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wheeboo · 12 days

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to love and be loved | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which wonwoo tells you about his first (and only) love. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers WARNINGS. self-doubt talk on reader's end, self-indulgent wooweee, this was painfully hard to write lmao n have no idea if any of this makes sense WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from anon: Hiiiiiiii first of all congratssss for you 2k. For the event, ive been thinking the same exact story with wonwoo and #6 from list 3 - #6: “You’re not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You just… Need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

notes: i'd quite literally do anything to have these kinds of talks with wonwoo ☹️☹️. anyway i hope u all enjoy this <3 hits close to home >< tysm anon hehe <3

join the 2k celebration!

"Hey, uh, Wonwoo?"

"Mhm?"

"...have you ever been in love?"

A cricket chirps into the evening air right after you ask, and you suddenly feeling like you're holding in a long-winded breath. Then you hear a loud crunch by Wonwoo from the crackers he was snacking on, and you blink up to him wiping away the corner of his mouth. There's the slightest glimpse of a curve to his lips that you manage to catch.

He silently offers you a cracker in your direction, the anticipating silence between the two of you growing thickly. You take the cracker from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks, before nibbling on it absentmindedly.

The night is absolutely beautiful right now, swearing that you could spot and make out the constellations above if you squinted hard enough. The distant chirping of crickets is the only sound that breaks the silence as the coolness of the night rolls in, carrying with it slight breeze that whispers through the leaves overhead the balcony of your apartment.

"I have."

You swiftly turn your head to him, eyes widening intriguingly. "You have?"

The chuckle that leaves him is somewhat awkward, a tad bit hesitant. He crumples up the bag of crackers and sets it aside, chugging down the last sips of his drink and setting down the empty can as well.

"Did you... ever confess to them?" You ask, suddenly feeling curious, though there's a bit of disappointment at the tip of your tongue.

You swear you could see the thoughts swirling around his head. Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed up to the night sky. There's a distant look in his eyes, as though he's peering into some past moment that only he can see, before he shakes his head, a faint smile crossing over his lips.

"No, I didn't," he answers calmly. "They were too far away, so... I just chose to admire them at a distance."

You lean back against the wall behind, your shoulder momentarily brushing against his. "Did they know you?"

Wonwoo purses his lips together. "Mhm."

"Well, you missed your chance!" You exclaim, prodding him playfully with your elbow. "I can't believe you let them get away, dude. Like right through the little cracks of your fingers. You could've been in a relationship by now."

This earns you a low, playful scoff from Wonwoo. "Are you assuming that they loved me back?"

Immediately, you feel the heat crawl up your neck and to the tips your ears.

"Well, um... Yeah, I am," You admit sheepishly, letting out a small sigh. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for a guy like you? You're nice and... charming. I think anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

There's a silence that falls between the two of you, one simply more than just comfortable yet denser than ever, because the thought of being loved by Wonwoo seems to linger longer than you notice. You steal a glance at him, seeing his face still turned upwards towards the night sky and the moonlight reflecting on his glasses. Strands of his dark hair blow across his forehead in the breeze. You can't quite decipher his expression, but a flicker of something𑁋perhaps surprise, maybe even amusement𑁋dances on his features for a brief moment.

He finally turns back to you, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Yeah," You confirm, nodding lightly. "Absolutely."

Wonwoo still keeps his eyes on you as you glance away, seeing the way you fidget with your hands in your lap and smoothing out the creases in your pants nervously. He glances down at his own hand and back at yours, lips pursing together in contemplation, but only folds his fingers back together the second you reach over him to grab the crumpled-up bag of crackers. He feels a little bit too warm in his sweater right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

A crunch echoes through the air. Then another. And another.

"I've just been kinda... thinking a lot lately, I guess," You reply slowly, quietly. "And it sort of makes me sound desperate in a way, but there are times I just wonder if, um... if anyone has ever felt the same way about me."

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly. "Love?"

"Not just love, but... seeing me, you know?" Being able to talk about this out loud makes your chest feel heavy. "Since it's hard these days to find someone who sees you for who you are, not for who you can be. I... I just feel like I'm hard to love sometimes. Hell, maybe even unlovable. It’s hard to break out of that mindset when things get hard again.”

A thoughtful quietness seeps through the nighttime breeze, which sends goosebumps up and down your skin, but you don't mind it because you know that Wonwoo is listening either way. And the more you think about it𑁋the thought of knowing that he's here, with his presence is right next to you𑁋it seems to comfort you more than you notice.

There's a small hum of acknowledgement that you hear from his end, unsure if it's just your imagination or if he's actually responding as your mind feels a little jumbled up right now. But then Wonwoo shifts beside you, his arm lightly pressing against yours.

"But I... I think I've reached a point in time where I can say I love myself a little more than a few years ago, or last year, or even just yesterday," You continue to ramble a bit aimlessly, chuckling dryly to yourself. "It’d be nice to share that with someone too, you know? To finally get over this loneliness. But it's not entirely a sad loneliness or a happy one. It's, like, uh... both put together, I guess."

A few moments of silence pass. You feel Wonwoo gently nudge your leg with his.

"I'm proud of you."

You peer up to look at him, mind nearly going blank from the way he's gazing at you. Or maybe it's just the moonlight that's making him appear so... picturesque. "What for?"

"For loving yourself, silly," Wonwoo muses almost cheekily, and the delighted tone that you catch makes your stomach leap. "Even if it's just by a small percentage than yesterday, it's still okay. You're doing good. I want you to know that."

You're doing good. It's just those three singular words that has heat forming in your eyes that you somehow manage to blink back before anything could spill, and hearing it come from Wonwoo feels different. There's a vulnerable sweetness to them, a sincerity that catches you off-guard. You force a smile𑁋a grateful one, nonetheless𑁋before it shifts into a frown.

And Wonwoo catches it right away. "What's wrong?"

Your lips form a thin line, pressing together in thought. You refuse to acknowledge why you think your heart feels slightly... jealous.

"I hope whoever you loved before knows how lucky they are one day," You say to him. "if you're still in love with them, that is..."

Wonwoo stills for a minute, pensively. "I am."

"You are?"

"I never stopped."

You stare at him for a few moments, an eyebrow lifted in disbelief at him, before crossing your arms together and letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Then you should've said that you're in love with them, idiot."

Wonwoo sucks in a breath.

"I'm in love with you."

You blink instinctively, once, twice, three times, momentarily thinking that Wonwoo's presence might somehow disappear into thin air. But he's still there𑁋a certain softness in the way he's looking at you, a gentleness that seems to wrap around you like a warm embrace𑁋waiting for you. His words suspend heavily in the air, and maybe the world is also holding its breath just as you are too.

"And... You're not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You're far from that," Wonwoo continues, voice tender, fond, and soft as a lullaby. "You just... need to let me in, and let me show you you're just as worthy of love as anyone else is."

You could only sit merely frozen at this point, throat tightened and jaw dropped in shock among many other weird, fuzzy feelings happening throughout your body. Something between relief and disbelief. Hope and hesitancy. Comfort and uncertainty. You have the capacity to run yet you choose not to𑁋you're letting him in, letting the warmth of his words seep into the cracks of your doubt.

Your mind reels dizzily, almost like the world has been tilting away off-balance.

"You... You're in love with me?" You repeat, almost dumbly, because you cannot seem to fathom anything that's been said in the past few moments. "All that talk about earlier... about who you..."

Wonwoo hangs his head down low, rubbing at his neck in a bashful manner. "It was about you."

"And you never... you never told me?"

"Honestly, I'd like to think a part of it was you being a tad bit oblivious." And then he just simply grins, his nose crinkling along with it. "But that's okay. Watching you slowly figure yourself out made me realise that maybe I needed to find myself a little more too."

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading painfully throughout your face. At first, you have the urge to brush it all away as a silly misunderstanding. Maybe laugh it off, retreat back inside, and go to sleep pretending all of this didn't happen. But the sincerity in his eyes stops you.

You lick your dry lips, the cool night air beginning to feel a lot less suffocating.

"Did you?" You ask vaguely, before shaking your head repeating, "Did you... find yourself?"

Wonwoo lets his eyes roam over you, taking you in, before leaning back on the wall and bringing his gaze back up toward the night sky. Your eyes refuse to leave him, and perhaps this is what it's like to admire someone from afar and close up all at once.

The two of you take a deep, deliberate exhale together.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling softly. "I think I found myself right where I want to be."

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nix-writes-mcyt · 4 months

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Reunited

Oneshot Tango x Reader Contains: Fluff -----------------------

With a sigh, you rise from your seated position, checking the clock again. 10.03am. Mornings are long these days, and not just because it's summer.

No, that's how it would be anyway. But these mornings drag even more. These mornings are unusually quiet and uneventful. You have no Tango to make them anything else.

He's been gone for so long now. At this point, you've lost track of the weeks, but it's got to be nearing three months now. Perhaps that's passed already.

At first, you kept going as per usual, seeing hermits you'd normally see, getting in on the community projects. Lately you just haven't had the motivation. You've not even ventured outside your base.

You spend much of your time in the cottage you built for Tango and you at the beginning of the season. You've added a few things to the grounds outside since Tango has been gone, but nothing major. You don't want to remove all the Tango from this space.

It's safe to say you miss him. No one can doubt that.

You glance out of the window as you walk past, the giant silhouette of Deep Frost Citadel no longer intimidating. At this point it only brings you sorrow.

You've spent many an hour staring from various windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one you love. Hoping he will come home at last. Sometimes you think you see something moving in the distance, but who knows? Maybe you're too far away to tell.

Your communicator beeps quietly in your pocket, it's not an uncommon occurance but it doesn't happen often still. Every now and then someone will check up on you, see if you're okay since you're not venturing out as much any more. That's what you expect this message will be too.

You're pleasantly surprised when it isn't. When the message reads - <Xisuma> I'll be 5 minutes, be ready to leave. Or else ^.^

The threat and uncharacteristically cute face give you mixed messages, but you decide you'd rather be safe than sorry. X isn't very threatening, sure, but while you don't think he'd hurt a fly you've never seen him in that situation to be sure.

So you move away from the window and go sort yourself out for company.

Before you know it there is a pounding at the door, you find yourself pulling on your footwear and trying not to smack your face into the wall as you rush to silence the knocking.

Xisuma looks unimpressed, or so you think behind the mask anyway, pulling you out of the house.

"We'll I'm at least glad I didn't have to drag you out of the house." He says, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. The emphasis on the word 'you' seems strange, but you decide not to question it.

Xisuma gives you some coordinates, just in case, but tells you to just follow him and it'll be easier. He shoots off into the sky, making flying look easy.

You've not flown in some time. While there is some muscle memory it's certainly rough going. You're a little all over the place for the first five minutes, but you settle back into it fast enough.

The landing isn't particularly smooth, not at all. You almost go flat on your face, but manage to save it last minute and roll.

Xisuma helps you up, not uttering a word or any kind of an expression. Once you're on your feet he immediately sets off walking.

You follow behind him as best you can, relying on the small path. Here the trees are thick, the spruce forest pretty dense. It's beautiful though, the dark green of the leaves glowing from the sunlight above. Moss covers most of the podzol, small white flowers managing to grow over the layer of green.

You haven't been walking for long when Xisuma comes fully back into sight, a clearing up ahead.

Here you're able to see the sky once again, but that's not the most impressive feature. There is grass here, mixed with the moss, on it grows many many flowers of all different colours.

Hidden in the tree line you spot a small building, but see no door for it. Not that it seems you'll be going over there.

X pulls out a picnic blanket, laying it in the center of the clearing. "Care to sit?" He suggests, nodding in approval when you take a seat on the blanket.

Then Xisuma leaves without a word, moving towards the small building. You think of asking him what he's doing but decide not to. That's a man that works in mysterious ways.

Being alone again makes you miss home. You haven't left in so long, not that it isn't nice to, it's just who knows how far you are from Tango.

You can feel the sadness that comes with that thought rising in you. Xisuma disappears and you sigh deeply, choosing to focus on the trees just past the building.

This keeps you occupied until Xisuma reappears. Not that he really looks like himself, the helmet and armour is gone or covered up by long, black robes lined with blue. His eyes glow frosty in the darkness cast by his hood.

This isn't Xisuma at all. This is "Tango?"

"The one and only, my love." He takes a seat in front of you, taking down his hood. His hair is a mess, you can see the dark circles that have formed under his eyes. He looks paler now than he ever has. But it is, unmistakably, Tango.

You forget any sadness, any anger that you haven't seen him sooner. All you feel is happiness in this moment. Especially as he shuffles and pulls you into his side for a hug.

"I'm sorry it's taken so long to do this. I lost track of time in the dungeon." His voice is sincere, you know he's not lying. You had also lost track of the time in your own home waiting for his return.

"I would have waited forever to see you again." You say in return. Your eyes meet Tango's, his expression is still sad.

"I know you would, as I would for you. But let's be honest, all this time apart hasn't done either of us very good." You nod in agreement. It's not like he's wrong.

The time apart has done a number on you both, it seems silly when you look at it in hindsight. All the problems being apart for so long has caused. You can't change that now, but Tango speaking once again fills you with hope.

"I'm coming home. Every night. No excuses. I even got a Bdubs Offical.' Tango smiles now, a smile you've missed dearly. He waves the clock around, taking the time to point out the Bdubs signature on the back.

You wrap your arms around him, the joy you feel taking over your entire body. Tango holds you just as tight, as if to say he wasn't going to let go again.

You make a mental note to thank Xisuma for bringing you here, for just generally being there for you. It's good to have friends that care about you. It's good to have Tango back If he belongs.

#tango x reader #tangotek x reader #hermitcraft x reader #mcyt x reader #tango tek x reader #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mcytblr #mcyt #hermitcraft season 9 #tango #tangotek #tango tek #fluff #oneshot

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microwave-core · 10 months

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Would You Still Love Me if I Was No Longer a Worm?

Zelda x Fem! Reader

From her initial disappearance, to her many cryptic apparitions, you’ve held onto the hope that Zelda might eventually come back to Hyrule. You never could have imagined the reality of her fate, nor how things could have ended.

A.K.A. The continuation of “Would You Still Love Me If I Was a Worm?”, which you can find linked in my pinned masterlist instead of here because Tumblr is sometimes weird with links. Like a worm on a string, this bitch is long.

Everyday felt the same. You woke up, you worked, and you waited. When was the last time you were truly “all there”? When was the last time you weren’t lost in thought, leaving your body to operate on auto-pilot? It was hard to say. You were barely aware of the time passing you by.

In truth, there was no point to it. You originally counted down the days, watching on in suspense as the sun climbed further and further into the sky until it dipped below the mountains, fully aware of every second that passed. Every minute meant the potential for an even worse disaster, but the world and her news took too long to reach you, and, soon enough, you paid no attention to the time that passed at all.

Your feet took you where you needed to be, your hands finished work without much of a problem, and those around you made sure you kept up with your health. All so your mind could be off somewhere else, high above the clouds, never to come down unless to ravage any news about the whereabouts of your beloved.

There seemed to be a permanent outline of your form on the side of the School in Hateno. Like old times, you waited with baited breath, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would walk out after all of the children had left, eyes filled with admiration and smile laced with joy. She would be there, like this was all just a twisted, shared nightmare.

But, of course, that never happened. You would wait and wait, but nothing changed. Sometimes, you arrived early enough to see the children leave to go play and hit each other with sticks in the street. The poor, sweet children who were too young to understand what was happening in the world. The children who only knew that their favorite teacher had disappeared.

Sometimes, you could catch glimpses of worry and anxiety on their faces. Sometimes, you’d watch them pretend to be heroes in their wild games of imagination, where they’d eventually find the lovely princess and bring her home where she belonged. Sometimes, they’d hand you poorly drawn pictures of her, and you would hold them close and pretend that the paper wasn’t suddenly stained with tears.

Symin would follow, watching you with concern. He would approach, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that everything would be alright, and that she would be back one day, safe and sound. Some days, you would walk through town together in an attempt to keep her off of both your minds. Other days, you would collapse into his arms, shattering at the slightest bit of comfort.

When you heard that Link had been found, having gone missing since the new maelstrom of events struck Hyrule, you ran to meet up with him as soon as possible. The journey to the foot of Hyrule Castle all the way from Hateno was a long one, but, thankfully, the prospect of seeing your lover (and a great friend) again gave you the drive and confidence to press forward.

Had it not been for Purah holding him back for so long, he would have fled Lookout Landing as soon as he arrived. After all, he was just as desperate to find Zelda as you were. Knowing he was safe filled you with a sense of relief, of course, but that didn’t stop the iron-clad grip of dismay from surrounding your heart.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you about her sudden appearance at the castle, knowing that the information would only get your hopes up. Besides, another mention of her name without any news of her whereabouts would surely cause the cracks in your resolve to deepen.

You lingered in the small settlement for several days before heading back. Winded from your long journey and hampered by disappointment, it was far easier to remain there than head back home immediately. Besides, news of her whereabouts would sooner reach the Lookout than Hateno.

The eventual return trip was long, considering that you weren’t beelining through every obstacle to reach your destination. The stables along the way helped restore your fatigued body, and the issues of the Lucky Clover newspaper kept the burning dread in your being at bay. The new issues were read several times over, and old issues thoroughly combed over for any details you might have missed in the off chance that there might be some mention of the princess.

But even with the growing drama between the mayor and fashionable mushrooms, Hateno simply lacked the excitement of Lookout Landing, leading to you journeying between the two frequently. The fresh air and new scenery helped keep your misery at bay. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Each visit progressively became longer and longer, until, eventually, Lookout Landing was essentially your new home. Helping Purah tinker with her beloved Sheikah technology and aiding Josha with her Depths research was leagues better at keeping your mind busy than any of the mindless work in Hateno. And when you eventually had to return to the farming town for short periods of time, you could check in with Robbie and let him ramble about his discoveries and inventions.

While you loved to check in with him, though, you were all too anxious to return. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of missing any new information. No amount of distractions could fully blow away the anxiety embedded in your bones. Nothing could fill the ever growing void nipping at your heart.

You clung to every bit of information, no matter how small or unbelievable. So many sightings had been reported from all across the kingdom, and even though the princess they describe was so far removed from the woman you knew so well, you chose to believe them. You hoped and prayed that she was somewhere, anywhere, even if she was a vastly different person

And while the newspaper was, generally speaking, a great source of information, nothing compared to the fount of knowledge that was Link. Zelda means as much to him as she does to you. He knew more than anyone the pain that her disappearance had caused your aching soul. He was busy, traveling across the world and solving crises left and right, but he always made time to bring new information to you.

Hearing about the various Zelda sightings from him made the tales feel so much more real, even if the woman in the story never ended up being the real deal, and he filled in gaps that you never even knew existed. Interwoven within his words were stories of his exploits. About the Zonai, and the Depths, and the Sky Islands, and the general alteration of the world. It helped to ease your mind, in a weird way, and it seemed to help him relax a bit as well.

Through it all, you were sick and eaten away by worry. Zelda was a capable woman. If she was in danger, she would know how to defend herself, surely. She would be fine, and would turn up, somehow, and life would go back to how it was before. And you told this to yourself over and over again, yet a part of your mind refused to let it stick.

But your mental setbacks could be pushed to the back of your mind as you watched Lookout Landing grow. The various races of Hyrule all pooling into one area overtime, spreading tales of their people and the hardships they had just endured, filled your heart with warmth. A comforting, fuzzy feeling that you had all but forgotten about for far too long.

While dread filed into the pit of your stomach each day that passed, knowing that the various kingdoms of the world were prepared to spend all available resources to find the princess rekindled the spark of hope in your soul that was previously burnt down to the cinders.

With the knowledge that Link had cleaned up the last of the strange phenomena in the world, you anxiously awaited his return, knowing that he would have new information to share. When he finally did, though, having to go through the onslaught of people wanting to thank him for all he had done, he approached you with a level of hesitance you had never seen before.

Link, the man you had only ever known as being fearless, if not the very embodiment of courage itself, appeared to be anxious. On edge. His posture, the look that he gave you when he finally met your eyes, told you that he was nervous. But before you could even greet him properly, Purah let out a garbled scream, as all eyes turned towards Hyrule castle and the blood-red sky.

You have never been so high up in your entire life. Had it not been for the serene beauty of the cloud painted landscape below, you’d be clambering to return to the surface. He’s told you about the Sky Islands before, and in extreme detail to boot, but actually standing on solid ground far above the world you hailed from was otherworldly to say the least. Not that it took away from the current situation.

Link had called this place “The Temple of Time”, a name that seemed odd to you, considering that such a place existed on the surface, although with a vastly different appearance. Getting past the moving gears to get to the back of the temple was almost as unnerving as getting to the sky in the first place. Almost as unnerving as standing in the open air, on a platform that felt as if it could crumble at any moment.

Almost as unnerving as facing the reality of the situation. Of facing the information that Link was going to tell you that made it necessary to come up here in the first place. His insistence of coming to this place, along with his blatant nervousness from before, was more than enough to put you on edge.

