i write at least 1k words or so even in one shots, but i am happy with it as it is now. i hope you like it too, thanks for reading! :)

Apricity

The warmth of the sun in winter.

Sabo drags you out of bed at the “ass crack of dawn.” Or at least, that’s what you describe the time of day as when you complain about him waking you up so early. You grumble and groan until it’s clear you’re not getting out of this early morning excursion.

“The sun is barely up!” Yet, it still momentarily blinds you with its rays when you walk out onto the deck.

He holds your hand- be it to share warmth or so you don’t turn back, you’re not sure. “It’s about a third of the way to its high point-“ then he turns so he’s walking backwards to face you, “and if the sun is up, we should be too.”

The two of you come to a stop on the starboard deck. “No,” you move one of his hands to your waist, “I should be tucked in bed under my warm covers” then the other, “with my warm boyfriend,” and finally looping your arms around his neck, “and we should both be asleep.”

Sabo smiles and nuzzles his face into your neck. “I’ll keep you warm.” His hair tickles your ear, but you can’t giggle as you’re still trying to be annoyed with him.

“Hmph.” His hands start to rub up and down your sides as the two of you take to swaying in some type of rhythmless dance. “You don’t even like this kind of cold weather.”

“I know.” Sabo finally shows his face again, much to the chagrin of your chilly neck region (and to the pleasure of your eyes.) “But, I do like when it’s cold and I can feel the sun on my face or back.”

His confession is just cheesy and poetic enough to make you smile, albeit softly. “Hm… Like a cat?”

“How dare you! I think I’d be a lion if I were an animal, at the very least.” Sabo says this all very matter-of-factly, causing you to fall into a fit of quiet giggles in his arms. His eyes track your movements- your smile, the way your eyes crinkle, the very sound of your laughter- while wearing a smile of his own.

You quiet yourself again, still grinning brightly, and shrug. “Still a cat.”

He just stares at you for a moment after that, and you think you must have something on your face. “Sabo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His blonde hair falls over his eyes as he shakes his head to reassure you. “Everything’s perfect, love.”

Such a simple little pet name, but it still manages to make you blush. You push the hair out of his eyes and end up cupping his face in your hands. Now you’re the one staring, but he doesn’t seem to mind the intent observation. “What was that thing you said about the sun earlier?”

“Hm? That I like how the sun feels in the winter?”

“Yeah.” You place a chaste kiss on his lips. “I think I get what you mean.” It’s freezing outside, and the wind chills every exposed inch of your skin, but none of that seems to matter right now. From the way his smile and his eyes shine; warming you from within, while also squeezing you gently to share his body heat… it’d be impossible to not understand the feeling he describes.

“Good.” Sabo kisses you back, gentle and slow. Like you have all the time in the world- which, you suppose you do. It certainly feels that way when everything is cold; it’s the type of weather where you really just want to stay in bed all day. And yet, here you are outside, entertaining your boyfriend’s desire to feel the sun in winter. “But I like kissing you more, just so you know.”

With the sweetest expression you can muster and a tilt of your head, you ask; “Does that mean we can go back to bed?” Alas, your question is only answered with laughter.

But hey- maybe winter isn’t so bad anyway, when you have the warmth of the sun right in your hands.

[angelicyoongie]

Abundance (XX)

— summary: You never expected that you would end up adopting a hybrid, and if someone had told you that you would end up with seven? Well, you would have thought they were crazy. But here you are, with three different packs of hybrids that don't get along – but all want to stay with you. Yeah, it turns out crazy is an understatement. — pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst — warnings/content: none — word count: 6.5k

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Early access to chapter 21 can be found in the author’s note at the end!

You fix the last button on your blouse in place as you walk downstairs, feet bouncing with a little more pep than usual.

Even if you’re waking up before the sun and have hours of gruelling work ahead of you, spending the weekend with the boys has left you feeling refreshed. It was a much needed break to help restore your dwindling morale and a good reminder of why you put yourself through this in the first place.

Skipping over the last step of the staircase, you turn to head towards the kitchen, more than ready to kickstart your brain with the help of a cup of coffee.

You startle, almost tripping over your own feet, when the downstairs bathroom door flies open just as you’re about to walk past it.

A dripping Namjoon steps into your path, his naked chest and arms on full display, droplets clinging to his sunkissed skin. He has a towel draped over his head, obstructing his vision as he roughly tries to dry up the back of his head.

You watch, mouth dry, as the motion causes one of the droplets to slide from his collarbone down over the smooth expanse of his torso, only stopping when it hits the sweatpants hung low on his hips.

You zero in on the subtle definition of muscles on his stomach, on the way it seems to guide your eyes right to the soft trail of hair leading down to places your mind really shouldn’t stray so early in the morning.

Feeling the heat beginning to creep up your cheeks, you quickly avert your eyes. You know that no one in this house, especially Hoseok, will let you live it down if Namjoon catches you drooling over a bit of exposed skin.

Namjoon must’ve been too distracted with his own thoughts to notice you right away because he suddenly pauses, hand frozen on his head as he detects another presence in the hallway.

You can see his chest expand as he breathes in, his wolf ears immediately popping up under the towel in excitement as he registers your sweet scent. He carelessly yanks the cloth away, silver hair sticking up in every direction as he flashes you a dimpled grin.

"Good morning, Y/n!"

"Morning," You grin back.

The wolf hybrid makes a questioning sound when you step back as he tries to come closer, arms outstretched as if he was going to collect you in a hug.

Shaking your head, you try not to look too long at his glistening chest or his drooping ears as you explain, "I don’t have time to change my clothes again, Joon. You’re still dripping wet."

"Oh, right," Namjoon pouts, patting his chest, "I prefer to let everything air dry."

The thought of letting your body dry on its own in the frigid morning air is enough to make you shudder, even if you try to keep the house as toasty and warm as possible in the colder months.

