#watching him fade away and moonlight on the river especially

[reverentwormpriest]

replaying certain songs that youve applied to ur current situation is a dangerous game bc i literally have an entire album i cant listen to now without feeling shrimp emotions

[starryhyuck]

falling star (m) | prince!hyuck

pairing: donghyuck x reader

words: 7k+

summary: you’re betrothed to the handsome prince donghyuck, but when your life is put in danger, you’re unsure if you can trust him.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: prince!donghyuck, princess!reader, soulmate!au, mentions of death, unprotected sex, public sex, sex in prison lmao, impregnation, little bit of voyeurism

basically i rewatched moon lovers and i turned this fic into a kdrama,,, thank you for 1k followers!!

terms to know:

gongju - princess

jeonha - king

seja-jeonha - crown prince (next in line for the throne)

wangja - son of a king and a concubine

daegun - prince, but not made to be king

You first experience heartbreak when you are only three years old.

You watched as your mother faded before you, her life escaping her body as she consumed the dark poison hidden in her tea. You remember all of the servants rushing to her aid, screaming for someone to fetch the physician. It wasn’t until minutes later that someone realized you were still in the room, carrying you away as you cried for your mother.

Since that day, you’ve carried yourself with a heavy heart.

There were numerous whispers roaming around the castle — most of them talking about how you were a witness to your mother’s death, and how you never recovered. They weren’t wrong.

Your mother’s killer was never clearly identified. All of the servants in the palace had been thoroughly questioned but many false accusations were made and your father, who was in the depths of his grief, decided to kill the wrongly accused. He never launched a full investigation and instead, attended to you and your siblings to prolong the mourning period.

Your father became a more gentle king after his wife’s death. Wars ceased and the plantation in the kingdom became more fruitful after your father diverted the kingdom’s expenses. He did not take on any more lovers and focused on his palace and his children.

You, however, became cautious as you grew up in the palace, afraid that your mother’s killer still walks before you.

“Gongju, shouldn’t you be carrying out your duties?”

You blink when Mark rounds the corner, taking a seat beside you. The both of you rest peacefully underneath one of the blossoming trees, but you should know that your brother cannot keep silent for long.

“Donghyuck arrives today.”

“Good for him.”

Mark sighs. “I know you do not wish to be married, but-“

“But nothing,” you hiss, standing up and brushing off the dust on your skirt. Chaeyoung, your attending lady, rushes to your side once she sees your movement. She bows deeply in recognition of your brother’s presence. “If Taeyong wants to marry me off so carelessly, then so be it.”

“You know that’s not true-“

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, walking off with Chaeyoung in step behind you. She says nothing but you can tell she wants to interfere.

Chaeyoung has been your best friend since you were younger, assigned to be your personal lady when you both were only eight years old. Chaeyoung knew you better than anyone else, and she understood your hatred towards your upcoming marriage.

It was only days ago when Taeyong, your oldest brother and crown prince, decided to persuade your father into finding you a suitable marriage. You were of age to be married and if you did not find a suitable partner in time, the palace would begin to murmur.

Donghyuck was a prince from a neighboring kingdom, sent by his brother, Moon Taeil, to arrange a marriage between you. Since Donghyuck was a result of one of his father’s affairs, he had no chance of becoming the king of his own palace. Taeil still loved his brother dearly and wanted to find him a good match.

Unluckily, that match was you.

You run into Taeyong on your way back to your quarters, and you offer him a bow.

“Seja-jeonha, nice to see you.”

He smiles tightly at Chaeyoung and asks her to excuse himself as he pulls you aside.

“You are supposed to be on the palace steps to greet Prince Donghyuck. He traveled five days just to meet you, you know.”

“Such a long time for something so disappointing.”

It’s clear Taeyong is distressed by your blatant disobedience. It’s not often a princess rejects a marriage offer, but you can’t help but be displeased. You’ve never wanted a conventional marriage and you hoped your father would never set you up for one.

“You’re lucky that Donghyuck accepted the offer. You know that most of father’s advisors wished to send you off like we did with Naeun. I’m grateful for Donghyuck so we could still have you in the palace.”

You know deep down that Taeyong means the best. He hates when his family is separated, and all of you were particularly saddened when Naeun was married off a year ago, leaving the palace to be with her husband. Because of the long travel and royal duties, you haven’t been able to see her since she left.

You understand why he wants you to get married so quickly. If you don’t marry Donghyuck now, your father’s advisors would convince him to marry you to another prince from a far kingdom.

You sigh. Although you don’t want to get married anytime soon, you’d rather stay in the palace than be forced to leave. “I understand, Taeyong. I’ll play my part if I need to. Is he at least good-looking?”

Taeyong laughs. “Yes, he’s quite handsome.”

“Excuse me, seja-jeonha.” Eunuch Kim bows deeply as he stands in front of you two.

“You can just call me Taeyong, Doyoung. We’ve been over this.”

You know, however, that no matter how many times Taeyong says it, Doyoung could never go against the honorifics.

“Gongju’s presence is requested at the front of the palace. Prince Donghyuck is arriving soon.”

You purse your lips. “I’ll be right there.”

He nods, bowing before stepping away. Taeyong envelopes you into a hug.

He whispers in your ear. “This is what’s best for you, forgive me.”

“You don’t need to be forgiven,” you mumble back, feeling slightly guilty that you’ve made your brother think so.

Once you part, you smile at Chaeyoung, who has been waiting patiently for you.

“Shall we?”

You two make your way to the front steps of the palace, where most of the palace is eagerly waiting to see the prince.

“Jeonha,” you greet your father, occupying the spot next to him. He smiles at you.

“You look lovely today. Excited to meet Donghyuck?”

You offer him your best fake smile. “Of course.”

Soldiers announce Donghyuck’s arrival before the gates of the palace are opened up for him. He comes in riding his horse, stopping in front of the palace steps and dismounting. He’s quick to bow and you’re a little taken out of breath.

Taeyong was right. He’s very handsome.

“Welcome, Prince Donghyuck,” your father shouts for the palace to hear. You can spot your other two brothers, Jeno and Seokmin, murmuring with each other as they eye Donghyuck. “We’re grateful that you have made the long trip to our kingdom.”

Donghyuck is listening to the king’s words yet he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Yes, I appreciate that jeonha has so graciously allowed me into the palace.”

You stare at him the same way he stares at you, and your father grins happily.

“Eunuch Kim will show you to your temporary quarters.”

Jungwoo is pushed forward by Doyoung, who gives him a stern expression. Jungwoo was new to the palace and Doyoung often needed to take care of him since he was head eunuch.

Donghyuck is escorted off and your eyes follow his figure.

Your father chuckles. “You two will get along just fine.”

—

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck hasn’t visited you since his arrival.

You’ve spent days waiting for him in your room, working on your studies and watching your door in case it swings open. You’re disappointed by his lack of interest in you, especially because you can still feel the warmth of his gaze from your first meeting.

You find out later from Jungwoo what he’s been up to.

“Wangja has been having trips with daegun, did he not tell you?”

Your eye twitches. “Donghyuck has been with Mark this entire time?”

“Yes, gongju. They have been eating together in the dining hall. I apologize for not telling you earlier.”

Jesus, was Donghyuck trying to marry Mark?

“It’s fine, Jungwoo. I’ll find them myself.”

He bows and you take off in search of your brother and fiancé. You ask Chaeyoung to stay behind and she takes to arranging your room in the meantime. You find the two figures near the river, and you narrow your eyes.

“Having fun?” You call out, and both of them turn around. Donghyuck bows at the sight of you.

Mark chuckles. “Yes, we were actually just speaking about you. Come join us.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll leave you two to be acquainted with each other. It’s not like I’m the one marrying him after all.”

Mark rolls his eyes at your tantrum but Donghyuck seems to be thoroughly alarmed at your distress.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

You, however, are highly offended and turn the other direction. You hear footsteps quickly follow you.

“I apologize, gongju. I did not mean to upset you.”

You sigh at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice. “Why have you not come to see me?” You question in a small voice.

You can hear the smile in his tone as he walks alongside you. “In all honestly, I have never been in the presence of such beauty before. I hope you can understand that I was a little intimidated.”

You cough, slightly embarrassed. “Where did you learn that from? I know Mark couldn’t have taught you that.”

He chuckles. His eyes are once again focused intently on you.

“I’m afraid no one has taught me anything. I was telling the truth, much to your dismay.”

You two walk on the palace grounds as the moonlight illuminates your figures. The servants nearby whisper at the sight of you two together.

“Well, regardless of your fear, I would enjoy if you would take my company. We are going to be married in case you’ve forgotten.”

He grins at the clip in your tone. “I remember quite well. I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow if you desire my company so badly.”

You ignore the smirk playing at his lips.

“Tomorrow shall be acceptable. I hope you will be able to step up in the future, Donghyuck, as I am not content with marrying a man who doesn’t speak to me.”

He laughs. “I apologize for disappointing you.”

You turn to face him as you stop in front of your quarters. His eyes are locked with yours, and he seems intent on staring at you until you grow more and more bashful. You think he’s about to lean in until-

“Ah, there are the two lovebirds!”

You huff at the disruption. Seokmin slides next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Has my sister been living up to your expectations, Prince Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck smiles and you can tell he’s a little upset by Seokmin’s arrival. His heavy gaze is still focused on you.

“She’s been exceeding every possible expectation if I’m being truly honest,” he murmurs.

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard someone say that.”

You elbow your brother’s side. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nowhere else to be but with my lovely sister and her fiancé!”

You roll your eyes and shove his arm off of you. You step forward to open the doors of your personal area in the palace.

“Well, I’m going to bed.” You turn around once again to face Donghyuck. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He smiles. “I’ll count the minutes. Sweet dreams, gongju.”

You enter your quarters in time to hear Seokmin say, “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

You shake your head and smile, closing the doors behind you. You chew on your bottom lip and laugh. Who knew a prince would turn your insides into mush?

You greet the guards awaiting by your bedroom door and settle inside. Chaeyoung has made you your nightly tea, something you drink each night to help you sleep. You often had sporadic nightmares about your mother’s death and it was hard to fall into slumber most days.

As you raise the cup to your lips, the smell wafts through your nose.

It’s the same smell from when your mother was poisoned.

“Guards! Guards!” You call frantically, and they burst into your room, eyes scanning for any intruders.

You drop the cup of tea, watching as it shatters all over your floor. “Gongju!” One of the guards yells, rushing over to you and pulling you away from the scene.

It all happens frantically then — your father and brothers are all brought over when they hear that you’ve almost been poisoned. Jeno holds you as your father commands all of the guards to find the perpetrator.

The only thing you’re able to envision is your mother’s body lying on the floor, completely lifeless before your eyes.

—

“It wasn’t her!”

“How can you be so sure? She’s your closest servant and the only one who would have access to your room during those ungodly hours!”

“It’s not Chaeyoung!”

“Enough!” Your father commands, his voice booming throughout the throne room. You scoff and turn away from Taeyong.

He’s convinced that Chaeyoung was the one who put the poison in your drink, but you would never believe that she would bring harm into your life. You trusted her with every fiber in your being.

The rest of your brothers are oddly silent, and you presume that they agree with Taeyong. Your father is stricken by grief at the idea of losing one of his daughters like he lost his wife. His judgment is clouded, much like it was seventeen years ago.

“Please jeonha,” you beg him. All five of you are facing the throne and you almost sink to your knees. “Please do not allow this person to get away again.”

Your father glances at you solemnly.

“It has to be him,” Jeno speaks up. All of your eyes dart over to him. He stands proudly, eyes locked on your father. “Lee Donghyuck just arrived and our sister was almost poisoned. This cannot be a coincidence.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not him! I’ve been spending the past few days getting to know him.”

“He’s spent the past few days deceiving you,” Seokmin hisses at his younger brother. “I agree with Jeno. I was just outside of gongju’s quarters with him when she almost consumed the poison. It is too suspicious for us to not investigate, jeonha.”

“He wouldn’t,” you frown, coming to Donghyuck’s defense. You had only known him for a matter of days but you knew, deep down, that he would never try to maliciously hurt you.

“You trust too easily,” Jeno scolds. He turns his attention back to the man sitting on the throne. “I think we should launch a full investigation on both Lee Donghyuck and Park Chaeyoung.”

“It’s not them!” Your exclaim in horror, trying your best to undo your brothers’ words. “Please, jeonha! Please don’t convict the wrong murderer!”

You try your best to plead with your father, but he’s made up his mind.

“Jeno and Seokmin, I want you to conduct the investigation immediately. Find out who did it.”

You drop to your knees, sobbing in frustration at your father’s ignorance.

—

It’s late at night when you sneak into the palace prison.

You’ve managed to climb out of your window, hidden beneath one of your dark ensembles. Mark has been helping you unlike the rest of your family, distracting the guards long enough for you to enter the prison grounds.

You scramble against the cell door when you catch sight of Chaeyoung. She looks like she’s in incredibly poor shape — her face is completely drained of color and her body is limp against the wall.

“Chaeyoung!” You whisper, awaking her from her sleep. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, rapidly getting up and crawling to the door.

“Gongju, I did not do it, I swear-“

“I know you didn’t, Chaeyoung,” you assure her. She relaxes at your words. “I’m going to find out who did. Can you tell me what happened when you brought the tea into my room?”

“I just did my normal routine,” she explains breathily. “I brought the tea to your room, left a cup out for you, and went back to my own quarters. It’s the same thing I do every night. I didn’t notice anyone unusual when I left.”

“And the guards? What about them?”

“They were in their usual positions, standing beside the door and waiting for you to return from your walk with Donghyuck. That’s all I can remember, I swear.”

You nod. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m going to get you out of here. Just tell Jeno and Seokmin exactly what you told me.”

You hear a commotion outside and your body stiffens. You can hear Mark’s voice trying to distract the guards and you quickly stand.

“I’ll come back to see you again, okay? Don’t worry.”

Just as you’re about to exit the prison, you hear another voice calling out to you.

“Not even going to acknowledge your loving fiancé?”

You pause. Mark is slowly making progress outside, choosing his method of distraction as telling the guards a story about how he once ran straight into a wall.

When you turn, you see Donghyuck in his own cell, knees bent to his chest as he leans against the cold wall. You feel guilty that he’s put in this place but you’re reminded of what your brothers said — you barely know this man. For all you knew, his true intentions coming here were never to marry you.

“Did you?”

There’s a pause. He laughs. “Do you think I did?”

“I’m not in the mood to decipher your encrypted messages.”

“Gongju, when I confessed to you that night, I truly meant it. I’ve never been with a woman before and seeing such a perfect one become my fiancé took me by surprise. I thought we had a mutual understanding of one another.”

“We barely know each other,” you reply under your breath.

“But you felt it, didn’t you? You felt that connection between us. The astronomers say that when the timing is right and the stars align, soulmates find each other.”

You’ve heard the tale before. Your mother used to tell it to you when you were younger. Astronomers used to tell her that when there was a falling star, soulmates would align for each other. Your mother always liked to say the story of how you were born under a fallen star, your soulmate being brought to you by the universe. You believed her stories when you were younger but as you grew up without a mother and never feeling her warmth again, you could no longer believe in such tales.

“Do you think that’s what we are? Soulmates?”

He stares at you again, his eyes acting like dark hooks in your soul. He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the guards burst in through the door, and you can distinctly hear Mark shouting from a distance.

“I’m sorry, gongju, but you must be escorted back to your quarters. You are not allowed to see the prisoners.”

You glance at Donghyuck, who for the first time, isn’t looking at you. He’s merely staring at the floor.

“Very well then. Please escort me.”

As you trek back to your room, you question your head guard, Johnny. “Did you see anyone enter my room that night?” He immediately shakes his head.

“No one unusual, gongju. It was a very normal night, but I do not believe that Chaeyoung would bring something so vile into your place of comfort. I hope I’m allowed to speak on these matters.”

“You’re more than allowed, Johnny,” you guarantee him. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Before Johnny brings you inside, you glance up at the night sky. There are two stars huddled together, perfectly placed in the darkness.

Was Donghyuck your soulmate?

—

It’s only a day later when Moon Taeil arrives on palace grounds in search of his imprisoned brother. He’s clearly irate, dismounting from his horse and grabbing the nearest guard.

“Show me where he is!”

“Seja-jeonha!” You cry out, rushing over to him and pulling the guards away from him. He turns his attention to you.

“Is this how you treat my brother after I sent him to marry you? Excuse my manners, gongju, but I did not bring Donghyuck here for him to be put to death.”

“He won’t be! Please, seja-jeonha, let’s speak privately,” you plead. He finally comes to his senses, gazing around to see servants and eunuchs watching the scene unfold. He straightens his outfit and nods.

“Fine. Show me the way.”

You accompany Taeil to a nearby building, away from the prying eyes of the palace. You know you don’t have much time to speak before your father finds out of his presence and instructs a formal meeting in the throne room.

“My brothers suspected Donghyuck because of poor timing but I know he has not committed any crime. I need you to help me prove that he’s innocent.”

Taeil scoffs at your request. “What kind of game are you running around this kingdom?”

“Please, seja-jeonha. I don’t want Donghyuck to be convicted either.”

“Because you’re soulmates?”

You freeze. “How do you know that?”

“You two were born a month apart and on each of your birthdays, a fallen star was spotted in the sky. Our astronomers noticed it when they first came to visit your palace.”

“Wait, Yuta was your astronomer?”

Taeil chuckles. “Yes, he was. His father used to document star patterns and when Yuta visited and learned of your birth date, he informed Donghyuck immediately.” Taeil smiles at the thought of his younger brother. “Why do you think we arranged a marriage for you two so quickly?”

Your head is spinning. Donghyuck has known this entire time that you two were soulmates, and that’s the reason Taeil pushed the marriage between you two. The gravity of the situation dawns on you, especially now that your soulmate rests behind the bars of the palace prison.

You grab Taeil by the shoulders. “Tell jeonha immediately. He believes in this — he believes he and my mother were soulmates. He will spare Donghyuck if you tell him.”

The doors to the building swing open and Eunuch Kim takes a deep bow in recognition. “I apologize for interrupting, seja-jeonha, but jeonha is requesting your presence.”

Taeil gives you another look before following Doyoung back outside. It isn’t long until Mark finds you, his arms embracing you into a hug when he sees your stricken expression.

“What is it? What happened? Is Taeil threatening a war?”

You shake your head and bury yourself into his shoulder. He holds you steady.

“Donghyuck is my soulmate.”

You think Mark would be deep in thought or surprised by what you revealed, but he simply giggles.

“He mentioned that.”

You pull away and frown. “What are you talking about?”

“When we were by the river, he said you were his soulmate and that he was destined to be with you. I thought he was just trying to impress me since I’m your brother. Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn’t a joke,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.

You almost see red. You tackle Mark to the ground and he screeches. Some of the servants file in, attracted by the noise.

“You dumbass! You let me throw my soulmate in jail!”

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” Mark shouts, shielding his face as you slam your palms down on his skin.

Jungwoo rushes in, pushing the servants away and clambering over to the two of you.

“Gongju, daegun! Please don’t fight!”

You huff, separating from your brother and standing up. You straighten your chima and stare down at him with fire in your eyes.

One of your ladies ends up pulling you away while Jungwoo helps Mark off of the floor.

Seojeong, who has been your main attending lady since the accusation against Chaeyoung, looks at you worriedly as you storm off. She follows behind you along with the rest of your attending ladies.

“Gongju, are you alright?”

“I need you to do something for me, Seojeong,” you murmur as the palace prison comes into view. There are still ten guards blocking the entrance and you need to talk to Donghyuck before your father makes a decision about his fate. You fear that your father will feel guilty for imprisoning Donghyuck and he’ll send him back with Taeil.

“I’ll do anything,” she promises.

You turn her body so that she’s staring directly at Johnny. “Do you see him?” When she nods, you proceed with your plan. “I need you to go up to him and tell him that jeonha instructs for all of the guards to be in the throne room.”

She stutters at your request. “But jeonha never said-“

“I know jeonha never said. Tell Johnny anyways.”

You give her a little push forwards, ignoring the timid look on her face. You quickly dismiss the rest of your ladies and hide behind a nearby corner, peeking out to see Seojeong approach Johnny anxiously. You hear her small voice fill the air.

“J-Jeonha requests for t-the guards to be in the throne r-room,” she says, eyes glancing down at her feet.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Our orders are to stay here until a verdict is made.”

“Um,” she mumbles, trying to think of what to say next.

“Come on, Seojeong,” you hiss under your breath. You can see her gathering enough courage before she speaks, eyes ablaze.

“Don’t you understand? You have new orders! Hurry before jeonha gets angry at your blatant disrespect!”

That gets Johnny’s attention. He grabs his right-hand man, Jaehyun, and all of the guards scramble frantically towards the throne room. You smile at Seojeong’s work and once all of the guards have left, she gives you the okay.

You rush over and hold her hand. “You’re a lifesaver, Seojeong.” She beams at your compliment. “Keep an eye out for me, okay?”

