#sinking stone fiction

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [7] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, focus: jongho x reader, wooyoung x reader; mingi x reader; 9.7k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: MCD, murder references, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, lying, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore

Chapter 7:

Sweat sinks into the mats below you, your skin sticking to the rubber. Your hands waver, struggle against the wooden pole gripped in your fists. A slight misstep and you doubt you'd be able to stop it from breaking your neck. He stares at you. His body is not like yours – unmoving, relentless in his hold. You should be a bit proud that you made him sweat at all. There's a bit of perspiration coating his forehead, shiny against the backdrop of darkness. His wear is much more firm that what they usually wear – wispy sheer cloth now a darker, workout-like clothing. He wears nothing on his feet still, blonde hair slicked back, only small strands escaping the style. If it weren’t for the situation you’re in at this very moment, you’d loosen your hold and admire him.

“You will die, nymph, if I pressed even a fraction more.”

Your hold trembles, “I have told you all already that I'm not strong compared to faeries–”

He pulls it from your hands entirely, throwing it to the side. It splinters against the stone wall, you turning your gaze away from smaller pieces flying over. He does not flinch at all, reaching down to grab another pole. This one is more flimsy, plastic as he coats it with powder. You slowly lean forward, desperate to catch your breath. Body aching, you rise to reach for the small bottle of water you brought with you. He looks at you.

“Another.”

You pause in the middle of gulping. “We barely had a break.”

“I never told you that we were pausing. This is not for your comfort. This is to test your limits, to see you turn into a kumiho. To help you defend yourself until you're able to control your own strength at will. Your exhaustion now is mental, nothing more.”

You look down at yourself, body coated in sweat. “Doesn’t look mental to me.”

Mingi merely sighs. “Again, nymph.”

“What happens when I figure out how to control my other self, or whatever you want to call it?”

“We use it to our advantage. We defend against the Seelie, against any who may attempt to dethrone us.”

“And if I don't want that?”

He glances at you, amused. There is no answer to your question but it is an easy guess. They will end your life. Without as much as a second thought.

Not much time has passed since Seonghwa told you what he believed you were. You still vehemently disagree with his assumption, but the others don't. From his guess led you to rarely being left alone with one of them now, except for Mingi, oddly - though you do not doubt one of the others is somewhere around, peeking through a window or hiding in the thickened forest.

Mingi lifts his hand, words mumbled beneath his breath as he stares at the broken stick. It mends itself slowly, morphing into smaller, perfect chips of wood. He flicks his hand, tossing it into the grass. He voted for you to die. Neither of you have brought it up since your life was spared, but you cannot help but wonder. Why did he want you to die? Is it because of Seonghwa, whatever he may have said to him? Did he see your presence as so much of a threat he needed you gone? His personality hasn't changed at all – indifferent, slips of his true personality shown whenever he let his mask fall. From what you can gather from those moments and how he speaks when he doesn't see you around, he's kind. Funny, a bit loud. Endlessly teased by the others. Blunt and honest. A bit more closed off than what you’ve seen before, but it would make sense since he did say he wanted you dead.

You believe you two would be great friends if it weren't for the circumstances surrounding your stay here.

“We leave tonight,” he tosses you the metal stick, and you barely catch it, balancing it between two fingers. “Seonghwa and Jongho will be around. Yeosang and San are hunting but will be back soon, just before we leave. Our house is secure, but it will be more vulnerable while we aren't here. You won't become an expert in Seelie weaknesses in an hour, but this next brief lesson will be enough for you to survive for a few minutes, at least. Until one of us comes to help.”

“How reassuring,” you mumble.

A small smile peeks out. “A brief refresher might be needed. Seelie and Unseelie are similar in many ways, and different in so much more. To put it simply – they thrive on light, on goodness, luck, wealth, care, etcetera. We feed on terror, fear, life, chaos. We may seem evil, of which we are to a certain extent, but our kind are both faeries. Our weaknesses are similar. Seelie in particular, though, has a greater one. How joyous we as Unseelie are when we find someone in despair is quite comparable to how aroused they are when they see pure happiness. It is their greatest weakness.”

“Hate to break it to you Mingi, but there’s little for me to be happy about right now.”

He snorts, the smile breaking out into a wider grin. “That I know. This is just for information purposes. They can tell it is fake just as we can tell when you are truly afraid. It is part of our nature,” he points to your palms. “The metal that you hold in your hands now is blessed by gnomes. It holds in the wielder’s emotions, whether it be negative or positive, and exemplifies it. Right now from where I stand, I can feel the anxious energy emitting from you. With that in your hand, I can feel it tenfold.”

“And this could help…?” Your doubt is evident in the dragging of your words, peering at Mingi. He nods simply.

“When you are happy, hold that. Magic casted on it helps store it inside. It will lure Seelie to you.”

“And I would want that for?”

He takes it from you, pointing it farther away from the two of you. A spark lights, flying through the air. The crack of the tree crumbling beneath the impact echoes around the night, your own eyes widening at the sight. What once was a lively tree is now a crumbled mess of wood and sticks, flames flickering in the night. He whispers against his hair and blows, the fire dissipating.

“For that.” His eyebrow lifts, passing it back to you. “Use it wisely.”

–

“Yeosang can listen to it. Her thoughts, that is.”

“A bit peculiar,” Seonghwa mumbles, flipping through his book. “Perhaps it is because his gifts have always leaned towards it. He was the first of us to excel at tormenting human minds, it makes sense that he is the only one who can somewhat hear what she thinks.”

“But she is neither a human nor a faerie. It makes less sense that he can do it at all.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“That you will figure out why, at least.”

“There is no reason to anymore.”

Jongho observes him silently, his own thoughts scattered. “You were interested in here before – what changed?”

“Her being a threat to us changed, Jongho. Why would I want to dig deeper into it when I have already told you all that it wasn't a good idea to have her around? One day it will happen. One day she will hurt one of us. Or cause one of us to be hurt. There will be no room for me to say I told you so because we’d be long past that.”

“Then it should be imperative that we start digging deeper into what she can and cannot do.”

Seonghwa turns over his book and flattens it against the wooden desk, peering over his glasses. “And then what? She is already resistant to many of our strengths aside from physical. If I tested her further, it's possible that I may awaken something that's been long buried. I do believe that she doesn't believe she's a kumiho. It's best for us to not trigger her true nature at all. Kumihos are legends – having one rise on Earth now can lead to its destruction.”

“Is it such a good idea to ignore it, though? We would need to know eventually. It’s better for it to happen now rather than later.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes as he stares at his mate. “Has Mingi started his training again? Why that tree is destroyed in the front yard? Is this why we're having this conversation so I won't be furious once I find out?”

Jongho’s lips remain shut, quickly getting to his feet when Seonghwa stands. “Wait, you have to understand why we're doing it. It is to protect us from Seelie, from other faeries. Having someone like her on our side will be an advantage.”