"Don’t you get cold?" You grimace.

"Not really?" Namjoon thinks a bit before he shrugs, his tail flicking with the motion, "In nature we have no option but to let the air and sun dry us out. Most hybrids tend to run a little warmer than humans anyway, so it’s usually not a problem."

"I guess that makes sense," You agree, remembering how thinly dressed all of the boys were compared to you when you were working in the garden. You had been bundled up with your thickest sweater and coat, not willing to risk getting sick again just because the sun provided a bit of false security with its warmth.

"Though–" You spare the dark sky at the end of the hallway a glance, mindful to keep your voice low with the other boys still sleeping, "why are you taking a shower so early? The sun isn’t even up yet."

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, his grey ears twisting back into his messy hair as he mumbles, "I just went out for an early run."

"A run?"

"Yeah, just around the neighbourhood. Spring, um, always makes me a little restless? Y’know, wolf instincts,” Namjoon winces at his poor lie, cheeks flushing as he turns his gaze to the floor.

Everything about his posture screams at you to please leave the subject alone. Even if you can tell he isn’t being completely honest, even if he’s holding something back, you have no reason not to trust him.

Namjoon has proven himself to always put his pack above everything else and you know he would never do anything that would endanger them or put your relationship in jeopardy. Above all else Namjoon cares – so if he wants to keep a secret or two, who are you to stop him?

It would make you a hypocrite to think anything else when you’re keeping your own share of dangerous secrets close to your chest.

Regardless, it doesn’t feel like you’ve caught him doing something bad, he just seems – flustered, shy maybe, like whatever he’s doing is embarrassing and he needs time to work up the courage to confess to it.

"That’s fine, Joon," You give him a kind smile, "This is your home too and you can do whatever you want. Just let me know if something is bothering you, okay?"

"O-of course, thank you," Namjoon stutters, his golden skin turning rosy as he meets your gaze.

His tail resumes the slow wag it did when he first noticed you, the tense muscles in his arms relaxing as he realizes you’re not going to ask for more details. You take note of how Namjoon loosens the tight grip he has around the towel in his hand, the cloth a perfect distraction to change the subject.

"Here," You reach out for the towel, hoping the diversion isn’t too obvious as you gesture for him to hand it over, "Let me dry your hair before you get the floor all wet, yeah?"

Namjoon practically stumbles over his own feet in his haste to give it to you, eyes bright at the prospect of you taking care of him – of you grooming him.

He stops right in front of you, feet touching, as he quickly lowers his head to present his hair.

Namjoon’s silver hair has grown a lot in the last months, just like the others, but they don’t seem too bothered by it. Shelters tend to like their hybrids to look maintained and clean cut to entice adoption, so you doubt the boys have ever had the chance to explore or change up their styles much. They deserve the chance to express themselves in any way they want, which is why you’re going to wait for them to come to you first - should they ever want a haircut.

You let out an endeared laugh as you bring the towel up to his head, lightly fluffing up his locks. Keeping your touches gentle, you dry the wet fur on his ears, being careful not to ruffle or pull on anything too hard.

Namjoon’s chest rumbles contentedly as you take care of him. His head keeps dipping lower and lower until it rests on your shoulder, his body melting under your hands. The moment you finish drying off his ears Namjoon tucks his face closer to your throat, basking in your mellow and sweet scent.

You move to the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft strands at his nape to make sure you got every spot. Namjoon’s position leaves you looking over his shoulder as you work, at the tan and unblemished skin that stretches over his broad back.

As Namjoon repositions his head, pressing himself closer to your throat, you notice a faded scar at the edge of his shoulder; the skin having whitened over time. The shape of it looks odd, little indents forming two half-moons on his skin.

"What’s this?" You ask curiously, softly brushing your fingertips across the marks.

The reaction is instantaneous.

Namjoon makes a garbled sound at the contact, a shiver running through his body as he latches on to your waist. Sharp teeth nip at your delicate throat, a low growl vibrating against your skin in warning as he pulls you flush against his chest.

You freeze up at the unexpected response, towel dropping to the ground. You hold your breath as Namjoon pants against your neck, choking down the next round of growls building in his chest.

You’re not scared, this is sweet and clumsy Namjoon after all, but something about it is so undeniably wolf-like that it trips up your brain. There’s a part of you that wants to relax, submit, to the canines pressed against your pulse; but even just the thought of doing it is silly enough to shake you out of your shocked daze. Namjoon would never hurt you, strong wolf instincts or not.

Namjoon's teeth slowly leave your throat as he calms down, a pitiful whine bubbling out of his mouth as his mind clears. It isn’t often that the wolf hybrid loses himself to his instincts, but no one has touched that mark aside from Hoseok and Taehyung – the two that made it. He knows you’re not a threat, that you won't break it, but he can’t help but be awfully protective of it.

"I’m sorry," Namjoon whimpers, ears flat on his head as he kisses the barely-there marks on your throat. He rubs his nose all over your neck, scenting you to calm himself down.

His voice is winded as he mutters, "It’s my pack mark."

"Namjoon," You breathe, guilt squeezing your chest, "Please don’t apologise, not when I’m the one that touched it without asking first. I’m the one that’s sorry."

You move your hands away from his shoulders, making sure to steer clear of his mark as you wrap your arms around his waist. You hug him tight, murmuring another apology against his skin as you press your lips to the back of his neck.

After a minute of holding him close and feeling his heartbeat slow down to a more steady pace, you tentatively ask, "Can you tell me about it? Is that okay?"

Namjoon makes an agreeable sound, pulling away from your throat. He tucks his face over your shoulder, holding you in a proper hug as he says, "Do you remember what Seokjin hyung told you about mating bites, about how it’s similar to how humans get married?"