She nods and you enter the prison building, descending down the concrete steps. You gasp when you see Donghyuck in his cell, body slumped over against the wall.

You fall to your knees and struggle to open the door. He wakes when he hears the commotion. His mouth slowly turns upwards when he sees you. You finally manage to throw the door open, swinging it to the side as you crawl over to him. You cup his face in your hands and he laughs.

“Excited to see me?”

You don’t waste a single second, pressing your lips to his. His hands fly down to your waist, pulling you in closer. He groans when you straddle his hips.

He pulls away, a little breathless. “Is she asleep?”

“Who?”

“Chaeyoung,” he murmurs, pushing his fingers through your hair. “Is she asleep?”

“I-I don’t know. I didn’t check on her.”

He calls out Chaeyoung’s name and when he gets nothing but silence, he pushes your body onto the floor. You gasp when he attaches his mouth on your neck, licking and sucking at the flesh.

“D-Donghyuck, we shouldn’t. We’re not married yet-“

“We’re soulmates,” he whispers against your skin. “Isn’t that enough?”

You moan when he reaches underneath your clothing to run a finger over your slit. You feel dirty on this prison floor, letting Donghyuck take you the way he wants. He brings his lips to yours again and you cry out when his tongue enters your mouth. He frantically undresses you and you’re embarrassed when he strips you down until you’re in your sokgot.

“Don’t be shy,” he speaks softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

You whimper when he fully rids you of your clothing. He sits up to undress himself and your mouth waters as he exposes himself to you. He discards the rest, throwing it to the side and leaning back down to kiss you. His hand cups your breast and your body twitches when he flicks his finger over your nipple.

“Such a good girl,” he praises you.

You gasp when his cock prods at your entrance. Your eyes dart down and they widen at the sight of him. He’s massive, and you’re unsure if he’s going to fit inside of you.

“Wangja, um, I don’t think-“

He snickers at your reaction. “Don’t think you can take it, baby? Don’t think you can take my big cock?”

You groan. “N-No, I can take it.”

“Good girl,” he smiles. He grabs his base and runs his tip over your folds. You moan at the feeling. 

Both of your eyes widen when you hear voices outside, and Donghyuck pauses.

“Seojeong, I’m not sure what you mistake us for, but we do not enjoy being treated as fools.”

“Fuck, baby, we have to be quick. Can’t have anyone seeing their gongju acting like a whore,” he hisses.

You whine. “Hurry, Donghyuck.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he assures before pushing his cock inside of your weeping pussy. You cry out at the burn, tears brimming at your eyelids.

He releases a long groan when he bottoms out and you close your eyes, trying to adjust to his length. You can faintly hear Seojeong’s voice.

“I thought jeonha needed you! I didn’t know, Johnny, really-“

“You good, baby?” Donghyuck speaks lowly to you, brushing stray hairs away from your face so he can properly look at you. When you don’t respond, he rubs your hip gently. “Baby, tell me how you’re feeling.”

Your eyes flutter open when the pain begins to subside. “Good, good,” you blubber incoherently. You reach out for him and he intertwines your hands. “Hurry.”

He starts thrusting into you and you whimper. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“So dirty,” he hums. “What would the palace think of their graceful gongju getting railed in the filthy prison cells? Can’t wait until you have our baby, then everyone’s going to know how much you like to get fucked.”

“Want to show them,” you murmur, eyes rolling back as his thick cock abuses your small pussy. “Want to tell them I’m your whore.”

“Yeah? You’re just my filthy whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I’m all yours, wangja.”

You feel the pleasure building inside of your tummy, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you. You swear he’s going to split you in half.

Seojeong is doing her best to distract Johnny outside.

“I need to tell you a story!”

Johnny is far from amused. “I have to check on the prisoners, Miss Seojeong-“

“It’s about the princess!”

Jaehyun sighs. “Seojeong, we don’t have time for a story-“

“But listen!” She exclaims, the gears in her brain turning. There’s a long beat of silence. “Um-“

Johnny rolls his eyes, entering the prison building and moving down the steps. He briefly pauses when he hears your moan.

“Wangja, please, please, please!”

Jaehyun thinks that you’re in danger and runs past Johnny, stopping in his tracks when he sees you and Donghyuck. The prison cell door is wide open, fully exposing the both of your figures as Donghyuck plows into you. Jaehyun immediately diverts his eyes when he catches a glimpse of your breasts.

He hurriedly pushes the men away from the sight, although none of them are able to get a peek.

“Move back! Move back!” Jaehyun orders. The guards scramble on the steps as Jaehyun forcefully moves them.

You wail when your orgasm hits, stars exploding in your vision. Donghyuck soon empties inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

You’re both left panting and he kisses you gently, hand cupping the side of your face.

“Got to explain to your guards what you were doing.”

You laugh. “I was getting fucked. What is there to explain?”

He growls. “Dirty mouth on you, gongju.”

“Only for my wangja.”

—

Jaehyun can’t look at you in the eye when you exit the prison doors. Johnny has an idea of what happened down there, but he doesn’t want to even picture the idea of you doing such a lewd act.

They both escort you back to your dwelling after Johnny gives you a light scolding for breaking the rules again. When you arrive at your bedroom doors, you turn around and offer them a small smile.

“Sorry.”

No other words need to be said, and the redness of Jaehyun’s ears say enough.

Johnny coughs. “Jeonha spoke with Taeil earlier today and Donghyuck will be released tomorrow. I thought you would like to know.”

You cough. “Um yes, that’s good to know. Thank you, Johnny.”

You walk into your bedroom and shut the doors, still feeling embarrassed that your guards caught you in such an intimate position. You turn around, frowning when you see that you have company.

“Seokmin? What are you doing here so late?”

Your brother smiles at you, sitting down at the small table near your bed and gesturing for you to join him.

“I thought we could have a talk.”

You shrug, wincing as you sit across from him. Your legs still feel like jelly after Donghyuck gave you a good fucking.

Seokmin pours a cup of tea for you and puts it in front of you. He gives you that friendly grin of his.

“What have you been up to all day? I heard you almost killed Mark.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s being dramatic. I barely scratched him.”

He chuckles at your dismissive nature. He eyes the cup in front of you and gives it a small push.

“Drink up. I know you like to have tea before bed.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking the cup in your hands.

Seokmin starts speaking about how Jeno lost in combat today and you hum, raising the tea to your lips. You pause when you smell it.

The poison — you could smell it from miles away.

You pretend to drink while you watch your brother. There’s no way it’s Seokmin, your loving and devoted brother who used to play hide and seek with you when you were feeling upset. The brother who protected you when the palace was invaded by rebels. The brother who cared for you so deeply.

But you didn’t have time to think. Only time to act.

You slam the cup down and call out for Johnny. Seokmin lunges across the table at you and you release a bloodcurdling scream.

Johnny and Jaehyun storm inside and Johnny pushes Seokmin off of you. Jaehyun pulls you aside, checking for any bruises on your body.

“Stupid bitch! Why can’t you just drink your fucking tea-“

“Daegun, daegun!” Johnny bellows, trying to get a hold of your brother.

You’re in a state of shock, attempting to register the sight before you. Your brother just tried to poison you.

Jaehyun gets you on your feet and pulls you away from the scene. Soon enough, the palace hears Seokmin’s screams and Taeyong is the first to rush to your aid.

“What happened? Is that Seokmin?”

“Daegun tried to poison gongju,” Jaehyun explains. You’re still rooted in place, staring at your quarters as multiple guards flood inside.

“What?”

Mark is the second to arrive but before he can ask what’s wrong, Seokmin is dragged out of the building, screaming and thrashing under Johnny’s hold.

“You’re traitors! All of you!”

You watch as your brother is taken away into the same prison where your fiancé sleeps soundly.

—

You swear you can hear crickets chirping. You and your siblings have been called into your father’s bedroom after Seokmin’s arrest. The room is eerily silent for no one knows exactly what to say.

Taeyong clears his throat. He’s been crying, and you know this hurts him more than you can imagine.

“Why? Why would he try to hurt his sister?”

Your father sighs. He’s been pacing back and forth, struggling at what to say. You need an explanation from him as you cannot accept that Seokmin grew to hate you overnight. It wasn’t in his nature to ever accept that form of hatred.

“Jeonha, please,” Mark begs, on the verge of tears. “Why has he done this?”

“We need an explanation,” Jeno adds.

Your father finally glances at all of you, troubled by the grief in your expressions. You look exactly as you did when your mother passed.

“Seokmin is not your mother’s child,” he explains. All four of your heads dart up. “He- he was conceived through a concubine, but your mother was gracious enough to raise him as her own. We’ve accepted it since then. Seokmin was raised no differently than the rest of you, and we loved him just the same.”

You blink, rubbing at your temples to try and process this information.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but the damage is done. “I never wanted to tell him because I feared this would happen, but I guess he found out somehow.”

Something clicks in your memory.

“Where is his mother?”

He exhales, running a hand down his face exasperatedly. “She was a servant here in the palace, but she left shortly after your mother passed away. She didn’t want anything to do with raising Seokmin.”

Your mind starts putting the pieces together. “She was a servant — a servant who had access to mother’s residence?”

Taeyong’s eyes move to you, catching what you’re implying. You step forward and look at your father dead in the eye.

“Don’t you see, jeonha? She was the one who poisoned mother. She was the one who had access to her room, the one who brought her tea every night. She’s the reason why Seokmin tried to hurt me, she must’ve brainwashed him into believing that we no longer care for him.”

Your father stares at you, taking in all of the information you’re telling him.

“But Seokmin knows,” Jeno interrupts. “He knows we care for him. I refuse to believe this! He was probably put up to it by that nasty Lee Donghyuck!”

“Hey!” You swivel around, growling at your brother. “Do not speak that way about him.”

Jeno scoffs. “What? Have you fallen for him?”

“They’re soulmates,” your father explains.

“Come on. Tell me you don’t believe in that!”

“Lee Jeno, I swear-“

Mark quickly holds you back before you charge at your brother.

“Listen,” your father’s voice booms throughout the room. You all freeze. “I know you are all upset by what Seokmin has done, but we are going to do our best to reverse whatever his birth mother has done to him. I’ll have the guards and soldiers search for her so we can bring your mother justice. In the meantime, I want you all to remember that we are a family. You grew up together and only we know the faults of our family.”

You eye Jeno and he narrows his gaze at you.

“You all are siblings, blood related or not. Do you understand?”

“Yes, jeonha.”

—

Seokmin is released from his confines a week later.

He cries when he sees you, enveloping you into his arms and sobbing into your shoulder. He apologizes profusely for his actions, stating that he would never try to bring harm to you again.

For five days, you all spend time together as siblings in an effort to turn Seokmin back into his normal self. You hold no grudges against your brother, loving him with all of your heart despite his brief wrongdoings.

Seokmin’s birth mother is arrested and taken into the palace, where she awaits your father’s verdict. You have a feeling about what future lies before her, but you would rather not speak of it out loud.

Donghyuck is released with Chaeyoung shortly after the incident. You embrace him fully when he returns and Chaeyoung becomes your main attending lady again.

You and Donghyuck are arranged to be married tomorrow. Taeil is still a little hesitant on having his brother live in a place that treated him so cruelly, but Donghyuck finds a way to convince him that he’s safe. Taeyong says that Taeil’s only fine with it because he sees the way Donghyuck dotes on you. He’s attending the wedding tomorrow before he has to return back to his own kingdom.

Donghyuck is supposed to separate from you until the day of the wedding, but he’s been sneaking into your room every night, pounding you into the pillow until you cry for mercy.

It was more difficult for him to sneak out tonight as your brothers wanted to officially welcome him into the family with a special party. He managed to get away when Jeno stands on the table, trying to dance but failing miserably.

He currently has your legs bent to your chest, thrusting deep into your weeping pussy.

“Such a tight pussy,” he hisses down at you, wiping the tears falling down your face. “Made for my fat cock, aren’t you?”

You respond incoherently, drunk on the feeling of him. He reaches down to rub at your clit and you sob louder, muscles aching.

“Good thing we’re getting married tomorrow, baby. Would be too suspicious if you got pregnant so fast, wouldn’t it be?” He questions, smirking at your loss for words. “Is my gongju fucked dumb? Can’t remember how to talk, baby?”

“F-Feels so g-good,” you blubber. “You feel s-so good i-inside me.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, plowing into your pussy faster. “Baby likes when my cock stretches her small pussy? I wonder how your brothers would feel about me if they knew I dump my cum into their sister every single night. Jeno would probably hate me even more.”

“G-gonna cum, gonna cum!” You screech, hands flailing. He pins your arms down and snarls.

“Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you want your wangja.”

You cream his cock and your back arches in ecstasy, moaning loudly at the pleasure overtaking your body. Donghyuck shoots his cum inside your womb, hissing as he empties himself.

He collapses next to you and you whimper when his cock leaves your hole. He brings you into his arms and kisses the top of your head.

“Can’t wait to be married to you.”

You laugh, your chest still rising from your heavy breathing. “If you had only waited 24 hours, we would already be.”

He chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You bask in the silence as his cum starts to spill out of you.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“Good.”

He attaches his mouth to yours and you moan when his fingers part your folds. He lines himself up to your entrance once again.

“Let’s make sure.”

And so Donghyuck fucks you until the sun rises, marking the long awaited wedding day with your soulmate.

You thank the heavens for giving you your falling star.

[jaskierswolf]

Dearest Wolfie, I am here to humbly request some Jaskilion vampire smut pls 🥺

Dear Buttercup

Prompt: Frottage/grinding/scissoring Relationships:  Jaskier (netflix)/Dandelion (book) Rating: E Content Warnings: vampire sex, sex magic, frottage, biting, blood drinking. Summary: Jaskier gets caught in a thunderstorm, luckily there's an appropriately spooky house near by to shelter in.

For my darling @dani-dandelino and also my last prompt for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Art by @dapandapod

Lightning shot across the sky in a vicious streak of blinding light, and there was a resounding clap of thunder that made the ground shake. Jaskier’s hair was stuck to his forehead as he tried, with very little success, to shelter under his guitar case. He blamed Geralt for this entirely. The bastard had gotten into another fight with Yennefer and Jaskier was left to find his own way home from the pub. He wasn’t drunk, just mildly tipsy and sorely lacking a driving license. It had been too late to catch a bus so here he was stomping through the park in the middle of the night, during a fucking thunderstorm. The old house in the centre of the park looked like something out of those stupid horror movies that Geralt and Yennefer liked to watch. It looked haunted during the day, but at night… fuck. It was something else entirely.

So naturally, Jaskier wanted to have a look. He was soaked through to the skin and shivering. His house was still a good hour away if he didn’t get lost, which, if he was being completely honest, he probably would. Directions just weren’t his strong suit, and everything looked the same at night. The house, despite scaring the shit out of him, looked incredibly tempting. It would be warm. He could dry off. Maybe the owner would even let him stay the night, if they were kind.

And if he was really lucky, they might not kill him.

He laughed and he wiped his nose, pushing his sopping wet hair off his forehead and away from his eyes. His fringe immediately fell forward again.

“Oh fuck off,” he muttered and shook his head, wrapping his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to stay warm. “Stupid Geralt, stupid Yennefer, bloody fucking thunderstorm.”

The large wooden doors creaked open, startling Jaskier from his pity party. There was candlelight flickering in the hallway and the sound of a violin singing from somewhere in the house. Jaskier crept forward, cocking his head as he peered inside. The house was extravagantly decorated in burgundy and gold. From the porch, Jaskier could see a faded painting of a young man, dressed in old-timey clothing, regency if he had to guess. It was rather Mr Darcy. The young man was tall and slender, with a mess of golden curls that just about covered his ears. Jaskier couldn’t look away. The man was beautiful, with soft pale skin and rosy cheeks, a smile that could outshine the sun. He had a long dark blue tailcoat, and there was a small white dog bouncing at his feet.

But it was his eyes.

Beautiful cornflower blue.

Utterly stunning.

The door slammed shut behind Jaskier and he spun round, arms flailing, “Oh cock!”

The sound of the violin stopped. The house fell eerily silent. Jaskier could hear his own heartbeat hammering in his chest and he pulled at the edges of this shirt, flexing his fingers and tapping out a rhythm on his leg. Nothing helped. He was pretty certain he was about to die. The worst thing was he couldn’t even remember entering the house. One minute he was admiring the portrait from afar and the next he had his hand raised, ready to trace the sharp cheekbones of the handsome blond.

“I haven’t had a visitor for a long time,” a mesmerising tenor voice lilted from the top of the stairs.

Jaskier jumped, almost falling over as he twirled again to face the mysterious owner of the murder house. His mouth fell open as he saw the beautiful blond at the top of the stairs. His skin was deathly pale, and his hair now fell to his shoulders in a cascade of curls, but there was no denying that it was the same man from the portrait. Blood red eyes glowed in the darkness, never blinking as he peered down at Jaskier with a haughty expression. Gone were the elegant regency clothes from the portrait. Instead, the blond wore an unreasonably sexy lingerie set, black as the midnight sky, with garters strapped around his thighs. On each thigh above the garter was a holster, with an elegantly decorated hilt; daggers.

Seriously, who the fuck carried daggers in this day and age? Surely you needed a license for that?

But on the mysterious stranger it just seemed to work. He was timeless in his beauty.

The fine silvery silk robe trailed behind him, and he raised one perfect eyebrow, looking considerably unimpressed. Jaskier’s eyes widened as he realised he still hadn’t said anything, too busy gawking at the angel before him…

Or perhaps the devil.

There was no way this gorgeous creature was a man from god. He was too sinfully tempting.

“Ah, bollocks,” Jaskier stammered. “Well, you see I just- there was a teeny problem with my ride, and then the storm, and well… the wine. Oh the wine, it was absolutely delectable, you have never tasted anything as delicious, a true blessing from the gods themselves.”

He was rambling. He knew he was and yet he couldn’t shut up. Jaskier just kept talking, letting his wine fuelled brain spew poetry about everything and nothing. He talked about Geralt, the flowers he’d seen on his walk, the stars that had been glittering in the sky before the clouds had ruined the view. He talked about the way the river shone in the moonlight, and Geralt, and the cute adorable kitten he’d seen sheltering in an alley… and well… about Geralt.

“Forgive me, dear fellow,” The man finally interrupted with a wave of his hand, “but if you are quite done, I’d like to ask what you are doing in my home.”

Jaskier blushed, glancing between the very much shut door and the handsome figure before him. Gesturing wildly between himself and the door he stammered, “The door? It- it- ah, well, it just sort of opened.”

“And you walked in? I must say, you really have no sense of self preservation. Pretty little thing though, aren’t you?”

Jaskier scoffed, putting his hand on his hips. “Little?!”

“How old are you? Barely twenty by the looks of it,” he smirked, a long finger brushing Jaskier’s cheek. “So young.”

“I- I-!” Jaskier spat out, “You! I’m twenty five!”

“A child,” the man hissed.

And Jaskier’s heart jumped. He froze, an icy feeling creeping through his veins.

Fangs.

Red eyes.

Definitely immortal.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” Jaskier fell backwards, tripping over his own feet. “You’re a vampire! No. No, no, no. This is a joke. Fuck!”

“Vampire,” the vampire scoffed. “How rude! I have a name, buttercup.”

“I- how- oh cock,” Jaskier whined.

But before he could flee, the vampire’s hands were around his neck. The bastard moved faster than light. His pale skin a blur as it pressed against Jaskier’s throat, lifting him from the floor.

And Jaskier, in all his idiotic horniness, was starting to feel rather aroused by the whole thing. Sure, he was scared shitless, but if the vampire didn’t kill him…

Well…

Jaskier really hated his dick sometimes.

“So, ah- umm, will you do me the pleasure of telling me your name?” Jaskier squeaked, gasping for air.

The vampire chuckled, a beautiful melodic laugh that could charm aphrodite herself. “Finally, some manners, darling. My name is Dandelion, you would do well to remember it.”

That was… promising.

“A flower for a flower?” Jaskier suggested, praying that this would not be his last night on earth. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, my dear Julian, I have no intention of killing you. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a monster, unlike the villain that turned me. Now, he was an utter cock. He didn’t even ask! Day before my wedding, unbelievable.”

Jaskier laughed. Was the vampire, Dandelion, actually telling him his backstory? What the fuck had he walked into?

“That’s… unfortunate?”

“It was a complete disaster, my darling Henrietta married the deplorable Valdo Marx instead and I had to flee to the shadows like some bloody monster. It gets lonely.”

Jaskier blinked, feet still dangling as the vampire held him by his collar. He was struggling to breathe, his cock was hard in his pants and he was almost certain that he probably would survive the night. “Can’t- breathe.”

“Oh, poppycock! I am ever so sorry, dear boy,” Dandelion cooed and dropped Jaskier to the ground. “Better?”

“Yeah, yup.”

Dandelion inhaled deeply, “Oh, you do smell good, really good.”

This felt more like what Jaskier would expect from a vampire encounter. Before he could even respond, Jaskier felt himself being thrown back against the nearest wall, Dandelion’s cold body pressed up against his. The vampire ran his nose under Jaskier’s jaw, a low moan falling from his lips. “Talk about fine wine. You, my dear buttercup, smell utterly irresistible.”