Your only saving grace was learning that the Zelda plaguing Hyrule and, primarily, her stables was a mere puppet created to spread chaos throughout the land. But a part of you already knew something was wrong with “her” to begin with, considering that the stories didn’t sound like your Zelda. And given how Link looked when going into Hyrule Castle, it was evident that he already knew as well.

Still, the entire event put you on edge, watching on with baited breath as he made his way into the castle, followed by his entourage of companions, or sages as Purah called them. Their eventual return, bearing disastrous news about some so-called “Demon King”, delayed Link even further. But seeing each of his friends was nice. While you didn’t know them well, they all knew you, and, more importantly, your relation to the princess.

Through their discussion of how to purge this ancient evil, they gave you rather effective comfort. But as they eventually left to their own domains, prepared to attack as soon as Link was prepared, you were left with him. His nervousness, while less obvious, was still noticeable, as he insisted upon taking you somewhere different to tell you what he had learned.

Slowly, you turn to him. Link’s gaze darts around the horizon, seemingly looking for something just out of view. Whether he notices you waiting or not doesn’t seem to matter. You were always anxious to hear what new information he had amassed, but this was an entirely different matter.

The sound and feeling of your heartbeat prevented you from calming down, as your anxiety threatened to take over. Though the scenery and strange sensations-primarily the bizarre sound of the temple’s bell and the constructs and, what seemed to be, odd roaring in the distance-provided a distraction, it was only a matter of time before the dam to your emotional reservoir would burst open.

Suddenly, he perks up, motioning you over to the edge. Shifting over slowly, as if any sudden movement would hurl you over the edge, you gaze out into the open sky, as a strange, albeit familiar, shape enters your field of view. A dragon. You had seen it flying around before, surely, but were never sure if it was one of the others slithering about the skies or something entirely new.

From here, it was obvious. The golden fur (hair?), turquoise accents, and… wide eyes made it clear that this dragon was new to Hyrule, likely appearing alongside the Sky Islands and falling debris. The longer you looked, the more features you absorbed and committed to memory. It was strange, but it really reminded you of-

“Zelda.”

“..What? What do you mean-”

“It’s Zelda.” You look at him. You stare. Surely his words couldn’t be true, could they? Realistically, there’s no way a person, especially your Zelda, could become something so.. so different, but the conviction and earnestness in his tone, and the fact that he would have no reason to lie to you, on top of the fact that he spoke…

You turn away from him, looking back at the horizon, at the dragon slowly grazing through the sky, cutting through the air like a fish through water. The golden hair, the blue accents, the effortless grace laced into its movement…

Link grabs ahold of your nearly limp body, preventing you from tumbling into the lake far below. Your legs had given out from under you, strength leaving the moment his words truly sank into your mind. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry at, what very well may be, one of the worst cases of cosmic irony the kingdom had ever seen.

You shook in his grasp. The expression on your face was blank, as tears formed in your eyes and fell to the pristine floor below. Link’s embrace and attempts of comfort went unnoticed, as your entire being was focused on the dragon in the distance. On the woman you love, who’s been here since this shit storm began, who was both so familiar yet so different at the same time. There was but one thing you could do for her now, and no force in Hyrule would be capable of holding you back.

You all but begged Link to take you up to her, properly this time. While the regular dragons of the world weren’t entities you were familiar with, you knew that they were peaceful creatures. Surely, she would be the same. You were confident. He knew how much this meant to you, but it was difficult to find a good time and place considering that she was constantly on the move. But eventually, it happens.

Being launched into the sky by an amalgamation of foreign devices made for a terrible experience, but it was worth it to reach her. Despite your insistence, you hesitated to get off of the Lovecraftian machinery Link had concocted. Pressing your foot onto her body as gently as possible, as if your body weight would cause her excruciating pain, you slowly move onto her.

Link follows after, jumping off of his device with reckless abandon as it topples to the ground below. He’s done this song and dance before, many times, you were sure, but it still made you uneasy. He takes you by the hand and gently leads you down the expanse of her body, moving slowly so as to not disturb your balance.

Your hands lingered on her turquoise spines, holding them gently, the same way that you would hold her hand. The iridescent glow of her yellow scales was a marvel on the eyes, but you kept yours fixed forward so as to avoid looking at the ground below. Although, the movement of her limbs consistently grabbed your attention, as they waved back and forth and periodically clutched around nothing. It was cute, in a sense, but then again, you thought everything she did was cute.

The blond mane at her head was odd. Thicker and more coarse than regular hair, but not unpleasant to the touch. It crunched slightly under your boots, as if it had not been disturbed in many, many years. You grimaced at every step. Even though she showed no signs of distress, or even any acknowledgement of your presence, you couldn’t help but think otherwise.

At the top of her head, Link stopped, looking back at you. With hesitant steps, you follow, making sure that what you were doing was fine. He releases the hold on your arm slowly, before stepping back. He couldn’t just leave you up here alone with no way to get back down, but he could still give you some privacy.

You move to sit down, perched between her elegantly-curved horns, to prevent yourself from falling. Your legs felt unreliable, which was understandable considering how high up you were with nothing to save you if you fell. Not to mention the fact that the creature you were standing on is the love of your life, a notion that still felt so shocking that it made your limbs weak.

Your hands ran over the fur that covered her head, it’s softness contrasting her sleek, cold-to-the-touch scales. Her horns, which were oddly chilled as well, appeared delicate and almost glass-like with the way they caught and reflected light, but were strong and sturdy in your hands. Amazement and awe fought tooth and nail with your anxiety and dread.

It felt somewhat strange to speak to her. Would she even understand your words, or would they come off as gibberish? And even if she did understand, she wouldn’t be able to properly respond to you, would she? On second thought, maybe it’s better if she can’t understand, because otherwise she would be trapped in her own mind, unable to communicate.

“Zelda.. I’m sorry it took me so long to see you.” Not the words you meant to say, but that’s all that came out, sounding tired and pathetic. You really hoped that Link couldn’t hear you.

“Do you remember what I said to you, before you went under the castle? About being a worm and all? I said it as a joke, sure, but I want you to know that I meant what I said.” You shuffle slightly, peering over from your spot to look into one of her eyes. It remained unchanged, staring off into the abyss aimlessly. Still, you hoped your words reached her, even if she didn’t understand them.

You move back to your spot. Brushing your hand over her head, you lean down and gently press your lips onto her forehead, the same place where the Master Sword had occupied for so long. Another thing Link had told you, about the ethereal light that poured from it while embedded in her skull, and about how she thrashed about when he attempted to pull it, and the realm of golden light she brought him to, and about how she spoke to him afterwards. About why she changed herself, potentially forever, for the sake of the world.

You decide that maybe it’s best to join her in staring off into the sky beyond. The mix of brilliant orange and bright yellow peering over the horizon has always been beautiful, but you haven’t appreciated it since she disappeared. The moment felt… right. You desperately hope there would be a way for her to turn back, but you could still make this work.

You could somehow make your home in the sky and take rides with her across the world. You could remind her of all the things she loved, tell her about all kinds of technology and discoveries made in the world since her human form left and bring her Silent Princesses. You could scold Link when he inevitably shot arrows into her body, even though she didn’t appear to be in pain. You could live together again.

With newfound determination and vigor, you stand slowly, turning back to Link. He had traveled pretty far down her body, having picked off a handful of spikes that had come loose since the last time he visited her. You nod, signifying that you were ready to go back down to the surface.

As much as you want to stay with her, you have a whole slew of things to do in order to keep your promises. Besides, the longer you stayed, the more motion sick you felt. Hopefully, you’d build up a tolerance over time. Hopefully. He jogged over to you, sticking the spines into his pocket.

“Were you going to Tarrey Town anytime soon?” He turns his attention from his infinite pocket space to look at you, eyebrows knitted. You lean against one of her horns for balance, running your hand over its somewhat rough surface.

“You know, to ask about a dream home.” He looked at you with some concern, then carefully considered your words, before giving you a look as if to say ‘that isn’t going to work’. You try to convince him otherwise, about how Hudson Construction could pull off anything with enough resources and determination, as he grabs your arm again and prepares for a rough trip down.

For once in a very, very long time, you felt somewhat at peace. The all-encompassing dread that previously crushed your soul had lessened dramatically. Knowing that Zelda was safe took the weight off your chest, but failed to pluck away your anxieties in full. Even though you were determined to stay by her side, and were willing to do whatever to be with her, you were afraid of spending the rest of your life with her like this.

You could manage for now, sure, but it was only a matter of time before the constant trips to and back from her, as well as the reliance on Link to actually get up to her, would run you ragged. You’d never tire of her, of course, even if she can’t communicate with you, but you could do without the journey.

Maybe you could find a way to build a small house on her, that way you wouldn’t have to leave as often. Link has the inexplicable ability to build things, sometimes out of thin air, so maybe he could help. But, then again, that would probably be uncomfortable for her.

No matter. You’d have time to think about that later. Like always, you have to focus on seeing her again. Your short visits to Hateno were all but forgotten about, as you were all too focused on trips to see Zelda, and when you weren’t doing that, you were helping out around Lookout Landing.

Admittedly, you haven't told anyone about the princess’s fate. It’s not necessarily an easy topic to bring up, assuming that people would even believe you to begin with given how unbelievable it sounds without actually seeing her in person. The people around you had no idea what you were up to on all of these trips, but they were at least happy to see you in better spirits.

Each trip would be relatively the same. You’d set out on your horse and ride around until you caught sight of her. It took a considerable amount of time to do, but you managed to follow and track her general path throughout the land on horseback, meaning all you had to do was travel along the path until you found her.

On some trips, you would just ride along in her shadow, as if the two of you were going on a walk throughout the countryside, no matter how rocky the terrain or terrible the weather. Other times, you had Link by your side, which allowed you to sit with, or rather on, her, but only after having a minor heart attack in the process.

Even though the Demon King’s rise was imminent, he always found the time to help you up to her. If anything, it gave him an excuse to relax and rest for a few hours. He’s been through hell and back multiple times, and will undoubtedly face much worse threats soon, so taking a little time to himself, especially when he can help you in the process, does his soul good. Besides, he misses her, too.

While there, you would talk to her. You’d tell her about all her old friends and companions, about how they’ve been doing and how much they miss her. You talk about the most recent discoveries revolving around the Zonai and about the innovations Purah and Robbie have been making. You talk about what life has been like since she “disappeared”, although it often ended up being barebones, considering you spent most of that time thinking and worrying about her, and she didn’t really need to know that.

You’d also bring her Silent Princesses, making sure to show them to her, even if she never looked directly at them. You’d weave and braid the stems into her hair and around her horns, and any left over would be left on her head. They’d wither away eventually, assuming they didn’t fall off first, but it never deterred you.

You’d bring other objects as well, one’s with some sentiment, although not important enough just in case they were dropped. You had brought books she’d gushed about and personal journals. There were also pieces of clothing, like her favorite kind of tunics, as well as the hoods she had taken a liking to after the Calamity. You also brought her barrettes and a brush once, with the intention of brushing her long mane, but it got stuck almost immediately. Not wanting to risk hurting her, you gave up after getting it untangled, sticking to running your hands through it instead.

All in all, being with Zelda as is was a full time job, one that was both time consuming and rewarding. But you could keep this pace up, at least until after the Demon King had been defeated. Once he was dealt with, the world could regain a sense of normalcy, making your life easier to some degree. Maybe you and Link would even be able to tell the others the truth about her disappearance, taking some of the stress off of your shoulders.

You had just returned from an annual trip to Kakariko Village, dozens of Silent Princesses on your person. The massive chasm that collapsed the center of the forest was terrifying to navigate around, but the fear of falling was worth it for her sake.

Stashing away most of the flowers for later, with the remainder carefully packed into your horse’s saddle pocket, you begin planning your next outing. Or, you tried to, but it was difficult to think straight with the tension in the air. Link had finally gone beneath Hyrule Castle, putting everyone on edge.

His companions-the sages-had all showed up, ready to provide him aid. They only stopped by for their final preparations before setting off after him, but seeing them made the situation feel much more real. It reinforced how dangerous their mission was. It made you think about all of their terrible things that could happen if something went wrong.

It was obvious that everyone was on the same wavelength, trying to keep their thoughts off of what ifs and go about life as normal. But it was truly impossible to just brush off the momentous battle happening beneath your feet, impossible to pretend that everything was perfectly normal.

Trying your best to act natural, you tend to your horse while thinking of what to say next time you see her. You would need Link to come back alive, something you were certain would happen, in order to get up to her. There would be so much to talk about, and she deserved to know every last detail. She especially deserved to know that the ancient evil, the one that led to her being trapped within the body of a dragon, was gone for good.

You look back at the castle, wondering if they were all faring well against the previously imprisoned evil, if they were even fighting him at present at all. You think of Zelda, naturally, wondering if she knew what was happening. Realistically, she didn’t. How could she? But it was interesting to think about what she would do if she could help Link fight.

Your gaze shifts over to Purah, perched on her prized telescope, panning over the general castle area. She, like everyone else, was determined to act as if the current situation wasn’t affecting her or her work ethic. However, she hasn’t moved from her position since Link left. If she saw anything happening in the castle or around the crater, she didn’t let on.

You look around the rest of the Landing, watching just about everyone do the same. All attempting to do their work or training while keeping their eyes transfixed at the floating castle. You look back at your horse, continuing to brush through its delicate mane. If only you could be ignorant to the happenings around you, only worried about getting your hair brushed.

You focus your mind on anything else. About Zelda and wherever she was on the path she had chosen to take for the rest of her worm life. About the horse in front of you, who didn’t have a care in the world other than your affection and care. About the swaying trees and fauna out in the distance, bouncing in the breeze. Or about the fish leisurely swimming in the nearby lakes and rivers. Or the monsters chanting with one another at their campfires.

Or the shaking of the ground. About the tremors from deep below the earth that shook you to your core. About the ones that previously racked Hyrule Castle when it originally ascended into the sky above alongside a cloud of red and black flame. Or the screams of people around you, terrified at what was happening above.

Looking back in a panic, you see it. First, it’s the castle shaking, as parts just out of view seemed to shake loose. But from below, a dark, bellowing figure, appearing to be made out of pure malice, emerged. The ghastly figure takes root, limbs reaching out to grip the castle walls, which were abandoned when the castle proper rose, as it escapes from the abyss.

The being soon became concrete, as it flew higher into the air. It was another dragon. A dragon bigger than any of the ones you’d ever seen, with massive curled horns and a viscerally bloody mane. The Demon King, the ancient evil who had been trapped under the world for centuries.

Before you can even consider what might have happened to Link and the sages for it to break free, another figure, high above, catches its attention. It’s Zelda, swooping below the Demon to catch something, or someone. Presumably, hopefully, the small speck in the sky that fell between the two was Link.

The two dragons intertwine with one another, as the Demon continuously attempts to attack Zelda, only for her to dodge past his maw and blazing hellfire. She flies far above him, before suddenly dropping down, as if preparing to catch something, before repeating. You have never seen her move so quickly, soaring through the air, as if escaping the clutches of evil was an effortless task.

The battle is both terrifying and enrapturing, as the two dragons appear to become more and more desperate. Their movements become more rapid, more erratic, the Demon lashing out to do anything to survive while Zelda does everything in her power to stay out of the line of fire.

You're too distracted thinking about Zelda’s safety that you don’t even notice the sky twisting red, or the sudden rise of the moon, or the massive light bursting from the Demon’s head, or it’s wretched screeches as it burrows further into the air, where it implodes into a massive pillar of light.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of it. You know it was there, that it happened, but your focus was entirely on her. She coasts through the air, moving about like normal, floating around the pillar of light, until she stops.

You watch with baited breath as her entire body begins to still and glow with a brilliantly soft light. In the blink of an eye, she’s gone. The Light Dragon is gone, as the light from her body scatters into the sky. In her place is another tiny speck, followed by the other.

You can hear the commotion around you. People are still yelling in confused panic, some clinging onto each other in fear. Others are praying, or stationary in disbelief. Those brave enough left to the foot of Hyrule Castle, watching for damage and any other threat that may slither out from the Depths below. But your mind isn’t here. It’s with her.

You watch as the two figures inch closer to each other and the ground. Your mind was simultaneously far too busy and far too empty. Dozens of thoughts and possibilities flitted across your consciousness, but each one was discarded as quickly as it was conceived. You couldn’t think about what could or might be. There’s no room for anything other than her.

Her body comes closer into view, now held by Link who directs their falling forms into the water below, crashing into it’s pristine surface. Shakily, you swing onto your horse, as adrenaline courses through your veins. You’re vaguely aware of Purah yelling after you, but your body moves on its own. Spurring your stead forward, you move as quickly as possible to the small pond by the Landing, praying for the best.

As soon as you see Link, you jump off of your horse. Despite the shakiness in your legs, the weariness in your bones, you force yourself over to him. He looks up at you, nodding reassuringly. He’s tired and haggard after witnessing unseen horrors, but you can’t focus on him. Because past him is her.

Zelda. Dressed in strange yet beautiful clothing, it’s Zelda. Not a mindless dragon soaring through the air, laying in the bed of flowers before you, it’s Zelda. You kneel by her side as Link backs away, ready to give you both space. She stirs, eyes cracking open slightly. She looks around, regular, emerald eyes taking in her surroundings, and then sits up. She looks to Link, confused, and then to you.

“What? How did-” Her voice comes out hoarsely, but with an undertone of warmth. However, she’s cut off as you bring her into a tight embrace, holding her body against your own as if she could slip through your fingers at any moment. She sits there for a few seconds before coiling her arms around you.

She eventually leans back, fighting against your grip, in order to make eye contact. She looks up at you, eyes brimming with joy and tears.

“Would you still love me if I was no longer a worm?”

“Of course. Whether you’re a big dragon or not.” You move a hand to her caress her cheek, voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. “You’re too important to me to just let go like that.”

She laughs, a wonderfully bright sound that for so long only existed in your distant, hazy memories. She wipes away the tears rolling down your cheeks. You don’t even know when you started crying.

“Well, I’m glad… I..” She sniffles, as the tears welling up in her eyes threaten to spill over. “I never thought that I would get to see you again.”

“I came to see you whenever I could. I followed you across Hyrule just to see and speak to you.” You brush away her tears with all of the gentleness you can muster, before taking the hand away to grab her own cradling your face, gently guiding it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each knuckle. “I even tried to build a home in the sky to be with you.”

The gentle tears turned to sobs, as she fell back into your arms. Despite her crying, the same bright smile is painted across her lips. She takes a few moments to compose herself again before speaking.

“I’ve been asleep for all this time, but I can remember a warm feeling, like a wonderful, loving embrace.” She moves your conjoined hands away from your face, squeezing it gently, before leaning up to press a sweet, delicate kiss to your lips. The amount of warmth and love in her expression was blinding.

“Oh, I wish you could have seen it, the founding era of Hyrule. The world the Hylians and Zonai built together was wonderful, and all of the people I met, the King and the Queen, they…” She trails off, voice quiet, as if you were the only two people in the world. “I wish you could have met them. They would have loved you so much.”

Her smile somehow brightens, as her tone morphed into the same one she used when discussing her discoveries. She rambles on about the people she met and all that she had seen. You’re both vaguely aware of the people around you, in shock and disbelief that the princess was safe and sound. But you didn’t pay them any mind, and neither did she. She was home, and that’s all that could ever matter.

#loz x reader #botw x reader #totk x reader #zelda x reader #fem reader #shes so cute i love her #i dont even remember writing that much what happened #do you ever think about how terrifying it would be to watch the final fight play out #tumblr really didnt like me dumping 12 pages of words into a post #ive never seen it lag so much #anyways happy barbieheimer

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t-0ne25 · 5 months

Text

“I can see the sun light up the sky.” — Option B2.1: Yellow Topaz

[Make sure to please read Chapter 25 of Red Lights first, before you continue.]

It’s been about a week since Red Lights ended. You haven’t done much since then except for contacting a bunch of law firms and wearing the yellow topaz necklace you bought. You’ve done your best to not spend too much time with anyone from the show—which worked semi-good for Hyunjin and you.

However, there is someone that hasn’t left your mind since then. Maybe, he even was one of the reasons why you quit in the first place. Both because he encouraged you to search for a lawyer but also because you realised you should have given him more chances.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any of Felix’s contact details. The only person you could ask is Jisung but this would be weird on so many levels, right?

So, as pathetic as you are, you created an account again on that stupid dating website, hoping to find the boy with the freckles there.

On the first day, you get bombarded with dick pics from disgusting guys. On the second day, you are close to giving up. But on the third day, you finally see Felix’s profile. You check approximately two hundred times that you swipe to the right direction, now patiently waiting for him to match and message you.

Some hours pass by, you’re already becoming hopeless, until you receive a text from Mr sunshine personified.

[Felix 17:29]: lol what are you doin here?