"I do."

"A pack mark works in a similar way. It’s essentially the same thing, it’s just the intent behind the bite that’s different. It can either be romantic or platonic, or even both depending on the circumstances."

"Our–" Namjoon hesitates, clearing his throat. "–Our pack mark is platonic. It creates a bond between us that allows our instincts to feel more secure and settled, because we know we have packmates that are looking out for us. We can read each other’s emotions more easily too, but we’re not as close as a romantic bond; it doesn’t have the same depth."

The sadness in Namjoon’s voice is a palpable, horrible, thing.

"It’s hard to explain how it feels. All I know is that when you touched it, I couldn’t even think, it was like my instincts took over immediately. Even just the idea of losing our mark was too much – it made me feel hollow, like someone was trying to break my chest in two. It was almost like," Namjoon takes a deep breath, his tail tucked firmly between his legs as he weakly admits, "... like dying would hurt less."

You bite your lip, hoping your shock isn’t noticeable in your scent. There’s many things you can say, want to say even, but you don’t think the wolf hybrid would be ready to hear it.

"That sounds intense," You murmur.

"Yeah."

You leave the subject at that, offering Namjoon some time with his own thoughts as you rub comforting circles into his skin.

Namjoon sounded pained to admit that all he has with Hoseok and Taehyung is a platonic pack mark. You’ve seen the glances they steal at each other, the pure adoration and love there that goes far beyond friendship or family. They always seem to be one step away from crossing over the flimsy line they’ve drawn between platonic and romantic, but they never do.

As much as you would love to sit them down and make them talk it out – make them confess – it won't be of any help if they’re not ready for it. You can only assume they have their reasons if they’ve been holding back for this long, even if it’s hurting them to do so.

You gently pull out of Namjoon’s tight hold, smiling at the disgruntled sound he makes as you step back. You bring your hands up to frame his face, cupping his cheeks. The wolf hybrid tilts his head, leaning into your warm touch as he meets your gaze.

"Thank you for telling me, Namjoon, it means a lot to me. I’ll be more careful in the future, I promise."

He nods, giving you a grateful smile, "It’s okay, Y/n. Thank you."

You don’t want to leave Namjoon on a sad note, not when the others probably won’t stir for a while. You watch him closely as you move a hand down to his jaw, taking the way his ears begin to perk up on his head as a good sign to continue.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed in anticipation as you lean closer, mouth parting to let you in. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, stroking a thumb across his strong jaw as he releases a shuddering breath.

Namjoon uses the grip on your hips to keep you still, recapturing your mouth before you can pull away. It’s only when he starts nipping at your lips, trying to deepen it, that you have to force yourself to step away. You would love to spend the entire morning with Namjoon if you could, but the clock is ticking if you want to get to work early. You promised them yesterday that you would be home in time for a late dinner, so more kisses will just have to wait until then.

Namjoon whines when you break the kiss, not willing to let you go. The wolf hybrid’s reluctance makes your chest warm, your stomach fluttering with the knowledge that Namjoon wants you just as much as you want him.

You smile, charmed, giving his cheek a loving pat before you let go of his face.

"I have to get to work," You sigh. "But I promised I’ll be home early so we can spend more time together later, yeah?"

"Fine," Namjoon grumbles, tail wagging at the idea of having you back home soon despite his pout.

"Good," You grin.

You pick up the towel from the floor, looking away as you push it to Namjoon’s chest. You know the longer you stare at his bare skin, the harder it will be to walk away.

"Go put a shirt on while I grab breakfast," You mumble, embarrassed.

Namjoon seems to grow taller at that, straightening out his body and tensing his muscles teasingly in your peripheral. "Why? Like what you see?"

He laughs as you shove at his chest, trapping your hand against his skin. He looks pleased at how the contact makes you squirm, golden eyes filled with mirth at the indignant squeak you let out as he flexes his pecs.

You hang your head in defeat, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you admit, "Yeah. I like it a little too much."

Namjoon’s laughter chokes at that, not expecting you to be so honest. You slip your hand out of his grasp as he coughs, chuckling at the wide-eyed look he gives you.

Finding a window to tease him back, you slowly drag your eyes from his feet to his face, Namjoon’s cheeks reddening under your gaze.

It takes all of your willpower to take a step towards the kitchen, voice playful as you add, "You know, if you don’t get dressed now you’ll end up wiping drool from the floor when the others wake up."

You bite back a giggle as you walk down the hallway, Namjoon’s sputtering echoing behind you. The best part is, the wolf hybrid doesn’t even realize you’re right – seeing Namjoon in all of his shirtless glory probably would’ve sent the others into an early rut.

You click your pen, staring absentmindedly at the blank document in front of you.

The lack of progress you’ve had so far with your case is frustrating. You have leads, but they’re too big, too vague. You know that the men you saw on the news are connected to Lim Enterprises but aside from the photos your informant gave you, you have no other proof of their involvement. It’s definitely not enough to hold up in court.

Sighing, you spin around in your chair, watching the ceiling slowly blur together. There has to be something you can do.

The Lim Enterprises you know now are good at covering their tracks – know exactly what to avoid after so many run-ins with the police. They must be aware of the whistleblower and the impending lawsuit coming their way, so you have no doubt they’ve been doubling down on anything that could've been useful to your case. Any evidence of their money laundering is likely already long gone and buried deep.

But – you stop spinning, blinking to clear your swimming vision – if the present won’t help you, perhaps the past will?

Your knowledge of hybrid trafficking is only a recent development. Even if Lim Enterprises have hidden their tracks of money laundering well, who’s to say they’ve been as throughout with all of their illegal activities? If they don’t know you’re looking into it yet, you might still have some time to dig up new leads or information that might help you. The hybrids could be your ticket in.