Jaskier whimpered, his hands nervously gripping Dandelion’s silk robe, fingers intertwining in the soft fabric. He wasn’t really sure what was happening but he knew he liked it. Getting fucked by a vampire, there were worse things in life, especially when the vampire was as pretty as Dandelion. Jaskier wondered whether his eyes really had been such a dazzling blue before he was turned into a creature of the night. Red eyes burned like fire instead, the pupils almost completely black.

It should have been fucking terrifying.

It should have.

And Jaskier thought he’d never seen such a beautiful creature as the man before him. There was a scrape of teeth against his throat, and Jaskier groaned, helplessly baring his neck to give the vampire better access. He’d never thought getting his blood drained would be so alluring, but he was achingly hard and feeling heady with arousal at the mere thought of it.

The vampire just laughed and pressed a skin to Jaskier’s neck. “Eager little whore, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Now, now, patience,” Dandelion purred, making Jaskier shiver. “First we need to get you out of those clothes. You must be absolutely freezing, where are my manners?”

“Fuck your manners,” Jaskier grumbled, yelping as Dandelion scooped him into his arms and flew through the house. “Oi! Watch it!”

“Such a fragile little flower.”

“I- You, oh fuck off,” Jaskier protested weakly, because to Dandelion, he was fragile. He was human, mortal, weak. Despite looking like the stronger one of the two, Jaskier was like a glass rose compared to the glimmering diamond that was the vampire.

Dandelion fussed around him in a blur of silver and blonde, peeling Jaskier’s wet clothes from his skin, bringing him a steaming mug of sweet tea. It was all… kind of nice?

The vampire had said he was lonely after all, and maybe Jaskier’s blood would taste nicer if he was not miserable and cold. How was he supposed to know?

“Dandelion?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head as he looked up at the pretty blond from the pile of soft silk sheets on the bed.

“Yes? Did I miss anything? It’s been a while since I’ve had human company.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile. He’d been in the strange house less than any hour and yet his head was spinning from the rollercoaster of emotions, fear, arousal, panic, and now whatever this was, a sort of fondness perhaps?

“Everything is perfect, Dandelion, but why- why am I here? I thought… you’re a vampire. I smell good? Didn’t you want to- to-, you know?”

Dandelion giggled and perched on the bed next to Jaskier. “Sweet buttercup, I would never drink from you unless you wanted it. It’s not expected of you. I can go without.”

“You can?”

“But of course! And I’m not about to fuck you when you’re shivering, and reeking of fear, no matter how hard your cock is. I have standards, Jaskier.”

The vampire had standards. Of course he fucking did. “I’m not afraid now,” Jaskier whispered, “And I want you to drink. Come on, trapped-”

“You’re not trapped.”

“- in a vampire’s house, in the middle of a thunderstorm. It practically writes itself.”

“And yet, I made you tea?”

Jaskier laughed, “Yes.”

“Well then?” Dandelion breathed in a soft low whisper that made Jaskier’s skin tingle, “Perhaps a kiss?”

This time it wasn’t Dandelion’s hands that forced that air from Jaskier’s lungs, but his words. Jaskier swallowed, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as Dandelion approached him. The daggers had been removed from their holsters and set aside on the table, but the rest of the vampire’s ensemble remained. Jaskier, on the other hand, was as naked as the day he was born, only the silken sheets to protect his modesty. His cheeks warmed under the heat of Dandelion’s gaze, a blush that he was sure bloomed right down to his heart. He nodded dumbly, unable, for the first time in his life, to find the right words.

Dandelion’s skin was like ice as he cupped Jaskier’s cheek, their lips barely a breath apart. “You really are such a pretty flower, I love beautiful things.”

Jaskier whimpered as their lips met, ice and fire, vampire and human. Their breaths mingled as Jaskier eagerly parted his lips, and Dandelion’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. Jaskier had kissed a lot of people in his life but never anyone quite like Dandelion, centuries of practice served the vampire well, and Jaskier was left breathless and panting in mere seconds. His arousal from before reared up and he moaned wantonly against Dandelion’s lips.

“Divine,” the vampire murmured as they parted, and he pushed Jaskier backwards against the bed, their legs entangling so that Dandelion’s thighs pressed against Jaskier’s cock, “simply divine.”

“Dandelion,” Jaskier moaned, his head falling back onto the pillow.

“My venom won’t harm you, darling,” Dandelion whispered, his lips pressing against Jaskier’s neck, “but it will enhance your pleasure, dull your other senses so you know only me, my lips, my hands. You’ll be more relaxed than you ever thought possible…”

“Yes,” Jaskier answered Dandelion’s unanswered question.

The vampire sank his teeth into Jaskier’s skin, sharp pain soon subsiding into what could only be described as the most intense pleasure that Jaskier had ever felt. It was heavenly, magical, a blessing from god herself. He vaguely heard himself moan, arching his back off the bed as he thrust against Dandelion’s thigh. Every movement sent wave after wave of never-ending pleasure through his body, fire burning in his soul. He whined when Dandelion pulled away from his neck, rocking into Jaskier’s body, unheard praises whispering into his ear. When their lips met once more, Jaskier could taste his blood on Dandelion’s tongue.

It was addictive. He wanted more, more, more. “‘Lion,” he slurred as their bodies rocked together.

“Shh, little buttercup,” the vampire cooed, brushing Jaskier’s fringe from his eyes, before biting once more on his shoulder.

Jaskier keened, his orgasm shattering through him as he bucked up against the vampire. It seemed to be an eternity before he came back to himself, covered in cum and his own blood on Dandelion’s bed. The vampire in question was running his fingers through the thick hair on Jaskier’s chest, blood staining his lips, smearing down his chin. He looked as fucked out as Jaskier felt, smiling serenely as he hummed under his bed.

And his eyes were cornflower blue.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed shakily. “Did you…”

“Mhmm, not long after you. What a sight you made, truly stunning? I really would love to paint you one day.”

Jaskier groaned and rolled over, grimacing at the mess but too tired to care. “If the sex is that good, you can paint me every fucking day.”

“Oh, darling buttercup,” Dandelion cooed, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder where the bite mark was beginning to heal. “You and I are going to get along splendidly.”

[adrastalofnjordergarrten]

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 [𝟖]

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 [𝟐𝟐]

The sun was still below the horizon as Farren began to stir. She looked around realizing that Anessen was still there which caused her to smile. She ran a hand over the top of his head and through his hair. Pulling away, her hand was oily and smelled of salt. The sure sign of hard work.

"Sea Mother give me strength." She muttered as she stood up and stretched her legs. Dark elves, while they could sleep, always felt uncomfortable when they first woke up. She had always been like that even when she was a little girl. Farren made her way outside and just took in a breath of fresh air. The mornings in elveness were always filled with birdsong. And while not incredibly loud, it still brought forth a sense of calm and beauty.

She watched the small creek before her gurgle and rush past. It seemed to glitter as the fading moonlight finally began to disappear. Behind her, she could hear the creaky door open followed by footsteps which came up behind her. Farren turned and nodded for him to stand next to her which he did.

"Sleep well?" "Ti. I'm thankful you're getting a decent place to sleep." "So am I." "Do you have anything you can eat?" "Just vegetables. I'll be fine."

Anessen chuckled at her words before stretching his arms a little. He went back into the small home and returned a moment later with anything he had brought with him.

"No friend of mine is going to be limited to vegetables for the rest of their life, especially a Mali'ker." Anessen winked at her before walking over to the small stone bridge. "Freshen up! I'll bring you some food."

Farren immediatley turned heel and walked back into her home and began to tidy up, even if there wasn't a lot to do. She wiped down the counter, got some fresh water for her hands and her face, managed to clean up her "bed", and finished up with getting some left over bread she had gotten.

Anessen returned a while later with a leather bag full of some fish, he gave them to Farren who started to clean them while Anessen figured out how to get a fire started. And by the time the fish was ready, the sun had fully risen.

𝐒𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 [𝟐𝟑]

"Where did you even find this?" "The river outside of the gates, there's also a tiny lake on top of the mountains surrounding the path so I started there." "You sure know how to catch the best, is this another Ka'uhane secret you have yet to tell me about?" "Ne, just a little thing I picked up along the way."

The two elves laughed as they talked. Anessen had managed to get the fish to a beautiful and well-cooked pink while Farren had found some herbs and other foodstuffs for seasoning and decoration. It looked like a fisherman's plate, one of the Ka'uhane's popular dishes. Farren smiled at Anessen who showed her to do this on her own. How to care for the fish, how to descale it, how to cook it, and finally how to serve it.

As much as she wished she could do the same, Farren only had the ability to show him what seasonings she had used on it. Eventually, Anessen was able to see the vegetables and other herbs the Mali'ker had used for decorations on the plate.

The sun was past noon by the time they had finished, Farren and Anessen had decided to walk back to the boats together. Along the way, they went past the fields to grab some more food that Farren could use later and some herbs that Anessen hoped to try out on his own. They went past the firepit at the center of the city as well as a large group who were setting up a large tower.

"Gaeleath!" Farren called to the Mali'fenn. "What's this for?"

"Raid bell!" He replied, waving at a pair of two elves who started to drag out a massive copper bell. Farren's ears dipped down in worry.

"Where was the first raid?" "Haense. A Group of ferrymen took down some guards on the roads." "Ferrymen? All the way in Haense?" "Ti." "Why would they be so far from Elysium?" "Nobody's sure, but Faéhn's having us do this just to be safe."

"Ferrymen?" Anessen asked. "Robbers. They hail from Elysium." "The Human nation?" "Yeah, close to the waters."

Anessen shook his head before starting to walk again. Farren waved at the others before following. They went down the path they had gone before, through the door, and out to where all the boats were tied at the harbor.

Farren stopped near the waters and looked out to water the forest on the other side of the water moving with the wind. Anessen took note and stood beside her, watching as well.

"They say that white elk lives there. Surrounded by white lichen and boars the color of flowers."

Farren chuckled at his words.

"And how much of that do you believe?" "Enough to want to see if it's true."

______________________________

𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢'𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞. 𝐔𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧: 𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬.

[wexhappyxfew]

The Sun Will Always Rise || Ronald Speirs

inspired by a quote from Ruta Sepetys’ book, Between Shades of Grey ~ ❛you stand for what is right, without the expectation of gratitude or reward. ❜

Happy HBO War Secret Santa 2020! I can’t believe the time has officially arrived and to say I am beyond excited for this lil Ronald Speirs imagine I cooked up, is an understatement. This is for @incorrectbandofbrothersquotes​ , for Kelsey!! It’s not as much of a Christmas theme, more of a snowy, wintry theme, which I love!!

I was beyond excited to take up a request for Secret Santa and laying out my options, going off your list, I chose Ronald Speirs to write for you - I am so happy with how this turned out, and I hope, more than anything, you enjoy it and it brings some holiday cheer to this time of year, especially after a year where it seems like every thing that happened just got worse and worse.

Take time to yourself this holiday season, Kelsey, and you enjoy some time for yourself as well - you are such a wonderful human being, who I believe if I’m correct, I have followed since Day 1 in this fandom, nearly 2 years ago - if that even sounds right LOL! It’s been a long while though! Happy reading and happy holidays for whatever holiday you celebrate, or if you don’t celebrate any at all! Thank you and enjoy! And thank you @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant for doing this!!! <3

ronald speirs imagine x reader - 2.5k word count <3 

Captain Speirs had been rather adamant on letting you go early from the tiny meeting Captain Winters had organized - between the runny nose, your numb fingertips, and your pale cheeks which seemed to stand out especially in the bleak wilderness around you, you figured it was for the best. 

Haguenea, France was far from the paradise that Mourmelon-le-Grande had offered back in the convent in Rachamps when it was the only thought inside your mind, the warmth reaching your hands for the first time in what felt like months. 

Now, your toes were numb just like your mind. Your helmet was cast down over your tired eyes, the dark rims that had accompanied you through Bastogne, along with the terrors of the Bois Jaque, you were surprised that you could no longer get a proper night of sleep at this point. 

OP 2 stood with its bullet speckled fortifications, shattered glass window panes, and mud covered path way but more than anything you felt a tiny smile poke up at the corner of your mouth, more than anything in that moment. 

Crossing your arms across your chest, you tucked your little hands towards the coat portion near your armpits, relishing the bit of warmth your body still managed to produce. 

Moving up the few steps you had taken that morning, up to the depths of OP 2, you stomped the bits of mud out from the portions of your new winter-boots pack and pushed inside the bit of warmth that drifted from the outpost. 

You could hear a few of the men moving around downstairs, most likely eating their fill before the patrol slated for 0100 tonight. It was quiet on the main level though, beds left unmade from where men had taken much-needed naps from the bitter cold which brought on layers of tiredness and loss of calories more than the normal days of what war brought. 

Pulling the Thompson from your shoulder, you let it drop into your cold hands before lying it beside the bunk you, yourself had taken a nap in before you had woken up for the meeting. 

Yawning, you glanced towards the open French doors that let in the cold draft of air in the late, dreary afternoon. The quiet river that trailed outside let it’s soft presence be known as the sun did its best to warm the land underneath which lay tattered in ruins and soaking snow and mud pits, decorating it with war. 

Moving outside again, you let your pistol bump at your hip - no one wanted to start another battle when the war had already taken enough, no one wished to throng bullet after bullet towards one another when there was already so much bloodshed - for a moment there was simply just peace as you moved outside towards the river. 

Turning the corner, where you had found a little secluded spot to just sit and let the tiny bit of peace you felt overtake you, you noticed a figure standing stiffly, his dark eyes looking out across the river, with a scarf pulled up around his stubble cheeks, eyes evidently alert and awake. 

You had found the area just that day, frosted hedges and a leafless tree hanging overhead with the dreary sky as a saddening backdrop. 

Clearing your throat, you took a tentative step forward, watching the man with gentle eyes. He didn’t seem to notice your presence, he didn’t make a show of it, but you knew he did, by the subtle shift in the way his shoulders dropped the slightest inch, and even his eyes seemed to soften, the hard glow from your side view of him fading. 

Captain Speirs seemed no stranger to your presence in the simple way, he suddenly turned his own head towards your eyes, his lips pulled into the thin line you had seen previously at the small gathering with Captain Winters. 

“ I thought I told you to get some rest, Lieutenant.” he said, his eyes softly moving up and down your small stature, stopping briefly on your hands which looked nearly as pale as the sky by that point - you looked so fragile and small in his eyes for a moment. 

“ Sleeping and I aren’t exactly compatible.” you said as you approached him, your feet in the mud covered boots slowing to a pause in front of him as he watched you earnestly.

“ What are you doing out here, Lieutenant?” 

“ I could ask the same of you, sir.” you answered quietly back, watching as he studied your eyes, noticing the build of stress lines that stretched like the horizon underneath your stressed eyes, the sunken in cheeks showing the wounds of war in someone who had fought so strongly against it and the pain of a million souls rupturing your heart. A slight hint of a smile poked up at the corner of his lips, as he finally rested his eyes on your own again, before looking back out towards the river and the enemy’s side.

“ It’s peaceful out here.” he said and you watched as he let his eyes move along the bank of water, softly picking on each and every little part of the river from its banks to the white caps. 

“ I’m glad I’m not the only one who found it peaceful then.” you said quietly, your own eyes caring out towards the, admittedly, cold water. Slowly, willing yourself with the might you had, you walked forward and slowly positioned yourself beside the man, barely reaching his shoulder if you could admit it and let your eyes remain out on the river. 

Captain Ronald Speirs had come into your life only recently, but even years before you had bumped into him on occasion - it was always a mutual greeting, signs of respect being passed between the two of you, both Lieutenants in your own realms. He had even complimented the dress you’d been wearing out on the town one night with a group of the guys in Aldbourne after the Normandy Campaign. He had liked the color - it had been a soft baby blue, like robin’s eggs - and he had liked it. 

Of course at the time, you hadn’t thought much of it, the sun rising and setting, the moon coming out to expose the raw pain and truth of war, the bloodshed and endless battles and the grief that consumed merely just one person after the next - you’d forgotten about it almost instantly. You still remembered the softness of his eyes - that hadn’t changed. 

Now, he was your CO and you remained a close Second to him; he turned to you when he wanted to run something over, and on occasion, you two shared a cigarette under the moonlight when all the men were tucked away and finally getting the restful sleep they deserved. 

“ What do you think’s gonna happen on that patrol tonight, Lieutenant?” he asked you, voice soft, in a way gentle, but the soft rasp of a cough in his throat was far from evident. He always seemed to confide in you when these circumstances arose - especially after Rachamps. 

“ I think the men will be okay, they’ve fought for a while in this war, just as the enemy has. They’ll do their best.” They were tired is what she wanted to say, all the men were - she gave a prayer to Sergeant Martin for the heed he took when assigned to lead the patrol over the exhausted Sergeant Malarkey. 

“ They’ve all fought long enough.” the Captain said quietly and you peaked a hesitant glance up towards him. Your heart didn’t fail to speed up the slightest bit at the gentle nature that encased his face and the way he seemed to undoubtedly care for each of the men like a father would. 

Turning from the river, he slowly met your eyes which didn’t falter in looking away from his own - you were rather mesmerized by his beautiful irises, the way they glowed even in darkness or in the bleak snow, even when the sun would rise, they glowed so purely. 

“ Sir….I….” He watched you speak, head inclined towards you, waiting for the words from your lips, but you were caught up with the caring nature he seemed to inhibit within himself in that moment of time where there was no war, no peace, just him and his eyes, and just...him. 

“ I know you care for these men, Y/N.” Captain Speirs whispered softly, as he watched your eyes change from the stressed expression they seemed to constantly encompass to a gentleness, a warmth, merely at the direct comment of her name and not just the soft rasp of Lieutenant - no he had said your name. So softly and tenderly, each letter off the tongue like a song. 

“ I’ve been with them since Toccoa, sir….I…” your shoulders managed to slump as you found yourself unable to finish your sentence under the Captain’s gaze, unable to process mere words. 

“ These men don’t deserve this Y/N, I know that and so does Captain Winters - I think we all do.” 

“ Battalion’s orders.” you managed out weakly, with an attempt at a frosted smile as he nodded, watching the sadness flood your eyes again - he found out he didn’t like seeing your beautiful eyes sad like that, even if they still looked just as beautiful, your eyes didn’t deserve to see and feel such pain, for their mere beauty was worth much more. 

“ You don’t deserve this either, Y/N.” Shutting your eyes for a moment, you felt your heart squeeze at his words - you always thought in some way you had - for the lives you took, for the ones you couldn’t prevent being taken, from everything. In some ways, it was alright - to pay your dues as such. 

“ You deserve to be happy, warm...in a little cottage by the sea that you’ve always liked…” 

He had LISTENED to that story? He had HEARD that story? 

You swore it must’ve been the fever or maybe that the recollection you had was just you mumbling to yourself, you swore it had been.

“ You heard all that?” you asked softly, your eyes opening as you met his own again. A chuckle left his lips and you found it enough to boost your own into a shy smile at it, his eyes downcast before glancing up to your own. He had a nice laugh.

“ Yeah, yeah I did,” he said biting back his lips as a smile crossed his lips, twinkling eyes shining on you,” must’ve been the fever but you were going on and on about it and I wasn’t going to stop you either.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at your clumsy way of speech - through a fever and the cold and you had blabbered to Captain Speirs about the cottage by the sea you wished for. 

Both your smiles seemed to fall once the moment past and almost like a little angel on your shoulder, your heart pleaded to see that dash of a boyish grin on his lips again. Your heart nearly yearned for it when it’s only human contact was the Captain in front of her - maybe she wanted it too. 

And from the proximity of your bodies, you were nearly in reach of him. 

“ Your eyes..-” Softly looking towards you as you spoke, your lip hanging open a bit as you met them again,”...I mean, sir, I..I don’t know if you’ve been told, but you’re eyes…” He watched you softly.

“ They’re beautiful, sir, and I just thought you should know.” Because in war, this war, I may never see you after tonight, you wished to say, but your head was saying no as your heart was saying yes. 

The smile that had gone underground on the Captains’ face suddenly grew, spreading across his face and you couldn’t help but let your breath get caught in your throat. 

An ethereal being was your first thought. 

It seemed like he too was caught at a similar crossroads, his eyes betraying him and his heart - you were within reach, you were standing right there, despite everything. 

You were standing there with a wounded heart. 

“ I could say the same to you,” he said quietly,” Lieutenant.” Your heart squeezed the slightest bit tighter as he said it.

“ Baby blue,” he said quietly,” like robin’s eggs.” Your eyes carried up to his again and you met them within seconds, suddenly aware of the heat on your cheeks, the pounding of your heart - none of it.

“ I didn’t just notice that dress you wore that day, Lieutenant,” he said quietly,” I noticed those eyes too.” He swore they could make the sun want to rise on its worst days. You swore it was just the cold, but you had no words left to say, you had nothing to say at all - because his eyes which glowed like the sun, said it all. 