You get that he must be surprised to see you here. However, this doesn’t hold you back from replying.

[You 17:31]: looking for you perhaps

You wish you could see his face right now, although you probably wouldn’t get anything but a scoff from him in this situation.

[Felix 17:32]: stop messing with me

[You 17:33]: I am not. I’m just a coward who didn’t know how to approach you instead and it was a little too embarrassing to ask Jisung for your number

You’re getting a little nervous, wondering if it’s weird to text him like this—or at all. It definitely is. But you wanted to be bold this time.

[Felix 17:33]: did he tell you about him and I?

[You 17:33]: Yeah but no issue with that sunshine

[You 17:34]: so can I take you on a date?

He blushes once when reading the nickname. He blushes again when he sees the second message.

[Felix 17:36]: what about the winner of red lights? did you break up?

You start typing, contemplating how to explain the circumstances to him.

[You 17:37]: there was no winner, i quit the show. mostly because of you.

Felix’s eyes widen, even though you can’t see him right now. He wonders if you're hinting at what he said about suing Han Productions or if this is about him and you.

[Felix 17:39]: ?????

[Felix 17:40]: WHAT

You chuckle, finding him once again so adorable.

[You 17:41]: yeah so will you let me pick you up and take you on a date?

Felix stumbles out of his bed, sprinting to his wardrobe.

[Felix 17:42]: I’m already getting ready, ma’am

💻

You take Felix out for dinner, although he emphasises that he will insist on paying right after greeting you. Despite you throwing him out the show, it doesn’t feel awkward in the slightest. You don't know each other that well but have always shared that intense connection with one another.

“The food is great,” Felix says and you agree. You spend a few hours inside the restaurant, enjoying a five course meal. Talking to him feels natural, too. For the time being with him you forget about being an introvert. He makes jokes, asks you deep questions, tells you a lot about his childhood and family.

Once he paid for both of you—despite your protest since you were the one to ask him out—you decide to take a walk through Yeouido Hangang Park, looking at the beautiful view of the night sky. You can even see a few stars up there and you soon realise how much they remind you of Felix’s freckles.

His fingers are intertwined with yours, as you keep wandering around with him, catching a glimpse of the river at night.

“So, you really left the show to pick me in the end, huh?” Felix teases you.

You squeeze his hand tighter, “Yeah, sorry for the inconvenience. I had wished the show would have given us more moments together. Then the decision would have been easier although I’ve secretly known all along.”

He agrees with you. Felix is so happy that you reached out to him. His heart broke when you voted him out of Red Lights before even getting enough time together with you. But this doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here with him now. Ready to fall in love, ready to see where things lead to.

“Maybe that’s a sign that we shouldn’t rush things… I’d love to take you out again, spend more time with you,” Felix tells you with a soft smile.

“Me, too. Absolutely. But we can take things slowly, for sure,” you say.

“Yeah of course, we will take things slowly, yeah.”

Half an hour later you find yourself inside Felix’s bedroom, ripping layer after layer of his clothings off his body. He sinks down on his bed, as you start straddling his thighs, just like you did that night in February. It arouses you even more when you think of the fact that the man underneath you is by now bare naked, while you’re still fully clothed.

You dive in for a kiss, feeling his lips pressed against yours. Felix lets out a whimper, before he slips his tongue inside, exploring your mouth. You start with small movements, your covered crotch rubbing against his hardening dick. You feel yourself getter wetter, your own juices soaking through the underwear as well as Felix’s precum drenching the fabric, too.

“Fuck taking things slowly– I can’t get enough of you.”

Felix grunts, when you drop to your knees, now on the bedroom floor, as you look up at him. The palm of his hand finds your head, playing a little with your hair.

“Let me make you feel good, sunshine,” you say, before circling your hand around the base of his cock that is already rock hard, just for you. Giving him a few strokes, you make sure to keep your gaze fixated on his, watching him lose the last piece of his sanity thanks to you.

A string of saliva lands on his dick, before you bring your tongue into play, smearing it over his tip and shaft. You guide your head down next, starting to bob up and down, when you take him all in. He feels so good inside your warm mouth. Felix lets out moan after moan, when he’s inside of you and you're glad to listen to the sweet melody.

“You’re such a good boy, Lix,” you whisper, when you let go of him for a few seconds.

You get back to business, his hand still guiding you the way he enjoys. Feeling him twitching, you continue your movements, until you sense him reach his high. You encourage Felix by looking up at him, nodding, and squeezing his thigh a little.

Hot white ropes of cum hit your throat, as your mouth milks him empty, squeezes even the last drop out of him. You let go of his cock, once he’s come down again. Felix helps you up, before he passionately kisses you. The next thing you feel is your dress getting pulled over your head, leaving you in your lingerie.

All of a sudden, he grabs you by the waist and your back hits the mattress. Felix is hovering above you, aligning his mouth with your ear, as you hear him whisper, “How about we see how much of a good girl you can be, hm?”

⬅️ GO BACK TO LEAVE FEEDBACK

#RL options — 💻#option B2.1: yellow topaz 💛

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pockyteau · 1 year

Text

SPRING IS THE SEASON OF KINDNESS

✩ a chishiya x reader where the spring dew is colder than you remember it being

The first game you'd played with Chishiya was the first game you'd played at the Beach, a Three of Diamonds.

You'd approached your group's designated car, catching sight of the executive for the first time. Back then, you had known nothing of the blonde; you had smiled at him hesitantly, hoping to make an acquaintance, or maybe just someone you could talk to. Only, he had simply smirked in response, quirking a brow as if to ask why you were wasting his time.

Never mind, then.

His brown eyes, then and now, were cold and dark and honey-like. The fleeting thought had crossed your mind that his eyes looked not nearly as sweet as their colour would suggest.

One person was killed in that Three of Diamonds game. You'd squeezed the hand of the girl beside you consolingly, the stricken expression on her features one you had once worn yourself. Catching a glimpse of Chishiya, however, you found that he looked bored - his eyes were full of something like expectancy as they rested on the crumpled body on the floor; you had searched for the slightest flicker of emotion, for the honey you thought you'd seen in his gaze before, but came up empty. Was it really possible for someone to be so apathetic? It was so strange to you, especially with the poor girl weeping beside you. It could've just as easily been you, clutched at by sorrow, so why not extend some warmth in a place that needed it as much as here?

The second game you'd played with Chishiya was a Seven of Clubs. By then it seemed that the two of you had an odd knack for being placed in the same team. His eyes had flickered to you in recognition when you'd met the group of Beach members at the car, so you'd tried for another smile.

"Chishiya, right?" you'd said politely. "I think we were together last time as well."

The blonde had looked at back you lazily, his eyes half-lidded. "Were we?" He'd shrugged, although the amusement in his voice suggested that his question was more of a taunt. "I don't recall."

Though nothing about his tone had been apologetic, you'd dipped your head in response. "Ah, don't worry about it, then." You'd supplied, effectively ending the conversation.

Luckily, another member of your group had stepped in to speak to you. She was sweet, and had an earnest look about her - you were grateful for the friendly face, and chatted to her during the car ride. You'd thought back briefly to your conversation with Chishiya, and decided that his answer was fair enough - you can understand how some people might not want to get acquainted with others in such a place as the Borderlands. The coldness in his eyes made it clear that he was one of those people, anyhow.

The Clubs game, despite its high number, was technically simpler than the Diamonds game you'd played with Chishiya. Even so the blonde had been calm and sharp, his interest in the game more prevalent than his interest in anyone around him. Three people died, one from the Beach and two of the other players. You'd carefully taken the hand of the woman who you'd become friends with; she seemed to have been close to the Beach member who'd died, or known him at the very least. You'd whispered words you hoped were of comfort to her as her shoulders shook with distress. Blood had formed petals on the floor, a carpet of little crimson flowers that bloomed around you.

But out of the corner of your eye, for just a fraction of a second, you thought you'd seen Chishiya watching you, before he'd silently collected the Seven of Clubs card and left the building. You couldn't tell if the look upon his features was one of disdain, or perhaps something different.

The sky was dark when you'd finally persuaded your friend to leave with you, the moonlight bitter cold. You had ended up sat next to the blonde on the car ride back to the Beach. He'd remained silent, the cords of his earphones visible beneath his white hoodie.

You'd wondered whether you'd imagined him studying you earlier, and pushed the thought from your mind.

Another game means seeing Chishiya again, and even less pleasant, another death.

This time, the Six of Spades has sought a victim in your earnest, sweet-faced friend. There are more crimson flowers scattered over the ground, blooming beneath your feet. Red flowers were always said to be unlucky. You kneel beside her anyway, wishing you had flowers that were a luckier, happier colour to lay at her side.

At that moment you hear the soft rustle of fabric, marking the presence of someone new as they crouch beside you.

Chishiya surveys the redness of the floor with half-lidded eyes, his gaze roving slowly over the ground to the body that lies before you. You hear the slight breath he takes before he speaks; it's tinted with something strangely like disappointment, almost like a sigh. The sound melts the silence like snow.

"Do you regret it?" he asks, and his gaze flickers to you. You blink. His voice isn't as mocking as the last time you'd spoken to him. The words that fall from his lips take on an almost...curious colour.

"Do I...regret it?" you repeat softly. "Regret what?"

The blonde gestures to the body before him. "You made friends with her," he says. "Don't you regret it now?"

You turn to him, frowning. "Why would I regret it?"

Chishiya studies you, as if searching for an answer you didn't have within the planes of your face, the irises of your eyes. When he finds nothing he exhales. "Forget it." He sighs and slowly rises from the ground, already ready to leave.

Your brow still furrowed, you cast one last look at your friend. Perhaps you should do the same, get to your feet to move away too - but you can't bring yourself to just leave like that. Surely there had to be some flowers around here, a daisy of some kind growing by the venue. Something to leave, something to say goodbye. Come to think of it, it's early April - perhaps the cherry blossoms are beginning to flower in the trees.

To your surprise, Chishiya watches you as you venture outside instead of leaving. He simply waits as you hunt around the shrubs that surround the building, and return with a sprig of the pink blossom. The petals are delicate, and tremble with spring dew.

"It's not much better than red," you murmur, placing the cherry blossoms between her fingertips, "but I hope this is alright."

Chishiya's eyes are on the sprig of cherry blossom when you turn back to him, and for a heartbeat you see the traces of honey in the umber of his gaze. But then it is gone as soon as you'd caught it, replaced with something colder when his eyes travel up to yours.

"Flowers will do nothing for her now," he says archly. "Red or otherwise."

"I know that," you say quietly, "But I like to believe it'll bring her some comfort...wherever she is. Flowers mean someone cares."

Chishiya utters a hollow laugh. "The dead don't care either way." He shoves his hands in his pockets, his words full of scorn. "Do you do this for every person who has ever died in this place? Tuck flowers into their hands to comfort them?"

You blink at the poison in his voice. The answer to his question would be no - it's just that she had been kind to you, and you had wanted to do the same for her. But what was it to him? The dew from the cherry blossom petals still rest upon your fingertips, cold on your skin as if a reminder that sentiment was no longer treasured in this world. And especially not by Chishiya, by the looks of it.

"She was my friend." You shrug. "She was kind, to me at least. She deserves cherry blossoms."

Chishiya laughs again at your response, a bitter sound that matches the disdain in his eyes. He throws one more glance at your friend over his shoulder. "Well," he says, reaching into his pocket with an idle movement of the hand, "how touching."

Your eyes follow as he holds something out to you, drawn from the pockets that line his hoodie - the Six of Spades card, crisp and white between his index finger and thumb. "Here. You should have it, since it's your-" he smirks as he says the word, "friend who helped win the game. Right?"

You meet the blonde's gaze, but there is nothing kinder in the brown of his eyes. He waits, the card still raised towards you like a challenge. You can't help but wonder why he's challenging you, what he has to gain from ridiculing you like this.

Eventually, you gently push his hand that holds the card out to you back towards him, shaking your head slightly. His eyes seem to flicker when you touch him, but he betrays no other reaction to the motion. It's difficult to choose an answer that you think will satisfy the blonde, so you pick your words carefully.

"It seems to hold more value to you than me," you say, "so you should be the one to take it. It'll be neither of ours in the end, in any case."

Chishiya simply shrugs and pockets the card once more. The smirk still lingers on his features. "Well," he says, drawing his words out slowly as if savouring the taste of them, "if that's what you want. Have it your way, then."

But then there it is again - the look he'd given you some time ago, after the Clubs game. It's fleeting, but you don't think it's disdain. It's almost like intrigue, a new colour in his eyes.

And then it is gone as quickly as it came, and Chishiya turns away. His footsteps echo throughout the room as he leaves, once more the only sound in a place of solitude.

You were no longer surprised to see Chishiya by the car assigned to the group you were to be playing a game with earlier that afternoon. He had simply smirked at you then, lifting a hand in a lazy wave. You had not spoken to him since the Six of Spades, and you were uncertain whether you even wanted to. Every word he spoke was like glass, cold to the touch and sharp at the edges. Only his eyes seemed to hold some kind of humanity, with their curiously shifting hues.

Yet you find him next to you once more after the Three of Diamonds, the second time you'd played for such a card. The blonde's presence seems to turn the night's touch of breeze a lot colder, somehow. You wait for him to say something cutting, to challenge you again like after the last game you had played, preparing to walk away.

But Chishiya simply holds out a card to you. The Three of Diamonds is pressed between his fingertips, just as the Six of Spades was the last game you'd played with him. He tilts his head, vague traces of humour visible in his expression as he waits for you to take it. The card catches the sheen of the crescent moon. Your eyes flicker to his, bemused, but you make no attempt to take it from him. It feels like another challenge.

"Why the card?" you caution. Your voice leaves your lips soft and careful, something in the atmosphere fragile enough to cause your words to come out quiet. You are already making up your mind to push his hand away like you did the last time, shaking your head. But Chishiya's eyes, ever scrutinising, study you with amusement.

"I want to make a trade," he says simply. "Take the card, and I'll ask you a question."

"...You want to make a trade?" you echo.

It's intriguing, the difference in his voice. Although Chishiya speaks carelessly his words are pleasant in your ears, lacking the poison he had spoken to you with the other day. You find it strange that he feels the need to make an exchange to ask you a question - you don't want the card, and you are sure Chishiya knows this too. Does he dislike the idea of debt to such an extent? Even so you feel compelled to accept his offer, curious as to what he wants to ask you.

"You don't have to give me the card to ask me a question," you finally say. Chishiya's lips curve, as if he has already predicted you would say something along those lines.

"That's kind of you," he hums. "But I'm afraid I don't like to owe people."

"You wouldn't owe me," you frown, but your eyes follow him as he takes a step closer to you. You blink, startled when Chishiya lightly takes your hand in his - you feel as if you should pull away, but his touch is surprisingly warm; you'd almost expected his hands to be ice cold, based on his disposition. Your confusion allows Chishiya to fold your fingertips around the card. His hands fall away and the umber of his eyes find yours.

"I'm going to ask my question now," he says. You nod, your brows still drawn together. Chishiya shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. "You did that...thing again today, when that guy died. You comforted her. Why do you always try to comfort people you barely know?"

Stunned, you can only stare at him for several moments. At first, you think Chishiya is mocking you again. But he waits for you to answer, his half-lidded eyes void of any humour as it sinks in that his question is a genuine one. Why did you comfort people? You chew the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words. Several beats of silence pass as the two of you stand there in the cold. Was warmth really such an alien concept to him? Maybe it really was curiousity that had been contained in his gaze some time ago.

You hesitate on your response. "Well, it feels like the humane thing to do," you admit. "If I were in their place, I think maybe...it would be nice to know that I'm not completely alone in the world." Even in your own ears the words sound childish, and you laugh softly.

Chishiya laughs too, only it is the same hollow sound as when he'd ridiculed you for leaving cherry blossoms at your friend's side. "So it's nothing more than empathy." His tone bleeds scorn.

You hum. You had been expecting Chishiya's scorn. "It is empathy," you say mildly, the taste of the night air on your tongue. "I don't want anyone to feel that way, so I guess it's for my own peace of mind, too. Say, I cried all the time as a kid," you say with a half smile, "sometimes for a reason, sometimes for none. But I would've given anything to be hugged or to hear a few words of comfort. That kind of thing sticks with you, I suppose."

The blonde smiles thinly, yet you catch a flicker of something else in his eyes. It's almost like catching a fracture line in ice, not yet shattered but a hint that there is something beneath the sheet of snow. "You know, I'm curious as to how much you value your life. I'm sure you're aware people like you get killed here for that same reason."

You shrug. "Kindness and a will to live can coexist."

Chishiya shakes his head. "Not here," he says. "You are not rewarded for being soft-hearted. Once you show emotion, that you care just the slightest bit more than the average person, you're as good as dead."

You look at him carefully. It's evident that these are the principles that Chishiya lives by, every word he speaks void of any emotion. You can't help but wonder what has led him to view humanity so harshly.

"And what makes you think that way?" you say gently, but Chishiya merely smiles.

"Equal exchange, remember?" He tilts his head. "Don't ask me a question if you don't want to owe me." He pauses, and the taunting expression passing over his face is illuminated by the moonlight. "I wouldn't advise owing me anything, either."

For once, you and Chishiya had not been placed into the same group.

Mildly surprised, you follow the stoic Ann to your designated car. You had grown used to greeting the blonde, albeit apprehensively, every time your visa had to be renewed. You are unsure of which group Chishiya has been placed in, and feel the quiet urge to search for him in the crowd. In a way, Chishiya's presence had been a comfort, the only constant you had known other than the colours of spring now slowly beginning to fade. But you smile when a woman with dreadlocks ushers you into the car with a friendly grin, giving in to her cheerful banter.

Ann takes the card once the game is cleared. You seem to have played quite a number of Diamonds games recently, this one included - you count yourself lucky that it had been a card game you'd once played with your neighbours when you were younger. The elderly couple who lived next door seemed to be retired social gamblers of sorts, and since your parents were never home you'd spent a lot of time with them learning to play Thirty-One - only, slices of fruit were bet on instead of money.

"Another double-up," Ann frowns, and so it is. She pockets the Five of Diamonds and leaves the venue swiftly; you are given the impression that the executive does not like to waste time. The woman with dreadlocks follows her, so you do too.

Only, you stop outside the venue, for there are the last few cherry blossoms of the season clinging to the trees outside the building.

The flutter of spring breeze still colours the air, even though you believe it is already late May by now; time flows like water here. It's odd how the existence of seasons now feels like a distant memory. The pink flowers you are looking for greet you a few steps away from the building exit - there are significantly less flowers than before, but a few still remain on the branches. It saddens you to see that the petals of the remaining blossoms are slightly diminished. They are heart-shaped and clearly veined, appearing as if they would crumple at the slightest touch.

You reach up to carefully pluck one from the branches, your wrist scraping against the coarse bark. There is no one to mourn from this game, luckily enough, but the sight of the cherry blossoms had reminded you of Chishiya's words from what seems like so long ago. Don't ask me a question if you don't want to owe me, he'd said, but you'd never quite figured out what his idea of equal exchange was.

You cup your hand protectively around the blossom as you lower your outstretched arms to keep it safe. You make your way back to the car in the dim light, hands closed over the flower as if it were made of glass.

You don't know at what point Chishiya returns to the Beach, but you see the white of his hoodie soaked with red before he can say anything.

You stand in a rush, the horror in your expression reflected in his eyes. "The first aid kit," he says, and you go to retrieve it without another word.

One rapid thought after another flits through your head, silenced only for a heartbeat when the bite of the kit's cold metal touches your palm. When you return, Chishiya has slid down the wall, his shoulder pressed against the hotel plaster and a hand pressed to against his side. He looks remarkably at peace in spite of the blood concentrated around his abdomen; you are momentarily seized by panic, but he lifts his head when he hears your footsteps and reaches for the first aid kit wordlessly.

Chishiya flips the metal clasps up one at a time, one hand still pressed against his side. The blonde shrugs his hoodie off and you silently kneel beside him to dig out something that looks like a roll of bandages, setting the roll tentatively next to him. You are still surprised that Chishiya was able to be injured in the first place - you had played a multitude of games with him, and in every one he had come out unscathed. You didn't understand. What could've caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor?

"What happened?" you mumble, deciding to chance the question.

Chishiya reaches for something that looks like gauze. "Flesh wound," he says, "I'll survive."

This is not a proper answer to your question, but you decide not to press him. You still find it in you to be surprised at how collected Chishiya is, even down to his voice, absent of the telltale catches of pain you would hear from someone injured. The blonde handles the treating of his wound with relative ease, the occasional tremours in his breath the only sign that anything was wrong at all. You catch a glimpse of the gash in his side and wince; it looks a lot deeper than you'd thought, and you know how antiseptic can sting. Chishiya catches your expression and laughs, although the sound of it rings empty.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he comments, unrolling a layer of gauze. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, motioning for the roll of medical tape in your hands.