Heart pounding with renewed excitement, you quickly wake up your slumbering computer, clicking impatiently to access the database of archived court cases.

So far, your focus has been on any legal documents you could get your hands on involving Lim Enterprises’ books and money transactions. The company has been in hot water for not providing enough security to high class customers, causing a handful of their clientele's homes to be robbed. It hurts you to admit that it’s pretty much the perfect set-up for money laundering. After all, who would suspect a security corporation to steal from their own clients and then launder the money back to their own business through a subsidiary of smaller companies?

When you first started working on the lawsuit there were only a handful of cases that seemed relevant to look into, all of them ending in some sort of private settlement out of court.

The most likely scenario is that Lim Enterprises blackmailed their clients into silence, no doubt using whatever data they’ve collected on them against them. If only one of them would speak up about it. Having one rich client confess to being blackmailing would be enough to warrant an investigation, which would allow the police access to search for their 'off the books’ transactions and prove your client’s claims. Sadly though, it’s never that easy.

Whatever dirt Lim Enterprises have on their clients must be good, because they’ve never returned any of your messages. One of them even went as far to pretend you weren’t standing right in front of their glass office door for three hours trying to get their attention. They’re clearly scared of what Lim Enterprises can do, but that just makes you all the more determined to take them down.

Though, since the initial pool of cases you looked into was so small, there has to be others you’ve dismissed without realizing they could be connected. Lim Enterprises has been in many minor scandals over the years, many you figured didn’t matter in regards to your case, but perhaps that's where you went wrong. Maybe everything plays a part in it, maybe the money laundering is just one of the many veins pumping life into the rotten heart at the centre of the corporation.

It seems you need to go back to the beginning, to scour the available databases and news outlets for any mention of their name in regards to disputes or fights. There has to be something linking them to hybrid trafficking or abuse if they've been running a syndicate on the low for years already.

You roll your shoulders back, taking a deep breath as you begin typing in all the possible keywords you can think of.

Lunch seems to have come and gone by the time you’re done, finger hovering over the search button as your colleagues make their way back into the building, their loud laughter muffled by your closed door.

You know you’re creating another world of problems for yourself by doing this, but you have no other option. Attempting to expose Lim Enterprises has put a target on your client's back, and you can’t let their bravery be in vain.

"Okay, you can do this," You mutter, the half-hearted pep talk not doing much to boost your confidence as you finally click the button, pages upon pages of relevant hits immediately popping on your screen.

Your search has produced 7613 results.

"Fuck," You whine.

Looks like your wish of having a stable sleep schedule just went down the drain, at least for the foreseeable future.

Jimin trudges up the stairs, pouting, as he pulls on the one lock of hair that just refuses to fall right. It has started to curl awkwardly around his ear, the ends irritating it whenever it moves. Annoyed, he flicks his ear in a half-ditch attempt to move the strands around.

As it twitches, it picks up on a sound that almost makes Jimin stumble, his feet screeching to a halt as he realizes he can hear light footsteps moving around inside of your room.

It’s mid-day by now, the sun shining high in the sky, and Jimin knows you’re not home. Your faint scent is proof enough that you left hours ago and yet, someone is rummaging around in your room.

Jimin sneaks closer to the door, tail puffed and listening intently as he maps out where the intruder moves. Ears perked, he hears the footsteps go to your desk, pausing long enough to open a few drawers, before they move on towards your bed. Jimin scoffs, curling his fingers into claws as he creeps closer to the door, avoiding the floorboards he knows will creak. The intruder is foolish, that’s for sure, breaking into a home in broad daylight that houses seven hybrids–

Jimin jumps back with a hiss as the door unexpectedly swings open, his muscles tensing up in preparation for a fight. He zeroes in on the shadow moving just behind it, the intruder too caught up with whatever he’s stolen to notice him yet.

Just as Jimin is ready to lash out and claw up their face, he notices the bunny ears peeking out behind the wood, the door opening the rest of the way to reveal a surprised Jeongguk.

The bunny hybrid freezes as he sees Jimin standing there, claws out and gaze predatory. He almost drops the bulky headphones in his hands out of shock, fumbling with the cord as he lets out a startled noise.

Jimin lowers his hands immediately, snuffing out the instincts that tells him to attack, attack, attack. The rational part of his brain knows the bunny poses no threat, and seeing the way Jeongguk trembles at the sight of him makes something acidic curl in his stomach.

Jimin takes a step back, lip curling with distaste as he says, "Oh, it’s just you."

"Jimin hyung," Jeongguk blinks, lips parted as he stares at him with big eyes.

The cat hybrid winces at the familiarity.

He gives Jeongguk a flat look in return, eyes narrowing with suspicion as he asks, "What were you doing in Y/n’s room?"

The question seems to snap Jeongguk out of his daze. He holds out the headphones, presenting them to Jimin.

"Y/n said I could borrow them to listen to her old record player! I think she forgot about it when she moved from her old apartment, so it was just left in a box in her closet. Seokjin hyung found it yesterday when he was helping her put away some clothes, so she placed it down in the living room for everyone to use. Didn’t you see it?"

Jeongguk’s dark eyes sparkle with excitement as he retells the story, one of his ears flopping adorably as he begins to relax.

"No, I didn’t," Jimin chews on the inside of his cheek, his hard gaze softening as it moves back to the staircase.

Jimin, much like Yoongi, loves music – particularly anything old-school. It reminds him of one of the few vague memories he has from when he was young, before he realized what he was, and what it meant. He thinks he can remember a faint voice crooning about everlasting love and destiny, the sound of crochet hooks bumping together over the slightly faulty needle of an old record player.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Jeongguk nods. He watches Jimin intently, curious eyes catching the longing that seems to flicker over Jimin’s features.