“ Sir….” you whispered, but he suddenly turned and gently pressed his hands which had been crossed over his chest, flush against your red cheeks and watched you tenderly, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your sunken in cheeks, as he watched your eyes. He watched you so selflessly, like you were his sun, his world. 

Could a person ever mean that much to another - maybe Ronald Speirs thought that way. 

Maybe he always had. 

It seemed for a moment the stoic Captain did everything to break down the walls which encapsulated him just so he could touch the human in front of him - you. The bit of warmth he still felt under his fingertips coming from you. 

Softly, ever so lovingly, he shut his eyes as you watched his long lashes cover his irises. 

And in that moment, you shut your own as he held your there, inches from his face, faintly hearing his heartbeat which raced for the first time since Foy. 

“ You stand for what is right, Y/N, without the expectation of gratitude or reward.” he whispered softly as your heart rushed and hurriedly skipped over a beat without hesitation,” And through this war, even after, it’s all you deserve.” 

And within a moment, a softness pressed against your cold cheek, the touch of his lips on your skin, a gentle kiss from the servant of the sun - and just as fast as it had happened it disappeared. 

Your own hands slowly moved upward towards your flushed cheeks - you could still feel the brush of his lips against the skin of your cheek. 

Opening your eyes, you found yourself alone, all alone by the rushing water of the river, your heart pounding. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder and found the figure of the Captain moving away from you, his commanding presence which had fallen to his queen for a mere moment of time, back up. 

Yet you had seen it fall, and you had seen his heart, his beautiful heart - for not only were his eyes as beautiful as they had been, but so was his heart - it had always been, but this time, so was everything else about him. 

Everything.

The sun smiled, it would always rise. 

The sun would always rise. 

[vendettacanons]

⚔️ unrxlypirxte ⚔️

It was a quiet night. The kind of night that Beth found herself perched atop her shack roof and peering at the stars, or on the beach and watching the distant waves gently barrel into the horizon. It was one of those nights that Beth wasn’t working through despite her inner voice YELLING at her to do so.

Vaas had joined her on the sand a bit ago. A jovial greeting, a brief conversation, and then silence as he carved away. Perhaps he had spoken to Carlos about her reasons of overworking herself, or maybe he was more observant than she gave him credit for, but his words struck a very DEEP nerve.

Gaze settled upon him with EASE, not much of that usual tension she usually had when addressing him in any way. It was nice to see her less uptight, even moreso with that GRIN on her face. It was wide, genuine, reaching her eyes and WARM.

A hesitant hand reached out to accept the charm, examining the craftsmanship with thumbs caressing every curve. In the moonlight, she could easily discern what it was; a CASSOWARY. An animal she had truly come to adore during her time on Rook, whittled away by Vaas. Her heart positively ached, and by God did she want to reach over and KISS him ( if it was any other pirate in his place, she would’ve ) .

She had a very special place in her shack for this.

“I– thank you, hermano,” Returned was the gesture of companionship. Validation felt GOOD, that everything she had been through wasn’t for nothing. To be told by Vaas of all people especially eased her insecurities regarding that aspect of things. For how long, she wasn’t sure.

“Vaas?” What she wanted to say was spiking her anxiety. She should just keep it to herself and pick another topic instead. “Why do you accept me? I… I haven’t understood in so many years. Look at me. Look at you… the other pirates. I, uh, sorry,” Falling silent, she brought the statuette close and placed a kiss upon the head for good luck, “I just want to know why. And how I can REPAY YOU for this carving. It’s beautiful.”

Feeling the brief brush of their fingers as she collected the little trinket brought back an onslaught of memories Vaas was all too eager to repress. A torrent of old thoughts he’d spent the better portion of his adult life trying to forget existed. Agave plants and their stems, trading sweet scented flowers, vibrant green eyes so much like his and the innocent naivety of youth. How he hated when those rivers in his head, tried so hard to block them out so he didn’t have to focus on their endless babbling just beneath the surface of his conscious thought. Yet the thoughts flowed through every sparse crack in his psyche, testing his resolve as they slowly weathered down his mental defenses bit by bit with the ebb and flow of inevitable reminiscing. One of these days that dam he held it all behind was going to break and all those emotions spilling out wouldn’t be pretty. He has a feeling there was gonna be a lot of blood tainting the waters when that day came.

But today wasn’t that day.

The question offered some respite. some. Not much. He didn’t have an answer for it- not one he was willing to vocalize anyways. “The fuck do you want me to do? Kick you out?” He snickered a bit. There weren’t an abundance of directions to exactly kick someone to. He looked at her, smile fading, face growing a bit more serious. “This island chose you. It chose all of us.” It was getting harder to believe that with each day that passed. “We’re here for a reason. That means you too. Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like arguing with a fucking island. And as far a I’m concerned, you--” he pointed at her. “you already proved yourself to me. You’re one of us.” You’re family. The words died in his throat. Too hard to push out. He’d probably look soft saying it anyway. Better left unsaid. Because for all the shit he gave his Pirates at times, they were the closest thing to a tribe he’d had. And that meant more to him than he was wiling to let on. “That’s all that matters.”

A pause. “You don’t gotta repay me for shit.” He rumbled as he leaned back on his hands, head tipping to enjoy the cool breeze on his face. “Just keep your head on your shoulders, follow the rules, and live your fuckin’ life. It’s easy as that.”

[babylooneytoonz]

Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Fem Reader Fanfiction]

Prologue

Part-1 quick link.

If anything could be called ugly, then it had to be the war. Whatever the war touched, it burnt it down, swallowed people as a whole and spat them out but what was left wasn't the person that they were before it. Men came out changed, scarred, both physically but also emotionally. War haunted them— the faces of the men they'd killed came flashing in front of their eyes at night, causing them to double over in their own fit, struggling to get themselves a strong dose of opium to ease the pain.

But it wasn't only those who were fighting on the front lines that suffered the consequences of the war. It was all those who lost their family members, all women who saw their husbands, fathers and sons leave; it was all the nurses that packed their bags and left in that train, to fight alongside the men, from the border, with their heads held high. And you were one of them.

It was countless hours often— none of the nurses ate or drank. The tiny, cramped tent that served as a makeshift hospital in France was suffocating; especially when the cries never ended. Patient after patient was brought in.

Someone missed a leg — blown off in a trip mine in the tunnels.

One man had eight bullets lodged to his chest; and you were surprised how he was even alive.

Then there was the blood. No matter where you looked, the left or the right, you saw blood splattered over the gurneys and on the walls.

You had gotten so used to the suffering by now; that you believed you were now immune to feeling anything anymore; atleast not in the bright daylight. But when the sun went down and you finally sat down on your tiny bed at the back of the tent where you knew a few yards away, the rotting corpses still lay— your breathing hitched, your mouth gaped open and you wanted to scream; but nothing came out. All that came out was a muffled sob and warm, salty tears rolling down your cheeks.

To think of it now, years after the war ended; and all those who survived boarded the train back home and came back; the only thing or the only person that kept you going; back in France was him. His name was Thomas Shelby.

That was all you knew about him.

And that he had captivating blue eyes— eyes that you could lose yourself in.

Although what you had with him didn't last long; it was shortlived— he still lived on inside you, locked up in a tiny space in your beating heart, his memories fading in and out of you like stills of a black & white movie.

You couldn't forget, no matter how hard you tried, how he was the sole reason you tried to smile, even when all you wanted to do was break down, because everyday, watching the war flame on, devouring good men, it took a toll on you. But you had put on a brave face; because you wanted to be there for him.

"When the war ends, I'll put a ring to it."

That was what he'd said to you that night, when he lay his head on your lap; your feet sprawled out in front of you as you both had sneaked out of your camp when he had come to get you.

You both ran along the river; shielded by the thick canopy of trees, hand in hand, until you both couldn't run anymore and there you both were; at the most beautiful spot you had ever seen before.The riverbank glistened under the moonlight and the crickets were making a fuss. The calm, soothing sound of the river water was like a soothing ointment to your burns and the presence of this blue eyed boy gave you solace.

But that was a long time back now.

And those days were over.

Long gone—

And all that remained inside you was a lingering void; a pregnant sadness and a lasting melancholy.

You missed him— the blue eyed boy you had met in France.

And you wondered if he missed you too.

But also, you hated him, hated him beyond understanding because you knew he didn't care for you the way you did.

Because if he did, he would never have left you—

You sat by your window, back home, in Birmingham, your hand glaring down at the ring that adorned your ring finger. This was where he had said he'd put a ring on; once the war was over.

And now it was over.

But there was no Tommy; no ring on your finger that was given by him and no teenage romance anymore.

[thank you to @nofckingfighting for the lovely gif.]

[deviatedwinter]

Not what I imagined

(Matt Taylor x Reader)

!! My Gif

Summary: Reader is freezing in the mines looking for Matt

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: a few swears, just overall grim circumstances but if you're a fan of Until Dawn you're used to it ;)

Slightly inspired by @untildawnwrites-blog !

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

The screeching of metal brought you back to your senses.

You were clinging to a fallen fire tower that was slowly being swallowed by a dark ravine. Your  legs were folded underneath you as your boots rested on the decrepit railing, your hands gripping the deck. 

Just moments earlier you were with your friends Matt and Emily using the radio, trying to call for help. There was a psycho on the mountain who wanted to harm you and your friends. He had already gotten to Josh.. 

Shortly after a ranger received your cries, the tower fell.

You had been on the outside when you were startled by movement below. Something fast and strong had severed the tower's cables.

When the tower fell, it was as if it was falling on top of you. You clung to the building as the darkness of the ravine was thrown towards you.

Now, clinging to the rusted metal, you prayed that your friends were safe. Emily had been on the other side of the tower, so hopefully she must've jumped onto the snowy banks of the ravine before the tower totally sank.

Matt.

You cried out his name, hoping he was alright and hoping he could help you.

You heard a cough, and then some curses above you.

You then caught a glimpse of his violet jacket as he called your name out into the darkness.

"I-im here!" You cried, starting to feel heat emmenating from the small flames that licked the tower's interior.

"H-hold on, I'm coming!" You heard him grunt as the tower began to slowly creak.

You fought the urge to look down, knowing the drop was far. Instead, you tried to steady your breathing, the warm air from the flames mixing in with the frigid mountain draft.

Finally, you heard Matt above you.

"I'll try to get to you, just hold on!" He explained. You could just barely see his face above you once you craned your neck.

"Matt! Be careful!" You warned, not wanting his fate to be the same as yours.

A sickening creak sent your stomach spiraling in dread, but it was quickly interrupted when you saw a flash of movement above you.

A white sleeve, covered in grime followed by a beckoning hand awaited you.

"Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

Eagerly, you straightened out your legs to reach up and grab his hand.

That was your mistake.

At the sudden movement and shifting of weight, the railing you had rested upon gave way. A scream ripped from your throat, and suddenly Matt was growing smaller and smaller, and the cold wind bit at your skin. Above the sound of the air rushing past, you could've sworn you heard your name being cried out.

This was it. This is how you die.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to be met with hard stone, a sickening crack.

But instead, you felt the stone for a split second before being enveloped by icy liquid. It invaded your lungs, the bitter coldness stabbing at you like thousands of needles. Finally, you managed to swim upwards, your body expelling the water inside your lungs with a retch.

You took a few moments to take in your situation. You were in a river at the very bottom of the ravine, it being mostly dark except for the flaming tower far above and the slivers of moonlight. The current was slow and there were several stalagmites poking through the water's surface. You were relieved you hadn't landed on any of them.

Water was still in your ears, your hearing mostly muffled. You once again could've sworn you could hear your name being called out. 

Quickly, you regained most of your senses before trudging to shore, the shrill creaking of the tower above you loud enough to cut through your suppressed hearing. As you climbed onto the cold bank, your body trembled from the severe cold. Pain also shot up your legs and spine, your muscles sore from the impact of the fall.  The freezing water had clung to you like plastic wrap, and crystals slowly began to form on your clothing. With chilly hands, your patted your ears as you tilted your head, your hearing coming back with a pop. 

You yelped as a loud crash was heard behind you, sending a spray of freezing water onto your already soaked body.

The tower had fallen into the shallow water, causing waves to lap at the bank. There was a hiss as flames were meeting their demise at the contact of water.

You needed to find warmth. 

But alas, any surviving flames were in the middle of the river and in the process of being snuffed out. 

Behind you was a mineshaft, and to your right were sluices and a large decrepit water wheel. At least other people had been here before, maybe there was a way out.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slowly made your way into the shaft, your eyelashes begainning to feel heavier as the water droplets trapped in them froze. You shakily slid your hand over your back pocket, suprised to feel the outline of your phone, but immediately your hopes were dashed, remembering how long you were in the water. Would it still even work? 

You pulled it out anyway, your numbed finger pressing the power button for any signs of life.

Your heart lept when your lockscreen showed up, thank god for your waterproof phone case. 

shakily you turned on the flashlight, its small beam making the trek in the tunnel easier. You began feeling the effects of the cold, your clothes feeling like they were made of mesh as your skin was nipped by the chill. 

You watched your breathe come out in clouds, your lips feeling chapped as your toes and digits became numb. You had to find warmth. You had to find Matt.

You whimpered, hoping your friend was okay. You hadn't seen him at the bottom of the ravine, could he have jumped off onto a ledge? 

"Matt?" You called out to the air, your voice dripping with fear. Your hope began to fade, and despair settled in. It wasn't fair, you wanted him to know how you felt, how much you cared for him. But as far as you knew, he could be dead, and this could be your last night on Earth. 

It felt like you had been walking for hours. Your body ached, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. However, the shaft appeared to slowly rise at an incline, could you be getting closer to the surface?

Your steps had turned clumsy, your mind foggy as you tried to navigate the underground systems. You had no doubt that you were succombing to hypothermia, it would only be a matter of time before you stumbled off a ledge or passed out completely. You could've sworn that you heard screeches in the distance, but you blamed it on your deterriorating mind, and maybe bats. 

You found yourself at a cavern, mining equipment strewn about as if the miners would come back  any minute, if you didn't take in account the rust and rotting wood. 

Your body was tired, you just wanted to curl up and hopefully find warmth that way. So that's what you did. 

You lowered yourself on the hard ground next to a few decaying crates, your body shivering as you brought your legs to your chest. The ice that had formed on your clothing was splintering and falling away from your movement, another reminder on how totally frozen you were. You were engulfed in darkness once you shut off your phone. Sleep beckoned you to its peaceful grasp, and you eagerly fell into it. 

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

Matt made his way down a dark mineshaft, the lantern in his hand giving in some warmth in the bitter night. At every turn, he meekly called out for his lost friends, especially one of them.

The person he was head over heels over, that he promised himself wouldn't get hurt under his watch, was down here somewhere, and most likely dead. The person who he had planned to confess his feelings to by the warm fire, or under the stars while gazing at the mountains. 

He wasn't good enough.

That's all he could think about as he traversed the spindling corridors, his heart sinking with every step. He was right there, he could have done something. 

Right after the teenager had witnessed his friend fall into the darkness, he leapt to a nearby platform to avoid being brought down with the tower. He had laid on his chest, peering over into the abyss and crying out their name, his heart breaking with the silence that answered him back.

But he had swallowed the tears. He had to be tough, there was no sense in him dying as well, although a part of him felt like it.  He had found a lantern and was now trying to find a way out. Finally, after some time, he wandered into an opening, several crates and equipment lying dormant. 

His eyes scanned the cavern before they landed on a mass in the shadows near the crates. Slowly, he crept forward and he jolted as the lantern's golden light fell upon your sleeping form. 

"Oh shit!" He cursed before calling your name, quickly kneeling beside you. Thats when he noticed the ice caked onto your clothes, and how your hair had been frozen stiff. 

He gently shook you, his hands warm and slowly he felt some of the ice underneath his touch begin to melt.

Slowly, your sleepy eyes opened and met his frantic ones, relief washing over them at the sight of you awakening.

"Matt..?" you whispered, your voice a hollow rasp of what it usual was. 

"You're alive.." he breathed, still in shock but relief washing over him in waves

"How the fuck are you still alive..?" he asked softly with bewilderment, taking note of your coldness and quickly shedding his letter jacket.

"Water..I fell in..water.." Was all that you could muster as Matt helped you peel your shaking arms out of your soaked coat, replacing it with his dry one.  His body heat that was absorbed by the wool warmed you, your gaze falling onto him.

"What about you..? You're gonna be cold.." 

He gave you one of his gentle smiles before helping you up.

"I'll be fine, I still got this denim jacket and my sweater. Don't worry about me." 

The familiar pain shot up your spine as you stood, your posture faltering before a pair of arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. 

"Can you walk?" He asked gently, surprised by your fragile state.

"It hurts.." You whimpered, hating that he had to see you this way. But the pain, the cold, it was all eating at your effort to stay strong.

Matt felt his heart once again snap in two, his eyes taking on the puppy dog appearance that you'd grow accustomed to. 

You yelped slightly as he picked you up, his arms looping under your knees as he held you bridal style. 

"Matt-" 

"It's fine, I got you. I saw a light further down the shaft, we're almost out I think. Can you hold this for me? it might keep you warm." He removed an arm from underneath your back to grab the lantern, gently allowing your hand to wrap around its handle. Once you were situated, he got up with hardly a grunt. Even after all the night's terror, he was still strong. 

As he carried you down the shaft, you listened to his breathing, his body heat and the heat from the lamp slowly warming you up and clearing your mind. 

"I don't think there's just a maniac up here.." He said aloud, as if he was talking to himself rather than you in particular.

Your mind went back to the strange shape moving underneath the fire tower before it fell, to the shrieks you had heard echoing in the mine.

"Yeah..theres some..thing.." You replied weakly, fear starting to grip you.

Matt quickly tried to lighten the mood, a small smile returning to his face.

"Yknow, this isn't entirely what I imagined carrying you bridal style would look like." 

Your gaze turned towards his face, the yellow light of the lantern showing you the scratch on his cheek along with the dirt that clung to his skin. His cheeks were flushed in the light. 

"What exactly... did you imagine?" 

He hesitated before answering, another smile twitching at his lips.

"You'd be wearing white, maybe I'm in a tux, flowers and rice being rained on us."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as well, them becoming warm despite your body's condition.

"When we survive this, I think that can still be...attainable." 

His joyful smile and reply was cut short by a shriek from behind, the color draining from both of your faces.

"Matt..?" You breathed out, fear gripping you.

His jaw clenched, the cogs in his mind spinning before he ran behind a wall of planks. He quickly set you down and turned the dial on the lantern to dim its light.

Both of you stood still as you heard something scampering on stone behind you. Matt held you close, his breath stalled as the creature screeched, the frail boards the only thing separating you and the monster. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw it. A gaunt, white creature crawled on the wall effortlessly, its limbs scuttling the surface like a spider. It shrieked once more before scampering to another area of the mines.

You slowly let out a breath, and so did Matt, the two of you sharing the same terrified and confused glance. Neither of you cared about what that thing was, you only cared about getting the fuck out of there. 

This time, Matt picked you up once more with haste, your hand barely scooping up the lantern before he stood and ran down the shaft.

You spotted light ahead peaking through some boards, and so did he.

You allowed him to set you down once more, this time standing on your own with the lantern as he backed up. You watched with shaky knees as he broke through the rotting wood with his shoulder, revealing a large outcrop with the lodge in the distance.

Holy fuck, you had wandered back to the lodge all the way from the tower...through the mines??

Matt held out his hand, and you gently took it as you both edged out onto the ledge, relief filling both you, the adrenaline coursing through your veins warming your bodies.

"Is it too soon the check up on your offer?" Matt breathed, his palms meeting his knees as he caught his breathe.

[mae-gi-writes]

Kiss Me Slowly - Kim Taehyung (Short Imagine)

Inspired by the song “Kiss Me Slowly” by Parachute. 

Words: around 2K

Genre: FLUUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

--------

"I had a lot of fun tonight."

My eyes flicker upwards to Taehyung's face. He's beautiful, ephemerally so and it always amazes me how I hadn't noticed until only recently.

Quickly averting my eyes so that he won't catch me staring, my hands fist around my pouch and I tug at it in a bout of nervousness. The air still lingers with the aftertaste of sweetness from our date; which had been a simple casual dinner picnic by the Han River. We had watched the sunset go down, gazed up as the sky degraded form a pale baby blue to a vibrant scarlet that bathed everything in a golden light, as though I was watching the scene unfold like a romantic fairytale that I'd usually find in little children's books.

I gazed at Taehyung's beautifully sharp side profile, traced his features with my eyes and skimmed over his long lashes casting shadows upon his skin that glowed with a pink tinted hue, his lips that were the colour of peach that seemed to have peaked in its maturity, his chiselled jaw and strong nose and his beautifully framed, dark brown orbs that sparkled with such depth it made me giddy every time our eyes met.

And then when he'd turned to catch me staring, he'd only grinned boyishly when I jolted and quickly averted my eyes in growing humiliation at having been caught red-handed, cheeks ablaze with fire.