“Then so be it. Do what you'd like. Don't expect me to endorse it, because I won't,” he avoids Jongho’s touch, shaking his head slightly. “I care for you all dearly, and I would listen to any of your opinions on something this serious without as much as a blink. This situation, this woman, how most of you have thrown my words to the side–” He takes a breath. “There's no use in dwelling on it further. Tell Mingi to meet them at the edge of the Rowan trees. They will be waiting.”

Seonghwa walks to his coat rack, raising his finger slightly to slide the clothing over his body. He does not bother looking back at Jongho, knowing well what expression he'd be showing him now. In a different situation, Seonghwa would follow their words, their instincts. Even if he were wrong, completely, having his words disregarded because of lust –

He cannot fathom how he will continue going on like this.

–

Mingi lifts the hood over his head, face disappearing beneath the shadow it forms. Yunho, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung wait at the edge of the trees, as Jongho said. Yunho places a hand on Mingi’s shoulder as he moves just behind Hongjoong. None say a word. Their leader closes his eyes, dead leaves trembling beneath their feet. Though there are no markings, they stand in an old cemetery, long decayed bodies dust beneath the ground in wooden caskets. They watch as the forest speaks to them, warm air gusting, pulling the hoodie off of Mingi’s head. Hongjoong’s reaches back, Wooyoung taking his hand, Yunho taking his, and Mingi taking Yunho’s last. Within a blink they’re gone from the rowan trees. Mingi stumbles slightly as his feet land on unholy soil, Wooyoung whistling as he pulls his own hood off his hair.

“Hells, I’d never get used to that,” he grins. “Is everyone here yet?”

“A few more stragglers, then we’d be able to speak to everyone,” Hongjoong says, their steps identical as they follow him up the stone path. It is silly to consider the building in front of them Unseelie headquarters, but it is where the leaders meet for pertinent discussions. Rarely do any of them ever enter the palace, its essence being cared for by chaos itself. The hall remains empty as Hongjoong swings open the door with a nudge.

“Bothersome, the blood still seeps into the carpet from years ago,” Yunho murmurs, glancing down at the stains. It looks fresh, as if they’ve just slain a creature moments ago. This is what they consider the in-between - this place never really changes. That blood could be from someone who hasn’t existed in this realm for over a hundred years ago and it’d still be fresh. Time does not truly exist where they are, though it passes in the realms beyond.

Mingi barely gives it a glance himself, tucking himself further into the cloak he wears. Wooyoung jumps up slightly, wrapping his arm around the taller Unseelie.

“You’re the one that did it Mingi, no need to feel ashamed!” He touches his back, rubbing it lightly. “Remember how you struck down those Seelie? We haven’t even seen those wings in so long.”

Mingi's back aches, the ribbing of his wings straining against his sealed skin. He hasn't let them breathe for months. They yearn to escape his body, to lift in flight. But for some reason unknown to himself, he cannot, no matter how hard he tries.

“Enough, Wooyoung. We have things to do,” Yunho pulls him away from Mingi. Though neither meet each other’s eyes, Yunho can see how Mingi’s tense body relaxes just a bit, the two Unseelie disappearing down the hall. Leaving Hongjoong and Mingi alone.

The last time this happened was just before Hongjoong asked him to turn into your human partner to break things off permanently with you. His body aches at the thought of molding himself into something else again. But he would do it if Hongjoong asked. Without thinking twice about it.

“They will look to us for answers, Mingi,” Hongjoong says, walking slowly as he follows. “Most would want to start a war.”

“Would you allow it?”

Hongjoong thinks for a moment, “No. Not yet. What you’re doing with the girl, training her. It is smart. It may caution her to pause if she turns on us in the future. Perhaps even our livers will remain intact.” Hongjoong pats his stomach, a dry laugh escaping his lips. “At least for the moment anyway.”

“Is this the path we are going to take? Allowing her to continue training, keeping an eye until the very last moment?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Do you have anything else to suggest? It was not unanimous, but we voted on keeping her around and alive. At least for now. It’s better to strengthen rather than not. Having a Seelie take her away while we’re in the middle of bonding with her would be unfortunate. But that is not all you’re asking, right?”

Mingi cannot come up with another response, mouth opening and closing. Hongjoong stops walking, turning on his heel to look at Mingi. "It is unbecoming of you to hide your own feelings, Mingi. We all witnessed how your body tormented itself when you turned into her dead partner. It rejected it so violently, because you desire her yourself."

Mingi's frown deepens. "Don't start with this."

"You like her Mingi. I never thought I'd see the day." The teasing look spreads across his face, smirk deep enough to show the small curvature of his dimples just above his lips. Mingi tries to ignore the look as much as he can, but Hongjoong only sits in anticipated silence. Very likely waiting for the words of confirmation.

"Why does it matter if that were true?"

Though it is not a certain confirmation, it is enough for Hongjoong. He hums, "We make our decisions as a spark, Mingi. I won't leave any of you behind as I observe this y/n. I want to know how each of you feel before I offer a choice to all of you."

“We said she will stay alive.”

“Momentarily, yes. But that’s not the choice I was speaking to.”

"Then what choice will that be?"

Hongjoong’s canine peeks out, sinking into his bottom lip. "What would be the fun in telling you that?"

  –

Jongho bends the spine in half, wincing slightly as he hears the book’s glue crack. San would be furious seeing him treating the book this way, but alas, he could care so very little. Most of the editions he has on his shelves are what San has gifted him, likely due to how Jongho treated the writing. Books are meant to be read though, he would hate to see unworn copies lining the shelves. His ear twitches, the familiar steps of yours passing his room and down to your own. He never had his door closed until you arrived, many of his spark popping in every now and again to say their greetings. Frankly, he would have kept it open even with your presence if it weren’t for the look Seonghwa threw at him when you first arrived. Now, only the main areas are left open, doors to each of their chambers closed. He knows why Seonghwa worries, why he listens to every conversation someone has with you, why he has carved spells everywhere in the home. The reasoning does not go past him; he is keeping a close-eye on you in the event that you snap. Wooyoung is the only one that has removed the spell on his room though, after his … well, his late night caress with you.

“Your mind always wonders with those tales,” San enters his room, shutting the door behind him. “Mindless enough that you didn’t pay mind to my knockings.”

“I thought you were out hunting with Yeosang?”

“It was brief, there were Seelies hanging around,” San sighs, throwing himself into Jongho’s bed. He glances over, a frown slowly forming. “Yeosang thought it best that we only bring in one miserable human rather than two. So whoever is in dire need of feeding, it’s in the basement. I placed a spell on it to subdue its hysterics temporarily.”

“Basement…” Jongho’s nose wrinkles. “Why do we hide it? She knows we kill humans. In fact, she should encourage it since she is a kumiho.”

“A reformed kumiho, from what we understand. No longer feeding on the livers of men, unfortunately. He thought it best we keep it away so she doesn’t stumble across it.”

“What about you?” Jongho asks softly. His frown slips away as he takes in those three words. “What will you feed on?”

“What I have already done so far, it is enough for now.” “San, that Seelie you ran into while in town with her, he was right. Pushing away your true nature will only make it harder for you to control yourself. You should take his – Hongjoong’s – words into consideration.”