The bunny hybrid steps closer, swallowing thickly as Jimin’s cold stare snaps back to him, pinning him down. He pushes through the instinctual jitters that try to rattle him into fleeing, picking at the twisted headphone cord to channel his nerves into something else.

"Do you want to listen together, hyung?"

Jeongguk’s voice is sweet and shy, a pale blush colouring his cheeks as he averts his gaze to his hands.

Yes, Jimin thinks, I want to.

Jimin’s heart thuds harshly in his chest, almost knocking him off-balance. He’s unprepared for the sudden rush of emotion that hits him, the little spark of warmth that ignites as Jeongguk’s ears perk up completely, attention fully turned to whatever answer Jimin gives him.

Jeongguk is always kind, so willing to take a step forward even when Jimin takes ten back. The bunny seems to have grown a little sweet on him ever since that night on the couch, giving him flustered smiles whenever their eyes meet instead of looking away; going out his way to put another cut of meat on Jimin’s plate even if it makes his own nose scrunch with disgust.

Jimin doesn’t like it.

He can’t help but think of Jeongguk as foolish, showing parts of himself so readily to others who can destroy it.

Jimin doesn’t need Jeongguk giving him sweet glances that make his heart race, doesn’t want the emotions that are reserved for Yoongi and you to react to someone else. It’s all unwelcome, unwanted, and so Jimin does what he knows best – he deflects.

"How? There’s only one pair."

"Oh," Jeongguk frowns at the headphones, the space between his brows furrowing cutely. He thinks, nodding to himself before he flashes Jimin a grin that shows off his bunny teeth, "We can take turns, I don’t mind, hyung."

"No."

"No?" Jeongguk’s smile slips, his ears drooping under Jimin’s glare. "Would you like to listen first, then? I can wait."

Stupid.

Jimin should say it, should tell Jeongguk to stop opening his heart to people who don't care for it, but the thought makes his throat feel tight, like it’s going to choke him. The bunny already looks sad enough at his rejection, there’s no need for him to make it worse.

"Later, maybe," Jimin grumbles, wincing inwardly at the half-promise he has no plans of keeping.

"Okay! Whatever you want, hyung," Jeongguk brightens, and Jimin’s heart does another terrible flutter.

He turns on his heel like a coward before the bunny hybrid can think to say anything else, marching the short distance to his bedroom. He presses a hand to his chest as he goes, frowning at the rapid pace it beats against his skin.

Feeling betrayed, Jimin bursts through the door with a little more force than intended, his dramatic entrance startling Yoongi.

The book in Yoongi's hands slips from his grasp, almost hitting him in the face as he scrambles to sit up in bed. He frowns, concern rolling off his scent as he asks, "You okay, kitten?"

Jimin's shoulders slump, the little burst of anger he was feeling fizzling out immediately as he sees the worried pinch between Yoongi's brows. It leaves him feeling sour. He doesn't want Yoongi to worry, not when he's just having a momentary lapse of judgement – his feelings acting out without his permission.

Ears falling flat, Jimin dives into bed to cuddle up against Yoongi's side. His alpha makes a soft noise, tucking him protectively under his arm.

Jimin's eyes flutter as Yoongi runs his fingers through the soft hairs at the back of his nape, fingertips ghosting over his skin.

Yoongi's voice is as gentle as his touch, rumbling soothingly as he speaks up. "Was it Jeongguk I heard you talking to? Did something happen?"

Jimin swallows thickly, guilt churning in his stomach as he listens to Yoongi's soft drawl.

How dare his heart skip a beat for the bunny hybrid when his alpha is so sweet, so loving? Jimin has everything he could ever want and more in Yoongi. He has sacrificed so much for him, been so selfless, and this is how Jimin repays him – by letting others slither into his heart? Yoongi would probably leave him if he knew, would probably find someone better.

Jimin doesn't dare answer, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He curls his tail over Yoongi's waist, pulling himself as close to his alpha as possible.

Yoongi tilts his head without question as Jimin noses against his neck, giving his packmate full access to his throat. Jimin releases a shuddering breath as he inhales Yoongi's calming scent, sage and lavender wrapping around his senses like a comforting blanket. He loves scenting Yoongi, finding a particular comfort in his woodsy smell that nothing else comes close to. It allows his brain to shut off, to just drift and be for a while.

But now, even with his face smushed as close as possible against Yoongi's throat, inhaling his scent so hard it makes his nose burn, Jimin's mind just won't stop spinning.

Yoongi cups the back of his neck, deft fingers pressing on all the points that turn Jimin's body to liquid when he's stressed. Jimin releases a soft mewl as he melts against his alpha's body, fisting the front of his shirt to keep them glued together.

"Kitten.." Yoongi repeats, all careful and gentle.

Jimin knows his packmate well, knows he's not going to let it rest until he learns why Jimin's upset. All because he's a good alpha, a great mate, and it makes Jimin's heart ache something terrible.

He loves Yoongi so much, too much, enough that there shouldn't be any space left in his heart for anyone else.

"Nothing happened, hyung," He murmurs. He can tell Yoongi doesn't quite believe him.

Yoongi turns his head, jostling Jimin from his neck. He presses a firm kiss to Jimin's forehead before the younger can whine, purrs vibrating from his chest as he tightens his hold around Jimin's shoulder.

He picks up the book he was reading before getting interrupted, resting it comfortably against his raised knee. He hums as he tries to find the spot he left off on, softly clearing his throat before he begins to read the story out loud.

Jimin usually falls asleep to this, listening to Yoongi's slow drawl as he recites the books he's reading. He tries to focus, he really does, but his mind keeps drifting back to Jeongguk's sparkly eyes when he smiled at him, to the excited quiver that ran through his long ears when he thought Jimin would join him.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his heart does another tumble, pretending he doesn't feel how badly his chest hurts as Yoongi's tender purrs bleed into his muscles.