"Are you blushing?" he'd asked with a chuckle so deep it rumbled through his chest.

"No," I stuttered out, not wanting to divulge how magically effective his presence was on my sanity.

Our conversations had been more than comfortable, so comfortable that it was easy to forget, at times, that this was even a date. We talked out life, about our friends and about growing up. He recounted stories of his childhood with his grandmother, running through the fields as a young boy and planting rice because they had been too poor to afford anything else. And I listened, listened to his beautifully rich alto that was filled with such love and affection for his only living family member that it made something tug inside my heartstrings.

"Are you happy here?" he asked as we sat a little closer, his jacket draped around our shoulders. I had taken this as an excuse of course, to snuggle up close to his heat.

I allowed my eyes to linger over the multitude of stars dotting the sky, before murmuring, "I wouldn't say I'm happy. I guess I'm content with my life here."

"Do you miss home?" he'd asked gently, while one of his hands reached up to flick a hair away from my face. It lingered there for a little too long to be coincidental, causing another troop of well-trained butterflies to flutter across my chest.

"I do," I let out a wistful sigh, "but god knows when I'll be able to go back."

"How about this summer?"

"The plane ticket's too expensive and I really don't want to make my parents pay. I'd like to try and pay for the ticket myself, at least."

He hummed in response and his shoulder nudged mine, as though trying to give me some semblance of comfort. It worked. With Taehyung, I felt like everything was easy, as though all my troubles seemed to fade away into background noise.

"Are you happy?" I'd asked him when we were gathering up our belongings and trodding over to our bicycles.

He looked at me, surprise flashing through his face for an instant. He lifted his shoulder into a one-armed shrug, "I would say that I am. I don't have a reason not to be."

"I guess that's true," I said quietly.

"That doesn't mean I don't get sad. I do," he leaned against his bicycle while watching me unhook mine from its support, "but I always think, 'what if I didn't have all this? What if all this was taken away?' When I think about these things, I can't help but feel grateful. You know what I mean?"

"I get that," I swung a leg over my bike, testing my balance, "I think about that a lot too. Sometimes, I think it's selfish of me to be sad about anything when there are a lot of people that are in a worse position than I am. It's not fair and I shouldn't be complaining." "That's normal though," his eyes were gentle maroon pools of brown, like wet mother earth on a warm summer's day and softening with understanding, "you're not responsible either, for all the things that happen to people. Shit happens."

"And then we die."

"And then we die," he chuckled and swung onto his bike, "jesus, that's dark."

"You think that's dark? Wait till we get to talk until three in the morning."

"Wow, that's poetic. Really, totally unlike every cliché trope out there on Tumblr." "It's a trope for a reason," I said as I stuck my tongue out at him.

He accompanied me back home and insisted on accompanying me up to my floor, even when I flat out told him that it was unnecessary and completely useless of his part. He'd only thrown me a look that clearly stated this wasn't a subject of discussion, and it wasn't until we reached halfway up the staircase that I felt the back of his hand brush mine. Thinking it was accidental, I made a move to pull away, only for him to grab onto and interlock our fingers.

I thought my heart would've given out at this point. My cheeks were burning as red as a fire extinguisher and I adamantly avoided his gaze at all costs, knowing that what I'd find would be his teasing smile and the glint of smugness across his lips.

So here we are, standing before my door with the moonlight casting shadows over Taehyung's features and highlighting his the height of his nose, the beautiful clarity of his skin reflecting moonlight as though he'd been carved out as intricately as greek statues, and his dark eyes, pools of inky darkness that are presently holding my gaze with such an intensity, smouldering and causing my breath to stutter inside my throat.

He's all too much. He's perfection, and I don't understand what he finds in me to be his equal.

"Can we," he hesitates for a few beats of silence. He licks his lips, eyes flitting back and forth, "can we do this? Again?"

My lips threaten into a smile as I take in his words. Oh god, he's adorable. My heart is practically tumbling all over my ribcage at this point.

"Yes," I say a little too breathlessly for my liking, "I--I'd like that."

He flashes a crooked, rectangular smile and my knees feel like they're about to give out from underneath me.

We shuffle for a few awkward moments of silence, and while I don't want the evening to end, the desire to make my exit as quickly and efficiently as possible is more important. I really don't want to make a fool of myself, especially not on a first date.

In my experience, there are very few guys that I've kissed on first dates. It's usually just a friendly peck on the cheek, nothing more.

"Well," I try to keep my voice light when I turn around, hand already finding its way to my keypad. I push it upwards with a soft click, "text me when you get home, will you?"

"Wait," Taehyung's hand suddenly encloses around my wrist and before I know it, I'm swivelled around and pressed against my front door, his chest mere millimetres from mine and his face dipping down so that our eyes clash. They're darker now, swimming with an intensity that causes something to coil inside my stomach. It's an unsettling feeling, albeit not unpleasant. I can feel the warmth rolling off him in waves, can smell the mint and pinewood scent of his natural odour, the tingles shooting down my spine at how close he is.

It's almost like the world has stumbled to a stop, a movie placed on pause. Our eyes are locked on each other, unmoving. Unflinching.

Our breaths mingle together. I see his lips part softly, and I my throat suddenly turns dry.

I feel his hand, ghosting over my middle before wrapping around my waist. Electricity skittles up my spine as I breathe him in, barely moving for fear that doing so will cause this dream to shatter.

"Tae--" his name dies on my lips when I feel his nose nudging mine softly, gazing at me through heavy-lidded eyes and in a way that causes my insides to curl up in anticipation. I haven't realized that my hands have settled across his chest and are now fisting over his shirt.

The tension is so thick that one can cut it with a knife. A few more moments pass, him watching me, I watching him. He shifts closer, body heat against mine, just barely. Enough for me to produce a silent gasp.

When he speaks next, his voice is rough, laced with desire that makes my toes curl:

"Can I kiss you?"

I don't even have time to nod before he's already dipping down and claiming my lips.

It's a soft pressure of mouth to mouth, it's gentle and hesitant, just like Taehyung. My mind takes a moment to take in the sensation of his lips working against mine, but when I do realize it, my lips move on their own accord and I slowly kiss back, unsure whether he's going to judge my lack of kissing experience. But if he does, he doesn't complain. Instead, his hand reaches up to cup my cheek and brushes over my skin with his thumb, and a warm fire bursts through my chest.

I gasp upon feeling his hard frame press mine against the door, fitting snuggly in-between my curves. He swallows up any sound I make and as the pressure of his kisses intensifies, so does the small fire that seems to be bursting with fireworks behind my eyelids. I feel like I've been submerged in water, drowning in Taehyung's lips and his sweetness that I can't help but crave for. Hands automatically traveling up his broad shoulders and wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, a soft rumble that sounds like a growl echoes through his chest before his lips part and nibble onto mine in a way that causes a moan to stifle at the back of my throat.

I can feel him smiling in victory, even through our kiss, but while I just want to pay him back for being so cocky, I feel his hand skim under the material of my shirt and I gasp softly at the warm trailing heat of desire he leaves in his wake. My hands skim up to grasp his locks and I don't hesitate to pull him down, angle my head more firmly to kiss him deeper, longer, tongue poking out to flick across his mouth. He lets out a slow moan, grip tightening onto my waist as he does so, and it's my turn to smile.

Dim sounds echo at the back of my subconscious as we keep kissing into the night, the moonlight bathing us in its dewy glow and the sound of ongoing traffic blaring underneath, the softest echoes that aren't loud enough to be a distraction.

It feels all too real. it feels magical, and I don't want it to end.

Unfortunately it does. All too soon, the said young man pulls back, flashing a  mischievous smile when a breathless whine leaves me at the sudden rush of air between us. Heat explodes through my cheeks in embarrassment. Of course he knows that he's a walking greek god and could have any woman he wanted. But that doesn't mean I want him to know how badly I want him, how badly it physically hurts to pull myself away from devil's temptation standing just two feet away from me.

"Lua."

My eyes flutter upwards to meet his dark mahogany. They are swirling with a tenderness, a soft affection glimmering with specks of silver in the light of the moon. I watch his lips tilt up into the barest hint of a fond smile.

His hand clasps around mine and he entangles our fingers together. Bringing them up to his lips, he kisses my knuckles softly while his eyes never stray from mine, "let's do this again?"

"The date, or the kiss?"

"Haha," he rolls his eyes, "funny, very funny."

I can't help but grin back as I feel my heart squeeze in happiness, "I would love to do this again," I squeeze his hand to further emphasize my point and his grin only widens into that rectangular-boxed smile I'm so used to seeing.

I can get used to this.

----

IDK WHAT I WROTE. BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Baby Moon

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2959

———————

The queens first found her outside in their backyard seven months after their reincarnation. It was the middle of the night, they were watching a movie, and the full moon was out, bathing the city in hues of sterling and glimmering grey. And there, in their backyard, stood a naked girl with her head towards the glittering black sky.

She was paler than any person they’ve ever seen, as if the moonbeams had zapped all the color out of her skin and then bleached her with its own light. Her hair was the color of washed out gold, with only a few brown roots weakly reaching out from her scalp. If you were to cut open her wrists, they were sure her blood would come out silver.

The queens watched her from the windows and back door for a long time. They theorized that this girl was another reincarnate, but they had all been clothed when they came back, along with the ladies in waiting. Plus, it had been raining and day time. The night was clear with not a single cloud in sight.

Where had she come from? Who was she? What did she want?

So many questions ran through their mind, but only one thing kept blaring in Kitty’s over and over and over again.

Monster.

The girl outside doesn’t move. She just stays very still and keeps her head angled up to the moon. Rays of light were cascading down her back and rear and legs like a silver and white waterfall, painting her entire bare body with the essence of the night.

“Should we call the police?” Cathy asked nervously. Her hands were winding in the hem of her shirt like they did when she was worrying over something.

“She is trespassing,” Cleves agreed.

“No, wait,” Aragon said. “She isn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Aside from being naked on our property,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“I’ll go see what she wants.” Aragon said.

The others protested, but she assured them everything would be fine. However, she still brought a kitchen knife outside with her just to make them feel a little better.

Slowly, so slowly, Aragon crept up to the stranger. When she got closer, she could see the moonlight dripping into her skin, sinking into her back, melting into her chest. The others might not have known yet, but Aragon knew just looking at this girl—she was moonborn, called out only by the power of the moon.

That word, moonborn, made no sense to Aragon at the time. She had never heard of such a thing before and it sounded like a silly title pulled right out of a children’s tale, but something in her head told her it was important. It was important, but it would soon become the cause of great pain nobody would ever be able to fathom.

Aragon took another step forward and gently touched the girl’s shoulder; her skin was as cold as ice.

“Hello?” She called out. “Who are you?”

The girl shuddered under her hand. She turned around very slowly and Aragon gasped at the silver moons that blinked back at her.

———

The moon child asks to be called “Joan.”

It is difficult to communicate this at first, but then Aragon allows her to write it. Even when the color she chooses is bright chartreuse rather than the standard black, she doesn’t stop her. She’s been allowing her much recently.

———

Music is not a foreign thing to the moon child, although she was always lost in a tangle of thoughts and objectives. It‘s easy for chattering and scratching and flipping of parchment to drown out a melody, but it‘s easier for a weary body to absorb it.

It’s not the moon. It does not heal; it doesn’t even provide the respite that a bed does. But it is soothing, and it makes a rumble of something warm rise in her chest.

(She likes to rumble and trill and coo along to music, not really singing, not really vocalizing, but just following with soft noises of her own.

Kitty called it “alien speak.”

She stopped soon after that.)

For that, it is enough. Joan bows her head in gratitude after every rehearsal, thanking whoever was singing for the moment of peace. Sometimes she says it out loud, in her weak, creaky lunar voice. Other times she just smiles gratefully.

Aragon and Anne don’t seem to mind her silence. The moon child thinks they might even like her, just as she likes them and their songs. Even when the dark matter of Joan’s being weeps through the cuts in her skin and her bow is more akin to a slump, they still sing to her, even though she cannot answer their concerned glances.

But Kitty and Jane think she’s broken.

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Jane would ask, pleasantly pretending like she wasn’t in earshot. “We all spoke pretty easily after reincarnation. It’s been a month and she’s spoken, what ten words? But for some reason, she can learn several songs on a piano easier instead?”

“I don’t think we left her out in the moonlight for long enough,” Kitty would titter, and she would know that Joan was nearby. That’s why she said those things—to make her feel bad. “Or maybe aliens aren’t just suited for life on earth.”

Joan starts talking more, after that. She says things like a normal person and not a reincarnated lady in waiting from five hundred years ago that was strangely born from the moon. She acts normal, acts how she should, and acts the way people want her to be.

———

The moon child understands how goodbyes feel now, even if she’s not accompanied by a headless corpse or a weeping mother that’s foaming at the mouth.

Beyond that, she understands what it means to be taken by something, be it sickness, or power, or fear. Or grief. That one, too, will make you its own. That one especially.

Is her entire being not proof of that?

In the end, it is not just the river’s waters lapping at lonely London shores, having foreshadowed this weight. It is not just the mist of essence fading in the place of a friend. It is not just her mother and father, warping and vanishing in a strange, confusing dance. Not just her queen that bore a gown as silver as her eyes, resisting in the face of her own realization that the lunar being belonged to her more than the hot pink fiend. Not just the moons that gave her life.

It is so much more.

It is everything she cannot have and everything she does not want to do. It is frustration and selfishness and bitterness. It is want.

The moon child wants so badly. She wanted for her brother, and so she took what she could of what he gave, and built herself a name out of a throwaway title. She wants so badly for more of him, even if it means fighting. She wants back the little moments of closeness with anyone at all, moments she hadn’t thought to hold onto back when she was still under the illusion that she could keep them, keeping getting more of them.

How easy would it be, to solve things without just the cry of a voice if she hadn’t been destined to be silent and unloved?

How much easier, to bring life to fading hope and provide friendship for others? For herself?

She wants painfully for the small things like the shinier markers at the store, like the odd affectionate touches John used to give the top of her head. Like Aragon’s humming or Anne’s hugs or Jane’s forehead kisses or being one of the players in the theater games Cleves will start up or someone that inspires Cathy to create a character after her in one of her books. She even wants to get one of Kitty’s weird head bumps just to know she was important enough to receive one. She wants to hang out with Anne and Aragon more often because they tell stories and she likes that, and she wants the other ladies to accept her as one of them and not shun her as a creature of night that just so happens to know how to play piano.

But just as with the rising of the sun, none of this want means anything at all.

———

This much is clear: the moon child is a being of wanting. And she is regret, too, born of night and darkness, tucked and shaped into a frame too small to hold all this need. It is no surprise when the hairline fractures grow into cracks, nor when the cracks widen into gaping holes where the flesh has begun to collapse.

Joan is collapsing.

———

It gets easier to speak and act like everyone else as the days go by, but the jealousy and longing grows with it. She’s talking normally, but she’s envious all the time. She laughs and smiles and does everything as she should, but she’s always itching for affection.

The moon child begins to do things. Not bad things, just—things. Painting, for one. She thinks that if she makes presents for people then they’ll start to like her more, and it works for awhile, but then everyone just gets used to her offerings. Nobody hangs them up, unlike the art of fans, which get to be put up regally on bulletin boards and the sides of mirrors and on tables. Jane and Cathy even had their Instagram profile pictures as drawings some fans made for them.

But all of Joan’s paintings and sketches and colorings were pushed aside, tucked away inside drawers and crumpled up in purses to rot away into nothingness.

Nothing. That’s all they’ll ever be. And it’s all she’ll even be, too.

———

A bassist was sitting by one of the windows, staring dejectedly at the rain droplets pattering on the glass. The moon child notices when she’s making copies of some sheet music. When the bassist notices the moon eyes drilling into her, she turns away from them.

“Go away, Joan. Allow me to wallow in my own misery in peace.” She mutters harshly.

Joan would have left, if it weren’t for a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her to stay. She stands right where she was. Bessie raises her head.

“What are you doing? Leave. Go away. I have nothing for you. Go back to your music director business or whatever. Chase after Jane for the hundredth time for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

There was another job to be done, but Joan wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Bessie just repeated for her to leave the longer she stood. Again. Again and again and again. When the moon eyes refused to move, the bassist’s voice got increasingly more frustrated.

“Do I have to escort you out myself?” She hisses, standing and glaring deep into those pools of liquid silver.

Joan shook her head.

“Then what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t know.

“Let me be depressed in peace!”

Still there.

“Do you not understand what I’m saying?” Bessie opens her hands like they were claws.

Joan still stares at her.

“I am not going to fight you, if that is what you are looking for. This is hardly an appropriate place.”

Joan wasn’t looking for a fight. No, there is something else.

“If you are looking to gloat, just get it over with already!”

She isn’t there to gloat.

Even when Bessie drew her arm back, she still did not leave.

“Why are you still here?! It’s not like you care!” Bessie yells, flinging something nearby—a picture frame. It barely brushes Joan’s arm, and explodes into a cloud of glass against the wall.

Bessie was prone to aggressiveness and anger, but she would never attack so sloppily and so carelessly.

She wasn’t herself.

“Get…get out of here…”

Bessie’s voice cracks, crumpling to her knees. She hunches over on herself taking in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders began trembling as her entire frame was wracked with irregular shaking. High-pitched sobs emanate from her.

She wasn’t okay.

Joan took a small step forward. She wasn’t like Bessie, but maybe she could be like her for a little bit. There was quite a noticeable size difference between the two, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

Joan kneels behind her, wrapping her arms around the bassist. She felt Bessie freeze up, breath hitching for a second. She squeezes a little, rests her chin on the older musician’s shoulder, and closes her glittering eyes.

A hug. Would that make her happier?

The sobs became quieter. Joan remains crouched and hugs her, letting her grieve. She wants to say something, anything that might bring her more comfort, but the most she could do is hug her a little more and hope that it brought her some happiness like it did long ago.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally stops, slowly pulling back.

“Joan…?”

Joan responds in that silent way of hers, tipping her head in a form of recognition.

“Why did you do that…?”

“Affection makes people happier.” Joan verbally answers. She wants to ask if she was happier.

“You know...people—Jane and Kitty— said you’re just an empty monster...you’re supposed to leave. You’re not supposed to care.” Bessie mumbles, head hanging down. “You’re not supposed to care about anyone…so why did you stay? Why did you hug me? Why me? Why? I just-“

A tear was dripping down her left cheek, almost as silver as those moon eyes staring down at her with so much concern and longing. She rears back when Joan tries to touch her again.

“You’re not a monster, are you…?” Bessie whispers. Joan stares back in silence. “You’re not a monster at all. You’re none of those things. You’re...you’re good.”

———

“I know you're angry-” Jane was saying to the creature of night after yet another painful rejection. “But with how you were created-”

“Born.” The moon eyes burn. “I was born. And I've committed no crime by existing.”

———

Anne watches the moon child sitting at her side. She had come over to the queen’s house for a reason she couldn’t quite remember, but was now stuck inside due to a raging blizzard. She sat on the couch in the living room, on the opposite end of Anne, like she was afraid her presence would taint the queen with an infectious black matter.

What did she want?

The moon child brought her legs up and folded them against her chest slowly, as if through water, her joints stiff.

“It’d be better if I weren’t here.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

That made Anne blink. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.” She brought her face close to her knees, letting her too light hair fall over her too shiny eyes.

Stop doing that. Stop reaching out and then pulling away. Can’t you see I’ll do anything you want, if you’d just tell me what that is? What do you want?

Anne lifts her head a few inches, stretching out the sore spots in her neck.

“Joan, come here.”

Joan remained curled into herself.

“I will not ask again.”

That seemed to work better. Joan shifts sideways, drawing closer to her former queen. Her shoulders jolted a little as Anne wrapped an arm around them, pulling the two against each other. And then, she was tugging the awkwardly scrawny and small moon child into her lap.

(Where she belonged.)

“I will protect you,” She chose her words carefully. “To the best of my ability.”

That didn’t seem like a good place to leave off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I can’t be everything you want,” She continued, softer. “I can’t be Jane. But I’m here. And I want to take care of you, darling.”

She watched Joan’s head on her chest rise and fall with her breaths. A few beats pass before a small hiccup sounded from the lunar girl.

There were a few more hiccups that built up before they erupted into sobs, Joan’s shoulders heaving as they wracked through her. Loud whimpers and whines filled the air as Anne ran her fingers through the thick blonde tangles, rocking the poor, lonely moon child in her arms.

Joan cries steadily, head buried in her chest. Anne realizes that she didn’t even mind that a mess was being made down the front of her shirt.

Eventually the cries settle down, mixing together with the dull white noise of the television before fading off. Joan calms in her arms, snuggled up nicely, and it only gets better when Aragon joins their cuddle on the couch. Both queens hold the moon child, not caring about what anyone had ever said about her being wrong or weird or messed up compared to the other reincarnates. To them, she was perfect.

Their love filled Joan like the moonlight did. She had never felt anything so wonderful. She fit perfectly in their arms, like she had always belonged there.