“I am not leaving this spark. I chose this, I chose all of you. Hongjoong knows that, Yeonjun knows that. You know that.” His words carry a sense of finality, leaning up. “I've fought for this, for us to be together as we are now. I gave up everything. And I’ve said that it isn’t up for discussion. I will not leave unless you all kick me out. Is that what you want, for me to be removed?”

Jongho closes his book, “That is not at all what I’m saying, San.”

“For a spark of Unseelie, all of you worry too much about things that do not affect you.” San ignores the look Jongho gives him, waving him off. “I know, no need to give me a talk about how much you all care. I’ve heard it dozens of times.”

“And it seems like it hasn’t sunk in yet despite that.”

“Jongho please,” San closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I love you all, more than you could ever believe. I will protect you with my life if need be. This is a choice that I have made. I will not leave in the face of distant peril. I will not leave because I haven’t grown accustomed to feeding like you. I am here. I’d rather not discuss this again, at least with you. You know where I stand, no?” Jongho’s hand reaches for San’s, and he takes it promptly, lifting it to press his lips on the back. “Promise that you will not discuss this with me again.”

Jongho looks at him, the darkened skin beneath his lids, the redness of his eyes. His inner struggle has not gone unnoticed by any of them - most worried for his well-being. Going against your own nature, it is almost impossible to do. He is only concerned that it may go too far before any of them can help.

“I cannot promise that, you know that,” Jongho says softly. “It may need to be dealt with in the near future.”

“Then promise to not bring it up unless absolutely needed.”

“I promise.”

He leans forward, lips moving from his hand and brushing lightly against Jongho’s lips before moving away. “Alright.”

—

Jongho can see a bit of the appeal of you. Your otherworldly form, though hidden, could be one reason. But despite that, he can see why Wooyoung so desperately needs your presence. It almost makes sense as to why they all somehow enjoyed you around, even if it were a miniscule amount. That is what kumihos do. It worried them all after it was revealed. Most needed firm assurance from Seonghwa that you aren’t far gone enough for them to worry. Despite how much Seonghwa wanted to hide it, he agreed. At least, for now.

Jongho sits on the single sofa chair, eyes flicking over to you.

Your body is mostly covered with the blanket that rests on the couch, a small book beneath the coloring one that you have. It hasn’t been touched since they’ve come here - none desired to rest in the main living space. After you’ve settled yourself in the room, the space has transformed entirely. Spellbooks thrown on the table in the middle, several potions lining the walls, baskets of supplies scattered about. Oftentimes they all spent their free time in the area, chatting about unimportant things even while you weren’t around. It feels more lived in the more he looks at it. He wonders if the rest noticed the change as well.

“You guys love to stare,” you note. He looks at your face, your gaze amused as your eyes flick back down to the page, marker shading the characters. The blanket is wrapped around your head, face barely peeking from the shade it brings. “Is that what you do to lure people to their demise? Watch them until they notice?”

“Most are too occupied with other matters to pay concern to how we hunt.”

“Hmm.” You continue. “Are you on duty now to watch me, then? Seonghwa put you up to this?”

His nose wrinkles. “He hasn’t told me to do anything.”

“That you���re sure of? Because this is the first time I’ve been alone in a room aside from my own, and you haven’t said anything except to stare.”

“I am just curious about you.”

You raise a brow, gliding your marker across the pages. “I’m an open book. You can ask.”

You’ve spent time with each other, small chats turning into a friendship, even if it’s only the beginning of one. He hasn’t pried into your personal life, only commenting on surface level things that wouldn’t get you agitated. Asking what he is curious about may sway what you two have built. It makes him nervous, which is humorous in itself.

“Is it wrong to say that I expected you to turn into a kumiho and run once Seonghwa told us?”

You snicker softly, closing your marker and grabbing another. “It’s not wrong to say, but it’s a little funny. I don’t believe in myself being this nine-tailed fox you talk about. It would be cool if I were, though. I’d feel less defenseless.”

He nods slowly, “You still don’t believe Seonghwa?”

“How could I? His little speech was based on theories, and everytime I try to talk to him about it he leaves the room. I get not wanting to be around me but it’s a bit much, don’t you think? I did one thing that happened months ago and nothing has happened since. He didn’t even take into account the first time I was almost killed by a Seelie in the bookstore. Nothing happened then.”

Ah, he himself forgot about that. “That is what you believe? That you’re not a kumiho?”

You nod, holding a marker between your lips as you dig for another. “I do.”

“Then so do I,” he agrees simply.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Even if everyone else doesn’t?”

“Since when did our thoughts have to align? I am my own being, y/n, even if you don’t think it true. So if you believe that you’re fully human, then I believe it as well. It shouldn’t be a hard concept to comprehend.”

You pause. None of them so easily believed anything you’ve said to them, even Wooyoung. You can’t quite decipher what Jongho’s end-goal would be - defying everyone else’s beliefs would only cause him trouble in the end. This would hurt him, listening to your words. Why?

You look back down at your coloring sheet. It’s a simple hobby - you rarely indulge due to your busy life. Now that all you do is wake and train then sleep, it fills in the hours of nothing. What you stare down at now, the deepened orange of a sunset, the wide stretched m birds along the horizon. It used to help distract you, calm yourself. But all you can feel now is fear. Endless fear of what is to come.

“I’m a slightly wrinkled book, but you can ask me anything you’d like.”

You let your feelings subside briefly, eyes flicking up to him. “Everytime I ask Wooyoung about other types of fae he doesn’t even let me ask.”

Jongho laughs, “Because he’s stubborn. But I wouldn’t mind. What do you want to know?”

“Which ones are real.”

“Alright.”

Still suspicious, you continue. “Gnomes.”

“Real.”

“Elves.”

“Real.”

“Selkie?”

“Not the term we use, but yes. Real.”

“Sirens.”

“Real.”

Your eyes widened, “So pirates were telling the truth?”

He nods simply, “Yes. But they’re numbers have dwindled. There is likely less than fifty left in this world.”

“If Sirens are real, then-”

“Mermaids are real too, yes,” A cheeky grin crosses his lips as you stare at him in shock. “A small colony is not too far away from us. I can bring you one day if you’d like.”

“This is where you two have gone,” San enters the room, lip twitching into a frown slightly as he observes you. You stop coloring, sliding the markers back into the small box and standing. “Wait, no need to leave because I’ve entered-”

“Not leaving because of you,” the lie falls from your lips. “Leaving because I have to practice with the majik pole Mingi gave me.”

“Majik… pole…?” He watches as you leave the room, eyes meeting Jongho’s. “Is this a human word that I don’t know? I should know, I watch plenty of their cinema.”

Jongho merely snorts, shaking his head.