There's a lull in the story as Yoongi flips the page, and Jimin opens his mouth without meaning to. "I'm fine," He whispers, not quite sure who he's trying to convince.

His left ear twitches at the lie. He can feel the long strands once again curl into the sensitive skin there, bothering him.

Yes, Jimin thinks, hating himself, everything is just swell. "Okay, Jiminie," Yoongi concedes, even though they both know he isn't.

He tugs his packmate closer, burying his nose in Jimin's hair to get a whiff of his fresh citrusy scent. There's a sour bite to it that only appears when Jimin's upset, and it does nothing but solidify Yoongi's worries that something is wrong.

He spares a glance at the door, gaze narrowing as if he can see Jeongguk through the thick wood. He's not dumb, he can put two and two together. Whatever made Jimin feel so troubled, the bunny was there for it – and Yoongi won't rest until he knows what Jeongguk did.

"Hey."

Seokjin jumps at the sudden voice behind him, knife clattering to the counter. He whirls around with a small squeak, startled at Yoongi's sudden appearance. Even with his better than average hearing, he didn't hear a single sound from the cat hybrid as he entered the room.

"Hey?" Seokjin echoes, a little put off by the intense look Yoongi is giving him.

The kitchen is silent, the sounds from the rest of the house muffled by closed doors. Seokjin scratches his neck, instincts a little jittery from the scare and the way Yoongi is just standing there, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

His mouth is pressed into a thin line, displeasure clear on his face. His dark tail flicks behind his back as he waits, like he's expecting Seokjin to say something first – to break the quiet between them.

Seokjin squares his shoulders, angling his jaw to keep his head high. He tries to find some comfort in that his height leaves him looking down at the predator hybrid, but he's never been very good at confrontation and Yoongi's posture screams it.

"Can I help you, Yoongi?"

The words barely have enough time to pass through Seokjin's lips before Yoongi speaks, the cat hybrid's deep voice overlapping his as he says, "You need to tell Jeongguk to back off."

"Back off?" Seokjin frowns, "From what?"

"Jimin."

Seokjin can't help it, the answer is so unexpected it makes him snort.

He chokes on the laughter bubbling up his throat as he blinks and suddenly finds Yoongi inches from his face, sharp teeth exposed as he hisses.

Seokjin recoils, back hitting the counter as Yoongi's bitter scent fills the air.

The cat hybrid keeps advancing, inching closer and closer to Seokjin's face. At least, that was probably the intent. The height difference leaves Yoongi closing in on Seokjin's vulnerable neck instead, the intimidating glare burning into his skin.

Seokjin's instincts kick in before his rational brain can attempt to diffuse the situation, all he knows is that being cornered against the counter by a predator screams danger.

Yoongi's hiss stutters as Seokjin's hands roughly grab his waist, flipping them around. Seokjin leans on the counter for support, legs weak from Yoongi's abrasive scent. It leaves him closer to Yoongi's face than anticipated, the cat hybrid's expression caught somewhere in-between annoyed and confused.

Frankly, Seokjin is tired of being treated like less than the predator hybrids. His biology might be working against him but that doesn't mean he's weak. He shouldn't have to sit back and accept being intimidated in what's supposed to be his safe space, just because the predators need someone to push around.

"Yoongi, I think you got it all backwards," Seokjin says, steeling his nerves as he holds the other alpha’s gaze.

"Jeongguk came into our den smelling like Jimin last week but you don't see me kicking up a fuss about it, do you? He was all shy and flustered because your–"

Yoongi winces as Seokjin's crooked finger is pressed hard into his chest, "–packmate decided to groom mine. I don't mind them bonding, Y/n is counting on us to get along, but I don't take kindly to you making assumptions in your head about my baby. If Jimin has a problem with Jeongguk, he can tell him himself and not send you as some hissy little middle-man."

Yoongi's eyes narrow at the emphasis Seokjin places on little, his ears pushing back as if he's ready to fire off an insult.

The sight of Seokjin pressing his tongue into his cheek, eyes hard as he stares Yoongi down, mellows the cat hybrid out immediately. Yoongi's gaze wavers, darting between the fiery expression on Seokjin's face and a random spot on his broad shoulders, not quite sure where he should look.

Seokjin clicks his tongue, eyebrows quirking as he says, "Next time, act civil if you want to talk about something. Hyung promises to listen if you can do that."

Yoongi's pale skin grows flushed as he becomes a little too aware of the way Seokjin has him caged against the counter. He swallows thickly, stomach flipping as his brain keeps replaying the image of Seokjin's plump lips forming around hyung promises, hyung promises.

A prey's promise shouldn't matter, so why does it leave Yoongi feeling ... safe?

Seokjin steps away, levelling a dumbstruck Yoongi with another look before he turns on his heel and leaves.

He keeps his composure until he rounds the threshold and disappears from the cat hybrid's sight, his cool demeanour slipping as he collapses against the wall. His knees are practically knocking into each other with nerves, his fingers sore from gripping the counter so tightly.

Seokjin knew he was playing with fire, that Yoongi could've ripped out his throat if he felt like it, but it didn't even seem like thought crossed his mind. The surprise on Yoongi's face as he flipped them around and the soft blush that bloomed under Seokjin's attention is enough to leave the hamster hybrid feeling a little proud, excited, almost.

He never expected the alpha cat to fold so easily.

Seokjin knew that the more exposure he had to the other packs' scents, the easier it would get to suppress the instincts that beg him to run whenever their scents sour. He hoped, yet he never thought he would be able to actually stand up for himself and Jeongguk without feeling like his heart was going burst from fear.

The realization makes Seokjin grin, his legs still a little wobbly from the adrenaline rush as he makes his way to his room. He doesn't even care that he left his half-prepped snacks, his stomach full on the knowledge that the predators won't be able to push them around anymore.