And then, there was the gawker by the staircase. Joan could feel Kitty’s congealing resentment even from a distance. She could also feel Aragon and Anne’s love again, already half detached from everyone else, including the youngest of the bunch—Anne’s baby cousin. But Anne was just ready to give all her love to the moonborn pianist, not a distant family member born of daytime and rain.

Sorry, Katherine, Joan thought, settling back into the warmth and affection. Out there is my moon. And these are my mothers. And you will never be a part of that world.

[chestnut-b]

Himawari - Chapter 2

“Why are you here, Umino Iruka?”

Chapter 2 of a Kimetsu no Yaiba-verse AU

A blood-red moon hung ominously in the sky, and all around him, the screams of the dying.   

In this chaos, all he could hear were his own panicked, ragged breaths, like thunder in his ears.   

He looked up and saw his mother’s face.  Relief, even through the curtain of red that streaked it. Pain stained her voice as she asked if he was alright. He had her in his arms, but the hands bracing her torn back were slippery with blood.  

Just beyond, his father stood between them and the massive form tearing through everything in its reach. He too, was breathing heavily, blood pooling at his feet. The ground was littered with broken bodies and snapped blades, and the air smelled of iron and burning flesh.  

“Father, Mother’s-!”

“Be quiet! Somebody get him out of here NOW!”  

He’d witnessed this scene too many times. He knew by heart what would happen next.

Somebody ripped him from his mother’s arms. There was one last whisper of his name. Despite his desperate screams and struggles, their figures receded into the distance, eventually fading into the darkness.

He expected something here. Something that felt like release, but it didn’t come. 

Instead, his body hit the floor hard. After a struggle he finally managed to pry his eyes open, only to find himself utterly alone in a misty forest clearing, illuminated an eerie red.

But he wasn’t alone for long.  

The silence was broken by a soft hiss in the distance behind him, together with the sound of shifting branches and leaves. His body seized; he knew he has to run, but his body wouldn’t obey. Prone on his side, all he could do was wait for whatever was coming.

He was going to be consumed, he knew it. The sounds only got louder, and soon it was not the sound of breaking branches he heard, but the crunching of bones and the felling of trees.   

It was death, fast approaching, but he would be damned if he didn’t meet it face on.

With every ounce of strength he could summon, he twisted his body around.  

 The first thing he saw; a set of fangs, dripping red with a wetness that reflected the moonlight.

 The last thing he registered was the inside of a gaping maw, opening wide, preparing for its decent upon him.

 This time, his own scream was the only thing that rang into the night.

----------------

Iruka’s eyes snapped open.

 His chest burned with the need for air.

 He would have cried out, but his training forbade him.

 Just an arm away, a child sprawled out in a smaller futon finished a satisfied yawn.

 Naruto.  

 Naruto.

 It’s just Naruto.

 It took more than a few deep breaths to suppress the burning in his throat.

 There was a slight draft from a gap in the window, but it felt like a wave of bitter cold. He was drenched in sweat and found some relief in the sensation, but a new wave of warmth soon trickled down his cheek.

 He reached out and brought the futon cover back up, just under Naruto’s chin. The child smiled contently and burrowed back into his bed. His breathing soon took on a relaxed, quiet rhythm.

 The eyes that had been fixed on the child’s sleeping form shifted their focus to the door behind him, but only for a moment before he turned carefully to lie on his back.

 He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, but didn’t let himself fall back to much-needed sleep. Concentrating on his own breathing, Iruka allowed the sounds of the surrounding wilderness to take over his senses.

Dawn would come soon enough.

 -----------------------------------

 It had been two weeks since the start of his post at the school, and Kakashi had been performing his duty as diligently as a person who was bored out of his mind could.

 Sitting in his new favourite spot in the trees overlooking the grounds, he observed the going-ons below. The young inhabitants stood engrossed in the demonstration happening before them. Gripping a wooden sword, Iruka moved with a practiced grace, one form to the next. Concise and age appropriate, Kakashi thought, but Naruto and the boy named Lee (who reminded him disturbingly of Gai) were squirming excitedly and looking especially starry-eyed.

Naruto...Well, Jiraiya and Iruka were right about one thing at least. As the 7 year old boy that he was, Naruto had an exceedingly unsurprising disposition. He hadn’t shown any inkling of the demon that slept within, thanks in large part to his age and the fact that he’d been raised, like many of the peasant orphans here, without knowledge or endowment of a family name.

 But unlike the Uzumaki clan members Kakashi were aware of, there were aspects of the boy that were undeniably unique. He remembered the handful of times he’d ever crossed paths with a clan member in the field. Her name was Kushina; her skin, pale from the lack of sun, and her hair, red like a river of fire, with a personality to match. Even as unexperienced as he was, he’d known Minato-sensei had been smitten the night he laid eyes on her.

 But therein lied the crux of the matter. Kakashi had ever only seen her at night, as had Minato, in their subsequent rendezvous.

 Yet here stood their flesh and blood, standing unperturbed in the heat of day as if he belonged no where else.

 The implications of this were as concerning as they were intriguing.

He watched the students below him take their places and begin their practice. Unsurprisingly, Naruto started off by swinging his sword wildly, earning him a good knock to the head from an exasperated Iruka.

Well, he certainly wasn’t receiving any special treatment in this aspect of his upbringing at least, Kakashi thought, relieved.

The only exception he knew the boy had been granted was sharing Iruka’s private quarters at night, instead of sleeping in the larger common rooms together with the rest of the children. There was also the matter of the seal that he knew covered the boy’s belly. Kakashi had been briefed upon his arrival; both had explained away by the child having some kind of medical condition that needed monitoring.

Kakashi paused in his musings when he felt something akin to a gentle wave pass over him.

 Well, this was a surprise.

 He raised a hand and wriggled his fingers.

 The young teacher below had his face at a slight angle, but his gaze was unmistakably directed straight at him.

 He’d been careful too, Kakashi smiled, amused.

 With a cheeky smirk that went almost unnoticed, Iruka returned to observing his class. Soon, he moved to correct the form of a pink-haired girl, Sakura, was it? Honestly, Kakashi couldn’t blame her. Anyone would have been distracted if they’d been placed behind Lee, who in his efforts to impress her, was practicing his swings with an unearthly enthusiasm that once again reminded him a bit too much of Gai. Another possible candidate for the Maito household, perhaps.

 Kakashi let his thoughts to drift to the aforementioned sensei, and a night that had left him with more questions than answers. 

-----------------------------------

He’d been offered a room just across the courtyard from Iruka and Naruto’s quarters.

Having finished his training outside the school, Kakashi was just about to pass their room when he’d felt it. The distinct atmosphere of distress. He stilled his breathing and reached out with his senses, scanning for danger or the trace of demons in the surrounding area and found nothing. But, there was a sliver of a gap in the doors just ahead, and soon his one good eye was peering into it.

There was just enough moonlight shining through the paper doors to make out the outlines of two.

Naruto was sprawled atop his futon without a care in the world, snoring softly. His yukata was a bit of a mess, and Kakashi spied the bandages that were wrapped around his waist. He had a goofy grin on his face that was occasionally broken by the occasional sniffle from his exposure to the cool summer air.

 Kakashi’s gaze shifted to the larger figure beside him. It didn’t take long to figure out the source of the distress. He lay still under the covers of his futon, but the young guardian’s pale face was a picture of suffering; painted with sweat and pained lines. Any slayer who wanted to stay alive on the field at night learned to sleep quietly, and Iruka was obviously no exception, but his eyes shifted wildly under his eyelids and his expression was so strained, Kakashi had almost been tempted to wake him from whatever it was that tortured him. 

“Father...Mother...”   

It was really only the barest of whispers.

Kakashi’s gaze softened. Trauma lurked in the shadow of every slayer, and Iruka’s came in the form of a crazed fox, and by extension, the boy who slept just an arm away.

Why are you here, Umino Iruka?  

Moments later, Iruka’s body seized, not unlike what he’d witnessed when they first had tea. Just after Kakashi had decided to intervene, Naruto had yawned, causing Iruka’s eyes to snap open. Kakashi stepped back and away from the gap in the door. In the following minutes he heard pained breaths, the sounds of shifting cloth, and then a satisfied sigh.

 Peace had returned, if only for another night.

 Satisfied there was nothing left to do, Kakashi silently stepped out into the courtyard and returned to his room. 

Sleep did not come easy that night.

--------------------------------------

It was Naruto’s pained yelp that brought him back to the present. The boy had just received a fresh knock to the head. Iruka had been its deliverer, but even behind his admonishment was an obvious fondness. Considering everything he’d seen, Kakashi couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved. His instincts told him he was missing something here; he just didn’t have a clue what it was.

He continued to observe the class a while more. A few promising candidates, he thought, but it was still too early to tell. Naruto, in particular, would need to be tested if he were to provide any helpful insights. He’d promised Iruka the boy would receive a fair chance, but Kakashi wasn’t sure if the teacher would appreciate what that would entail, nor did he know how long this evaluation would eventually take. As far as the slayers were concerned, this was unknown territory. 

Eventually, the youth caught his eye once again, this time mouthing “Tea?”, before turning to debrief the gathered children. Kakashi sighed, but got up from his spot dutifully. It would be a while before the teacher could make it to the room. He may as well get the tea going.

----------------------------------------

 It had become a bit of a ritual on the afternoons when time allowed for it.

Kakashi didn’t mind it at all. The tea was good, and Iruka never felt the need to force conversation. Their topics ranged from day to day, with neither giving away too much or too little of themselves. It was always comfortable, and usually, that was all well and good.

But that wouldn’t do at all today. If Kakashi wanted anything more than what polite conversation would reveal, he’d have to earn it. So he waited, patiently.

Iruka finally appeared at the doorway, obviously prepared for a quick apology, but upon seeing Kakashi, merely blinked.

The hearth was lit, and the iron kettle upon it was already emitting a steady trail of steam.  

“Iruka-sensei, won’t you come in?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Kakashi-san.”

“Not at all, sensei.” 

Iruka stepped into the room and placed a seal on the door frames. There was a faint buzz, and the air settled into a familiar lull. 

Placing his sword beside him, Iruka settled in his seat on the floor. Kakashi took his time filling two cups, one of which he offered to the younger man, who bowed with gratitude, before taking it into his own hands. They sat in silence for a moment, and when it had cooled enough, he took a sip.

The way Iruka’s eyes lit up in surprise produced a small laugh from Kakashi.

“Is it to your liking?” 

Iruka smiled fondly before sighing.

“I suppose none of us have managed to escape this part of Sarutobi-sensei’s instruction.” 

“I’ll admit, it was a pain. But it makes for good tea at least.” Kakashi admitted, sipping from his own cup. It’d taken him more time than he’d cared to share to pass this part of his sensei's test. It had apparently become a bit on an in-joke by the time Jiraiya had put Minato through the same ordeal. 

They talked for a while, and settled into a relaxed pace. Iruka as usual, held his gaze to the flame, and when his cup was just about empty, Kakashi offered him another, which he accepted.

He’d been half way through that one when Kakashi spoke again.

“Iruka-sensei, there’s something I’ve been curious about.”

The younger man nodded silently, but continued with his tea.

“Your parents were killed by the Fox, you said so the day we met.”

The youth nodded, but said nothing, and merely waited for him to continue. 

“Yet you’ve never thought of killing Naruto? Of getting your revenge?”

To his credit, Iruka didn’t react in the slightest. He merely took another sip of tea.

Then, he broke his eye contact with the flame in the hearth, and looked at Kakashi squarely. There wasn’t a trace of humor in his eyes, nor his voice when he finally spoke.

 “What makes you think I haven't?”

 ----------------------------------------------------

-End of Chapter 2-

Author’s Notes:

Welp, this is gonna be longer than I expected! Let’s see where this takes us. :D 

[nobodyeverasked]

new beginnings; nct dream

(2005 words) - medium

--platonic--

Summary: whenever you feel alone - wherever you feel alone, know that there will always be someone - whether a house away or an ocean away - who’ll be there to support you.

The night lay quiet over SM Studios, the wrinkled sheets of twilight glistening in the pale moonlight and lulling the cream stars threading the indigo clouds of the night together to sleep. Most of the halls and pine-floored rooms lay desolate, no longer cradling the ear-piercing shrieks and rampant footsteps of twenty-two men-children. All rooms except for one, screeches of sneakers of rumbles of heavy breathing rupturing the symphonies of the night soaking through the walls. The amber lights hung above the two figures dancing across the floors and captured the candlelights of concentration in their eyes - sheathed by hatches of sweat-laced hair. 

It was Donghyuck and their newest member of NCT Dream, Y/N, conquering the evening so the new maknae could finally learn the moves for their upcoming comeback. Complications have riddled Y/N’s schedule, his mind plagued with thick stacks of paperwork and too many pairs of steepled hands to count. The words escaping garnet-stained lips and the half-hearted smiles - chiseled with the lines of age - all amalgamated into one conglomerate hellfire of stress.

To say Y/N was struggling was an understatement, and the patience of Donghyuck started to wear thin between his grinding teeth and clicking tongue whenever he had to restart the music. The hollow shell of anger framing his frown filling up with the bullets of sweat running down the back of his neck. Y/N could feel the tension leaking off of Donghyuk’s languishing movements and winced at the burn of ire that trudged throughout the room every time the older - Donghyuck - combed his brown hair off his forehead.

Y/N just wanted to give up and let the person who took time out of their to just help him rest, the feeling of being a burden already clawing into his back as soon as he walked through the glass doors of the lobby on the first day. Being met with twenty-one pairs of eyes that stripped him down from his skin, and to the dirty converse now screeching along the floors in jagged steps. 

He did not want to be more of a nuisance that he already felt he was, not only taking a badge that Jisung wore proudly, but having to step into the thick haze of expectations that he feared most. The comments and opinions behind closed doors were already getting to him, and as he lay restless between his sheets every night, staring at the one wall that could bear to hear his burdens, he wonders if chasing his dreams was really worth it - or were they stars that were perched too high in the abyss of his delusions?

“I- I’m sorry…” Y/N could barely breathe out those words as he tripped over one of his tattered shoelaces again, the white string growing dirty and worn, each stain holding the countless doubts whispered into countless empty rooms. 

Donghyuck instantly stopped dancing as he could hear Y/N stuttering under the music, he even grew tired of his own heavy breathing, knowing that they have made no progress no matter how many hours awake they chisel into the night sky. Y/N could not be hopeless, could he? Even that idea started to wear under the grip of Donghuck’s trainers.

“You know what? It’s okay. We’re done.” Donghyuck did not even spare a half-hearted glance, instantly walking over to his phone and ripping the cord from the port. He was glad he missed the fall in the corners of Y/N’s mouth, the lip bitten in concentration, parted by the delicate hands of shock when the angered voice of his bandmate echoed through the room. It hit him more than the bass of the music, and dug into his heart more than any typed up comment could have. 

Even his bandmates were losing hope for him, Y/N was right. He was right all along.

The spotlight was too blinding, the audience was too deafening, the doubts were too suffocating. He can’t do this.

“W- what?” Y/N shook his head, heaved words strained between weathered breaths. He has lost count how many times he wished he could dance like Jisung, belt like Renjun and pour his heart onto the stage the twenty-one works of art that stood by his side - but never made him feel more alone. 

He could see their fingers soaring through the flames of their determination, a passion festered in their eyes. Where were his? Lost under the shadows of dejection looming in his mind? Withered to ashes by the tears staining his pillows? He didn’t know, nor did he want to search for any more answers - fearing that he would only find more reasons to pack his bags.

“I said we’re done, okay, Y/N? You’re not gonna get this tonight -seriously… Let’s just figure our stuff out tomorrow.” Donghuck tried to bite back the frustration riddling his dry tongue. He hated being angry, especially at someone who did not deserve it.

Y/N was only looking for help, and ever since he first slipped past their lobby door with the most fearful look on his face, Donghyuck wanted to do nothing more than sweep him into an embrace that could last an eternity. All he knew was that this feeling between them was temporary, and that the tides of their new memories would wash over their groans etched into the shores of the present.

 Donghyuck trudged to the door, his steps growing smaller, slower as he could that Y/N was not following him. He hid a smile in his sleeve.

“What’re you doing, Y/N?” Donghyuck whipped around, watching as Y/N started to mark the movements slowly, a lethargy-ridden voice humming out the melody of their song, and muted movements taking over his body.

“I just wanna practice a little bit more-”

“Can you just give it a rest!” Donghyuck’s voice sent a frigid shiver to claw down Y/N’s spine and pierce his limbs. Donghyuck has never raised his voice before, at least not with such a virulent frustration rumbling in his throat. He just hopes that what he has planned many nights ago can finally go through, or the future he wishes to spend with Y/N will be farther between them than he thought. “You’re not gonna get it right now, let’s just get some rest and regather our bearings.”

“O- okay… Sorry...” Y/N hung his head in pure, untainted defeat. He could feel the flames of bitterness bite at his shifting feet and spiral around his legs as he shuffled ahead of Donghyuck and pulled the door to the practice door open. The air - sweltering with tension - cradling his shaking sighs tainted with disappointment.

“SURPRISE!!!”

The screams burst through the midnight haze dragging down on Y/N’s body and sent him jumping into the air, the tears held back in the heat of Donghyuck’s anger as he finally realized what was happening, what this entire practice session was for. His heavy pants crumbled into quiet sobs as soon as the amber candlelights came into view when a large, white-dressed cake was nestled in Jaemin’s extended arms, and four other heads popped up from behind him.

Months of hard work that felt like years and passed like decades made the memories of his birthdays spent back home under the coral glow of candles and sparklers fade completely from his mind, and the smokescreen of tension and anxiety plaguing the moonlight tonight only making it worse. How did they do this? Why? For him? How long have they been thinking about him? Did he actually matter?

“Happy birthday Y/N!!!” Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle and Jisung flew through the door, everyone piling in on Y/N as he covered his eyes with shaking hands, glistening tears carving rivers down his cheeks, an overwhelming amalgamation of confusion, happiness and surprise drowning his mind. The arms curled around him sent a warmth to slither throughout his body, one of such a love that has remained foreign for as long as the emerald coasts of his hometown left his view. He could barely believe that these people, the ones he has looked up to for so long, thought of him in this way, remembered his birthday, and cherished even the faintest memory of him - he was speechless, breathless.

Hands smoothed over the back of his head and coiled around his torso tighter as soon as his tears could be seen, soaking the fabrics of six different sweatshirts and the comforting hands clinging to his body. Chenle was the first to wipe his tears away, brushing his thumbs over Y/N’s scarlet-tinted cheeks, ones that have never housed a smile so wide. Jisung came next, pressing a long, gentle kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, the smile framing it filled with so much shared joy and adoration that he nearly burst at the seams.

Donghyuck came barrelling in next, yelling at this poor, hopeful soul was the last thing he ever wanted to do, to drag Y/N’s determination through the mud of melancholy that much further.  His hug knocked whatever remnants of air left in Y/N’s system right out of him, his coiling touch making an apology more heartfelt than anything he could spin into words or write on paper. The jagged sobs from Y/N only broke his heart more than what he had to do earlier.

“I… I… How…? What? Why me…?” Y/N shook out his hands and leaned his head on Renjun’s, who smiled as the shaking hand of their new maknae slowly rose to meet his. Many flames burned in Y/N’s head, and marred his mind, the fingers of his bandmates intertwining with his only shoving him deeper into the pools of perplexity. “Donghyuck…? Wh-”

“It’s because we love you, and we want you to know that we will always be here for you. We know you’ve been feeling alone, and we hate ourselves for every second we left you alone to fend for yourself. From now on, we just want you to feel comfortable, and we want to be with you every step of the way. We want you to talk to us, laugh with us and have fun with us, we want you to feel like you’re part of this group too.” Donghyuck wiped a stray tear away from Y/N’s cheek, looking into the eyes that were once tainted by the shadows of anguish, now gleaming with a reinvigorated determination, the ones they will have no problem falling in love with as time strolls alongside them. His lips, once pressed into a firm line of emotionlessness, now curved into a flourishing grin, one that could rival the many spotlights that will glow above all seven of their heads and shine a heavenly light on them as their burdens pushing on their shoulders grow heavy.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” Y/N tried to look at all of his bandmates through lashes blurred with tears, the glow of the dancing candle fire still piercing his tears and burning his heart with the flames of appreciation. “Thank you…”

“We just hope you know that we're always gonna be here for you.” Jeno threw and embrace around the people closest to him, his face buried into Y/N’s shoulders, and his arms draped around Jisung and Renjun - who still had their hands entwined with Y/N’s. “Always.” They could feel the pressure - built from the grounds of sleepless nights and piercing the thunderclouds of his greatest fears - melting away like the scarlet wax of the candle bringing all of their gazes to the cake. “Make a wish, Y/N.”

Y/N would always fantasize about receiving love from those he admired so much. But now that the stars perched in the highest nights of his faintest dreams are clutched between his shaking hands and shimmering between his love-struck stares between the other six boys, what did he have to wish for? 

His wishes had already come true.