–

It is not often they attend these meetings. It is usually done with all eight of them in attendance - showing power in numbers is what temperaments Unseelie. Sparks vary in size but rarely do they contain over five Unseelie. Hongjoong’s spark, consisting of eight, is a large factor in his position rarely being threatened. His existence as their leader has not shifted in hundreds of years due to it. So standing now, with only three Unseelie behind him, well, it is not ideal. Mingi can see it well - how they look upon them, the sneers that are hidden usually, displayed on their faces. Sparks of two to five stand beneath them, thoughts elsewhere as Hongjoong speaks. Mingi’s gaze shifts to one group in particular. Decades prior their leader attempted a coup, one that ended in her death. None have been tried since, but it has been long. Soon, the Unseelie will grow tired of Hongjoong’s rule. Soon, their rule may end.

“Seelie have always stuck themselves in places they didn’t belong,” One retorts in the crowd. “It was deserved for some to die. But they have killed several of us, while we have done barely half of ten. We should strike instead of hesitating, it makes us look weak.”

Hongjoong laughs at the suggestion, “Then you venture forth yourself, Hanbin. Tell me how it works out.”

“Are you joking with me?”

“How could I not? Their numbers surpass ours by almost double, they can function at night and during the day. We ourselves cannot use majik as well in the daylight. We are at a disadvantage and have always been. It would be nonsensical to venture down the path of death. But if you'd like to, I won't stop you. Your death will be in your own hands.”

It is a jab, even if it is small. Hanbin’s lips pursed, gaze flicking away. Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho do not offer any additional points, knowing only to speak when spoken to. Especially at events like these.

“What do we do then?” Another asks from the crowd.

“We wait.”

“For how long?”

Hongjoong's gaze moves to the one who questioned him, eyes narrowing. “Until it is time.”

–

“They are growing uneasy,” Yunho notes, head covering slipping from his hair. He rests in the chair adjacent to Hongjoong’s rubbing his temple. “Your words will only satiate them momentarily. They will need to know further explanation before trusting in you.”

“They’ve trusted in me for hundreds of years, doubting me now will only bring their peril.”

“We haven’t interacted with the Seelie in hundreds of years too, so there was no need for an uprising. Now that we’re moving closer to a war, it would make sense that they become wary,” Yunho notes, gesturing for Mingi to sit near him. “And we do not have many faerie allies. It makes sense that they worry.”

Mingi ignores the movement, eyes glued to Hongjoong’s. “We should have killed her or given her up to Seelie.”

Hongjoong’s laugh is boisterous, “Give her up? She is a weapon, Mingi. It would be foolish to pass her over. A rare commodity like her cannot just be given away at the inkling of possible chaos. Is that not what we live for?” He moves closer to him, reaching up to pull a loose strand away from his cheek. “Have you grown bored at your old age?”

Mingi steps away slightly, in tune to how Hongjoong’s smile slips. There has been a barrier between them since his last stint, his recovery from the transformation rough. The air thickens a bit in the brief period of silence, Mingi’s eyes anywhere but where he stands.

“I don’t agree with you wanting her dead, but if she is truly what she says she is, would she eventually grow to hate us? It is in her innately,” Wooyoung murmurs, fingers twisting a loose string between them. “She just began to care for me.”

“It’s not impossible, but I’ll try my best not to let it happen,” Hongjoong grabs his overcoat, head flicking to the door. He does not acknowledge the lull in conversation, and neither does Mingi, shifting closer to Yunho. “I have another meeting to attend, but you all can head back. It’s best not to keep our land in such low numbers for so long.”

“I will go with you,” Yunho says, fingertips light against Mingi’s arm as he stands. The touch is brief, Mingi’s breath hitching. “Mingi and Wooyoung can go back.”

“Yun…” Wooyoung whines, stopping once he sees how unsettled Mingi looks. He stands, arm wrapping around his center. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

–

You can barely catch your breath, almost dry heaving into the dirt beneath you. Getting away from them to train yourself as hard as you have wasn’t the greatest idea. But you could hardly stand being in a room with more than one of them right now. You wish you could be back in your apartment, or maybe in your bookstore. The smell of old books was much more comforting than being here. Agreeing to staying was not an easy choice to make.

You just didn’t want to die.

You slowly stand, wiping away the small pebbles that indent your knees and palms, flicking them back to the ground. The evening sun burns on your back as you grip the water bottle.

“Fuck this place,” you murmur to yourself. You lean to grab your bag, stopping in place. Not too far off, deep within the darkened forest, something stands there. It does not say a word, but you can see how the silhouette is hidden behind the thick trunks. It does not move. You can feel your heartbeat pick up its pace, your fingers wrapping around your bag tightly as you stare at it. Something tells you not to turn around, not to give it your back.

“y/n?”

Jongho moves into your line of sight. Your gaze flicks over to him only for a second, but when you look back, the figure is gone. His brows furrow at your cold expression, following your gaze. “What’s going on?”

“There was someone there watching me, Jongho,” you move closer to him, fear riddling your body. “I swear there was.”

He nods slowly, recognition crossing his features. “No need to worry, just pixies.”

“Pixies?” Your voice is incredulous, glancing back at the spot. “I thought no one else could enter this land?”

“Pixies aren’t allowed to enter our territory, yes. But they live in the rowan trees. That lining that you see around us, it’s the barrier between us and them. They haven’t been really active when you’re around, so I’m a bit shocked that they showed themselves to you anyway,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seonghwa isn’t going to be happy they're still hanging around.”

“Are they…?”

“Will they hurt you?” Jongho asks, and you nod. “No. They’re curious faeries, a bit mischievous, but they only care for the trees. Maybe they will make you trip over a branch or fall into a fit of laughter, but that’s all. They’re just curious about you - not many see kumihos in person.”

“How do they know about that?”

“They listen to the trees speak, y/n. For us, our home is a giant one.” He winces at something you cannot hear, turning toward the house. Though your senses aren’t as heightened as Jongho’s, you can hear doors opening and shutting loudly, a familiar voice erupting throughout. “An Unseelie is running through the halls to look for you. You should go and meet up with him, less of a chance he’d break something.”

“Maybe later,” you say. Jongho looks a bit surprised, brow raised. “Believe it or not, sometimes I do want to spend time with people other than him.”

“Me?” His cheek lifts, eyes flicking between yours. “Wooyoung has monopolized you. I just thought you enjoyed it.”

“I do enjoy him, but I also enjoy hanging out with you.”

Jongho does not respond. His cheeks lift at your words, glancing at the house before resting on you. Though no words are exchanged, he turns and walks toward the woods, your steps following him close. There is little hesitation as he holds out his hand, your fingers easily sliding into his palm. Just as you hear the backdoor of the house creak, Jongho and you disappear into the brush.

–

“Has she not had enough of him?” His voice is sour, disgruntled brows seemingly permanently furrowed. Seonghwa merely rolls his eyes, shifting another box into the corner with the flick of a finger. It has barely been an hour since you left with Jongho, and Wooyoung has decidedly glued himself to Seonghwa’s quarters. He’s not as used to Wooyoung seeking his advice, the Unseelie often only letting Hongjoong’s whisper sweet words to him. More recently, though, despite his stance on your presence in their home, Wooyoung lets himself into his personal areas more often than not, pestering him about you. “She’s spent most of her time with him idly by, she should miss me more.”

“Overcrowding her isn’t going to help her seek you, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa mumbles, glancing over his work. “Has Hongjoong arrived yet?”