Seokjin's ear twitches just as he's about to open his bedroom door, picking up a sound from the room he just left.

He lets out a low laugh, pleased, as he makes out Yoongi muttering a confused what the fuck into the empty kitchen.

a/n: Chapter 21 of "Abundance" is available on ko-fi! You can find it here: https://ko-fi.com/s/e95005a91d

Ohh, things are starting to heat up a little now! I’d love to know what you think about the canine’s packmark and namjoon’s reaction to it, and what your initial reaction is to the interactions between jikook, yoonmin and yoonjin? 👀 

Reblogs and comments make my day! 

PS. Next chapter will be posted May 20th!

See you all soon, stay safe! <3

[catscidr]

im sorry i know i should be writing reqs but i just can’t stop thinking about slightly creepy office au coworker dottore...... im horn

you have a boring 9-5 job, trying to find joy in the mundane, else you go crazy. waking up to birds chirping outside of your bedroom window, the tasty to-go coffee and breakfast sandwich you always get in the morning, and your coworker greeting your still-sleepy self when you step into the office. always one to gossip, she’d motion for you to hurry up and sit at your cubicle so she can gush about whatever rumor was currently roaming the building. 

“have you seen zandik lately? his temper is worse than usual! think he just got broken up with or something? honestly, i see why his partner would call things off, it seems like he’s always prioritizing work over people...” you take a long sip of your coffee, relishing in the newfound energy that flooded your system. it takes you a minute to process your coworker’s claim. 

“how do you know he was even in a relationship in the first place?” you ask, scoffing in amusement at how fast her brain seemed to work; it was almost impressive, really. “well, he’s handsome, for one. and he’s loaded! i don’t understand how he can afford such a nice car with a salary like ours,” she sulks as she finishes her rambling. you take the opportunity to finish your food, setting your half-empty cup down to start prepping your workspace. 

“inheritance? or he’s crazy good at managing money,” you suggest. just as you thought your coworker was about to drop the topic, she perks up and slams her hand on her desk a tad bit too loudly. “oh! or maybe he works a second job? y’know, the cost of living is getting pretty high, so maybe he has a 5-9 on top of working here!” 

someone shoots her a look that says “it’s still early, lower your voice”, and she grins at them awkwardly before turning to look at you with a smile that rivals someone that just uncovered the cure to a deadly disease. 

you pause your typing, fingertips resting idly on the mechanical keyboard. “why do you care about what he’s up to, anyways? usually you avoid talking about zandik or any of the higher-ups because you know they’ll probably get us in trouble,” you point out, your shoulder getting hit as soon as the words leave your mouth. giggling lightly at how dramatic her reaction was, you turn your attention from your computer to your coworker. you’re met with a petrified expression and uncomfortable body language along with the lack of natural light behind you. 

“and why, pray tell, are we gossiping about my foul mood?” someone says from behind you, though you could recognize its owner anywhere. your blood runs cold— the warmth from your morning coffee having vanished from your body, not a single trace left in the presence of the office’s most intimidating employee (arguably). your coworker flashes him a wide, albeit shaky smile, and shakes her head a bit too quickly for it to be considered normal. 

“n-not gossiping! we’re just concerned for your health! right?” she says your name, nudging your foot from underneath the desk. you don’t have time to decide whether you want to detach yourself from your predicament or to go along with her bullshit because zandik bends down to your level, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dull eyes as he speaks for you. “then avoid spreading rumors about my personal life, it gives me a headache,” he murmurs quietly.  

you’d catch the unspoken threat in his voice if you weren’t so flustered. he was so close you could smell his cologne— musky sandalwood that made your head spin, losing whatever train of thought you had just seconds ago. “s-sorry,” you’re the one that apologizes since your coworker was frozen in fear, looking more like a deer facing headlights than an office worker. 

zandik’s lips stretch wider, vermillion eyes narrowing at her before flickering over to you. you immediately look away, suddenly now noticing the sheer lack of space between you two. if what you were doing before was unprofessional, then this was beating it by a landslide. although you couldn't help but wish that he bent down to your level more often. though, at the same time, he looked good looking down at you…

he stays like this for a few more uncomfortable seconds before straightening his back and walking away, no words spoken between the three of you. your coworker exhales a breath she had been holding in, and turns to face her desk in silence. 

you're left with a rapidly beating heart and the need to take a bathroom break even though you just clocked in not even ten minutes ago.

[hannie-dul-set]

sunwater [teaser].

SYNOPSIS. this is how you get a merman boyfriend.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. merman! sunghoon, artist! reader, slight college! au, strangers to lovers, romance, modern fantasy, humor, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearning, drowning, dirty/inappropriate jokes, mentions of sex, things might get a lil spicy but No Explicit Smut, mermaid politics, reader says and does a lot of questionable shit (might add more as i progress!) WORD COUNT. full fic: est. 20k more or less. teaser: 1.3k RELEASE DATE. late july to early august.

NOTE. finally thought of a title last night and immediately made the header so i can post the teaser HAUHASDH. stemmed from a convo with a friend of mine (i quote "u reject every man woman person that tries to date u. little do they know, ur type isn't human 🤩").

anyway, send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist! preview under the cut.

GANGNEUNG-SI, GANGWON-DO. The drive to the east coast is always nostalgic, like fragments of previous summers are powdered into the air and with every inhale of the breeze outside the car window fills you with the past— scraped knees from the rocky beachside, saltwater daydreams under bunny-shaped clouds, and the smell of paint and the sea melting together in early morning dews. It takes a little over an hour for the cab to roll up to your summer neighborhood. It takes twenty minutes of walking to get to your family’s vacation house situated right beside the sea.

“Welcome home.”