[tanis-in-a-trenchcoat]

10; romantic

Prompt: 10. You look beautiful in the moonlight

Words: 1173

Prompt list

Read on Ao3

Ko-fi

This is also for @venusvex because they want a fic with Jaskier saying all the things he loves about Geralt (I’m afraid it’s not exactly what I wrote, sorry ;;), so here I am, mixing ideas 🙏 

I hope you like it!

The breeze was soft and warm. Weak. It moved the pine branches gently, with a sound of sweet and sleeping summer. The moon, full and bright, was shining like a graceful and silver fire in a sky sprinkled with tiny and twinkling stars. The crickets were singing their love songs, the only sound besides the owls hooting. 

It's a beautiful valley, thought Jaskier, sitting on a rock near the cliff, I could write a song only with the descriptions of this sight.

They were traveling on their way to Lyria, by a long canyon covered in thick and fresh forests with warm rivers after months of thaw. Far away from villages Geralt didn't hunt monsters (that's the first rule) so they weren't on constant stress. If by some chance the medallion began to buzz, Geralt diverted his way elsewhere and avoided whatever creature was ahead.

Jaskier was gazing at the stars, struggling to locate the constellations he thought he knew when Geralt came along and sat beside him on the rock with a soft sigh. The campsite was behind them, the bonfire reduced to a few slight and glowing embers that they didn't need anymore. Roach was already sleeping with soft snorts and huffs.

The wind blew calmy from the south, carrying the whispers of the valley. Suddenly, a wolf's howl shattered the serenity of the night for long seconds. Jaskier looked at Geralt, who had his eyes closed and an expression of peace in his face. Silverlight leaked faintly over them, making Geralt's features seemed ethereal, with his white hair almost sparkling in a million of the little stars that were in the sky. Jaskier felt himself holding his breath and thinking:

Gods, he's so beautiful in the moonlight… 

When the howl faded, the witcher opened his eyes and fixed it in the deep scar that was the canyon, a tiny smirk on his lips. Jaskier felt his face warm, hands sweating and throat dry.

"Sometimes," Geralt whispered, and he sounded resigned, guilty and hopeful at the same time. "I wish I could stay like this."

Jaskier swallowed, glancing at the valley. For a moment, the crickets were the only noise that made vibrated the air. 

"You mean…" he said.

Geralt sighed, softly, and replied with a mutter.

"Travelling with you through mountains and forest without monsters, without having to worry about anything else."

Jaskier frowned a little, suddenly sad because he knew Geralt minded people calling him 'monster' much more than monsters itself.

"But that's not the Path, right?" he said.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Geralt's nod.

"That's not the Path." Geralt echoed.

Above them, the moon had moved a little, reaching the zenith overhead the mountain's peak. Jaskier swallowed again. He could give up his music, his own voice, for a world where Geralt could be entirely happy, without the Path, without having to hunt monsters for coins from people that feared and despised him for what he was. 

"They don't deserve your help," Jasper said, feeling angry.

Geralt looked at him, tilting his head a little. 

"Don't say that," The witcher replied, soft, patiently. "That's not how it works."

"I know but–" Jaskier hesitated and bit his lower lip. "They don't care about you, to really know you. You are just the witcher who hunts monsters, the mutant. They hate you when there's no danger in sight but soon a monster appears they run to you for help. And they only pay well if you haggle."

Jaskier realized then his hands were shaking. Geralt said nothing but he didn't stop watching him.

"And it's not fair," Jaskier continued. "You are the kindest person I have met, even at first, when I was following you without your consent."

"I punched you." Geralt's voice remained soft and tender except for a slight hint of remorse. "And I've never apologized for that."

"Yes, you had," Jaskier affirmed. "After that, when we were imprisoned and the elves wanted to kill us, you were willing to die at his hands if that was they wanted to do. But for me? You–"

"Jaskier," Geralt interrupted. He put a hand on his arm and squeezed it. "I didn't want you to die at that moment because you were a casualty, not because I was apologizing. Perhaps you were annoying and I didn't want any type of companionship but…" Geralt let the words die in his tongue and shook his head softly. "I know what are you trying to say, and I feel… grateful, really, but the way most people treat me didn't mean I'm not an asshole sometimes. Especially to you."

Jaskier gulped a dense sigh and took the hand he had in his arm. His own hand was smaller than Geralt's hand, with the lute calluses not matching the sword calluses. 

"I like this," he mumbled.

"What," Geralt said with another whisper.

"This. You talking to me about how you feel. I know it's difficult for you."

Jaskier saw a tiny smile blooming in his lips. Geralt interlaced their fingers and leaned a little towards the bard, resting his forehead on Jaskier's. 

"I'm sorry," he said.

Jaskier smiled, slowly, fondly, and cupped the witcher's face with his free hand. The moonlight made his amber eyes much more luminous, bright. Jaskier caressed his jawline, feeling the slight rough beard Geralt had.

"See? You are kind," he murmured. "Much more kind than most of the people out there."

"Hm." The sigh was long, harsh, hoarse, but no hostile. 

"I have been traveling with you for years, Geralt, I know you have bad temper sometimes, but you also had patient, and you care for little things and…" Jaskier breathes deeply.

Geralt chuckled.

"I get it," he said. "You don't have to do this."

"But–"

"Little bird," Geralt hissed sweetly, lifted the bard's hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. Jaskier felt his heart flutter fast, a hot cloud whirling in his chest, his face warm, and tears peeking in the corner of his eyes. "Thank you."

Jaskier shook his head, rubbing a little Geralt's forehead. Geralt huffed a smile.

"Oh, no, don't argue with me. Thank you–" Geralt pulled away from Jaskier a little and kissed his forehead, dragging his lips through the temple to the ear. "–for making me feel better."

Jaskier let out a weak breath and giggled, trembling, his free hand abandoned Geralt's face and gripped his shirtfront, making the witcher straight up. 

"Anytime, my love," he said.

Then Jaskier pulled just enough to make Geralt leaned and kissed him, softly at first, much more deeply after. Geralt grunted, low, almost harsh, and bit Jaskier lower lip before pulled away an inch. Jaskier breathed out a whine.

"Come," Geralt said getting up and helping Jaskier to get up. "I don't want to fall off the cliff while we're fucking."

Jaskier snorted, following Geralt back to the camp, feeling floating, feeling like the moon over the mountains and the valley, in a zenith among all the stars in the sky.

[golden-deer-dear]

Sing Me to Sleep, Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary:  There are fears that keep them both up at night, fears at seem to disappear within the other's presence. So they will cling to each other, taking these small moments to rest.

Notes:  So, my birthday is usually not a good day for me, because family and all that. But this year, this fandom, and a particularly wonderful discord server, has already made it a lot better than it usually is. And since I really enjoy giving gifts, I decided I was going to write something on my birthday to thank you guys for just being wonderful. Love you all. Go out and have a good day for me!

Read on AO3.

Sing Me to Sleep

Byleth took a deep breath, tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above. It was catching up to her, the weariness she tried to fight away. Her body felt heavy and slow, making her movements drag. She was going to become a liability in battle if she did not get some rest soon.

But that was another problem all of its own. Byleth sighed, her head dropping back down until her chin touched her chest. Her eyes drifted shut for a split second before snapping back open. No! She could not close her eyes! Not yet at any rate. She needed to find a way to regain her energy without actually needing to sleep.

If only such a thing were actually possible. She sighed for a third time in as many minutes. Even researching the topic was becoming a problem. Every time she tried to read, the words simply swam in her eyes and she could not retain any information.

“That’s a lot of worry you seem to have there, Teach. Want to talk about it?”

Byleth’s head snapped up, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision. Claude stood in front of her, his signature grin on his lips. But it was his eyes she focused on. There was no joy there, only worry. That was the last thing she wanted. She had tried so hard to hide her problems from the rest of her comrades. Claude especially did not need anything extra on his plate right now. He had the Alliance to worry about as well as being one of the leaders in this war. She could not be another thing drawing his attention away from his ambitions.

She shook her head, the movement making her dizzy. She wobbled ever so slightly, trying to grab onto the railing of the bridge in a way that seemed natural. But of course Claude’s sharp eyes tracked the movement, and the smile fell from his face. Still, she tried. “I’m all right, Claude. You should go get some rest.”

“I can say the same to you, my friend,” Claude shot back. He stepped up to her, crossing the distance so fast Byleth’s tired mind did not realize he had even moved until his hand was on her elbow, giving her another branch of support. She took it instinctively, leaning into his touch and fighting the urge to simply fall.

"Come on," Claude urged gently, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as he tried to guide her away from the bridge. "Let's get you back to the dorms."

"No!" Byleth protested vehemently. She ripped herself away from him, staggering as her body fought once more to stand on its own. Her fingers tore at the stone of the bridge as she grasped her new support, breaking a few nails in the process. "No, I'll be fine, Claude," she said, breath still coming in heaving gasps and doing nothing to reassure either of them. 

Claude wore open worry on his face for the briefest of moments, gone so quickly Byleth was surprised she was able to catch it flash through his eyes. "Come on," he repeated. "This isn't doing you any good. Tell me what's wrong." He moved toward her again, slipping his arm around her shoulders once more, all the while watching for another sign of protest dictating he should move away. "Let me help, Teach."

Byleth shivered as his warmth settled around her, clashing with the chill of the night air she had lingered in for so long now. She did not want to tell him. She had not wanted to tell anyone, for there were larger concerns to address than her own fears. For that was what it was, fear that kept her eyes open when the moon had long lingered overhead. And yet, the words poured out of her, her mind too tired to protest or lie, giving up the fight in the face of Claude's genuine concern. 

"I'm scared to close my eyes," she finally admitted, speaking the words that had haunted her ever since she woke to find the world so changed. "What if I sleep for another five years? What if I leave you all again, and this time when I wake you aren't there? What if I sleep even longer this time, and wake up to only dust and ruins? I'm so afraid I won't wake up. Every time my eyes close this tightness grips my chest and keeps me from breathing."

Claude's arm tightened around her, drawing her even closer to his side. And that was dangerous. He was so warm and comfortable Byleth could feel her eyes growing heavy with every step they took. 

Her eyes shot back open, realizing only now they had left the bridge and were almost past the officer's academy. Her breathing quickened, knowing it would not be long before they reached the dorms, before they reached her room. She turned, exhaustion transforming her into a panicked animal as she attempted to flee. 

But Claude held her close, unwilling to let her go a second time. "Teach, it's okay," he tried to reassure her, his voice soft and low. "You're going to wake up this time, I promise. I'm going to be beside you all night, and in the morning if you don't wake up on your own, I'll wake you up myself. And then those pretty green eyes of yours can watch the sun come up with me, and we'll actually get you some breakfast for once." He ended his words with a light laugh, his hand squeezing her shoulder. 

Byleth mulled it over, turning his words in her mind as she attempted to process any of it. By the time they reached her room, her tired brain had grasped onto his promises, desperate for any sort of relief. “You’ll stay?”

“Of course.” 

Claude opened the door to her small room, guiding her to the bed in a twirl. Byleth felt for that brief moment she was in a dance, Claude spinning her away before he would pull her back into his arms. But he didn’t bring her back, much to Byleth's surprised disappointment. Byleth’s legs hit the bed and she sank onto it, her eyes struggling to stay open. She needed this so much, but it had frightened her. 

But Claude had promised, so things were different now.

Claude knelt before her and began to remove her boots. Byleth was very glad for the darkness in the room hiding her suddenly heated cheeks. His hands were sunlight, even through her tights. It was intimate, but in the way one friend cared for another, absolutely nothing more than that. (Byleth was very much lying to herself in that instant.) It was over in the span of a heartbeat, Claude standing and easing off her coat before guiding her down onto the bed. 

Somehow he got her under the covers, tucking her in tight. A memory, almost as old as her, surfaced in her mind. Her father stood over her, his face stern as he brushed the face from her face. Go back to sleep, kid. Those nightmares can’t hurt you.

Byleth blinked, the vision of Jeralt fading back into her memories. Claude removed his own cloak, slinging it over the back of her chair before settling himself in. She watched as he crossed his arms in front of him, his chin resting against his chest. 

“Claude?” 

His brows raised without his eyes opening. “You’re supposed to be sleeping, Teach.”

Byleth ignored him. “Are you really going to sleep in that chair? It can’t be comfortable.”

There was enough moonlight filtering in through her small window that she could see Claude smirk, the kind that would reach his eyes if they were open. “Not the worst place I’ve ever slept before, my friend. Now, do me a favor and sleep before you cause my poor heart to ache.”

She wanted to. Every bit of her body screamed for rest, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Looking at him made her chest feel funny. It had ever since she walked back up those stairs and he had greeter her as if she had not left for five years. He was precious to her, she knew that much, but all her Deer were important. Why did it feel so different with Claude? 

A low hum caught her ears, cutting off that confusing train of thought. The melody chased it all away, every doubt and uncertainty. And then he opened his mouth, Claude’s low voice singing in an unfamiliar language, but it didn’t matter that she could not understand. It made her smile all the same. It was gentle and sweet, like the wind in the leaves or a river in summer. It was right.

Byleth finally allowed her eyes to fall shut, Claude’s voice an echo chasing away her fear.

/

Claude knew he was being ridiculous. He knew his current anxiety was all just a part of his own imagination. Still, it did not stop his feet from finding their way to her door. He stood still as a statue, looking like a complete fool with his hand hanging inches in front of the wooden barrier, unable to bring himself to knock.

“Claude?” Her voice was low with exhaustion, a lilting quality to the question.

His hand moved to the back of his head, gloved fingers running through his hair as he turned to face her. “Hey, Teach!” he greeted, voice too high and smile too wide to fool her.

Byleth stood there for a long minute, silence stretching on a thin string between them while her green eyes when through him, her gaze piercing him like an arrow through muscle rendering him unable to move. Claude felt he could not even breathe until she broke the sudden thickness in the air by stepping forward. Byleth worked her way past him, opening the door and motioning for him to follow. 

Claude breathed deeply when he stepped into the room, lingering in the doorway to allow himself time to take it all in. Lavender from the fresh flowers on her desk combined with the smell of oils used to clean weapons and fresh linens, giving the place a smell that was uniquely Byleth. He briefly wondered which of the girls had picked flowers for her this morning. He knew Marianne, Mercedes, and Lysithea rotated the daily gesture between themselves. (Annette was gently encouraged out of the rotation after breaking a fifth vase.)

It was a reminder that she was there, that she had come back and Claude wasn’t in some waking dream where she would disappear again. He couldn’t handle that. No, he had spent five long years hoping, working through and finally realizing why his heart ached every time he thought of her. He could not lose her again.

“Claude?”

Claude blinked, breaking himself out of his stupor and silently cursing himself for not paying attention. From the concern in Byleth’s eyes he knew it was not the first time she had called his name. “Ah, sorry Teach. Must be more tired than I realized.” Claude tried to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his head again. He knew it would not fool her. Byleth always seemed to see right through him.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

She asked it casually, like she was commenting on troop movement rather than inviting him to something more intimate. Claude felt himself freeze, wide eyes staring at her as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. Of course he wanted to. He wanted it more than anything. For Byleth to be his lover, to hold her in his arms in a way no one else ever would. Claude wanted it as much as he wanted to unite the world together.

Something in his face must have given away his thought process. A light blush made its way across Byleth’s cheeks, just visible in the moonlight. She held his gaze, but her eyes filled with uncertainty. “I meant on the bed.” She flinched ever so slightly, seeming to realize her words only further served to muddy the situation. “I...I haven’t been sleeping well, not since the last time you were here. I wanted to ask you to stay, but I’d hate for you to sleep in the chair all night again.”

“Ah,” Claude said on the exhale of a sigh, using the moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t mind.”

Byleth cut him off with a sharp look. “I do. I saw the way you were rubbing your neck the next day. I’m not about to have you in pain when there’s enough room here for us both.”

Byleth removed her coat and tossed it over the back of her chair. Her boots and armor pieces followed next, leaving Claude flushed as he watched her strip. He breathed deeply through his nose and forced himself to look away when she began to remove her top. Byleth apparently had zero qualms about propriety, a sentiment Claude would usually share, but under the circumstances it felt like a violation.

He did not raise his head again until he heard Byleth throw the covers back. She wore only a pair of sleeping shorts and a loose top, but the sight of her in the moonlight sent his heart beating fiercely. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Byleth assured him, but there was a lost look in her eyes that broke Claude’s resolve.

He stepped forward, quick fingers removing his overcoat and cravat. The sash with its woolen poms came off as well before Claude settled himself on the edge of the bed. He used the long moments he took toeing off his boots to steel his mind, before flipping over dramatically to face Byleth. She shook her head, snuggling her cheek into her pillow, but her eyes sparked with joy. 

There was enough room that they were close without touching, but he could feel the heat of her body. The scent of her invaded his nose as he repositioned head on the pillow. “Better, my friend?”

“Yes,” Byleth said, straightforward as always. “Thank you.”

Claude watched, mesmerized as her fingers toyed with the edge of the covers. Her eyelids drooped, but for whatever reason he could see she was fighting to stay awake a little longer. “What is it?” he whispered, fighting the urge to reach out for her hand. 

Byleth drew in a deep breath before she answered. “That song you sang last time. Could you sing it again?”

A brilliant grin spread across Claude’s face, making Byleth flush and bury her face in her pillow. It was adorable how unafraid she had been to ask him to sleep with her, but this request made her hesitate. 

Claude opened his mouth, unable to deny her request. His low voice filled the room with the simple melody, stumbling only for a moment when Byleth finally closed her eyes.

Oh the stars above

Shine to light my way

Light my way 

Back to you

Sleep well

Sleep tight

Oh precious one

For when you wake

And the stars have said their goodbyes

I shall be at your side

And your smile

Oh it shall light my way

In their stead

“Those aren’t the same words you sang before,” Byleth whispered when the last notes faded, her voice low as she fought off sleep a moment longer.

“No,” Claude admitted, unable to help himself from leaning in closer to her. He was smart enough to know there was no point in denying it. “They weren’t.”

Byleth hummed lightly, unconsciously snuggling closer to Claude’s warmth. “Claude, you promise to wake me up again, right?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately. He did not know what made him continue, again being so reckless with his secrets. It was as if her mere presence was intoxicating him, loosening his tongue easier than any drink. “Just promise you’ll be here in return.”

Byleth’s eyes flashed open, suddenly awake and aware. Realization stirred something in those mint green depths. She reached out, entangling their fingers together beneath the covers. “Promise.”

/

Byleth watched in horror as Claude once more spiraled downward. But this time his body did not land in a broken and bloody heap. This time, the wyvern had enough time to right itself before it crashed into the earth. The impact threw Claude from the saddle, but she saw him roll onto his side and moan.

Byleth stumbled toward him, blood flowing from her nose and filling her mouth. She did not have another divine pulse in her. She would not have been able to save him if she had failed this time. She could not lose him. She needed to make sure, needed to see that stupid smug grin of his to know he was all right.

“Hey, Teach,” Claude groaned through bloodied teeth when she reached his side. “You look terrible.”

Relief surged through her, and Byleth dropped to her knees beside him. The battle was coming to a close, and there were others capable of cleaning up. Right now, she could not bring herself to be anywhere but here. “I can say the same to you.”

Claude grinned, wincing in pain when he tried to sit up. He dropped back heavily, breathing raggedly. And yet that grin stayed in place. “Are you saying you don’t find my rugged good looks appealing? I’m hurt.”

Byleth ignored him, pulling magic to her fingertips to pour what little white magic she knew into his body, a desperate attempt to ease his wounds. She felt herself wavering, fighting to keep herself upright. She should stop, she knew she should, but the sight of Claude unmoving before her filled her mind. Despite the man himself joking in front of her, the thought of him broken and ruined refused to let go.

“Hey!” She heard him call out to her, but it sounded very far away. “Hey!” This time he grabbed her hand. Byleth gasped softly as she was pulled down beside him, Claude clutching her to his chest. “You’re going to overdo it there, my friend.”

She buried her face against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat loud and reassuring. It was what she needed to break her out of her fervor. Byleth crumbled silently, shivering in Claude’s arms as she fought through emotion after emotion trying to overwhelm her. Claude didn’t complain. He held her tight, giving her the time she needed. 

“Hey, I just realized something,” Claude said lightly once she lay still in his arms. There was still a hint of pain in his voice, but his breathing sounded almost normal again. “You’re on the wrong side of the bed.”

Byleth blinked, taking a moment to process what he meant before realizing that she was indeed lying on the opposite side of him than she usually did when they shared a bed. Byleth’s face scrunched in displeasure. It felt odd, not wrong but slightly off, but she was too tired to care. She snuggled back against Claude, letting her eyes fall shut.

Before she drifted off, she could have sworn she felt his lips press against the top of her head. “Me too, By. Me too.”

She did not know how long she managed to sleep before Hilda’s squeal of joy woke them, but it was definitely not long enough.

/

Claude was so happy his heart could burst. The sun was setting, the last of its rays clinging in Byleth’s hair, just as Claude clung to her. She sat curled in his lap, comfortable in each other’s presence and basking in the glow of their shared feelings. Byleth hummed contentedly as she repositioned herself, leaning her head back against his chest to listen to his heart.