“But she likes me more,” he insists, glaring at his mate.

“Stop acting like an unruly pixie and give her space. Where is Hongjoong?”

“It isn’t fair, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wooyoung, I’ve asked the question twice already.”

Wooyoung sighs, rubbing his head. “He stayed behind a while longer. Yunho stayed with him just in case.”

“And Mingi?”

“He came back with me then left, saying something about seeking refuge outside this home. You know how he is, with his pretty words.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, thinking. “Did any of them say when they’ll be coming back?”

“Likely not until tomorrow. But for Mingi, who knows. Maybe Yunho or San can find him meandering the unholy lands.”

That is the one he is worried for. Seonghwa steps to a window, gaze resting upon the thickened forest. Jongho knows better than to keep you in the rowan trees after dark, so Seonghwa isn’t too worried. Nothing is out there now that could stir something within you. Wooyoung steps near him, hand wrapping around his limp fingers. He squeezes it once, lips pressing against his jaw before stepping away and out.

Seonghwa rubs his temple. Whatever Hongjoong may or may not be up to, he knows well enough that it’s not good. He hates the unnecessarily lavish mansion, and hates appeasing Unseelie to stop a revolt. Politics is something none of them enjoy. So his stay after everything has been settled is just odd in itself.

He does not like this feeling.

Not at all.

–

Jongho holds a finger to his lips, looking back at you. You nod, shifting closer to his body as you look ahead. The lake is vast. These woods surprise you with the amount of differentiation of ecosystems hidden. Likely due to it being filled with faeries and other magic. You do recall the townsfolk speaking of avoiding venturing deeper into the forest. The festival that you attended months ago was another way of preventing anything nefarious from sneaking out from the leaves. You didn’t believe it at the time, but now it makes sense. Though it did not stop Seonghwa from seeking you out.

Jongho lightly touches your shoulder, guiding you to sink further behind the large bush. You do not see it at first.

The water shimmers, current swirling. The lake seems to bubble, large fins rising from its depths. You hold a hand over your mouth as you gaze ahead, heads appearing one by one. They’re too far for you to see clearly, but Jongho warned you that this was a safe enough distance. He could protect you if it ever came to it, but he preferred to not start another quarrel that wasn’t needed.

The mermaids aren’t what you imagined. Heads covered in scales, luminescent. Their laughter flows through the air and into your ears. Like bells chiming as wind flows through them. They’re alluring - beauty behind what your mind could conjure up by itself. Jongho’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. His whisper is barely heard, but you can see the water moving. The mermaids turn to where Jongho and you are, but they do not move. The current grows wild, thrashing against the shoreline. He pulls you away from it all, your head turning back for a last glance.

Though they’re too far away for you to see details of their faces, their stare unsettles you.

As if they are warning you.

–

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you closer,” Jongho explains, sending you a small smile. “Seonghwa would kill me if I let something happen. We already have enough happening to last a lifetime.”

“I’m thankful you brought me here, anyway,” you say, letting his hold help you over a deep hole. “What spell did you cast, just before we left?”

“High tides,” he grins. “They began sensing someone was watching. Unlike the mermaids from the tales, they can breathe on land. But they much prefer the coolness of water. I stopped them from getting closer to us as we left,” he glances up at the sky. “It’s getting late.”

“Is San going to yell at us?” you joke, and he laughs lightly.

"Believe it or not, he’s quite adventurous in comparison to Seonghwa. He loves so tenderly, there has never been one kinder," Jongho says softly. "He praises me like I'm the most, but we all know it is him. Not one of us matches his devotion."

You’re not too sure how to respond to that, San’s resolute anger at your presence only waning slightly. You’re sure he’d prefer if you weren’t here at all, even though he voted to save your life. But Jongho believes you when you say you’re not a kumiho, so you’ll believe him when he speaks of San.

"You're my favorite human friend," Jongho whispers, gazing at the branches that hang over you. "I'm sorry that I want you to be more than that."

Now this is surprising. You stop walking, hand leaving him. He looks at you, cheeks flushed. “Ah, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

"More?" Is all you can muster to say.

His soft gaze resting on yours. It's hard to keep your eyes steady on his, the feeling leaking from the heavy look more than what you've ever experienced before. With Wooyoung, with Soobin. They looked at you lovingly, sure, but Jongho? Your stomach twists the more you hold his gaze.

"I'm sorry that I am so desperate to be your lover."

The breeze whispers through the leaves, hairs resting on his forehead lifting back from his skin. A scar from the banquet hall fight months prior shines at you. A reminder of what he's done, what he did, and what he will continue to do, as long as the others agree to it. It's overwhelming, these strange feelings appearing with them all. All unique and different, but still quite new.

"Why are you trying to go where I can't follow,?" He asks softly after the brief quiet.

"I'm right here."

His lips curl into a soft smile, "You were in that mind of yours. I can't go there."

You swallow. "I'm scared, Jongho."

"I know," his eyes soften, lids heavier. "It's a lot to say when we haven't known each other for that long. And it frightens me even more that I feel this way. You don’t need to do anything about my feelings. I’ll be fine as I am now."

His eyes flick to the sky, “But we should probably head back. Seonghwa must be furious.” He holds out his hand, and you take it, letting him pull you forward through the path you took.

–

Furious is an understatement.

Seonghwa paces back and forth on the edge of the woods, hands crossed against his chest, angered eyes unmoving as you two enter the clearing. Jongho lets go of your hand, opening his mouth to speak. Seonghwa does not allow it though - frown deepening as he waits for you two to come closer.

“I lost track of time.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. You expect seething words from Seonghwa, but he only sighs, waving him off.

“Go inside. I need to speak with her by myself.”

Jongho gives you a pitiful look before disappearing from sight, leaving the two of you alone. As alone as you can be, with the watching eyes of everyone in the home behind you. He rubs his forehead, long, exasperated breaths continuing to leave his lips. His expression is pained as he meets your eyes, lips downturned.

“You continue to cause more trouble than you are worth.”

“What a nice thing to say,” your tone drips with sarcasm, crossed arms resting against your chest. His gaze roams over you. It is nothing sensual, mute annoyance at best. “Good thing I don’t plan on being here so long.”

“Oh?” Seonghwa’s brow raises. “What will you do without us?”

“Once I have trained enough, I’m leaving. I’ll take care of myself, far far away from here.”

“I have no complaints about that,” Seonghwa shrugs. “I just wonder if the others would be as amicable.”

Wooyoung. And now, Jongho.

“They will live.”

There are questions in his eyes, likely because of the ‘they’, but he does not probe further, sighing. “I just want everyone to be safe, kumiho. Especially Wooyoung. He has grown into our spark, mended himself with ease. There is reason why he feels that he must be loved by us all without as much as a slight worry. His insecurities on being the last have not gone away, despite the years. Hongjoong has tried to reassure him endlessly. Giving him leeway on things that happen, using his punishments as just time to reflect. But sometimes his inner turmoil catches up to him.”

“So he thinks he cares for me this way, but it's not the case.”