"Still," you murmur, "it looks painful." You hand him a misshapen strip of tape. "You scared me, when you walked in like that."

"Why?" Chishiya says, motioning for another strip of medical tape. "Did you think I was going to die?"

The barb in his words is clear, intended to sting. You hold the tape out to him. "I did," you admit. Chishiya smiles bitterly.

"I have another question for you," he says, slowly unwinding the roll of linen bandage. You look at him, somewhat surprised. He returns your gaze with the same bitter smile, waiting upon your answer. Somehow everything Chishiya says feels like a test, a means to prove yourself in some unknown way. Your eyes fall back down to watch as the length of bandage between his fingertips gets longer.

"What do I get in return?" You feel Chishiya's silent approval of your reply in the air, his brown eyes crinkling slightly. He shrugs, returning to bandaging the terrifying gash in his abdomen.

"How about this," he muses. "I'll ask you my question, and you can ask me a question of your own."

You smile, the term equal exchange that he had previously used surfacing in your mind. "Okay," you say, "sounds good to me. Shoot."

Chishiya's lips curve in amusement. "I'm interested to know," he begins, "what you would've done if I'd dropped dead just then." He hums, taking the roll of medical tape from your hands nonchalantly. "Would you extend your limitless empathy to me as well? Lay flowers by my lifeless body, even though I wasn't a 'kind' person?"

You lift your gaze from his hands, momentarily taken back to the first time you'd had a conversation with him, the Six of Spades. She was kind, you'd said, she deserves cherry blossoms. In some unexplainable way, you'd expected a question like this from Chishiya, although you still wonder what he has to gain from asking such a thing. You suppose it seemed a logical progression from the conversation the two of you had had after the second Three of Diamonds, your conflicting values. You pause, deliberating on a response.

"Why wouldn't I?" you say finally. Chishiya laughs.

"Well, you think I'm cruel, for one." He says thoughtfully. "Perhaps even heartless? Selfish? Or," he pauses, the corners of his lips tilted slightly, "maybe you think I'm misunderstood."

You laugh softly, for he sounds almost playful as he says this. You wonder if this was how Chishiya perceived himself, why he found emotion so trivial. "Perhaps," you say lightly. "But may I answer your question with my question?"

Chishiya answers, the amusement apparent in his brown eyes. "I don't see why not."

"Okay, then." You smile. "Here goes. My question is: do you want me to give you a cherry blossom?"

Chishiya raises his brows as you withdraw the flower from your pocket, slightly crumpled but otherwise intact. You set it before you on the red carpet of the hotel lobby, where the blossom's pink petals glow softly against the ground.

"Can I tell you something? I don't think you're heartless," you repeat Chishiya's earlier words softly, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "I've been told that when you learn to live without something, you tend to believe you never needed it in the first place."

Chishiya examines the cherry blossom, an unreadable expression surfacing over his features. He exhales, but the shape of his lips form almost a smile. He reaches over to shut the medical kit with a metallic snap.

"Misunderstood is the wrong answer, by the way," he says mildly. He, too, addresses his earlier statement instead of giving you a direct answer, only picking up the flower you have laid before him by the stem. He closes his hand mindlessly around it and opens it again, as if deliberating whether to crush it or not. "I am heartless."

You hum passively, reaching for the medical kit. Seeing as he had chosen to take the flower nonetheless, the fragile blossom sitting in the palm of his hand, you couldn't help but wonder if that really way the case.

Spring has come and gone, sweeping branches bare of the colourful flowers that used to bloom over them. Winter takes its place, bringing with it glassy rainfalls and bitter winds.

But while spring has left, taking the cherry blossoms with it, Chishiya still remains with you.

The two of you continue to be placed into the same game group, each game ending with Chishiya waiting on you with a card in hand. The blonde no longer questions your displays of empathy, simply observing you silently when you offer a hug to a grieving player or whisper consolingly to an anxious child, but you can tell he does not approve of it either.

You find it strange, though. You had caught him studying you once, his gaze suddenly full of the honey you'd sought in him the first time you'd met. The look hadn't lasted long, his eyes turning cold once he'd noticed you watching him. The difference in his expression had coloured your thoughts for some time afterwards.

And when he had held out a card to you that same night, you knew what was to come.

"What's your question?" you asked, smiling slightly. You took the card, the flimsy object just a touch cold between your fingertips.

Chishiya hummed. "It's more of a request, actually." He had tucked his hands into his pockets now they had been emptied, tilting his head back in an idle movement, as if to fit your whole profile in his gaze.

"Oh?" You said curiously. "What's that?"

Chishiya was silent for a moment, as if phrasing his next words in his head. You waited patiently, running the pad of your thumb along the edge of the card.

"Stay close to me," he said finally, lowering his head just enough to meet your gaze. "It would be better if you didn't die, for the time being."

You stared at the blonde, soundlessly mouthing his words as if to check that he'd really said what you thought he'd said. Stay close to me. The request was one you'd never expected to fall from Chishiya's lips, and so softly spoken at that. Worrying the edge of the card with your finger, you'd eventually uttered, "May I ask why?"

The corner of Chishiya's mouth quirked up, like he found your question humorous.

"I hate when people act like they're saints," he admitted. "It's rather sickening. And they all eventually stop pretending, in the end, so why bother at all? But you just don't give up." His sentence was broken with a sigh. "I don't understand you at all. I guess you could say I find you interesting."

You blinked. You were surprised that he would've expressed so much of his own thoughts to you, noticing the layer of contempt that veiled the rest of his answer. Perhaps it was true, then, what you'd said to him some time ago; when you learn to live without something, you tend to believe you never needed it in the first place. What kind of life had Chishiya lived, to not believe that people could truly be kind?

You felt your gaze soften slightly, lowering your eyes carefully from the blonde's.

"Okay," you'd said. "I'll stay close to you. But, I think you have to give me more than a card for this trade to be equal."

"Oh?" Chishiya tilted his head playfully. "What is it you want, then?"

You offered him a smile, holding the card out for him to take back. "You have to stay close to me too," you'd said. "That's fair, isn't it?"

Chishiya chuckled, the first time he had uttered a laugh that carried weight. He slowly lifted a hand from his pocket to take the card from your outstretched hands, pocketing it thoughtfully. "Well. I think that can be arranged."

#chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya #alice in borderland #aib #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya oneshot #chishiya shuntaro x y/n

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Note

Hi canni request for a character(s) of your choice with reader(s) or OC(s) with the following prompt?

person A is not ready for a straightforward "I love you" just yet, however they want B to know that they do love them, so "here's a very specific sentence that I'm sure you'll get when no one else would because [internal reference between us two that was built up earlier in the story at a very intimate moment]" ?

Please and thank you? You're a beautiful writer and I couldn't help but send something in

Dear anon, as promised (and for me, with 3 minutes to spare) here is your story.

I went with Lindir because it was easiest, but you are free to request another character if you want to see someone specific ❤️

Words: 1,2k

Characters: Lindir x reader

Warnings: there's worms and birds

“You have to tell them sooner or later,” Lord Elrond laughed, genuine care warming his voice, “this is no way to go about it!”

Lindir nodded – he was only too aware of that – but he was not yet ready to put his helpless devotion into so many words; for weeks now, he had been working on a song he would perform – ears burning and hands sweating – at the upcoming celebration, in hopes that you’d catch the deep meaning in it and recognise a romanticised recounting of your slowly unfurling acquaintance.

He called it ‘romanticised’ because he was sure that you had not experienced all that had happened in the same way, and he was terrified that none of the episodes he had painstakingly turned into poetry had meant anything at all to you to begin with.

How could he be so sure? It was evident to him that – had you even the slightest inkling of how your joyous laughter upon having a butterfly land on your hand or how your adorable pouting whenever a cloud obscured the sun made him feel – there would have been no need for songs or declarations of any sort.

You were a force of nature and he had ever been an admirer – guarded, shy, and passive – of that particular kind of beauty; he was stolid and faithful but not brazen enough to conquer your heart and soul in a storm of brave deeds.

Some called it ‘playing the long game’ as if he was pursuing some nefarious, cunning plan when, in truth, he was just washed along in the gurgling brook that was your life.

Would you ever come to see him as more than just a fixture of Imladris? Would you ever lift your eyes and look upon him like you stared – wide-eyed with wonder – at the night sky or a newly opened blossom?

He could only hope that, one day, seeing how steadfast and devoted he was in his quiet affection, you’d find charm in him as well.

As you could easily marvel at the strength of an old tree and smile at the ever-same sun, he kept a secret flame of unquenchable hope in his heart, only dwarfed by the fire of his hidden ardour for your incomparably precious essence.

Oh, he loved you so much it was tearing him apart at the seams and yet, the words to admit his feelings – grown too expansive and complex to drag into the open without breaking down the walls protecting his heart – just wouldn’t come to him.

“Lindir,” you chirped upon catching a glimpse of him, standing as still as a statue in the middle of the expansive gardens of the beautiful realm you called your home, “how are you today?”

He turned around like a startled deer, his eyes huge and slightly apprehensive in expression, before a soft smile dispelled the temporary clouds hanging heavy on his fair brow.

“I’ve been on the lookout for the birds you thought you had heard yesterday,” he informed you stiffly, “it seems you’ve been – once again – right, my friend, and there’s a nest with young’uns only just hatched ahead.”

Leave it to Lindir to remember a passing comment of yours and investigate, you thought fondly as warmth flooded your body and crept into your face; you were not even entirely sure if he himself was fully aware of how much his gentle understanding truly meant to you.

In fact, the others – this much was clear to you – mainly thought that both of you were rather peculiar and that your shared interest in things of the natural or poetic order was the sole reason for the earnest and – at times – mysterious bond between you and the minstrel.

Many things – that were trivial at best to others – held a deep meaning to you, and being heard, seen, and respected in the unobtrusive way Lindir heeded you was a treasure you would not cheapen by explaining it to those who’d never even begin to understand its importance.

Before you could plough ahead though, his hand shot out and opened like a flower revealing the pale silkiness of its most fragile petals; he had been holding worms in his palm this whole time.

With the exception of Lord Elrond, he might well have been the only person you believed to be able to keep a living thing cradled in the crook of his hand without crushing it.

“Observe and care,” he whispered, repeating the words you had spoken in laughter, enthusiasm, admonishment, or anger a thousand times before.

“Lindir, you’re the very best,” you chuckled and stepped closer to his still immobile form; fretful as a baby bird, fragile as a moonflower, and beautiful as the sunrise, your dear friend was the beating heart of this place for you.

Your fingertips brushed his skin as you took the squirming sacrifice – dug out by his own cares as was proven by the dirt under his usually impeccably manicured nails – and held them gingerly in your own twitching hands.

He would accompany you frequently – ever mindful of both you and your surroundings – and, moreover, he would sacrifice invaluable increments of his personal time to research and creation for your sake.

Many were the songs he had composed in order to attract and pacify the birds you so longed to see and, by now, they came and flocked to him as soon as the first notes resounded.

“Am I?” he asked dubitatively, matching your careful steps as you approached the designated tree and held out his hands to give you a boost. His hands were precious – not only to himself but to all of Rivendell – and yet, he had never hesitated to put them at your service.

Reciting a passage about this particular kind of winged wonder – information he had no doubt begged and graciously obtained from Erestor – he held you aloft as you put the worms into a hollow of the tree branch so the fledglings’ parents might find them easily.

There were hints of a deeper affection in the way he spoke your name, testaments to his devotion to your hare-brained ideas in the wisdom he dispensed so humbly, and indications of his loyalty in his perfect recall of every single secret you’d ever entrusted him with and yet, you could never be absolutely sure if you were not merely mistaking friendship for something else.

“Thank you for remembering,” you whispered when – standing loosely within the half-sketched but not half-hearted embrace of his slender arms – you looked up into his luminous face.

“It was important to you,” he muttered softly as if that was a sufficient explanation for the pains he had taken, “and I’ve made sure that you could break your fast under this very tree.”

He nodded ponderously at the servant approaching, a picnic basket in hand, and spread his long, elegant fingers in invitation.

Throwing one furtive glance at the nest – source of insistent chirping now – he saw the parent arrive and feed the worms to their progeny eagerly; for now, this would have to be enough.

Sooner or later, the baby birds would leave the nest and – suddenly struck by inspiration and purpose – Lindir decided that this would be his signal to confess his feelings to you as well.

On this beautiful morning though, both the grown bird and he would watch their most cherished miracles eat cheerfully, dreading and yet hopefully anticipating that day of freedom that would either be their biggest success or their worst failure.

So, I hope this was to your satisfaction, my dearest anon!

Thank you for sending in a request :D

Lots of love from me ❤️

Taglist for Lindir being a tit: @sorisooyaa, @heilith, @mismaeve, @eunoiaastralwings

If you liked this, I'd be happy about every comment and reblog <3

#request #IDNMT answers #anon request #fanfiction #ficlet #Lindir #Lindir x reader #love prompt #Lindir is a tit #there's birds

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kil-g · 1 year

Text

bent over backwards

a/n: things have slowed down bc i've been having a really hard time enjoying my work lately. raaaa.

pairing: chesa "smoke" fernandez (oc) x simon "ghost" riley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: blood, injury, mentions of death

The first time Chesa and Simon kiss, it’s slow and deliberate.

Chesa had broken glass embedded in her right arm and a gunshot in her side. The pain steadily became unbearable as time passed while they waited for exfil.

Simon had to drag her to the extraction point. He spent the entire walk whispering his stupid, terrible jokes to keep her awake.

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?” He says, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. The faint smell of a forest fire was somewhere in the distance.

“Simon.” She groans. “I'm tired. it hurts.”

“I know,” He says. “I know. Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

“What are you talking about?” She murmurs, “I don't know, Simon, please.”

“Because he was outstanding in the field.” He replies, hitching her weight up slightly and sliding his arm up her side for a better grip.

“That's stupid.” Chesa says.

“It is.” Her foot slips on the mud going uphill and he lifts her up, just slightly. “We’re almost there. Exfil will be here any second.”

Once they cleared the hill the abandoned building, just as Price said, was there and in sight.

“Why are there gates around a cemetery?”

A bit more of her weight leans onto him, “Why?”

“Everyone's dying to get in.”

Chesa groans, “Simon.” She coughs.

“We’re almost there.”

She was badly injured and he felt mostly responsible. Granted, she came out of most missions with some semblance of an injury but never this bad.

The image of her falling over into broken glass left a sharp ache in his head. The dark red stain blooming just above her hip, the sweat dripping over her brow.

It was on his watch that this happened, after all.

Simon did his best to shake the image out, and continue on through the darkness of the night. He focused on the sound of the forest floor crunching beneath his feet, itching to think of anything else.

Once they reach the building, Simon lowers Chesa’s weight to lean onto the wall and shuts the door behind him.

Even beneath the dim light, can he tell just how close to death she could’ve been. The stain on the side of her torso had reached a nauseating size. She lets out a labored cough that even he could feel in his own chest and throat.

“Exfil will be here soon.” He offers. She nods, weakly, in response. “Stay awake, Smoke.”

“I'm not dying here, Riles.” She says. Simon huffs at the sound of the nickname that he’d begrudgingly received from her some time ago. “Otherwise—“ She coughs and leans her head against the wall. “—otherwise, the last thing I'd ever heard were your terrible excuses for jokes.”

“Can’t have that, can we?”

She hums a ‘no,’ and swallows hard. Grimacing through the dryness of her mouth and the taste of a hot iron, freshly struck. “How much longer?”

He peeks out the corner of the door, hoping to catch just the slightest glimpse of anything even resembling a helicopter somewhere in the gloom of the sky shrouded in a thick fog.

“Any second,” He says. his eyes are trained through the window of the door. “I'll get you out, Chesa. Just stay awake.”

“I can't even have a little nap?” It's a sorry excuse for a joke, but, what else was there to do?

Simon moves away from the door and moves to stand before her.

He doesn’t know what else to say, so instead, he studies her. It would’ve unnerved her if she wasn’t already so out of it. The room was spinning and she couldn’t read him at all. “Is there something on my face?”

Her lips were a sickly pale shade than their usual warm and deep sort of pink. There’s dirt caking her face and the space beneath her eyes is darkened from exhaustion. She blinks up at him.

His eyes follow as a drop of sweat drops down her cheek. He tries to arrange the lump of words he can immediately think of into anything that might pass as some sort of an excuse or an apology. But, it doesn’t take. And the lump quickly becomes a mass of shame and guilt.

Then the drop of sweat hangs off her chin, and falls.

Chesa held grudges, sure. her anger, her grief, her bitterness towards all things stained the edges of her mind where other people were supposed to be. Like coffee spilled over printer paper.

But, Simon did not exist at the edge of her head, he was closer to the center. And, whether he liked it or not, she had been there too, in the center of his head. Always tip-toeing on the borderlines of his consciousness. A pebble in his shoe. She lingered between the lines in the steady stream of his thoughts.

“If I'm ugly, just say that.” She says, weakly. And just like that, the thoughts come through the stream and slip around through the smallest gaps like water in his hands. He’s only aware now of just how long he’d be staring.

Then, in a quick and fluid motion, he pulls the mask over his nose. He takes her cheeks into both of his gloved hands and leans in before she has half a mind to react.

Her mouth is much warmer than he thought they would be.

Like kissing a corpse, he thought once. It was a stupid conversation he’d once had with Soap and Gaz after too many drinks. She’d left the bar earlier than everyone else. A year later, the memory still existed in his mind and he still regretted it even then. Talking about her when he knew she couldn’t hear.

Her lips were dry, that much could be anticipated. But, she was warm. Almost, feverishly so.

Her hand weakly grasps at the straps of his tactical vest and tug, slightly. He had to think twice about putting too much of his weight over her. He could taste her blood smudging the edges of her lips.

It felt nice. Simon, admittedly, was wary of describing it as anything else. Nice was convenient. He had to be able to live on without it. Inconvenience was just that–something you could live with–even if it was nicer to not be inconvenienced at all. This and the overwhelming understanding that death was a counterpart to each and every task they completed with their work had inspired a new kind of anxiety in him.

Despite that, he inched closer and closer until there was no more room between them. He tilts his head to one side and bumps the tip of his nose against hers in the process. Her warmth climbs up his neck and eats away at his skin uncomfortably.

Then, the sound of a helicopter beating the air began to ring in his ears. Slowly, hesitantly, he pulls away and her eyes flutter open.

“So, I’m not ugly?” Chesa murmurs breathily, the slightest smile ghosting over her lips. His eyes move rapidly between hers that are sleepier than what he last remembers. “I didn’t think you liked me that much.” Absent-mindedly, his thumbs brush shapes along her cheeks.

Then, he lets go.

He tugs his mask back down, and pulls her good arm over his shoulder.

When they step out of the abandoned building, the helicopter has touched down. Two privates on board scramble off it as Ghost barks, “Smoke needs medical.”

The pair take Chesa onto a stretcher and load her on. Simon’s mouth is still warm, with just the slightest taste of metal lingering over his tongue.

His eyes don’t leave her the whole ride back even as the medical team on board treat whatever they can over the course of the trip. There’s a thick syrup shrouding his consciousness, but even still, he can’t sleep.

And, after they’ve touched down at base. After Chesa is carried to the medical wing on a stretcher, he still can’t sleep.

So, instead, he paces the premise until the Sun starts to peak over the horizon and stays awake until anyone with the authority to say so, allows him the clearance to see her.

He pulls up a chair as silently as possible, even though he knows that nothing will pull her out of an anesthesia induced sleep. Surrounded by the tubes and the wires, he counts the hours it takes for the color to saturate the skin of her lips once again.

#chesa #cod oc #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #oc fic

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neonacity · 2 years

Text

August - N.J. x Reader

“Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no”

- August, Taylor Swift

Prologue > Cruel Summer > Haechan x Reader

Theme: Unrequited love, pining, angst

For Jaemin, she is like winter.

She is beautiful in her stillness, the type of perfection that doesn't scream in color but stands out with its muted shades. She is cold and distant, the heroine everyone wants to save but can't even touch. He knows, because every time he tried to reach out, he would always pull back at the last moment, hesitating to break down walls he wasn't even sure she wanted to crumble.

She was like ice. Graceful but sharp, cutting one moment but slipping like water between his fingertips the next. He had seen it that day when he held her in his arms, her form shaking as she finally let the cracks inside of her run their course. It was the only time she let him in, but for him, it was the crucial moment that sealed his fate.

"You'll catch a cold if you sit here. Why don't you come inside?"

Jaemin watched the way her eyes flickered with the light of the moonbeams. Her head was tipped towards the sky, but there was a look in her face that told him she wasn't seeing any of the beauty there.

"Did Haechan and her leave already?"

He didn't like the way silence clung in the air as he hesitated over the question. He would have answered immediately if it means sparing her from pain, but he couldn’t do it, despite his good intentions. Maybe because deep inside, he knew that regardless of his answer, he would still end up wounding her.