Your words echo in the empty living room and your own voice greets you with remembrance. A smile crawls onto your lips. Eggshell walls, sandy brown wooden panels, your favorite blue sofa matching the stripes on the rug underneath it, and the sheer cream curtains painted with the orange spills of the sunset through wall to ceiling windows— it’s a still life painting of last year’s summer. Prior to that, you still had plants around, but they kept dying, getting replaced and dying again until your neglectful guilt finally hit you. Throughout highschool, your family diligently spent time here every December and July. Now, it’s just you every summer and the caretaker that comes by every few months.

“I should call mom after dinner,” you hum, washing the dishes you found in the cupboards. Your first night here always ends early. By sunfall, you have a quick meal, wash up, tuck yourself into bed upstairs and allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sloshing waves of the nighttime sea. 

Four in the morning is when you start to feel alive.

The first thing you do upon waking up, pitch black sky with the sun still hiding behind the oceanline, you grab one of the bags you left on your living room sofa, slinging it over your shoulder before picking up a folded up easel leaned against the wall and two of the blank canvas panels stacked beside it. Your body moves mechanically, practiced and familiar movements— sliding the glass door open to the backyard and closing, feeling the sand wither underneath your bare soles until soft grains blend into jagged stone as you climb up the natural staircase of rocks, leading up to a solid flat plateau.

Is it safe to be painting on top of a cliff when you’ve just woken up? No. Have you been doing this every day since you were fourteen every summer you spend at your vacation home? Yes. 

When the sun starts to rise, you become invigorated with life that it almost feels like rebirth.

You haven’t fallen to your death yet, and you don’t have any plans to slip and succumb to its cold hands any time soon. Not until you manage to perfectly capture the image before your eyes at this very moment; neither your memories nor your imperfect renditions can compare to the vibrancy of the orange stained waves, the clarity white seafoam kissing its surface, and the beauty of flaming disk peeking from the firmament where the sky meets the sea in all its ephemeral glory.

It’s five-thirty when the sun fully emerges from the water. Your legs give in, and you fall onto the rocky ground with a sigh. All you could finish is the underpaint today. You’ll continue working tomorrow. 

Whenever someone asks you— why the fuck are you doing this? you never have a satisfying answer. It’s an exercise, it’s a routine; it’s the only time when I feel like I’m painting something worthwhile. You have countless pieces in galleries and exhibits, meaningless works with the highest praises from your professors, but they’re nothing worth the buzz of your fingertips whenever you chase the sunrise with your own paint-stained hands until it inevitably, ritualistically flies beyond your devoted reach.

The strain in your leg muscles takes forever to recover. You should remember to bring a stool tomorrow because although you don’t feel anything besides adrenaline whenever you attack the canvas with your brush, the aftertaste can be a little brutal. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer tomorrow?” you mumble to the orange tinted sky as you lay on the uneven ground, arms and legs spread out in vulnerability. When it doesn’t respond, you groan and pull yourself up. You could leave your painting materials here, but the probability of them getting thrown into the ocean by the wind is too high for your peace of mind.

As you collect your paint brushes and gather your extra paint tubes, your eyes keep getting pulled by the ocean’s songs. The scene before you has been imprinted in your retinas since you were seven. So when something appears amiss or changes, you can pick it apart immediately. A shift in the tides. A crack in the rock formation. Even a floating piece of driftwood from afar can’t slip away from your attention.

So when you find something— rather, someone emerging from the warm blue near the sprouting rocks, you drop your things and pace quickly to the edge to get a better look.

This is odd. This entire plot of land is private property, and it’s the only way to get into the water besides the island across it, which is still at least twenty miles away. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering how they got here, but when you get to the edge of the cliff, the rough terrain biting into your feet, your concerns are suddenly thrown into the water underneath you.

You can see the intruder’s face clearly now. Whoever he is, he’s breathtaking.

He’s gotten closer to the shore, resting his arms on the inky rock, half submerged into blue depths. The saltwater beads glisten like jewels on his porcelain skin, splashing sunlight into the water when he throws his head back before letting the ocean consume him once more. There’s a flicker of gold that splashes above the surface in a steady rhythmic wave, slowly moving further away.

You have found your new ocean sunrise. You don’t intend on letting him get away.

Splash!

Suddenly, all the warmth from your skin is stripped away as your body sinks into the sea, engulfed by the thick raptures of its waves. Though having been enamored by it for the better part of your life, you have never stepped into the ocean’s embrace— never dared to corrupt its ethereal beauty with your feeble humanity— that is, until now. You slowly feel heavier, and each second hurts more than the last, like the sun itself has entered your lungs and is burning you from the inside. Maybe you should have learned how to swim. Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off the cliff in the rushing hopes of catching a fleeting stranger’s attention.

No one should underestimate the lengths an artist would go for their art. Just when your consciousness starts to slip, you see a spark in the dark water, slowly approaching before your eyelids flutter to a close. You can hear nothing. You feel nothing but the cold, until all of the sudden you’re gasping, coughing out water from your lungs and the jagged rock you’re laying on sinks its teeth into your wet palms.

There’s one person who could have saved you. You can’t believe your deranged plan worked.

You open your eyes and look above, your still beating heart burning into a frenzy and instead of the sunrise sky, your gaze meets a pair of stygian gemstones muddled with concern. A few droplets of water from his damp hair fall onto your cheeks. 

“Are you okay?”

Burnt stars form a constellation on his face. His lips are full and painted by coral hues. 

“I want to burn you in my memory.”

He’s even more breathtaking up close, it’s almost impossible to believe. Your gaze draws down, noticing how you’re caged between his arms, noticing the patchy waist bag loosely hanging on his bare hips over a makeshift skirt of fabric, noticing the iridescent gold flakes blending into his skin, shimmering under the sunlight from where his lower half should be.

You flit your eyes back up. His are now widened in panic.

Splash!

sunwater. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.