Seonghwa hums, likely choosing his next words carefully. “I wouldn't speak for Wooyoung, but we've all experienced these moments with him. I am sure he cares for you tremendously, but what comes into question is how much. Is it because he truly truly wants you to be his, or is it because he wants you to not reject him? That worry hasn't gone away and it's been hundreds of years. I doubt it will suddenly mend itself now. I am concerned, and I know it's wildly unserious for an Unseelie to, but I do. I hope that you will care for his heart.”

His lips lift slightly. “Perhaps it would have been better if you were a human, after all.”

“Well I am, and nothing has changed.”

He does not say anything, looking back at the house. “I will kill you if you hurt any of them. Kumiho or not.”

“You will try.”

His expression breaks, smile growing. “Haven’t you gotten bold?”

–

He watches you, how your laugh erupts from your lips. Eyes closed, hand over your lip muffling the sweet sound. His fingers grip the cup, eyes roaming to your body sinking into Wooyoung's side. How you do it with such ease, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. He barely gives you a glance as he does so. Seonghwa knows his own affection is opposite to his mate's. He knows that he's aggressively avoided each chance he has had with you alone. So the bitterness itching the back of this throat shouldn't be there. He wanted you gone – not killed, just far away from them. For their safety, for their protection.

He hates this.

Wooyoung presses his lips against your temple, your lashes fluttering at the soft caress. Seonghwa places his cup down, the click of the ceramic against the marble catching only Mingi's attention. He meets his eyes. Mingi does not say anything, but he does not need to. He could see the uneasiness spilling from Seonghwa even if the others could not. His curious eyes only confirm it.

Seonghwa looks away.

“Nymph, training.” Mingi says simply. Seonghwa sees how you tense at the word. Wooyoung does as well, thumb rubbing your arm before letting you go. The rest carry on their conversations as you follow Mingi out the room, Wooyoung's eyes lingering on the empty doorway.

Just as the doors close behind them, Wooyoung leans forward. “You could hide your jealousy just a bit, hyung. I could feel you seething before seeing it.”

“Don’t say things that make zero sense.”

“A lie within truth, you’ve become an expert at it,” Wooyoung waves him off. “Worry not, I'm jealous too.”

“I said –”

“And I chose not to listen,” he grins, poking his side before stepping away.

–

A few days have passed since then. The others slowly came back, Hongjoong still away for a while. Mingi barely acknowledged after the small training session with you, Yunho sending you a smile before the two disappeared into their respective rooms. You’ve spent some time with Wooyoung, the silence filled with his tales of the in-between. He didn’t notice how your face contorts as he explained their feasts, bodies piled as the Unseelie celebrated. Their feeding habits are not unknown to you, but listening to how much he enjoys killing only makes your chest ache. A vivid reminder of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Your face is twisted,” he points out after a moment. “Is something disturbing you?”

“I’d rather not hear about your murders, if you don’t mind.”

He laughs. “I am an awful being, solaris,” his smile slips. “There are things that you will never know, never fathom. You may never look at me the same if it came out. That is what worries me, what keeps my mind open at night. It is why I’ve rarely rested since you’ve come here. Why I cannot leave you longer than a few days because I am desperate for you to yearn for me the same. And I know that is impossible, due to your true nature,” his fingers shake as he takes yours into his, “And despite my being of chaos, I do not want it to fall on you.”

“You can tell me what you’re hiding, and I will listen, Wooyoung.”

He shakes his head, “I cannot.”

“This, between the two of us, will end if you do?”

His breath hitches, eyes meeting yours. “It will.”

The fear of not knowing would linger if he never says it. And he knows that. He will not utter it, even if you pry over and over. Even if you leave. Because he is still an Unseelie. And he admits that he is selfish. You could be letting out your last dying breath, and he wouldn’t say it.

Oh, how that scares you terribly.

“You expect me to stay after you’ve told me this?” It is a genuine question, one that you really need answered.

“I expect you to trust me when I say you being here is the only way we can protect you. I expect you to understand that once you leave, you will be taken by the Seelie. And we may never meet eyes again.”

You love him. You do. But what you’ve learned since your last love leaving you is that you can love again. It will hurt terribly, leaving them, but you will live. You will grow. Perhaps the look in your eyes makes him panic, his fingers tightening in their grip. You have seen him angry, hurt, confused. The way he looks at you now frightens you more than any of those times. It is something he has only slipped when you’re in bed together, but seeing it now, it leaves you utterly cold.

Obsession.

He will not let you go. So your next question is fairly straightforward.

“Will you try to kill me if I leave you?”

His eyes widened. “Not… I…” He pauses. “You have to understand the others and their position, solaris. We are not good. But, San, San is good. He is innately good. He has never been like the other Seelies, he has always been different. He has always cared differently. Faeries are selfish, we all are. But he, him, there is not one faerie who can surpass how much care he has in him. And I so desperately want to,” Wooyoung stares at his hands, slowly curling his fingers into his palms. “I want to be good like San. Will you love me, then?” His eyes seemingly glow in the dim light, “Or will I have to always be second to him?”

“There isn't a ranking here, Wooyoung.” And what is he speaking to? Neither of you have ever brought up San in conversations. You don’t even love San, let alone like him. Has someone told him something you haven’t?

“Oh, but there is. You hate Hongjoong, that is what I am sure of. You care for Jongho, for Yunho. But me… even though we have been together, you do not care for me as I do you. I can feel it. I can feel your hesitation when it comes to me.”

“Enough.”

You pull your hand from his, his grip limp. He stands just as you do, eyes flicking behind you. There is no need for you to turn and see who it is, his resolute tone enough. His body is close enough that you must feel the heat emitting from his skin. His fingers lightly brush against your forearm as he moves to get to Wooyoung. You are not unaffected by the brief contact, sliding down your sleeve to get rid of the feeling.

San makes his way in front of his lover, sliding onto one knee. “What are you speaking of to her, Wooyoung? When was the last time you fed?”

“Just days ago, San. I’m okay,” his tone is insistent, eyes flicking to you. “I won’t do anything, I just want to speak with her.”

“Have you heard yourself?” San asks, shaking his head. “This isn’t good for you, letting your thoughts roam like that.”

The way he speaks to him is strange. How his hand is tight around Wooyoung, the other pressed harshly on his shoulder.

As if he is restraining him.

Their words are quieter as you watch, your attention moving to just behind them, on your porch. Your eyes begin to widen.

Something rests on the railing, the same eyes that stared at you through the forest only nights ago. The ones that Jongho insisted were just pixies. The creature grips the railing, large feathered wings draping against its back, gaze still on yours. You stand up quickly, San and Wooyoung looking at you.

“San–” You can barely let his name come out, their heads turning to look back. There isn’t enough time for any of you to register what is happening, the creature breaking through the glass. Its claws sink into Wooyoung’s shoulders, its grip pulling him away from San and out through the broken paned doors. The scream that erupts from San is agonizing, but everything happens too quickly. You can hear crashing downstairs, likely the same creatures attacking everyone in the home. A firm grip on your arm pulls you back. You look to see Mingi, blackened blood smeared on his body as he steps in front of you. His clothing is shredded, barely held together. You left your practicing gear outside, and you’d doubt you’d be able to reach it before one of these things grabs you. All you can do is stand behind him as he moves forward, panic rising in your body. San is fighting off the creatures with ease - oddly none have targeted you just yet.