"Does it really bother you? What he does?" He answered her question with his own as he finally settled on the seat next to her. She was silent, but she might as well have shouted the thousand things she'd been trying to hold back instead.

"It shouldn't."

"But it does. Because you're in love with him."

He saw the exact moment her emotional barricades started breaking down. For the untrained eye, she looked serene like a frozen lake, but he could clearly see the storm slowly picking up within her from the way the light in her eyes died.

"And he only wants her," she whispered to the wind in a voice frail like the thinnest of frost. Jaemin never took his eyes off her, not even when tears started painting her moonwashed cheeks. She didn't flinch from his gaze and he took her in—her beauty, her pain—the way her sun refused to see her.

"What am I going to do, Jaemin?"

Her question made his gut clench. It felt like the sting of harsh sleet against raw skin, painful and unrelenting. He wanted to do so many things at once; pull her in and hide her away somewhere where pain couldn't reach her anymore. At the same time, there was a part of him that wanted for the world to see her as she is now—Haechan most especially—so that they get a glimpse of how unadulterated love looks despite not deserving it. Jaemin reached out to her, fingers wrapping around her wrists, and gently pulled her towards his chest as if she would dissolve under his fingers at the slightest touch. She melted against him immediately and he held her as if he was the only thread keeping all her broken pieces together.

"Here's what you are going to do. You're going to feel the pain. You're going to feel it until it gets too much. There will be moments when you will go numb, and times when everything will crash. Don't hide from them. Feel them until you can tell yourself that you don't want to feel anymore."

Warmth spread in his shirt like a winter river melting the snow away. He didn't flinch but took everything fully instead. He wanted to shield her from everything, but he also knew this is what she needed at the moment.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let myself get in too deep.” He felt her words more than he heard them. His hold on her tightened until he could almost feel her heart beat directly over his. In that moment, he could swear they were finally in the same page.They may not be looking at the same north star, but they were standing on the same axis.

Jaemin looked at the sky, up at the moon watching over them.

“Sometimes, we don’t really have a choice of who we get to love.”

For Jaemin, she is like winter, unrelenting, and distant. But she is also beautiful, the season someone needs to give way to the hope of spring. Until the sun finally shines down on her and melts the frost, he will always be there embracing the cold.

*******

Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @aaasteroidsky, @huangberryyy, @marijmin

#jaemin nct fic #nct jaemin fic #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct angst fic #nct-writers

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Fireworks

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mentions of anxiety, mental health, angst, worry (but happy ending!) Summary: The sound of fireworks in the middle of the night shakes Bucky awake so you try your best to comfort him. A/N: a little fourth of july fic inspired by my own dislike for fireworks but it works well here i think!

Masterlist

You awoke suddenly when you realized something was off. You were alone in the normally shared bed.

You had just barely registered this when you went to cuddle into Bucky but ended up finding, well, nothing. Nothing except for his half of the comforter that smelled like him. You frowned, forcing your tired eyes open in worry.

Frantically, in the dark, you sat up and searched for any sign of Bucky. You were really hoping he went to use the bathroom and you were just a paranoid girlfriend but then you heard a sniffle. It was so faint but you knew you had heard it. And it was coming from the…floor?

You peaked over on Bucky’s side and sure enough, there was your boyfriend shaking in fear on the floor. Heart-wrenching tears filled his eyes. A cheap blanket covered his lap. He barely looked up at you for a second before turning away, shoulders drooping in shame.

“Bucky?” You asked, worried beyond belief. “Is everything okay?”

He kept his eyes trained on the wall adjacent to the bed. “Yeah,” Bucky answered, weakly, “I’m fine. Go back to bed, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You ignored his dismissal and raced off the bed. You knelt in front of him but Bucky still wouldn’t look at you. “What happened?”

But then that’s where you heard it. The unmistakable boom of fireworks.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you looked over at the clock which was reading just a few minutes past midnight. On July 4th. Your heart sank. You had completely forgotten what day was upon you.

“The fireworks…” you sighed. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I forgot-,”

Bucky shook his head. “There’s nothing you could do, honey.”

“I-I could’ve stayed up with you or-or-,”

He cut off your panicked rambling by placing his hand in yours. Bucky finally looked at you - really looked at you - and your heart shattered. He looked so exhausted yet panicked. Sad but angry. And as if on some super cruel cue, another firework exploded in the sky, lighting up your shared bedroom in a flash. Bucky winced.

You sighed. “I really can’t do anything for you?”

“Just…” Bucky took a deep breath. “Just stay with me. Please.”

Wordlessly, you nodded and sat on the floor next to Bucky. He had a blanket situated on his lap which he offered half of it to you. You accepted and snuggled into him as another explosive pop rang from outside.

After a moment, Bucky surprised you and spoke again. “You know, I used to love fireworks.”

You hummed, curling your arm around his bicep, hugging him. “Yeah?”

Bucky nodded, now staring towards the window which was suddenly lit up by another display. "I and Steve liked to go watch fireworks," he explained. "We’d go for his birthday and, wow, how they would light up the night. I thought it was the coolest thing ever when we were kids. The city put on some crazy shows."

"I’m sorry they’re not so fun anymore," you mumbled, completely unsure of what to actually say. Glimpses into Bucky’s life before the incident were so rare but you tried to treasure every one of them. It probably didn’t help in the slightest that his brain correlated Steve with fireworks. When was your boyfriend going to catch a break?

But Bucky just shrugged, shaking his head slightly. "What about you?" He changed the subject. Natural deflection. "Do you like fireworks?"

"I never really hated them but they did use to annoy me," you admitted. "Mainly because they’d scare my dog and that always made me upset."

Bucky let out a light chuckle which caught you by surprise. You held his gaze for a moment, shooting him a small smile before the moment was crushed by another firework exploding in the sky. You groaned.

"Why do people do this?" You huffed. "I get it, it’s the fourth of July, but it just hit midnight. Is it even legal around here?"

"You going to rat them out if it’s not?" Bucky teased.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Maybe," you shrugged. "If that’s what it takes."

Another boom rang out and Bucky shifted towards you. "I’m sure they’ll be done soon," he said to you but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "They can’t go all night, right?"

"You might be underestimating the American spirit."

Boom! Pop!

Bucky sighed in annoyance with each electrifying sound. "Yeah, you may be right."

That was enough for you. Just sitting here with him wasn’t really cutting it. You needed to do more.

"Maybe we should get out of here," you suggested. Bucky looked at you, confused, so you explained, "I read somewhere once that it may help to be farther away from the firework displays. Off in nature or something like that."

"I’ll take any suggestions you have at this point," Bucky admitted something shined in through the windows of the room. You were quite relieved he was willing to do more than sit on the floor. Not to mention he was actually letting you help him. You gripped Bucky’s hand tightly and you two stood up.

Foregoing any proper attire besides your everyday pajamas, you two packed some water and snacks before heading to your car. Bucky let you take the reins with driving which you didn’t mind. You only had a vague idea of a place on the outskirts of town that would work but, at this point, driving anywhere away from the chaos of the neighborhood was totally fine with both of you.

You drove about thirty minutes out of town until you hit an open woodland area. It seemed like some normal forest grounds filled with hiking trails but the specifics didn’t really matter. What it really offered was a lack of fireworks. Sure, some could be heard in muffled fashion and even seen way off in the distance, just above the tree line, but they were no longer right next door. You looked over at Bucky who was taking in the area. He already looked much more relaxed.

"This is nice," he commented.

You smiled and turned off the car. You two grabbed water from your packed bag. "I’m glad you like you," you said. "I was kind of worried there’d be campgrounds of tourists lighting more displays but it seems like we’re in the clear."

Bucky nodded slowly as he took a sip of water. His eyes were looking around lovingly at the trees. He even watched a few fireworks lighting up the sky back towards town. The sound was reduced greatly making it just a pretty mirage of colors. Even you were getting into it.

"Thank you," Bucky whispered.

You frowned. "Of course, Bucky. I just wanted to help."

"Y-You shouldn’t have to, though-,"

You shook your head insistently. "Don’t. I wanted to help. I’m so glad you’re feeling better out here."

"God," Bucky sighed, "what would I do without you?"

You let out a light laugh. "You wouldn’t know this cool forest existed."

Bucky agreed, "I guess that’s true." A beat. "But in all seriousness, sweetheart, thank you. I’m actually beginning to enjoy this Fourth of July."

"We could come back here later," you thought out loud, "and bring food for a picnic or something. That could be both fun. And certainly, keep us out of the action."

"I think that could be perfect," Bucky mumbled and looked over at you. When your eyes met, your boyfriend didn’t hesitate to lean in, stealing a kiss from you. You smiled, pulling him in for just one more.

This could even be a make-out spot, you thought. Picnics. Make-out. Lack of colorful explosions. Maybe a new Fourth of July tradition was in the making for you two.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #avengers #mcu fic #mcu #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #angst #one shot #bucky x reader

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 - Part 1

A/N This is part 1/2 of a collab with the amazing @whitexwingedxdoves! The first part is in Daryl’s POV, and the second will be in the reader’s. Part 2 is here.

Summary: Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you.

You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

Words: 3974

Daryl never really expected Judith to take an interest in hunting; she was far too sweet.

But then again, so were you - and Daryl had never met anyone who could make a better twitch-up snare. Though, he preferred using bow traps, himself, when he had the arrows to spare for them.

Takes more skill, he’d argue, and watch you shake your head vehemently at him - as though you couldn’t disagree more.

You hadn’t changed since then; you were just as stubborn, if not worse. But Daryl definitely had, even if he didn’t want to admit it. You had changed him. He wasn’t the same man who’d first stumbled through the gates of Alexandria all those years back, scowling at your traps which got in his way and stole his game; nor was he the same person who insisted on butting heads with you until he got a migraine.

Daryl Dixon had grown since then.

And that was probably the reason why he was stuck crawling through the forest on all fours, teaching Judith Grimes how to set a twitch-up snare (and not a bow trap).

“Now what?” she asked him, adjusting that sheriff’s hat which was still a little too big for her.

Daryl could remember the first time he’d placed it on her head, and tipped it up to get a glimpse of her gummy smile. She’d been so small back then; she still was.

He held out his rope in front of him, weaving it slowly so that she could follow the steps. It felt natural to Daryl’s hands, like he’d done it a thousand times over. He probably had, but he could remember a time where he’d been the student - and you were his teacher.

“Make the ears an’ weave the end through ‘em,” he instructed.

Just like a rabbit, you’d told him, and laughed.

He felt his lips twitch a little, but Daryl bit back his smile. Instead, he watched as Judith made a mistake - and he let her. That was the best way to learn, after all.

The young girl pulled a face at the tangled rope in her fists, wondering where she’d gone wrong. Then, she looked up at her uncle Daryl for the answers.

“It doesn’t look right,” she noted, showing it to him.

It didn’t. It definitely looked more like a dog with stubby ears than a rabbit.

Daryl shook his head gently, confirming her suspicions. “Give it here,” he mumbled, and carefully took the half-formed knot into his lap.

Judith shuffled over to get a closer look, and Daryl took his time in showing her how to correct it. He remembered when his father and brother would try and ‘teach’ him something new - which usually involved berating him until he was too anxious to ever mess it up again.

He hoped he was a better teacher than that.

“Ya folded it wrong,” he explained, pointing to that part of the fraying rope. He unwove it, and tucked it back into the right place. “See, ya fold the loop over itself to make the ears.”

Judith watched intently, holding her breath as she tried to memorise the steps. Then, Daryl undid the rope, and she let out a yell in protest. But Daryl just shrugged, and smiled a little to himself. She’d need to figure it out on her own if she was going to learn - as much as he wished he’d always be there to help her.

Daryl handed the rope back, and watched as she fumbled with it again; but this time, she didn’t make the same mistake.

“Who taught you how to do this?” she asked, eyes still trained in her lap as she spoke.

Daryl was silent for a few seconds, as if debating whether to tell her. He could already picture the triumphant look on your face.

He sighed. “This knot? Your aunt did.”

His words came out muffled, but Judith was still able to decipher them. In response, she smiled a smile that looked much too familiar - reminding him of another Grimes kid when he was up to no good.

“I thought you knew how to hunt before that,” she chirped, purposefully not meeting Daryl’s eyes as he narrowed them at her.

Damn girl’s gettin’ cheeky, he thought.

And this time, he didn’t pull her up on her mistake. Maybe she deserved to do the knot over once more.

“Mhm. I did,” Daryl answered naturally, as though her teasing tone didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Jus’ hunted in a different way is all.”

Judith looked up at him, and cocked her head to the side.

Yeah, he thought, she’s growin’ up jus’ like Carl.

“Which way’s better?” she asked curiously, as though forgetting the messy knot in her lap.

Daryl sat back on his hands, feeling his palms meet the damp leaves of the thick, forest overgrowth. That question had been the one that started it all. The sky was beginning to darken, and he knew that he should be getting back home soon. You always did give him one hell of an ear-full whenever he was late.

He smiled at the girl, before nodding in the direction of the abandoned knot - prompting her to try again.

“Depends on who ya ask.”

Daryl let loose his arrow and listened to it whirr through the air, and strike that possum straight down from its tree. Carol grimaced as he collected it, picking the animal up by its tail and slinging it over his shoulder as they walked. He would have made some remark back at her - but he just didn’t have the energy.

None of them did, really.

That’s why he’d shot the possum. He still wasn’t convinced by the promised land that Aaron had tried to sell to them - a place called Alexandria - so at least they’d have something to eat if it fell through.

It usually always did.

Every time Daryl felt like he had a solid footing on the ground beneath him, it somehow always managed to find a way to cave. First there was the farm, then the prison, and finally Terminas. These days, he just couldn’t catch a break.

But he could catch possum, he thought, and trudged on along the road.

The gates to Alexandria reminded him of the prison - those wire lattice fences and the metal bars that stretched up to the sky. It was like a damn cage, but Daryl had somehow gotten used to living in those.

What he could never get used to was the sight of those faces, looking down on him as though he was something they’d stepped in whilst navigating the side-walk. He was familiar with those looks by now - he’d gotten plenty of them back in Georgia even before the world had ended - but they never failed to make him feel a certain shame he didn’t like to admit to.

This time, though, he may have deserved them.

It took him a while to realise that their eyes weren’t actually on him, but rather lingering on that dead possum - still hanging by its tail. Then a woman stepped forward, with an air about her that made Daryl think that she was the leader. Although, it definitely wasn’t the same air he felt when he was around Rick.

“We’ll need to interview you, so that we can assign you all jobs,” she said warmly.

And Daryl laughed a bitter laugh he didn’t realise he’d been holding back - but once he let it out, he felt much better. From the moment he’d stepped foot into Alexandria, Daryl Dixon already had a job.

It was to try and keep the rest of these idiots alive.

Deanna’s office was stuffy; with too many dusty books and not enough fresh air, it nearly made Daryl forget how to breathe. He’d almost knocked that camera straight from its tripod, too - until Rick shot him a warning look against it.

“He’s a hunter and a damn good one,” the man quickly interjected, his hands falling into place on his hips.

Daryl lifted his chin with pride at the sheriff’s words. Hunting was the one thing he could confidently offer to the group; it was second nature to him. He could also tell that Deanna held Rick in high regard, so to hear him praise Daryl like that only proved his worth.

But she remained skeptical. “I can see that, but we already have one of those.”

The woman was assertive, that’s for sure.

She crossed her arms at her chest and examined the limp possum that swung proudly from Daryl’s shoulder. Though, she didn’t seem to share that same enthusiasm for his skill. Daryl shuffled on his feet, and repositioned the possum on his shoulder as if trying to shake off her judgemental looks.

“Just the one?” Carol piped up, from the doorway.

She had a good point; only one hunter for the whole of Alexandria?

It didn’t seem to add up quite right in Daryl’s head - and from the look on his face, it didn’t convince Rick, either.

“We’ve never needed more than that.” Deanna replied curtly, her lips pursing into a tight line. Daryl couldn’t help but scowl at the pride in her voice.

Bullshit, he thought.

“Well if you ask me, you’d be making a mistake not giving him that title,” Rick cautioned, but again his words seemed to be lost on the woman standing before them.

Deanna shook her head. “No, that’s not all he has to offer,” she said quietly.

Daryl felt a chill wrack up his spine as she stared right through him - as if trying to figure him out.

“I’ll find a job for you, but in the meantime feel free to join our hunter,” she continued, decisively.

Daryl tried his best not to scowl. Perhaps he would do just that, and show Alexandria what they were missing without having him hunt for them.

Maybe he’d even bring back a feast.

The interviews took up a hefty while, but Daryl promised Rick he would accompany him on a perimeter check whilst it was still light out - before the rest of the group settled down for the night. Even with those tall fences, he wanted to make sure there were no cracks - inside or out - for walkers to slip through.

The interior of Alexandria seemed secure, but beyond those sturdy gates was a world they hadn’t accounted for. Daryl toed each steel beam with his boot, as Rick started to dispatch the undead stragglers that lingered a little too close.

A regular culling, he called it.

They’d tried to implement that at the prison, too, but their defences had been only a tenth as sturdy as Alexandria’s. So, Daryl helped the officer, aiming his crossbow at the walkers nearby - even the ones that were caught on car doors, trapped.

He even went out of his way to follow the footsteps he came across, left so blatantly that they disturbed the mud and leaves - allowing him to track them clear as day. Rick accompanied him, knife in hand and pistol still holstered on his belt.

Then, a twig snapped.

“Son of a-” the officer cursed, and Daryl whipped his head back.

There was rope caught around his boot, and it only tightened the more he tried to twitch his foot free.

“The hell is that?” Rick cursed, looking over at him for an answer.

Tha’s a damn snare, Daryl realised, and pulled out his pocket knife to cut the other man loose.

He narrowed his eyes; it was constructed well. The knots were tight and the trigger reacted as it should have. But it still wasn’t as efficient as the types of traps Daryl used.

“Damn twitch-up, nothin’ but trouble,” he replied, crouching down to free Rick’s boot, “don’t catch nothin’.”

But a voice retorted just as quick.

“Caught your friend just fine!”

Daryl flinched, and dropped the knife in favour of the crossbow slung over his back. He hadn’t even heard her. He trained his weapon on the woman, but soon lowered it at the sight of her - unarmed.

“Would appreciate if you removed your dumb foot from my trap,” she yelled, pointing to Rick’s combat boot - still floundering in the rope like a fish on a line.

Daryl sighed. So this was Alexandria’s hunter.

She carried a big leather satchel, and had a string of woven rope circled over her shoulder. Daryl also noticed the charm hanging from her bag - a tattered rabbit’s foot. It was appropriate, that’s for sure. But he wondered how she’d even been able to catch one with such temperamental traps.

Daryl bent down near the twitch-up again. He knew how to disable it, but Rick had already damaged some parts with his heavy steps as he struggled to get it loose. So, he just glanced back at the woman over his shoulder, and made a show of cutting through the rope with his pocket blade.

“Ain’t worth the hassle,” he muttered, once he was done.

He could tell from her face that she wasn’t impressed. She stalked over to him and shot them both a look so fierce that Daryl thought her eyes might roll back into her head.

“And who the hell are you?” she asked - but it was more of a demand.

Daryl had heard enough of that tone today. He was already sick of the false authority Alexandria had exuded over them. So, he ignored her question.

He pointed at the ruined trap, instead. “If officer clumsy over ‘ere broke yer trap in two seconds, then walkers could spring it in one,” Daryl remarked.

The woman scoffed, crouching down to retrieve the rope.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she snapped back, “keeps them away from the fences.”

You’re lying, Daryl thought. It seemed like everyone around here had too much damn pride.

“Nah it aint,” he argued, shaking his head. “Tha’s what them car doors were for.”

He’d noticed it earlier - the way the vehicles were all parked along the perimeter of Alexandria, doors wide open and windows down to bait the walkers and snag them there. They weren’t perfect, though, since a few had still slipped through.

The woman went silent, and Daryl felt a small smile tug at his lips as he watched for her reaction.

“Yer tryna catch rabbits with these,” he concluded.

He’d expected her to admit defeat - maybe even ask for his help since it was clear he knew what he was talking about.

But, she didn’t.

The hunter shook her head straight back at him, and flipped open that worn leather satchel - pulling out a rabbit by its foot.

“Not just trying,” she corrected, with a smirk much more full than the one Daryl had dared to wear.

Rick let out a sound under his breath, but he still heard it. Daryl scowled in return. There were still plenty of traps better than that old-fashion twitch-up.

“Ya coulda caught more with-” he started, but she cut him off.

“Just who’d you think you are, again?”

This took Daryl aback, and he was stunned into silence. Already, he couldn’t stand the arrogance of these people. His jaw clenched, and Rick seemed to pick up on the unsettling quietness. So, the man cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“This is Daryl,” he announced, clapping his hand down onto his shoulder. “Best hunter I know.”

The woman wordlessly stuffed the rabbit back into her bag, leaving its ears to flop out over the side. Then, she looked between him and the officer, with an expression that got completely under Daryl’s skin.