The offensive organ beat faster, betraying his eagerness to her. “Are you sure it’s supposed to do that?” Byleth asked, a concerned frown on her face.

Claude chuckled, low and heavy, relishing the way it made her shiver. “Yes By, I’m sure. It’s because you make me happy.”

“That doesn’t seem very convenient,” she countered. And yet she kept her head in place, listening to the steady rhythm. 

The last of the sun’s light finally vanished behind the mountains, and the stones around them quickly grew cold. Claude sighed and stretched his legs. What he would have to do now would be among the hardest things he’d ever have to do in his life. “I need to go,” he said softly, kissing the top of Byleth’s head.

Byleth sighed unhappily and lifted her head. She remained curled in his lap, her hand rising to cup his cheek and guide him in for a kiss. The metal of her ring was already warm from her hands, and the feel of it sent another jolt of happiness through him.

Their kiss was sweet, a reminder of love against the other’s lips, a need to imprint the memory of their touch against the other. The hungry desperation of their first kiss hours ago had mellowed into a more subtle longing. This would be the last time they held each other in who knew how long, and they each needed for the moment to last.

“I’ll be back,” Claude promised again, whispering the words against her lips.

“I know,” Byleth answered back simply, her trust in him unshakable. And that was something Claude could not linger on. He was having a hard enough time as it was.

“You’ll take care of yourself, right? You’ll be able to sleep?” he added, clarifying what most worried him.

Byleth’s smile was so warm, her eyes full of so much love, Claude came very close to saying screw Almyra and never even entertaining the thought of leaving her side again. “I’ll be fine, Claude,” she reassured him. Her other hand reached up, framing his face with her small sword calloused hands. “I have your ring with me now. I know you’ll come back for me, so I’m not worried. Of course,” she drawled, mischief finding its way into her smile, “I’d much rather your warmth beside me, so don’t take too long.”

Claude flushed, feeling the heat of his blush all the way to the top of his ears. “That was too adorable.”

Byleth’s nose scrunched, that barely there tick of annoyance when she was mildly displeased. It just made Claude laugh and pull her tight against him once more. “I won’t be long. If anyone attempts to delay my return to you, they’ll have a very unpleasant time of it.”

Byleth’s breathy laugh made his heart do that moronic swelling of a fool too much in love for his own good. He would cling to his memories of her, to this moment. Nothing would motivate him more than the thought of once more cuddling into the same bed as Byleth, sharing her warmth as they intertwined with one another.

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

I tried to get that song to format correctly, but ugh tumblr. 

[blackkatmagic]

The dogs are barking.

Cana raises her head, arms still wrapped around her knees. The night wind sweeps through the hills with little care for those in its path, and even the hardier mares have their heads down, tails to the source of it. The plains are rarely warm, and the winds there are stronger, but the moan of it across the rolling northern lands is eerie and lonely. It sounds foreign in a way the accents of the people they’ve met haven’t managed, and Cana doesn’t care for it.

Across the small fire, Edra shifts, tossing another branch onto the blaze. It lands in a crackling burst of sparks that swirl skyward, bright against the darkness, and Edra’s eyes follow them for a long moment like he’s judging the direction of the wind before he says, “People have spotted snakes along this road.”

Cana can't help the way her gaze slides to the bow beside her as one of the dogs hits a higher pitch, almost frantic as it barks. She already has a birch arrow out, the disquiet of the moaning hills prickling at her skin, but it will take a moment to restring her bow—a moment longer than she would like, given the deepening night and the barking dogs.

“Snakes?” she asks.

Edra tips one shoulder in a shrug, unconcerned; after two weeks of travel it’s become clear that he worries about very little that isn't directly in front of him. Cana might find it admirable, if it weren’t so irritating. “Snakes,” he confirms. “I didn’t hear anything more.”

A hand rubbed over her chapped lips hides her frown, and Cana checks the horses again, picketed in the narrow valley in groups of three or four. Many of them are staring into the dark, ears pricked, but her own horse stands silent and unconcerned at the edge of the herd, cropping the grass like he can't feel the wind.

One of the foals is sleeping behind him, and Snow wouldn’t be so intent on food if there was a threat. Especially not with a filly so close.

“It’s too cold for snakes tonight,” she says, because she knows the grassland snakes, sluggish in the night but sun-warmed and sly in the day. They’ve crossed most of the province, but surely the creatures on the northern edge of it aren’t so different from their southern cousins.

Edra grunts, and Cana can see his scowl behind the greyed tips of his beard, like the expression is covered in a layer of frost. “They collect feathers from the snakes here,” he says, and clicks his tongue like he doesn’t approve. “Feathered for warmth, I’d guess.” Glancing up, he eyes Cana for a moment, the same distantly disinterested gaze she’s been subject to the whole trip here. Edra is a horseman like no other, but Cana’s always heard he has little patience for the humans involved in his business, and this trip is making that particularly clear.

“Well,” he says at length, and looks away. “At least we’ve a monster-killer, if we’re to find out for ourselves.”

The smooth shaft of the birch arrow is cool beneath Cana’s fingertips, but there’s a thread of warmth in the fletching that stands in stark contrast to the air. She keeps her attention on Snow, not about to let Edra unsettle her further, and doesn’t answer.

Snow had seen the threat well before she did, that day. He’d snorted and stamped and run her in rings, desperate to leave, right up until they’d found the foaling mare and he’d remembered he was a warhorse and not a green yearling spooking at grass-shadows.

Another click of Edra’s tongue, caught between chiding and derisive, and he pushes to his feet. “You’ve first watch,” he tells her, and Cana nods, pulling her coat closer around herself. It’s hard to mind taking the early watch when she already knows she won't sleep with the incessant whine of the wind, the unbroken night around them. The moon has been fading since they left the River Palace, the growing darkness following them towards the center of the empire, and tonight is the first night it’s entirely absent from the sky. The stars are bright, but Cana misses the moonlight. It’s far too hard to aim by starlight.

She waits until Edra is settled in his bedroll, furs pulled up and heavy coat draped over himself, before she rises to her feet, taking her bow and birch arrow with her. The leather of her bow case is growing stiff, and she warms it between her hands as she passes through the picket lines, checking for tangled feet and any rubs from the ropes. A few of the herd flick their tails in warning when she passes too close, but a hand on their rumps quiets them and keeps the peace; all of the grown horses know better, and the foals who don’t are simply curious, straying a short distance from their mothers’ sides to check her hands for treats. Cana pushes them away gently, stroking small, velvety noses and tugging on tufted forelocks, but doesn’t pause to play.

The herd is large this year, Princess Sarihsa increasing her tithe in thanks for the empress’s aid in the spring flooding. With all the breeding stock saved by the forces sent from the capital, they can spare the numbers, especially among the mature horses. There are too many to train, and not enough riders among the princess’s horse herders. Sending them on to the capital lightens the burden and impresses the empress all at once.

The tithe has more than just horses this year, though. Princess Sarihsa rarely sends potential solders along with her herds, but this time Cana supposes she couldn’t do otherwise.

Snow turns towards her as she approaches him, leans in and shoves her lightly with his big head, and she can’t help but smile. Leaning in, she twists her fingers in his mane, runs a finger over one ear.

“It’s cold,” she tells him softly, and he butts her gently again, then lips at the edge of her coat. Caught, Cana laughs a little, digging into one of her pockets and pulling out a piece of an oat biscuit saved from lunch. Snow grabs it from her palm in an instant, crunching at it eagerly.

Stroking the heavy curve of his neck, Cana glances past him, to where Edra’s dogs are prowling the edge of the firelight. They’re big, thick-furred and hungry-eyed in a way that makes her think more of wolves than war-dogs, and they’re watching the darkness furiously. The biggest one is still barking, loud and warning, but he’s been barking since they set camp, and this is a well-traveled road. The marshal they met in the last town hadn’t passed along any warnings of predators close to the road, and Cana assumes he would have, given that they’re tasked with delivering the tithe.

With a low, discontented whine, the smallest dog curls around Cana’s legs, pushing between her and Snow without fear. Cana touches his coarse fur, but he shies away a moment later, a guard dog rather than a pet.

“Something out there?” Cana asks him, even so. “Or is it the wind you're hearing?” The moaning can't be pleasant for a dog’s ears, after all, and they’ve been in these hills all day; the sound grates on Cana, and she doesn’t have a dog’s hearing.

The dog flattens its ears to its head and skulks back to its pack, sliding in to butt up against the grizzled grey one, who doesn’t bother to look away from the darkness as she growls a warning.

Snow snorts, tossing his head a little. His ears prick, and just for a moment he stands alert as a might gust of wind howls across the hilltops.

“Whoever named these the Singing Hills, I hope I never meet them at a place where they’re meant to sing themselves,” Cana mutters, and pulls her bow from its case. The horsehide string is wrapped in oilskin, kept in a pouch on the case, but it’s the work of a moment to slip it into the groove on one end, over the body on the other. Stepping through the loose string, she braces the tip of the bow with a foot, uses the weight of her body to bend the bow back and string it fully. As she fits the protective bone ring over her thumb, she looks up, and finds Snow watching her, dark eyes steady.

“Not tonight,” she tells him, reaching out to stroke his nose. “Not unless you hear something.”

Snow lips at her thumb, then drops his head back to the grass, and Cana steps away from him, skirting the pack of dogs to reach the fading edge of the firelight. They're in the narrow valley between two hills, and Cana isn't entirely certain she wants to climb the rise, make herself so clearly a target, but—

Snakes with feathers, she thinks, and rubs the pads of her fingers against the smooth thumb ring. The Southern Province has plenty of tales, plenty of monsters. She hasn’t heard of this one before.

There are foals, though. Twenty foals still beside their mothers, not yet of weanling age. They would be choice game for anything looking to snatch an easy meal, and for all that they’ve camped beside the road, the Singing Hills stretch for miles into the darkness.  

[ificouldau]

Section 2 - Chapter 18 [End of Section]

> 79% of you chose to hangout with Woozi.

21% of you chose to hangout with Joshua.

Clutching the hoodie tighter to your chest, you turn away from Shua, taking careful steps toward the smaller boy propped against the tree. After all the shit you’ve put him through, he deserves an honest apology... at the very least. Your soft footsteps crunch the dead grass under your feet.

“Forget about it.” The boy’s gruff voice catches you off guard before you can so much as stand before him. He sits unmoving, eyes still closed.

You frown. “You... heard me?”

“Clearly.”

His harsh tone causes you to flinch. You trot over a bit closer to sit beside him, only to hesitate and decide against the thought completely. You walk over to the other end of the tree and take a careful seat on the grass opposite him.

It’s quiet, other than the soft rush of the distant river and forest cicadas. The moon and stars flicker brightly between clouds, their glow cascading gently amongst the trees.

For some reason, you feel nervous. Out of the entire group, somehow their smallest feels the most distant.

“Did you need something?” Jihoon asks quietly.

“Oh, I just...” You push your folded hoodie to the other side of the trunk, “Here. To dry your hair.”

“My hair’s dry.” His short response stings less, now that you’ve gotten used to the cold tone of his words.

The conversation is over as soon as it began. For a few peaceful moments, the two of you gaze off amongst peaceful silence. The bundle of tents sway gently in a calming manner, given that the others are tucked away and asleep safely inside. The only movement in sight is Shua, cross legged on the floor and staring right up into the starry night sky. Jihoon zones out into the flowing current behind you. The gentle waves crashing through rocks becomes the only sound filling your ears.

“What are you doing here?” The boy’s sudden question throws you off a bit. You clear your throat, feeling apprehensive without knowing why.

“I came to apologize about earlier, with the-”

“No… What are you doing here?” Jihoon repeats a bit more sternly, “With our group. Us. Why were we taken with you, of all people?”

You blink in confusion, head blanking. “I… wish I could answer that.”

Silence settles in again, leaving you alone to overthink. You sink further against the tree trunk, pulling your knees closer to your chest as a breeze blows past. Everything that’s happened up to here, all the thoughts you’ve been ignoring. It all finds its way back to mind.

“Who are you guys?” You ask, then shake your head at the tone of your words, “I mean… Is there something I’m missing? I know you were all close before this, but I feel like there’s more to it than that.” “Right.”

You lean to the side in confusion, turning your head behind you to see Jihoon in the exact same position as before, eyes closed and all. He opens his mouth to continue. You watch him speak this time.

“It doesn’t matter to you,” He says simply, “because it’s none of your business.”

You allow your head to drop a bit with a frown. “Jeez.” “Would you see us differently if you knew?”

You look back up to see the boy’s head now turned, eyes open and staring coldly into your own. His crossed arms and emotionless glare make your heart flutter with fear.

“I… I guess not…” You stutter, quickly looking away with reddened cheeks, “It’s… I… Jun wouldn’t tell me either, and… and they called you Seventeen, I think... on the news, so-”

“The world sees us one way, and for now you see us another. Leave it like that.”

You’ve run out of sensible responses at this point, shutting your mouth in defeat. The air falls back into its usual silence as the both of you find your positions against the tree trunk. It takes a thorough minute of collecting yourself to feel the need to speak again, especially as so many questions settle, unanswered, in your mind.

“What do you miss the most?” You ask, playing it safe and picturing your mother with longing eyes. You wait for an answer quietly, only to raise your eyebrow at the lack of response. You look back over your shoulder, twisting your body a bit to face Jihoon once again. He gazes off into the river ahead as if daydreaming, arms crossed and hair tousled a bit from the nighttime winds.

“Them,” He says simply. You try comprehending his reply to no avail.

“Your... family?” You ask, “Friends?”

Jihoon turns around to face you past the tree, nodding behind you and over towards the campsite. His gaze towards the closed tents is softened and warm, a look you’re disappointed to have never seen from him before. You follow his eyes for a second, then look back at him in even more confusion.

“You can go back there if you miss them,” You say kindly, “I’ll stay here and keep wa-”

Your words are cut short by a gentle laugh, a giggle so surprising and unfamiliar that it makes your heart thump a bit in shock. The first time you’ve ever heard a happy sound from the boy, and hopefully not the last.

“When we were home,” He begins softly, “They were funny, loud, and really annoying.”

You watch silently as he gazes heartily towards the tents behind you. The boy’s eyes fade back into a sudden coldness, and his subtle smile falls into an ever so familiar frown.

“I never want them to be this quiet ever again,” He says. His words make you sad somehow, as if a happiness you’d never known lay back at home, in the safety of the city and its sunlight. You can’t imagine how the past must feel to them here and now.

Jihoon turns back to face the river, and you bow your head without much to say. Though the moment was rather short, you’re grateful to have seen such a light side of his distant character at all.

The subtle sound of fumbling cloth breaks the silence, and you glance back to see your hoodie over Jihoon’s shoulders. He zones out into the water again as an icy wind raises goosebumps on your skin. You shiver, sucking air in through your teeth at the sudden breeze.

“Here,” Jihoon says quietly, and you look over to see him handing back the sweater.

“No,” You force a dry laugh, “It’s okay, I’m-” Another wind, undoubtedly a lot stronger, rips through the thin cloth of your shirt without mercy. You nearly stumble over, clasping your arms uncontrollably at the temperature that only seems to drop further and further.

As you meet Jihoon’s icy gaze again, you tense up, forcing another weak smile back on your face and letting go of your arms as if nothing had happened.

“Seriously?” Jihoon murmurs in annoyance, beginning to rise to his feet, “Sit here then. The wind’s coming from your side.”

“No, sit... sit!” You insist fussily, hurrying to stand and shoo him back into his spot. The boy sighs briefly as he sits back down, looking irritated and almost disappointed, in a way. You gulp at his sharp stare, immediately backing out of the act and cautiously walking over to his side of the tree.

You ease yourself into a seat just to his left, leaning against the tree trunk to realize just how much calmer the winds feel from this side. Jihoon peacefully closes his eyes again upon seeing that you’ve finally listened.

“Wow,” You pout, “You were right. I’m dumb.” “I know.”

The stream before the both of you pushes aggressively against the river bank as the winds pick up, splashing upon your arms and face just a small bit. You hesitate at the quick icy sensation, but the unexpected warmth of thick fabric cuts the feeling short.

Jihoon doesn’t even glance your way as he throws the hoodie upon your shoulders, resting it around your neck while looking elsewhere as if he wasn’t choosing to do such a thing. He immediately eases back into his sitting position against the tree afterwards, eyes falling closed like nothing had happened in the last few seconds at all.

“Oh,” You say, “Thank you.” “For?” Though he chooses to pretend the gesture never existed, you feel grateful anyways, pulling the sweater tighter around your shoulders and gazing off into the river ahead.

“God am I tired of this shit,” You mumble to no response. The winds calm themselves a bit and the rush of the water eases back into a steady flow.

“I wish you’d all stop trusting me so much,” You say out of nowhere. The air is quiet.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Jihoon asks, looking your way with an uncomfortable expression.

“No,” You laugh softly, “No, I’m not gonna cry. I just… Everything going on, and… and the following me around, and… You know, I sometimes wish I’d gotten kidnapped alone… or you guys would split off without me and get home faster… S-Something like that.”

The boy turns back to face the river as you continue.

“I… I’m sorry. That this all happened because of me, and… and that I keep fucking up, and hurting people… and- and the whole thing with the river, and-”

Jihoon’s sudden laugh silences your jumbled apology.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny, just...” You glance over at the boy holding his stomach in full laughter. “You really think you caused all this?”

His chuckles slow down into breathy mumbles. His eyes are focused on the water, but his mind seems somewhere else.

His gaze drifts, lowering onto his right hand. You notice a silver ring on his pinky finger, glinting white under the moonlight’s beam, but decide not to ask questions out of not only respect, but that strange sense of inferiority.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost even a single one of them,” Jihoon whispers, glancing back up into the water, “Thank you for keeping them safe.”

Your head droops as you move back to lean on the tree trunk.

“Jihoon,” You sigh, recalling the guilty decision hours before, “Seriously... I’m really sorry I didn’t help you back there.”

“Mhm.”

“You should’ve just let it go.”

“You wanted that stupid note badly enough that you fought Vernon for it.” His sudden accusation startles you. “I wouldn’t pin you as somebody who would just do that for no reason.”

You stare down at the grass, working up the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind all this time.

“What’s up with him, anyway?” You mutter, “Vernon, I mean. I haven’t known him that long... but he’s definitely acting weird.”

Jihoon’s tone becomes strict, almost scolding. “Don’t bring it up to him again. Vernon’s a good kid. He doesn’t act like that… well, ever.”

“Do you... know anything? About the address? I mean.... I don’t wanna upset him again.”

You immediately regret your question at the sight of Jihoon tensing up, blinking his eyes open and pouting at the ground by his feet.

“Vernon has a… sensitive past,” He explains quietly, “The only time I’ve ever seen him act like this is when it came to his dad. He hasn’t really... been there... since he was little. It’s- Ah… Well… It’s not my place to talk about... so... change the subject.” “Change the…?” You nod slowly as you begin to understand, “Oh. I… Um, okay... Ah… The- Chan’s… cookies? From earlier, I guess? What’s up with those?” Jihoon glances up at you with deadpan yet judgemental eyes, his gaze lingering for a second too long before he turns back to the river with a disappointed sigh.

“Good. They were good.”

You feel your cheeks burning hot in embarrassment, despising the way the kid makes you feel so small sometimes. Jihoon, noticing your expression, turns to look with a soft smile. “Are you scared of me or something?” He asks. You shake your head frantically.

“No- I mean kind of… Well, not kind of, I just-”

His soft giggle cuts the tension like paper, calming the butterflies in your stomach and making you feel at ease once again. “You don’t need to be,” He says, “So stop.”

“I… okay.”

You muster the strength to collect yourself and slow your heart, shifting in your position a bit and relieving a soft sigh. Being alone with the boy is unfamiliar, and you hope for nothing more than it to become ordinary.

“We’re... friends,” Jihoon says out of nowhere, hesitating a bit at the word but managing to say it nonetheless. He seems a lot more open than you’d ever seen before, and you’re glad to experience the feeling. “We’re friends,” You repeat simply. He nods, confirming the idea and gazing off into the water without another word to be said. He doesn’t need to say anymore, in fact, for you to understand that he’s trying. You follow his stare into the river, a soft smile on your face this time.

For the first time in a while, you feel content.

Despite everything that’s happened. Despite the countless gruesome deaths you’ve witnessed. Despite almost losing some of the group. Despite your guilt, and your fear, and every bad feeling that’s been flooding your mind.

Despite all of that, you’re alive. You’re together. That fact alone makes you happier than you’ve ever been. Everything, every choice up to here, all feels worth it.

Jihoon’s presence feels oddly calming now, an entirely new page from the fear he’d instilled in you just before. You feel yourself relax. The moonlight feels brighter, and the air feels warmer.

You look up at the stars, knowing full well that nothing will hold you back from pushing on.

Despite having everything to lose, some hope in you knows it will be okay.

All you can do now is move forward.