They seem to be able to fight each one that appears through the crumbled wall with ease, until more and more pile inside. You hear his scream before you see it. San’s body is thrown across the room and into you, the two of you tossed out the room and into the hallway. Mingi yells, but he cannot reach you. You struggle beneath San’s body, struggling to lift him off of you. He grunts, pulling himself off of you.

He stumbles onto his feet but cannot seem to hold his own body weight up, falling to his knees. You’re able to grab him before he hits the floor face first, blood coating your fingers. You rest on your bottom, holding his upper torso on your legs. You look down the hallway, the blur of bodies fighting off the creatures. You don’t have the strength to drag him and you’re afraid to, the gaping hole in his chest stopping you from attempting.

It is all so dark. His blood covers every inch of your palms, seeping through the cracks of your fingers as you desperately press the cloth over it. It is of no use – it bleeds through, dripping to the wood beneath your feet. It splatters against your cheek as he attempts to speak. A shh escaping your lips. You can see how the others fight, their gazes moving to San beneath you, yearning to help and be by his side. Their loud shouting occupies your ears, how they ache, unable to stop the fight even briefly to pull San away from it all. To help him live. To save his life. You are useless in saving him. You haven't the knowledge or spells to mend the deep wound. His fingers wrap around yours that hold him, a soft smile showing the blood that reflects against stained teeth. He will die soon, and you can only look at him in grief. Until, that is, until Mingi's words sink into you.

“Seelie and Unseelie are similar in many ways, and different in so much more. To put it simply – they thrive on light, on goodness, luck, wealth, care, etcetera. We feed on terror, fear, life, chaos. We may seem evil, of which we are to a certain extent, but our kind are both faeries. Our weaknesses are similar. Seelie in particular, though, has a greater one. How joyous we as Unseelie are when we find someone in despair is quite comparable to how aroused they are when they see pure happiness. It is their greatest weakness.”

You look down at him. Your fear, your hurt, it should be able to help him now. To let him feed, gain his strength back. But your angst seems to not affect him at all - the blood continuously pouring from his lips, his body barely holding on. Unseelie wouldn’t hesitate to use you to help themselves. But San, he does not seem even the least bit phased.

You remember when San saved you from the Seelie at the train station, the words uttered to San odd, but not notable enough for you to inquire about it at the time.

“You have forgotten yourself, San. There is only so much you can do before she knows as well.”

San is not an Unseelie.

He never was an Unseelie.

You use your free hand to wipe your tears away, forcing your eyes shut. The idea is likely hopeless, your sadness might be too deep to push away, but you can’t sit here and let him die. Your fingers wrap tightly around his hand, willing yourself to think of something happier. You haven’t thought of Soobin in a while, but it’s the only warm memory you can think of. You look at San, how his eyes stay on yours. How the pulse of his heart seems to slow down, blinks following suit. You will yourself to focus on happier memories, letting one hand go to push his hair away from his face. The memories are not enough, though. His hold loosens on your hand, steady eyes glossing over.

No.

“y/n, move!”

You turn to the side, one of the creatures holding Mingi against the wall. He grunts, elongated limbs thrashing against its face. He cannot break free.

“San…” You whisper, “Please.”

His smile slips, grip loosening completely. You’re unable to leave his side, no matter how much the voices shout at you to go. To leave San behind. Claws dig harshly into your shoulder blades, pulling you away from him. You try reaching for the framing of your room, but the creature is exponentially stronger than your own grip, ripping you from the home, out the gaping hole they took Wooyoung through.

#fic: wonderwall #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fics #ateez angst

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: traveling through the woods

Getting from point A to point B is something that both people in real life and the characters of your story will have to figure out. Whether as a means to get to a plot point, or as a part of the plot itself, travel presents opportunities for the writer.

Hack ‘n slash- Where paths are nonexistent, your characters will literally have to blaze a trail (the ‘blaze’ in this case has nothing to do with fire. Instead it is a trail marker made by carving a mark into a tree. The mark resembles the white patch seen on the forehead of mammals, most often horses.) Being the pioneer is slow going, especially if the undergrowth is thick and requires clearing. Cut bamboo can go through the foot, poison oak and poison ivy can give a nasty rash, and biting insects can make life miserable. And then there is the matter of marking the trail. A character on the run will not want to advertise their location and will do their best to keep their trail hidden. But for others, they will want to mark the trail. Stone cairns, arrows, blaze marks in trees, and even sticks and knotted grass can point out the path to other travelers. This can be helpful to others, but it can also present a danger. Thieves and outlaws can create false trails that lead travelers into a trap or ambush.

Game trails- Animals have their habits. They like to take the same path between places. Over time these develop into trails that crisscross the forest floor. For a character on the run, or those who needs to make haste, these are a tempting choice to follow. But be careful. Some animals are able to traverse terrain too difficult for humans (narrow ledges, near vertical faces, and the gaps underneath fallen trees are not fun places to be). And your characters may encounter more than deer or rabbits. Predator species hang out around game trails as they can be fruitful hunting grounds.

Existing paths and roads- Roads can range from simple dirt paths to paved highways. These will be the most direct routes between the principle settlements in your story. Prosperous areas will have well maintained roads with travelers and patrols using them frequently. Characters may also encounter watchtowers, farms, and inns along the way. Poorer regions, those affected by war, or more remote regions will have less well maintained roads, fewer travelers, and few to no amenities between towns. And if your characters can use the roads, expect hostile armies, outlaws, and highwaymen to use them as well. And where the roads go may be limited to the most populated regions, forcing your characters to leave the path if they want to get to isolated villages, caves, temples, or even a wizard’s tower.

Use the water- Of course, you can have your characters forgo land transportation and use the rivers, lakes, and seas. Rafts, ferry boats, and ocean going ships are all viable options. It should be noted that these are not perfect solutions. Rapids and waterfalls will force characters back onto land until they find gentler waters. Storms can delay or sink vessels, and cold winters will freeze water over. Of course, a frozen river or lake is just an excuse to get out the ice skates. Droughts will dry up streams and small lakes, and recent rains can turn placid waters into unsurvivable whitewater.

Up in the trees- Hate to burst your bubble here, but swinging from vines is something that only exists in fiction. If you try to do this in real life, it will not work out well…provided you can even find sufficient vines or fig roots. Of course, in your story, you are free to do what you want. Nothing is going to stop you…well except maybe for your readers and the critics who will pan you for using what may be considered an overused and unoriginal trope. Other options include bridges, cable cars, or even zip lines.

Taking flight- Of course, the forest will not pose an obstacle if your characters can simply fly. This can be achieved by characters that possess wings of some sort. They could have a winged mount, or they could hitch a ride on a vehicle like a helicopter or ultralight plane.