“Well then I guess you only know one,” she laughed.

Daryl couldn’t quite remember how the rest of the story went. Over time, the details became as hazed in his mind as the sight of freshly fallen snow - obscuring any tracks he might try to follow. The only thing he could briefly recall was the different animals they had hunted during their time at Alexandria.

Yes, he could remember it now.

After that first rabbit, there had been a fox - caught right in the dead of winter.

“Should have guessed you were a bowman!”

Daryl sighed and stopped in his tracks. For someone so bothersome, that woman was remarkably quiet.

He picked up the red fox, which looked more of a gingerish colour against the snow, and twisted his arrow until it became dislodged from its side. A few blood spatters trickled out onto the ground, landing in perfect circles - like red wax seals against white paper.

“Gets the job done quick and easy,” Daryl grumbled, slinging the fox over his shoulder by its bushy tail.

The woman watched him, leant up against a tree with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh now you’re starting to sound like my dad!” she laughed, and padded along after Daryl as he turned to leave.

Recently, the two hunters would sometimes run into each other like this - and Daryl had started to expect the company.

“Ya ol’ man teach you those god awful traps?” he rasped, his voice coming out as puffs of smoke in the cool air.

The woman jabbed him in his side, and Daryl scowled.

“No, actually that was my uncle,” she corrected, looking down at her feet as they made imprints in the snow.

Daryl glanced over at the woman, and narrowed his eyes. He just couldn’t figure her out yet.

“Ya whole damn family hunters?” he questioned, and she laughed again.

For someone so stuck up, her laugh was shy. - as though she were scared of it.

She nodded. “Some girls got Barbies for Christmas. I got a boning knife.”

And some kids got nothin’, Daryl thought.

They walked together back to Alexandria, mostly in silence - save from the crunching of their boots as they stepped heavily through the snow. Daryl kept catching that rabbit foot charm in his peripheral, swinging from the woman’s satchel as she stepped. He also noticed just how red her nose had gotten, and how it occasionally twitched from the cold.

“What ya doin’ out ‘ere?” Daryl eventually asked. “Too cold for rabbits,” he remarked.

They reached the gates, and the woman stopped as she waited for the guard to open them.

“Was tracking a fox,” she replied, eyes settling on the reddish fur bunched up between Daryl’s fingers. “But it looks like you beat me to it.”

After that, once the snow thawed and spring had come around, the next hunt had been for a deer - and Daryl was called upon to help her carry it back.

Thought they only needed one hunter, Daryl cursed, as he readjusted the deer’s hooves in his grip.

He could have easily carried the animal himself, but she was stubborn and insisted she share the weight. He watched as she struggled to hold the back end of the deer, propping it up every so often to relieve the strain on her arms - that damn rabbit’s foot flailing about from her satchel.

“Why the rabbit’s foot?” Daryl finally spoke, breaking the silence between her exaggerated grunts.

“It’s lucky” she managed to huff, before admitting defeat and letting her end drop to the floor.

Daryl took that as his cue to pick the deer up himself, and sling it around the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk at her disappointed stance - but he knew better than to say anything.

“Didn’t you keep the brush?”

Daryl cocked his brow at her question, taking slow steps back towards Alexandria.

“You know the fox’s tail?” she finally cleared up, matching his speed.

“Why? They lucky too?” he quipped back.

He didn’t intend for it to sound so sarcastic.

“I don’t think so,” she sighed, “but they’re pretty!” A small giggle passed her lips, which only made Daryl roll his eyes

This was Alexandria’s big scary hunter.

“Could swap it out for that damn rag you take everywhere,” she teased, nodding her head towards his back pocket.

Daryl watched the way her lips pressed together in a thin line, as if holding back the urge to let out yet another laugh. He scoffed.

Rags were practical; rabbit’s feet and fox’s tails were not.

During the rest of the trip back home, she would go on to tell him the story of how she’d caught that particular rabbit’s foot; it was a story he had since misplaced - but he still remembered the way her eyes lit up as she told it.

Looking back, that deer had been the last thing they’d caught - in Alexandria, at least. Though, Daryl could remember what they had been hunting for when it happened.

Damn rabbits.

The grass was thick and overgrown. Neither of them had explored the area yet - a little ways out from Alexandria. She’d told Daryl about it the night before, claiming to have stumbled upon it in the daytime. The woman swore that she could barely take a step without tripping over one of the dozens of burrows she’d found there.

Daryl wasn’t quite convinced, but he followed her nonetheless.

“You can’t be serious!” she exclaimed, looking over at Daryl much too expressively. “Fox meat? Over rabbit?”

It’s too early for this, Daryl thought, catching sight of her lopsided grin.

“Tastes better,” he mumbled back, navigating through the long foxtail grass and thickets that were up to his waist.

The woman looked over her shoulder and shook her head at him. Daryl reminded her to keep on walking, or let him lead if all she was going to do was trip him up.

She ignored him. “No! Foxes taste like pennies,” she argued, waving her hands around like she had a point to prove. “You know, that weird metallic-”

The woman stopped, and cocked her head at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she remarked, and Daryl felt as though he couldn’t even keep up with the conversation.

“I ain’t even lookin’ at ya,” he bit back - frustrated.

Daryl could barely recall how the hunter had gone from being so reserved back when they had first met, to whatever the hell was standing before him now.

Bark worse than ‘er bite, tha’s for damn sure.

She ran on ahead, and Daryl followed her tracks in the long grass until they reached that deserted area - so quiet that it almost unsettled him. There wasn’t even a breeze; it was as though the world was completely still.

Unnaturally so.

“See!” the hunter exclaimed, triumphantly. “I told you, it’s completely untouched.”

She had that same, smug look on her face as she did when he first met her - entirely proud of herself. But for once, it didn’t bother Daryl in the slightest.

He shook his head, but it was more out of habit than anything else. “Won’t be for long,” he chided, “best keep quiet or yer gonna scare ‘way the game.”

The woman laughed at him, less timidly than how she used to.

“I know how-” she started, but Daryl never did find out what she was going to say.

A loud metallic sound rang through the open air, and the hunter disappeared from his sight, as though sucked into the ground beneath her. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from laughing so carefree to becoming lost in the tall grass - leaving Daryl behind to only listen to her scream.

Daryl knew that sound; he couldn’t mistake the clang of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Bear trap, he realised, and ran through the foxtails to find her.

Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might want to buy me a coffee or commission me - tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I really hope you enjoyed reading this. It is one of my favourites so far. And it has truly been a joy working with @whitexwingedxdoves. Make sure you stay tuned for part 2!

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags!

Tag List:

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mashep23 · 3 years

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

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

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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lalaangeldust · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [ 𝟑𝐤+ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ] : gross sticky icky fluff // friends to lovers troupe <3 // hanta is a huge dork, we all been knew this // hanta is also sickeningly sweet and affectionate // GOD, I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH

[ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ] : on a clear night, you go out to stargaze on the dorm roof; nothing out of the norm for you but in the middle of admiring the stars, sero comes out to join with something big he needs to get off his chest.

[ 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ] : you - blue // sero - orange

[ 𝗺𝘆𝗸𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ] : i'm totally not projecting my fantasies onto sero and i'm totally not a sucker for friends to lovers fics :| /s

Sitting on the cool concrete of the dorm roof, the night illuminated by nothing but the streetlights below you and the stars above as you lay in silence with your legs propped against the roof's ledge. You've always thought the best part of UA was how it was out of the way so the stars are clearer than they were back in the city. Although graduation is soon and end of year exams are menacingly looming over you, you couldn't resist the urge to come out and soak up the full moon's gorgeous light. Nights like these, alone on a clear night, soft music playing through your headphones, scanning the vast sky, connecting the dots as your eyes wander to make constellations of your own are arguably one of your most favorite things in life.

The only thing that could possibly make this better is... him.

Eyes trailing to the brightest star you can find and admiring how it sticks out from everything else in your vision, your mind uncontrollably wanders to Sero. How that star kinda reminds you of him...

Ugh! what a ridiculous thing to think! Damn him for always finding a way to worm into your thoughts. Your hands fly to your forehead with a smack, outwardly groaning as you drag your fingers down your face in an attempt to shake off your thoughts. You've been friends with him for nearly three years! You would think you'd be over your petty crush on him by now. You two are practically siblings with how you two are almost always attached at the hip, always causing trouble together, always there when the other needed it, always making you feel safe... It would be weird to have feelings for him... right..?

But before you could rationalize your emotions any further, a hand reaches for your headphones, lifting one side off your ear as you hear a soft voice murmur behind you, “The moon’s beautiful tonight, isn't it?”

You practically jump out of your skin, immediately shooting up to take a defensive position. Although you can’t make out the silhouette you’re now facing, the all too familiar laughter that comes from them is more than enough to give away who this false intruder could be and you sigh in relief.

“Sero! You scared me half to death!!” you exclaim, relaxing your shoulders at seeing his familiar frame emerge through the dim light.

Tall and lean with a smile that could nearly rival the sun, the boy chuckles at you. His long pitch black hair he's been growing out for the past year cascading down the sides of his face, just barely brushing past his shoulders framing his face in a way that makes his dashing features stand out even more. Sero approaches you wearing a loose muscle tank top with his hands tucked in ill fitting sweats and a pair of black stud earrings he stole from you in his ears.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sero chuckled, "I didn't mean to scare you so bad, doll". You send him a deep glare through the darkness and he throws his hands up out of his pockets to either side of his head in defense.

"...Maybe you shouldn't sit out here with music blasting in your ears,” Sero snarks back, “I could’ve been a villain,” he continues mockingly, “Not to mention that horrible stance you took. I don't think you’d fair very well against a villain while sitting down,” he teases with a wide grin smeared on his face. You scoff and roll your eyes in response.

“Are you only here to tell me how much of a hazard I am? Or do you want anything else, tape face?” you grumble.

“Oh, you wound me!” Sero exclaims dramatically, “I was simply wondering what my lil’ muffin was up to,” he muses, the dimples on his cheeks becoming visible as his grin only stretches wider as he speaks.

“Oh god, muffin!?!? ew!” you groan, “What the hell, I thought we agreed on no more stupid pet names,” you say with a giggle while scrunching up your nose.

“I didn't think it was stupid,” Sero huffs as he plops himself down next to you and wrinkles his nose back at you, “Muffin is a valid nickname. You just have no taste,” he concludes with a short nod, still smiling like an idiot.

You just roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him before tilting your head up to go back to looking at the stars. Sero chuckles softly, staring at you for a moment while admiring you as you look at the sky with a softened smile on his face.

“Why you up so late?” he inquired.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sero,” you reply while throwing your head back down to look at him.

“Mmm, well, I was sleeping but… I suddenly woke up and couldn't go back to sleep,” he grunts as he adjusts himself into a more comfortable sitting position next to you.

You hum in acknowledgment before you look back up to the stars in the sky and Sero is left to admire you once again. How your eyes glimmer with the stars as the full moon softly illuminates your frame is a breathtaking view he would never tire of. The look on your face when you gaze at the sky, the look of pure adoration and awe is a look he hopes, prays, dreams you’ll give him one day.

“What’re you thinking, hun?” he softly asks, hoping you’d give him just the slightest glimpse of what goes on in your head. You pause for a moment, taking in his question and wondering how to answer it.

“Just thinking. Thinking thoughts. Nothing notable or important, I can assure you. Just enjoying the clear night,” you say, swerving his question to avoid the real answer. him.

“Ah, that was a rather vague answer,” he jests, mildly disappointed that you didn't let him in and you only hum in response.

“What about you?” you ask, “What made you wanna come up here?”

“Oh, well..” he begins but is held back by a lump that suddenly lodges in his throat, not really wanting to fully admit why he came up here with you.

In reality he hadn't slept at all. He’s embarrassed to admit it but he couldn't stop thinking of you all night, all day in fact. You just about consume his every thought and tonight, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake the thought of being with you.

After being so close with you for years now, people often assume the two of you are dating but the idea is almost always dismissed by a shy laugh and an averted gaze... Sero would be lying if he ever said he didn't relish the idea of being in a romantic relationship with you but... You never seemed all that interested in the idea and Sero was too scared to push the idea you may like him even half as much as he likes you. Never going farther than light hearted flirting and banter, some may call him a coward maybe but to him? Being your friend was enough. Well, that was until Mina and Kiri gave him a harsh wake up call earlier that morning.

They were scolding him on how painfully obvious it is how both you and Sero are nearly head over heels for one another, how they've spent the past year pining for one another, yet the both of you have stayed so blind to the fact you have feelings for each other. Absolutely dumbfounded by this, he asks what he should do about it, about you, to which they immediately and overwhelmingly demand him to confess his feelings for you. That is the real reason he came to find you.

“When I was trying to go back to sleep, I thought about something someone said… about taking chances,” he spoke in a soft and thoughtful tone, “Taking that blind leap of faith into the unknown things we’re afraid of because... what’s the worst that can happen…?” he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how silly he probably sounds as he looks at you, “I dunno- sounds kinda dumb now that I say it out loud,” he says dismissively.

“No, no. I don't think it sounds dumb at all. I think it’s very insightful” you say, ushering him to continue by resting your head on your palm as you look at him intently to show your interest.

“Well, uh,” butterflies swarm to his chest as he tries to find the words to speak, finding it much harder to talk when he knows he has your full attention.

“Well, it led me to think about you 'cus I know that's something you talk about a lot as well… and I figured since it's a full moon tonight, you'd be up here,” he concludes. His gaze nervously shifting to his feet, averting his eyes from you to try and calm the fluttering nerves in his chest.

“I’m glad you did,” you hum, a low warmth growing in your chest from knowing he thought about you, “I enjoy your company,” you add thoughtfully. Though you probably just meant it in a friendly way, it didn’t change how much it meant to Sero to know you like having him around.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Sero chuckles nervously, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he slightly scooches closer to you. You take notice and you subtly tilt to the side, leaning in his direction not yet touching shoulders but leaving an opening to do so if he wanted.

“I uh- I also wanted to tell you something- In regards to what I was thinking about…” Sero mumbles nervously, hoping you didn’t catch what he said so he would have an excuse to not go through with his confession. Pretend like nothing happened and move on to just enjoy the simple friendship you two share.

“Oh?” You inquire, “What do you want to tell me? I’m all ears,” Sero fiddles with his thumbs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks as you patiently wait for him.

"I- uh, I love you," he blurts, head swimming as he looks at you, eager and insatiably nervous to hear how you may respond, horrified you may not reciprocate his feelings and ultimately ruining what relationship you two did have.

"I love you too, Sero," you giggle.

Sero's heart drops, confidence dwindling as he assumes you thought he said "I love you" in the way you two always have. Just as friends. But he didn't. He meant it. He meant it in so many more ways he couldn't even begin to describe. He didn't expect you to reciprocate his feelings in the first place but that doesn't make him hurt any less.

"No, you don't understand," Sero sighs as he runs his hands through his long, thick hair, "I'm in love with you," You turn you head to him, Did he-? eyes widening at what Sero said, unsure if what you heard was a wishful hallucination or not. When you said "I love you" back, you genuinely meant it in the same way he does now. God, you've been in love with him for what seems like the first moment you two met but you would've never guessed Sero felt the same for you.

You sit in silence for a beat trying processes what Sero had just said to you. Your friend, your closest friend, is in love with you..? Something you've dreamt of becoming a reality. You start to get dizzy from the overwhelming euphoria and anxiety the realization simultaneously brings. You look at Sero, placing your hand on his to ground yourself as you look up at him, a warm smile spreading on your face.

"I love you too, Hanta," you say earnestly. Sero's heart leaps in his chest at your words. Not only did the person of his dreams reciprocate his feelings but they also addressed him by his first name?! He might as well be dreaming. Hearing his name fall off your lips like warm honey for the first time sends him flying through cloud nine.

"Y-you mean it??" Sero stutters, still unable to believe it. You give him a heartfelt smile as you squeeze his hand before standing up. You wordlessly walk around Sero and crouch behind him.

Utterly confused and growing increasingly flustered at your sudden close proximity, Sero opens his mouth to ask what you could possibly be doing but you shush him before he can say a word. Leaning against him, you ask permission to grab his hand and Hanta lets you guide his finger to the brightest star in the sky, hyperaware of every subtle shift, adjustment and breath you take behind him, clinging onto every passing moment.

"You see that star? The really really bright one right there and how it's brighter than the others?" you ask.

"Yeah... why.?" he questions, eager to hear what you have to say.

"Forgive me if this is too cheesy but it sorta reminds me of you," you say softly.

"Wh- I don't think a follow," Hanta replies and you give a short, breathy chuckle in response.

"Out of all the stars in the sky, you stick out to me to most. You're the brightest star," you murmur close to him, guiding his hand back down and you make your way to sit next to him. Hanta takes a moment to process what you said. Him? A star? He doesn't understand how you view him in such a way when there isn't much special about him in the first place... but he tries not to pay any mind to those thoughts as his eyes are glued to you sitting back down beside him.

"Pff, that was super cheesy," he snorts.

"Shut up, I'm trying my best," you grumble, "And... that's what I was really thinking about before you came," Hanta looks at you in awe, nothing but love and kindness filling his eyes as he gingerly grabs your hand, lifting it up level to his face.

"It's aright, doll, I was only teasing.. I think it's cute and~," he hums before placing a soft kiss on your knuckle, "I'm ok with cheesy," he concludes with a wink. Heat blooms on your cheeks at his action and you throw your head to the side, covering your mouth and cheek with your other hand in embarrassment. Hanta chuckles, just about ready to burst at how adorable you are and gets a sudden burst of confidence coursing through him from seeing your flustered form.

"Aw, don't get shy on me now, love," he coos, tugging your arm to usher you to look back at him. You look at him with a flustered scowl and Hanta isn't sure if you did it to intimidate him or what but all it did was make his heart scream for you more. His hand slides to your forearm and his other hand goes to grab your other arm, pulling it away from your face.

"Here, come here, baby," he murmurs, pulling your arms to guide you to his lap. You give little resistance as you follow Hanta's hands, shifting around to make yourself comfortable against him as you settle between his thighs. As soon as you got comfortable, Hanta's arms find their home around your waist, hugging you close and breathing you in. You sigh contently as your back rests against his strong chest, never feeling safer than you do right now in his arms.

"It's ok if I call you baby now, right..?" Hanta asks, not wanting to be too much at one time.

"Well, it would be if we were dating," you tease with a raised brow.

"Wha-?" Hanta looks at you confused for a moment before he realizes, "Oh! How could I forget," he chuckles softly, cupping your face in his large palm, guiding your face too look at him, his dark eyes practically engulfing you in his loving gaze.

"Would you care to be my partner..?" he purrs, voice dipping to a soft and low tone that sends goosebumps down your spine.

"W-well, when you put it like that how can I say no?" you mumble, not being able to help the heat rising up your neck, painting your cheeks pink once again from how small you feel under Hanta's enchanting gaze.

"So... is that a yes..?" Hanta inquires, hand still placed tenderly on our cheek. You nod your head against his palm, fingers caressing up and down his forearm as he holds you.

"Mhm, I would love nothing more," you reply in a soft and tender tone. Hanta melts at your words, feeling on top the world and like he can do anything. An uncontrollable smile erupts on his face, charming dimples ornamenting his cheeks as he hugs you tight to his body not wanting to ever let go.

You shuffle in his arms to turn yourself around in his lap. Now facing him, you tuck your face into the crook of Hanta's neck, wrapping your arms and legs snuggly around his torso. Hanta holds you equally as close, affectionately running his fingers up and down your back in complete bliss with you snuggling up to him.

"Can I kiss you..?" Hanta asks, voice just barely above a whisper. You lift your head up to look him in his deep eyes and you cup his face in your hand. Hanta leans into your touch, grabbing your hand on his face and guides it down just enough to plant a chaste kiss to the edge of your palm. You sigh and softly smile, nodding at the boy's question.

"Please kiss me," you murmur, leaning closer into his body. Hanta places his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you and a colliding your lips together. Though it was clumsy at first, you quickly adapt and your lips lock together like puzzle pieces. Tenderly, Hanta pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours. The kiss you shared was short and sweet but still left the both of you breathless and yearning for more.

"May I kiss you again?" Hanta questions playfully and you giggle in response while nodding your head against him. He leans in, smiling against you as you mash lips with together, the both of you sighing into the other's mouth. This kiss a lot more confident than the last as Hanta takes the lead to explore every bit of you he can, taking note of every noise, movement and reaction you give. This time you pull away, surfacing for air from Hanta's intense hold on you.

"I can kiss you again, right?" Hanta asks again.

"How many more kisses do you want??" you giggle.

"That is a dangerous question to ask, my love," Hanta purrs into you, his breath ghosting your neck as he nuzzles his face underneath your jaw and lays a soft peck where his face lies, "I'd take all of them," he says, scanning your face for any discomfort but once he sees you're ok with him continuing, he lays another peck on your neck.

You laugh at the ticklish feeling, lacing your fingers through his dark hair as he continues showering you with short kisses.

"Let me know if I'm being too much, yeah?" kiss on your neck, "I don't wanna be too much," another kiss on the neck, "or overwhelm you," kiss on your jaw, "'cus that would be sad," kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"Hanta!" you squeal through giggles.

"I'm sorry, hun" kiss on your cheekbone, "I just can't resist," kiss on your cheek, "you have no idea," kiss on the chin, "just how long," kiss on the nose, "I've wanted," kiss on the eyelid "to do this," kiss on the brow, "And now," kiss on the temple, "I can't," kiss on the forehead, "Stop,"

Erupting with giggles, you desperately try to squirm away as Hanta continues to relentlessly shower you with kisses.

"No, no, no! Hanta!" you cry through your laughter, "No more!"

Giving you one last peck on the lips before pulling away, Hanta finally gives into your pleas and stops his assault of kisses. He presses his forehead against yours as you calm down from your laughing fit, pulling some giggles from Hanta as well because of your contagious laugh.

"I love you," you sigh once you've finally calmed down. Hanta hums in response, placing his hand on the back of your head, letting his fingers lace through your hair.

"I love you too," he says, heart feeling full and beaming with joy.

Forever and always~

𝒇𝒊𝒏 . ✩

[ lil easter egg of sorts for those of you who don't know~ in Japanese when you ask someone "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" or

『月が綺麗ですね』 // "tsuki ga kirei desu, ne?"

it's actually a very poetic way to confess your love to the person you're asking ]

[ I think it's literally so fucking cute 'cus i myself am deeply in love w/ the moon :) ]

[ if this were a thing in English and someone confessed to me this way, i would immediately demand for their hand in marriage >:| ]

[ god, japanese culture is so cool, i love it sm ]

ALSO- CAN WE NORMALISE ASKING SOMEONE OUT BY ASKING THEM TO BE YOUR PARTNER INSTEAD OF BF / GF????

"would you care to be my partner?" UHBIJNIJAHHHH LITERALLY SO ROMANTIC AND GENUINE HOLY SHIT- i'm making myself simp

RAAAHHHHHHH

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luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Luminous

☼ Pairing: Jimin x reader

☼ Genre: tentacle monster!Jimin, some fluff, smut, mostly just pwp

☼ Count: 9k

☼ Warnings: 18+, public sex (no ones around but they’re on the beach), tentacles (kind of a given), big dick jimin, manhandling, lots of cum, some cumplay, creampie, cum inflation/belly bulge (not a whole lot, just a small bump) unprotected sex, restraints, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (m recieving), deep throating, anal, double penatration, minor nipple play, praise kink, mating cycles, slight impreg kink

☼ Summary: The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.

☼ a/n: This was written for Sol’s (jamaisjoons) collab event ��The Summer Bucketlist’ and my prompt was ‘watching fireworks.’ Uhhh this idea was originally very different and then I started thinking about tentacles and now here we are 🥴🥴🥴 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Banner made by the absolutely amazing @jamaisjoons (who did such wonderful work on it and I hope the fic lives up to the beautiful banner she made me 💕💕💕)

You let out a small contented sigh as you slip your feet into the water. This is your favorite place in all of Busan, this hidden little jutty of rock just off one of the smaller, less popular beaches, more popular among locals only. You’ve spent more time than you can count out here hanging out with your friends, passing the time and using the salty sea breeze to help combat the heat of summer. You’ve been out here plenty on your own too, just like how you’re out here alone right now.

The sun’s dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly turning an inky black. The perfect backdrop to what’s going to happen soon and the main reason you’re out here at all to begin with rather than at home. The summer festival is happening and once the sun disappears, the sky will be decorated with fireworks, and you and your friends discovered years ago that this is the best spot to watch them, unobstructed and no one around to fight for seats.

You kick your feet idly in the water, enjoying the warmth of it as you lean back on your hands as you watch the last few rays of light slip away. You wished your friends could’ve made it though. But Namjoon was stuck in the city for work and Taehyung was out with his girlfriend at the festival. A brief feeling of sadness overcomes you because you had been planning to go with Taehyung and his girlfriend and your own boyfriend as a double date. Until he dumped you a week ago over text because he’d moved to the otherside of the country and apparently was nothing like the man you met since he didn’t even have the balls to break up in person.

You suspect that there was a lot more than his flimsy excuse of it’s just not working and long distance is hard. It most likely has something to do with the new girl that you’ve been told about that has shown up on his socials.

For what it’s worth, Taehyung and Namjoon both offered you company but you waved them off. Namjoon’s job opportunity is much more important and as much as you love Taehyung and his girlfriend, you didn’t particularly feel like being third wheel to their (normally adorable and heart warming) love.

You think this is better anyway. It’s peaceful out here. The smell of salt being carried by the breeze brings a myriad of memories that all bring a smile to your face and it’s easy to forget about the hard things in this moment. It’s healing to be out here. As much as it sucked that you got dumped, you can’t be too upset. You saw the cracks forming the more he opened his mouth and talked, if he hadn’t done it, you likely would have been doing it soon anyway. You let your head fall back, letting your eyes slip closed as you simply enjoyed this. You should tell the others that you all need to make another trip out here soon.

Plus you’d come much earlier when the sun was still high and swam some. Using the ebb and flow of the ocean to erode your worries and stress. Then you’d sprawled out on your beach towel on your rocky perch and let the sunset dry your skin before you slipped back into your shorts and tank top and allowed the peacefulness to swallow you.

You startle slightly when there’s a loud, echoing boom and color flashes across the sky. You’d been lulled into such calmness and had almost forgotten why you were out here to begin with. You watch the sky passively, watching the occasional flash of color and shapes as the firework people warm themselves and the crowds up. You know the real show won’t start for at least another 45 minutes, knowing the tell by the fact that there’s still the faintest of traces of blue on the horizon.

Your feet continue their idle movements in the water, until something slick brushes the bottom of your foot and you scream on instinct, quickly jerking your foot free from the water. You back up an extra foot from the edge, to the safety of the blanket that you spread across the rocks, just as an extra precaution. You’re sure that whatever touched you was probably just seaweed. Maybe a plastic bag or some other trash that someone carelessly threw into the ocean. But anything touching you in the water when the water is nothing more than an inky black expanse is enough for you to decide that’s enough soaking for the night.

Just as your heart rate is returning to normal, something slips over the edge of the rocks where you’d just been sitting. It gleams in the moonlight, silver, smooth, and shiny, as it makes a cursory probe at the edge, like it’s looking for something. It’s probably no thicker than your thumb and you deliriously wonder if octopi are even capable of coming up on dry land, let alone the reason why one might be coming up right now. Though the longer you stare at it, the more you realize that it’s far too smooth to be from an octopus, completely devoid of the telltale suckers.

You shuffle a little further away. You really don’t want to move too quickly, not if you don’t know what it even is and if it can follow you or how fast whatever it is. But your slight movement only seems to catch it’s attention and to your growing horror, it lashes out almost faster than you can see and wraps itself firmly around your ankle. You scream again, because aside from that, there’s really very little you can do out here all alone with it on you.

Any attempts to free yourself prove futile, the slender appendage is far stronger than you would’ve expected from such a jelly-like creature. It gives its own experimental tug, one that pulls you marginally closer to the water before you once again scramble backwards. It lets you and that just serves to freak you out more.

Then, a few more tentacles appear over the edge of the rock, watering dripping and spreading out around them and then there’s a… hand? You frown as a seemingly human hand, if perhaps a little ashen looking, plants itself on the rock right alongside the tentacles. The fingers flex for a moment before something, somehow even more surprising, appears. A fairly human face, or at least up to the eyes as that’s the furthest it raises, peaks up over the edge, gaze quickly zeroing in on you. Your heart stutters in your chest as your eyes meet and its pale silver eyes gleam like its tentacles. It’s hair is wet and slicked back and, though the locks are currently water logged and a few shades darker, it’s clearly also a similar shade of silver as its tentacles and eyes.

Another hand joins the first along the edge of the rocks and for a moment it doesn’t move at all. You stare at it, you know it’s definitely bigger than an octopus now. You don’t think you could take it. It’s dead silent aside from the gentle lapping of the waves and you’re terrified to move for fear of what it’s going to do to you. It gives the slightest of tugs on your ankle and when you don’t budge it finally lifts itself from the water.

You try to back away again, but it’s grip keeps you in place and you let out a startled scream when another tentacle darts out to wrap itself around your other ankle. The… monster… sits on its knees at the edge for a moment after pulling itself from the water.

It, he?, looks almost perfectly human. Skin a dimmed golden shade, frame small but packed with lean muscle… apparently well endowed in human terms. You jerk your gaze quickly away when you realize just where you're staring. Your life is on the line, now is not the time to to fucking ogle the monster and think about if he can get hard like a human and if it possibly gets bigger. You force yourself back to his face, cheekbones prominent and lips plush as he seems to be looking you over as well, though his gaze continually seems to dart behind you, brows knitting in confusion.

His eyes appear almost human except that it doesn’t seem like he has a pupil, silver swallowing the whole of the iris. It’s slightly disconcerting. His tentacles shift behind him, drawing your attention to them finally. The ones not on you shift behind him restlessly, never seeming to settle. A thin one drapes itself on his shoulder before slithering across his skin to the other side, forming a strange sort of living necklace. It’s hard to pin down an exact number with them constantly moving, but there seems to be a lot and they seem to come in primarily two sizes, thinner ones like the one draped around his throat and wrapped around your ankles and thicker ones easily the width of 3 or 4 fingers, you try very hard not to compare their girth with what you had glimpsed between his legs.

You’re trying to formulate a plan to get away when there’s another boom of a firework, bathing everything pink for a moment. And what you’re certainly not expecting is for the way the monster startles at the sound. The tentacles around your ankles tighten almost painfully and then before you can completely comprehend what’s going on, you’re being pulled closer to him. Once you're close enough, he’s leaning down over you and you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what’s about to happen but positive that it’s unlikely to be good.

But nothing happens and as the seconds stretch, you slowly peek an eye open. His face is almost directly above yours, but it’s not you that he’s looking at. Instead, he’s studiously scanning your surroundings, looking tense and on edge. When you glance at the way that he’s leaning over you, you realize that he seems to be almost… protecting you? Which only serves to confuse you more.

Deeming there to be no immediate threat, his gaze turns down to you and you freeze now that you're faced with him this close. He blinks down at you before his lips part and he makes a strange sort of clicking sound, but you’re more focused on the sharp teeth revealed when he makes noise. Definitely sharp enough to tear into you and eat his fill.

“Please don’t eat me,” you squeak out, hands coming up to cover your face.

There’s silence for a moment before a deep chuckle sounds from him. You peek between your fingers at him and there’s a smirk stretching his lips.

“Oh, I have met your kind before.” His voice is soft and surprisingly melodious given the higher pitch the clicking was.

You can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “My kind?”

His lips twitch and he tilts his head. “Humans. Are you not human?” He pushes himself up slightly to inspect you again. “You do not appear to be one of my kind.”

“There’s more of you?”

His gaze darts around. “A few.”

You swallow, about to speak again when another firework goes off. He startles above you and drops closer once more, body pressed firmly to yours as he glares around, trying to discover the source.

You’d laugh at his constant startling if your throat wasn’t suddenly so dry. His chest is every bit as firm as it looked and you can feel every shift and ripple as he looks around. It’s incredibly distracting. Why did the monster have to be hot? You squeeze your eyes shut again. You should not be thinking about how it’d feel to touch the monster with your hands. Or how other parts of him would feel.

He shifts off of you slightly. “It is safe for now.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning at him. “Safe? What are you talking about?”

His head tilts and he reminds you of a confused puppy. “Do you not hear the loud noises?”

A giggle slips out and that seems to perplex him further. “No, no. I do. It’s just… Have you not been around here before?”

“I have always lived here.”

“Have you… been on land before?”

His brows pinch and there’s the slightest of flushes coloring his cheeks a deep blue-gray. “I come up here every year.”

“How have you not heard them before then? They’re just fireworks.” You see the streak of a new one and point to it quickly, drawing his attention to it just before it reaches its peak and explodes in a sparkling cascade of gold. “They’re for entertainment. They’re not dangerous.” You pause. “Okay they are. But not at this distance. The only people who could possibly be in danger would be the ones firing them.”

“Fire… works?” He mumbles, sitting back on his haunches as his face remains tilted towards the sky even though the phosphorus has long since burned out. “Will there be more?”

You slowly push yourself up, cautious of what he might do but his focus remains firmly upwards. “Yeah, they’ll keep shooting some singles off for a little bit longer then they’ll start the big show.”

He says nothing else and you wonder if you can use the time to slip away before you realize that he still has two tentacles wrapped around your ankles. There goes your chance for escape. At least he doesn’t seem interested in eating you. Yet.

Another firework goes and you watch his eyes widen as he follows its trajectory up until it stops in an explosion of color and sound. But you’re far more taken watching the childlike glee on his face and the way the colors gleam on his skin and tentacles. The colors add another level to his already stunning looks, making him look far more ethereal and angelic. He grins as he watches and he looks much less like a terrifying monster. Though you worry what will happen once the fireworks stop and there’s nothing to distract him. Maybe when the real show starts he’ll be so engrossed that you can slip yourself free of the tentacles and make a quick and quiet escape.

You shake your head, looking away and up at the sky too. There’s nothing much you can do right now with their grip on you still too tight, so you might as well also watch the show. The fireworks are slowly starting to increase in frequency and he seems to squirm in excitement the closer together the pops of color come.

“Do you have a name?” You ask suddenly, looking back over at him. Maybe you can text Namjoon or Taehyung and tell them that if you disappear to look for something with that name. Probably Taehyung. He’d be more likely to believe that you’ve been taken by a monster than Namjoon. He’d probably ask if you’ve drank or smoked anything. Get too drunk camping once and claim that bigfoot tried to kidnap you and you never get believed again.

He doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that you spoke. But then his lips purse and he looks over at you for a moment. “Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He bobs his head and turns back to catch another firework going off. “My name’s Y/n.” You murmur, unsure if he’s even interested.

It hurts a little that he didn’t seem interested in you back, but you suppose that you don’t know whatever his monster customs are. And you really shouldn’t look too deeply into why it hurts that a monster doesn’t seem interested in you. That should be a good thing. It means you have a better chance of getting away.

There’s a long break in the fireworks and Jimin’s lips push out into an adorable pout as he turns to you with sad eyes. “Is it over?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s actually just getting ready to get started. Now it’s the big show. You thought it was good before. Just wait.”

He gives a simple nod and turns back to the sky, content to wait patiently for the rest. Silence descends on you both and you feel like you should be more worried about the tentacle monster sitting in front of you. But Jimin seems harmless enough, he certainly hasn’t tried to eat you or anything and that’s certainly got to count for something. He seems far more interested in the fireworks than in you now anyway.

You’re just starting to relax when something cool and damp brushes the skin of your lower back. You freeze, back stiff as whatever it is tentatively touches the warm skin before slithering further up your shirt. You bite down on the urge to scream, you don’t want to startle Jimin again. Just because he was protective before, doesn’t mean that a scream coming from you would produce the same result. And before you can twist to see what is crawling up your shirt, the tentacles around your ankles slide a little further up your legs, ends timidly probing along your flesh as they go.

Another tentacle, one of the thicker ones, slides across your arm, wrapping once around your wrist and nestling the tip into your palm. The cool sensation is bizarrely familiar and it takes you only a moment to realize that whatever crawled up your shirt a moment ago is another tentacle. You’re about to speak when a thin tentacle trails up your arm to rest against your shoulder, gently tracing your jaw and neck.

You swallow. “Um, Jimin?” All you get is a hum in response. Does he not realize what’s going on? “Jimin? What’s happening?”

Either your words or tone finally pulls his attention to you and when he sees his tentacles wrapped around you, he flushes a pretty blue. He scoots away, working to encourage them to release you, but this time of year they always have a bit more mind of their own. He makes an irritated clicking noise when they don’t move.

The one in your hand seems to respond to his sound though you’re not sure if it’s the way he wanted it to or not but it tightens around your wrist slightly before becoming… slicker?

You look at it, a weird mix of horror and maybe a little arousal. Maybe you shouldn’t have watched so much hentai when you were younger. You look back up at Jimin, at a complete loss. “Jimin?”

Jimin looks incredibly embarrassed, burying his face in his hands and making more distressed clicking noises. Probing tentacles aside, he looks adorable all flustered like this. A few of his tentacles wrap around his wrists and shoulders, patting his skin soothingly but that only seems to make him more distressed.

The tentacle at your back has reached the tie to your bikini top beneath your shirt and is prodding at the knot with interest. You don’t know what to do to stop the distress you can practically feel coming from Jimin. The tentacle in your hand squirms slightly, drawing your attention back to it. You swallow, sneaking a quick peek at Jimin as you do the only, seemingly illogical, thing you can think of right now and you close your hand around the rowdy tentacle and squeeze.

The result is instantaneous and certainly not what you had expected. Jimin moans. So then even if he’s not in control, he can still feel through them. Interesting to know. Jimin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before his gaze is meeting yours and you suddenly feel like maybe that was the wrong thing to do.

There’s simmering fire in his eyes as he tries to speak as calmly and evenly as possibly. “I told you I come here once a year, correct?” You nod and he continues. “I come here to mate.”

You blink at him, mind completely blanking out. “M-mate?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He nods, sending a glare at the tentacles touching you. “When I saw you here, I had assumed you were one that I have spent the mating period with before.”

“Fuck, did I ruin your hookup?”

“Hookup?”

Your body heats with embarrassment. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jimin will let you go drown. “Whoever you were supposed to meet here. Did they not show up because I was here?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “I did not have plans. But sometimes if someone is near they will stop by. If they are not, I can take care of myself.”

The image of Jimin splayed out on the rocks by himself, tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapped around his cock, drawing more of those noises from him shoots straight to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand accidentally tightens around Jimin’s tentacle again, drawing a gasp from him.

“I apologize for not warning you sooner. The fireworks distracted me but it appears that it did not distract them.” He gestures to his tentacles. “Give me a moment and I should be able to free you so you can leave.”

His eyes slip closed and your gaze drags over him, startling slightly when you realize he’s started to grow hard too. You feel crazy that the first thing you think is how badly you want to touch.

This is such a bad idea, but before you can stop yourself or second guess, you’re speaking. “What if... you didn’t though?”

Jimin freezes, but the tentacles seem to grow more restless at your words. Another thick one stretches the distance between you both to rest against your thigh, slicking your skin wherever it touches.

“You do not know what you are saying.” He grits out.

The tentacle in your hand squirms and you give it a small squeeze, maintaining eye contact with Jimin as you do so you get to fully enjoy the shudder that ripples through him. “I um, think I have a pretty good idea what I’m saying.”

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. You didn’t think it would be so hard to convince a tentacle monster that you wanted him to fuck you. This was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. For all you know, he could eat his partner afterwards. If you live past this encounter, no one would ever let you live it down. If they even believed you. Your gaze drops involuntarily back to his cock and you find that he's fully hard now. And it’s almost a little intimidating how big he is, longer and thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. You don’t think your fingers would be able to wrap around the girth. But any apprehensions you think you’d feel normally are nowhere to be seen, all you feel is overwhelming want. You want to try to fit him, to feel the burn as he stretches you out. You want to taste and you want him to absolutely ruin you.

Unsure of any other way to convince him that you do want this, you switch tactics. If you can’t convince him with words, you’ll just have to show him what you want. You release the tentacle in your hand, though it keeps itself wrapped around your wrist, and move to remove your shirt. Seeming to know your plan, or maybe just through a stroke of luck, the tentacle that has been exploring your bikini top seems to have discovered how to undo the ties and as your top hits the ground beside you, your top slips to your lap.

His eyes dip to the scrap of fabric in your lap before they trace slowly back up, expression worryingly blank. You belatedly realize that this might not even be a good signal to him that you do want this. You don’t know what others of his kind look like, if any of them look anything like you. For the most part, he looks human enough, you’d think that maybe this was enough, that maybe this is at least sort of familiar to him. You feel suddenly self conscious, this was such a dumb idea. You really shouldn’t let the horny brain lead. You’re just about to cross your arms to cover yourself when the tentacle that had been on your thigh slithers up your stomach to sit between your breasts.

You glance at Jimin and his eyes seem darker, jaw clenched tight. His tentacles seem to grow more agitated behind him and the ones around your ankles tighten to tug you closer, both to your surprise and apparently also Jimin’s. He flushes, staring down at you with wide eyes as your thighs come to rest against his.

The tentacle on your chest squirms and Jimin’s gaze drops to watch. Your gaze drops too, intending to look at the tentacle currently writhing around on your chest and smearing slick there but you only make it halfway. Because Jimin is now fully hard, thick cock curving up towards his belly and the sight of it has you enraptured. He looked big when he was still soft, but now fully hard, or at least what you assume is fully hard, he looks positively massive. The skin of his cock is the same muted tan of the rest of him, the tip almost blue-gray, close to the color his cheeks turned but deeper in color, and it’s leaking more silvery looking fluid. You wonder if it’s the same thing that is leaking from his tentacles.

Jimin shudders and it takes only a moment for you to realize that the reason is because a thin tentacle has wrapped itself around the base of his cock. It makes you want to touch too. So tentatively, you reach out, gaze flicking between his cock and his face to gauge his reaction and giving him more than enough time to pull away.

He watches your fingers brush against the tip, dragging a smear of slick further down the shaft but he makes no move to stop you. He lets out a shaky exhale and, emboldened by the noise, you wrap your fingers around him. Or you at least try your best to because his girth keeps your fingers from meeting.

Jimin makes a rumbling noise and then there are two more tentacles massaging at your thighs, working their way up until they meet the edge of your shorts. They only probe along the fabric for a moment before slipping beneath and continuing their exploration towards the apex of your thighs. They trace the edge of your bikini bottoms before one of them presses against your pussy through the thin fabric.

You gasp and Jimin’s gaze is back on your face, attention wholly focused on you as his tentacles press again, but this time with a little more pressure. One happens to brush past your clit and you jolt, a moan slipping from your lips and the tentacles seem desperate to recreate that reaction as they narrow their focus to your clit.

Jimin groans again and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tentacles all stilling for a moment. He waits until you look up at him. “Are you sure? It will be harder to stop once we start. Are you positive you can handle it? I do not mind spending the time alone.”

It’s sweet how concerned he is about you. But now that he’s started, all you can think about is being fucked by him while his tentacles play with every inch of you. You squirm back slightly and he seems to take that as rejection, if the flash of disappointment you catch on his face is anything to go by. You quickly undo your shorts, tugging them down your legs, assisted by his tentacles once they reach your ankles.

He swallows and you watch as the tentacles from your ankles relocate to your thighs to keep you spread wide as the two that had been in your pants resume their work on your clit, now free of the hindrance of cloth. You bring your slick fingers to your mouth and keep eye contact as you lick them clean. It’s salty like the sea, but rather than the bitterness of cum, his has a hint of sweetness to it. It’s slightly addictive.

He stares at you for a moment and then he’s making another clicking noise and the tentacle that had been around your wrist unwraps itself and slips between your legs to join the other two already there, though it bypasses your clit to circle your dripping hole instead.

“Needy.” He coos, though you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or his tentacles. Maybe both.

He shuffles in close again, seemingly content to just watch his tentacles play with you. You whine, you like the feel of his tentacles, but you want him to touch with his hands and lips too. You want more. Maybe the needy was directed at you after all. He glances up at your noise, watching the way your mouth drops open as his tentacle finally wriggles it’s way into your pussy. It’s firmer than you expected from touching it, but still much more malleable than a cock would be. But it’s softer nature allows it greater freedom to explore your walls as it moves slowly in and out of you, certainly a different experience for you but you definitely can’t find it in you to hate it when it can reach all the right spots inside of you easily.

You reach out, grabbing the first part of Jimin you can grab, his arm, and tug him insistently down on top of you. He complies easily, seemingly curious as to what you want. You wonder if he’s ever kissed a partner before, if that’s something that his kind does. You hesitate and Jimin immediately notices, head tilting in curiosity.

“What is wrong?”

You’re gasping before you can formulate your question, the tentacle inside you having quickly found your g-spot and is now making sure to rub it with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Jimin’s head dips down and his nose rubs against yours.

“Are you okay? I have never been with a human and so I am unsure of what might hurt or bring pleasure. Please tell me if they are hurting you.”

He looks so sweet and it makes your heart stutter a little. You tilt your head, capturing his plush lips in a kiss. They’re warmer than you expected, giving the cooler temperature of his tentacles. It takes him a moment of inaction before he seems to catch on to how to kiss back. He makes a small noise when your tongue brushes his lips but he easily parts them for you. His sharp teeth skim your lip and it leaves you gasping into his mouth. He seems pleased with the response and he trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck.

“You did not answer my question.” He murmurs, teeth gently teasing the skin of your neck, mindful of their sharpness.

His tentacles are driving you mad, bringing you so close to your orgasm but seeming to know exactly when to slow back down to draw it out even longer. “What… question?” You gasp out.

“Are you okay?”

You’d scoff if the tentacles around your clit hadn’t started circling in tandem, winding the coil in your belly tighter. “So… so okay… Fuck, Jimin, are you sure you’ve never been with a human before?”

He pulls away from your neck enough to look down at you, a pleased smile stretching his lips. “I have not. Am I doing good?”

You nod enthusiastically, hands tangling in his hair to pull him back in for a messy kiss. He makes a pleased sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat and his tentacles speed up. And this time when your orgasm draws near his tentacles keep their speed rather than slowing again and you cum, back arching off the blanket as your pussy convulses around the tentacle. His tentacles continue their ministrations and Jimin pulls away to stare down at where his tentacle disappears inside you with wide eyed wonder.

He groans as he watches with rapt attention. “Does it do this every time?”

You squirm, oversensitivity quickly setting in as his tentacles refuse to let up. The borderline painful feeling robs you of words to tell him to slow down and give you just a moment to breath. The tentacle inside of you swells and then everything grows a little slicker as Jimin chokes on a gasp. You struggle to reach out to grasp any one of the tentacles, to just lessen the sensations ravaging your pussy just a little, but before you can even make contact, another tentacle is wrapping around both wrists and dragging them above your head.

“J-Jimin, please…”

Jimin pays you no mind, tentacles working faster under his focused gaze and it doesn't take long for you to be thrown into a second orgasm, though it feels almost like the first one never ended. You cry out, much too loud even if the beach is seemingly deserted right now. You shudder as your orgasm crests and Jimin’s tentacle seems to stiffen inside you before you feel suddenly wetter and stickier and full. The tentacle slips out of you after a few weaker thrusts and a small gush of thick liquid follows and the tentacle suddenly seems much less enthusiastic than its counterparts. Fuck, did that mean…?

“Jimin,” you whine, waiting until he finally tears his gaze away from your dripping pussy. “Do… do your tentacles cum too?”

His head tilts in confusion. “Come?” He thinks for a moment before realization seems to overcome him. “Ah. Do you mean do my tentacles also release?”

Embarrassment creeps over you. Something so clinical shouldn’t have you aching to be filled again when you just came twice and apparently already filled. You nod shyly.

“Yes. They also release. It is to give the best chance of a successful mating.”

You swallow, eyeing the tentacles behind him wearily. “Do they all have to?”

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “They do not. Only the big ones release. And from those, they do not all release every mating.”

You feel equal parts relieved and disappointed, though you know that you should probably question your disappointment. But you’ve already come this far, no reason to start questioning your potentially bad decisions now.

He tilts his head. “Does it bother you? They do not need to do it near you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You choke, unsure how to respond for a moment. This whole situation should really terrify and appall you. But you only find yourself growing hotter at the idea of being used by his tentacles and covered in their cum. You chew your lip before giving a small nod.

His eyes trace over your face before he seems to light up and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Does the thought of that arouse you, sweet? I must admit, most of my previous partners were less than enthused about that aspect of mating.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands in shame but Jimin’s tentacles keep your hands studiously bound above your head. Even his own kind didn’t like it. Why were you so weird? He giggles, leaning down to brush your nose with his own. His face is set with a kind smile, but his eyes still dance with mirth and lust.

“I find it very arousing that you like it so much. Tell me what you are thinking about, sweet.”

To punctuate his words, another tentacle slips between your legs, rubbing along your sticky slit. You moan and Jimin’s eyes shine with fire. “I… was thinking about you fucking me and filling me up and leaving me all messy.”

He smirks. “I can do that, sweet. Just ask.”

“Jimin, please, fuck me… Fuck, ruin me…”

Jimin’s grin turns positively feral, sharp teeth on display. And for a moment, fear ripples through you as Jimin looks truly like a monster for the first time since he’s surfaced. But then his tentacles shift around him, eager for their chance to touch. Jimin shoos the thick tentacle away from your pussy, the ones around your thighs assisting him in situating you how he wants. He runs the tips of his cock through the mess left there by his tentacle and a pleased chirp leaves him.

“You are already so full. Do you think you can take more?” He purrs.

You nod and his cock presses against your entrance. He presses just the tip in and he stretches your pussy more than the tentacle did. You gasp, breath robbed from you as the stretch borders on too much. But Jimin seems to sense it and pauses with just the tip inside, allowing you all the time to adjust to his massive cock.

Jimin’s hands skim up your thighs, the tentacles resting passively on your clit once again coming to life and the jolt of pleasure has you squirming on Jimin’s cock. His hands rest on your hips, gripping them with bruising strength to keep you from moving. You whimper at the casual display of strength, at the way that he seems to not even be trying to hold you still while his tentacles slowly circle your clit to get you to relax.

Two other tentacles slip up your body, pressing against your breasts and kneading at the flesh experimentally. The sensation is different, while the tentacles don’t have the surface area the way a hand does, they are capable of moving in ways a hand simply can’t. They grope at the flesh, exploring and testing the limits. One brushes past your nipple, causing you to gasp and suddenly both are on the pebbled buds, playing with them to draw even more noises from you. Their motions mimic the motions on your clit and pleasure sparks across your body once again.

The tentacles shift slightly, long bodies draping down the sides of your breasts and then they press the mounds inwards, forcing the flesh together around the tentacle still resting on your sternum. Jimin grunts at the sudden pressure around his tentacle and your gaze drops to watch with fascination as the tentacle starts to thrust into the tight space, silvery tip gleaming with each press through.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of it slipping a little further up and into your mouth, of tasting that salty, sweet slick from the source. A high pitched noise sounds in Jimin’s throat as his hips stutter forward at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and you moan as he slips a little further into you, stretching you just a little more. Now though, the stretch makes you ache for more, the burn finally passed with the aid of the tentacles playing with your clit and nipples and slowly pulling your pleasure back to the surface.

You really need him to be completely inside of you and when you dig your heels into his ass to try to get him to move, he seems hesitant. His tentacles, however, seem more than thrilled at the idea and more than happy to help you in your pursuit. The ones around your thighs tighten and pull you closer, until Jimin is buried to the hilt in the clutch of your pussy. The noise is filthy, the mess from his tentacle spilling out around his cock to smear on your thighs and drip down your ass.

Jimin goes rigid when he’s fully inside you, eyes trained on where you’re joined. He seems transfixed by the sight of your cunt swallowing down every inch he has. Your whine has his head snapping up to look at your face, drinking in the way you’re moaning. The tentacle between your breasts slips a little further up, tip bumping your chin once before it’s shifting to your lips. Your tongue darts out, swiping through the salty fluid. Jimin shudders, hips flexing where they press into you and you let your mouth fall open for his tentacle to slip in.

Your tongue swirls around the tip and it squirms, pushing in further than you expect and causing you to gag. It pulls itself from your mouth with a pop and you frown at it’s loss before shifting your gaze to Jimin, who seems to be glaring at the tentacle like it did something wrong.

“Jimin?” When he looks at you, you give him an amused smile. “It’s okay. It just takes me a minute.”

His head tilts but the tentacle makes its way tentatively back to your mouth, hovering until you open again for it to slip back in. It goes a lot slower this time, keeping its thrusts shallow. You hum encouragingly, tongue pressing and massaging the underside as it moves and the tentacle slides a little deeper. You gag only slightly this time, much more prepared now, and after a few thrusts you grow used to the intrusion and it can slip just a little bit more down your throat.

Jimin watches for a moment before groaning and then he’s pulling his cock out until just the tip remains before slamming back in. You moan around his tentacle, noise muffled as it delves further down your throat. It stays there for a moment and the lack of oxygen has your head start to spin. Your hands twitch where they’re still bound above your head, but before the real need for oxygen comes and you have to try to alert Jimin that you need to breathe, the tentacle is pulling out, switching to shallow thrusts while you get a quick break to breathe. The sudden rush of oxygen has you feeling nearly euphoric and you can only hope that the tentacle does it again. When you whine around it, it pushes back into your throat and the rest of the whine is muffled by it’s girth.

Jimin’s fingers flex against your hips as he watches and feels how much of his tentacle slips into the waiting warmth of your mouth and with a moan he starts fucking into your pussy with a quick pace. Your hands grab at the tentacle binding you, needing something, anything, to ground yourself as Jimin fucks you senseless. You feel wholly overwhelmed at the way his cock fills you, the way the tentacles swirl around your clit, your nipples and breasts, at the way the one in your mouth begins to stiffen up.

The tentacles shift on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh once again before pinching at your nipples. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth and it gives a shudder before flooding your mouth and throat. You choke slightly, jerking your head slightly at the sheer volume being released into your mouth, far more than you can handle. Spit and cum drip from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to swallow and the tentacle pulls itself from your mouth before it's finished, painting the lower half of your face even more in its silvery essence. Jimin’s eyes gleam at the sight, seeming to become even more frantic with his thrusts.

“J-jimin…” You whine, voice rough from use. You’re not entirely sure what you’d finish that statement with.

“You are doing so well.” He coos and the praise has your mind going fuzzy. “You look so pretty like this.”

He reaches up, sliding a hand through the mess on your cheeks before letting his hand drag the mess back down your body, leaving a shiny trail down your throat, in the valley between your breasts and across your stomach. He slams in particularly hard and you cry out, voice echoing across the empty beach and ocean, much too loud but you no longer care.

Jimin glows golden, the light haloing him and your fucked out mind is sluggish to make sense of the sudden color change. Then you remember why you were out here to begin with and you make the connection just as the resounding boom of the firework follows just after the shower of color. The fireworks show must be finally starting because the next second Jimin is bathed in blue, then pink.

But as quick as your attention was taken by the colorful shadows splashed across Jimin’s beautiful face, it’s taken back as he shifts suddenly, hands leaving your hips to push your thighs together as he continues to fuck you. Your calves come to rest on one shoulder and Jimin uses the new position to fuck you even harder.

Something slick drags along the crease where your thighs are pressed together and a second later a tentacle is pushing into the tight space. Your skin tingles where it presses into your skin and with every thrust it makes through the tight press of your thighs, it bumps the tentacles on your clit. Jimin presses a kiss to your leg and you feel the breath leave him as his tentacle speeds up and he hisses.

The sensations are nearly overwhelming, to the point that you almost miss the new slim tentacle kneading the flesh of your ass. It delivers a pinch to the skin that leaves you gasping and you’re much more aware of it as it runs along the seam of your ass. You squirm, or at least attempt to, because between the tentacles restraining you and Jimin’s firm grip on your thighs, you’re left nearly immobile as you get fucked. The tentacle slips a little further up, gathering some slick before it’s dipping back down to prod at the tight ring of muscle of your hole.

You shudder and if you could move, you’d press down onto the tentacle, force it to fill you because you need it as much as you need Jimin’s cock in you. “Fuck, please, don’t tease…”

Jimin’s face is set in concentration and you don’t think he heard you, except a second later the tentacle breaches your ass. You moan, glad that it was a smaller one to start. It thrusts tentatively, growing bolder as your noises raise in pitch and then a second slim tentacle is joining, slipping past the tight ring of muscle to thrust in counterpoint to the first.

Jimin’s thrusts slow, his head tilting back as he pants. He looks like a sculpture, so beautiful that it aches a little. Something that people should look at and marvel over. A moan slips past his lips as the tentacles in your ass speed up a little, taking some time to also shift apart and spread you open even more.

“You… are endless…” Jimin breaths out. It sounds reverent.

The tentacles slip from you and you have no time to mourn the loss before they’re being replaced by one of the thicker tentacles. The stretch hurts a little, but with so many other things happening to your body at the same time, you’re quickly distracted from the ache. The tentacle stills anyway, allowing you time to adjust to its thick girth.

“You are so full of surprises.” He says, head dropping forward once more to let his gaze rake over your shuddering figure.

The tentacle in your ass thrusts in response to Jimin’s words and when you don’t indicate any pain, both pull out and thrust roughly back in. The tentacle between your thighs and in your ass thrust opposite Jimin, keeping you full and stimulated when Jimin pulls out.

“Please… Jimin please, fill me up, you said you would…” You feel slightly delirious with need, every thrust of his tentacle adds extra pressure to your clit and you feel so close to cumming, teetering on the edge.

Jimin gives you no verbal response, only that of him pressing your thighs together a little harder. A few more thrusts of the tentacle between your thighs has you clamping down on Jimin’s cock and the one in your ass as you cum, body shuddering as the tentacles and Jimin continue to thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut, vision nearly whiting out entirely as your orgasm slams into you. The tentacle between your thighs lasts only a handful more thrusts before its stiffening and releasing, splattering your chest, belly, and thighs in the silver cum. It gives a few weak final spurts before slipping back through your thighs as Jimin parts them once more.

His cock twitches as his gaze falls over you messy form, the normally silvery liquid lighting up in splashes of color with every new explosion that happens above you both. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. One of his hands lands on your thigh as the other bats his tentacles away from your clit, an action that you're grateful for for only a moment because he quickly replaces them with his fingers. You arch and cry out, jerking your hands with enough force that you seem to startle the binding tentacle and it releases you. Your hands wrap around his wrist, tugging futilely at it to get him to let up.

You moan his name desperately, trying to squirm away from the sensation as his tentacles keep you held close as he continues to fuck you through your overstimulation.

“Can you do that for me one more time? You feel so good when you do that, sweet.”

You whimper. You want to say no, that it hurts a little and that you really don’t think you’re capable of another orgasm. But the pout he wears stops you and you find yourself nodding without even thinking about how you’re going to get past the too much feeling currently overwhelming your body.

Jimin gives you another feral grin, eyes roving over your figure as his fingers work quick circles around your clit. For no experience with a human, he’s an incredibly fast learner. He seems to know your body better than your ex had and the two of you had been together for almost 2 years.

The tentacles on your breasts move to collect some of the slick covering you, smearing it around your nipples as the pinch and play with them, the slick adding a new layer of feeling to the actions.

“Come on, sweet.” Jimin purrs as his cock seems to swell ever more and the tentacle in your ass starts to stiffen.

Another rough thrust and a few twists of his fingers and you’re cumming again with a cry of his name. Your pussy and ass convulses around him and Jimin lets out a series of clicks and chirps as he finally cums, flooding your pussy and ass with more silvery slick. There seems to be a never ending stream from his cock and after a few moments, pressure on your lower stomach makes you look down, groaning at the sight of your slightly distended belly.

Jimin makes a contented noise, rubbing gently over the swell. “You would look so beautiful swollen with my children.”

His cock gives another twitch and a feeble last spurt of cum and Jimin and his tentacles seem to deflate. His chin presses to his chest as he takes in slow, deep breaths. The tentacles all slowly slip from your body and you mourn the slight warmth you lose. Another few moments pass and then Jimin is gingerly pulling his cock from your abuse pussy and gazing over your whole body with almost reverence.

You feel too exhausted to do much more, but you can feel his cum dripping from you, forming a puddle beneath your ass. At least you're next to the ocean for easy clean up. If you had the energy to do that. Maybe in 5 minutes… Or an hour. You can’t even feel your legs right now. You’re pretty sure you’d just drown.

Jimin stretches out beside you, arm coming to wrap around your middle, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it lands in a mess. You blearily realize that his tentacles seem much smaller now too. His head tilts and you realize that he’s watching the fireworks again. Like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you ruined for anyone who comes after him.

You watch in silence for a while, endeared by Jimin’s ohs and ahs as he discovers new types of fireworks, the different shapes and effects that can happen.

“Jimin.” You call softly. His nose brushes your shoulder in response. “Will… Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Jimin pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at you, frown marring his pretty face. “What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly hating that you’re naked and still covered in him. You glance over at the water.

“Do you wish to go in, sweet?”

It’s an easy out and you don’t feel strong enough to ask the real question yet, so you give him a simple nod. He grins, scooping you up and gracefully sliding you both into the water, arm wrapped tight around your middle to keep you afloat.

Colors flash around you as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, every color reflected there as well. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised noise and then giggles when you pull away.

“Do you wish to go again?”

Embarrassment fills you and you shake your head. “No. Um…” You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Will I see you again?”

Jimin’s face is unreadable for a painful stretch of time, though you’re sure it’s only a few seconds before he’s grinning. “I find myself quite taken by humans. I could certainly use a guide.”

You grin back, pecking him again. “First lesson, when humans like someone and want to spend time with them and go on dates, they give them kisses.”

He hums, giving you a kiss of his own, just a little deeper than yours. “I think I quite like kisses.” Then he grins and it’s full of mischief. “I think fireworks are my favorite though.”

You snort, prodding him with a finger. “You sure it’s the fireworks you like?”

He makes a thoughtful noise before nodding. “They make you luminous, sweet.”

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb event 2020 #tsb collab 2020 #monster au #tentacle au

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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