Underground- If in doubt, take a cue from moles and dwarves. Tunnels can serve the same function as roads, with all the benefits and drawbacks included. Of course your characters will also have to be aware that cave-ins are a real and present danger. These can be natural, or deliberate sabotage. And your characters best hope all the recent tunneling hasn’t awaken any ancient evils from long ago…

#writing #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing guide #writing prompts #writer #writers #writing community #writer on tumblr #writers and poets #writeblr

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Neige x Reader: White Beaches and a Spring Morning

Summary: The Ramshackle prefect is finally able to get a full week off from school after four overblots. Determined to enjoy their time to the fullest off campus, they set out to explore Sage’s Island, starting with the island’s southern beaches. However, it seems that our prefect can never catch a break, as they find an RSA student crying and upset. Unable to just look away, they set their sights on comforting him and helping him have a good time outside of school.

Word count: just under 3k

Tags: fluff, getting together (not officially though), dates, romance

Warnings: none… unless suave reader is a warning… reader being too hot lol

Author’s notes: this was inspired by a tumblr post by @sorbertisfruity and I loved it so much that I decided to start writing it. Also this is my first time I’m actually writing and posting my creative work, so I just ask that people are kind. Thanks and enjoy!

Leaning forward with the wind whipping through your hair, you fly down the mountain path away from Night Raven College. The engine of the magic wheel roars behind you, as music blasts from the speakers. Finally, you were free! After months of work, you finally got a week off. Of course, you had to blackmail Crowley by threatening to expose the multiple overblots. Nonetheless, he conceded to your requests in the end. Now, you’ve left your worries and Grim temporarily behind in favor of a relaxing day at the beach. 

Pulling up to the sandy shore, you park the magic wheel you’d borrowed from Ignihyde and look out at the sight before you. It was a nice change of scenery compared to the dreary mountain Night Raven College sat atop of. The morning was crisp and clear with the sea breeze wafting from the ocean. The beach was empty. You were here on a weekday after all. You grab your bag from one of the compartments and head off toward the tide.

The sandals on your feet sink slightly into the sand as you search for a more secluded area to place your bag. After walking along the coast, you catch a glimpse of NRC’s rival school, the Royal Sword Academy. It was almost blinding with its tall white spires that were tipped with blue. Overall, the vibe is much brighter than NRC’s gothic horror aesthetic.

“Wonder what their facilities are like,” you murmur to yourself, “Maybe I can secretly get a tour of the school and request a transfer while I’m at it.”

You chuckle at the thought of your friends’ outrageous reactions to your fictional transfer. Just as you finish the thought, you hear a loud sob. Furrowing your brow, you pick up your pace. Even on your day off, you never catch a break, you internally sigh. You blame your upright and well-meaning nature, but you shrug off the thought as you come across an alcove in the rocks. 

You find a boy huddled up against the stone, sobbing to himself. He’s wearing a familiar white uniform jacket, signifying that he’s from the Royal Swords Academy. You’re unable to see his face as he’s tucked it into his knees. Only his ruffled black hair shows. Next to him lies a black beret and the dirt and skid marks on his uniform make it obvious he ran out of the academy. 

Coming closer to the cave-like area, your footsteps are masked by the sound of soft waves lapping against the coast. 

“Hey,” you call out, “Are you alright?”

The boy’s head snaps up. He stumbles to his feet and begins making rapid apologies. His voice has a light, airy quality to it that cracks as he trips over his words. 

“I—I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I—I should probably go. I don’t want to bother you—“ 

He isn’t able to say anything more, as his foot catches on a nearby rock and he begins tumbling forward with a squeak. Moving on instinct, you catch him by the waist, pulling him in to support his weight. Pressed up against him, you note that he has a slim but fairly toned waist. He’s also a bit taller than expected. 

“Are you ok?” You ask, “That was pretty close. It might be a good idea to sit down for a while before moving again. Sorry, I startled you. I was just concerned whenever I heard someone in distress.”

Pulling away slightly, you’re able to get a glimpse of his face. His eyes are the first feature that stands out to you. They’re soft, doe-like, and innocent. His brown eyes are a little puffy and red around the edges from crying, but it doesn’t detract from their soft allure. Your eyes flicker down toward his lips. They’re tinted a natural red, as he chews on them. Suddenly, you become acutely aware of how close the two of you are. You can feel his ragged breath on your cheek, as you take the time to observe him.

He glances down and away from you, tears still in his eyes, as continues to gnaw on his lip. Whether from the anxiety of being caught crying or the flustered embarrassment of being so close, you’re not sure. You suspect it might be both. However, when he turns his cheek, the light catches a glimmer of wet tears that have already streaked down his face. Before you have time to think, you reach your hand up to cup his cheek and wipe it away. 

Blinking, you realize that you just performed a somewhat intimate gesture and you move your hand away. 

“Sorry, I just wanted to help. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask.

He stares at you with wide eyes and touches the place where you wiped his tears with his hand.

“…No, I didn’t mind it.” 

His voice breaks, then in a smaller tone, he comments, “It was nice.”

“That’s good,” you chuckle, “My name’s (Y/N), and you?”

He hesitates for a second before replying, “Neige.”

He watches your reaction intently, looking for any signs of recognition, but when there is none, he relaxes slightly. 

“I wouldn’t mind sitting down again,” he tells you. 

He starts to pull away to sit back down when you tighten your grip on his waist, stopping him. 

“Hold on, I have a towel. Let me lay it down first,” you state. 

Rummaging through your bag, you pull out a towel that you stole from Heartslabyul. The print on the fabric is a dead giveaway. It’s littered with multicolored card suits. Spreading it out, you plop down on the fluffy towel and turn to Neige, who comes to sit next to you.

“Again, sorry for scaring you earlier. I just heard you were in distress and wanted to make sure you were ok,” you repeat, inspecting for any physical wounds. “Physically, you seem fine. Are you in emotional distress?”

Playing with the edge of the towel, he glances up at you before looking away. His grip tightens on it and he nods. 

Neige hesitates before saying, “You know, if you have other places to be, you can go do those. You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine–”

Before he can get any further, you cut him off, “Neige, I know we just met, but I’m not going to leave someone who’s upset behind. You seem sweet and I want to get to know you. It would be nice to get a new friend.”

You put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He looks up at you with wet eyes and hiccups slightly, trying to hold back newly formed tears. Your eyes go wide and your body moves on autopilot. You open your arms to offer a hug. 

“Hey, do you want a hug? Will that make you feel better?”

Neige hesitates before nodding. Given your cue, you envelop him in a warm, tight hug. Cradling him, you rub small circles on his back and whisper words of comfort. 

He breaks. Any semblance of wariness or guard that he had up before crumbles against your kindness and small persistence. He cries so hard that his whole body shakes against you. You squeeze tighter and you can tell that you are the only thing keeping him together at this moment. He ends up clinging and clawing at you as if you’re his only lifeline in the vast ocean. He sobs harder at your gentle approach to comforting him and a few broken words of gratitude spill from his mouth. 

“—Thank you, thank you so much. I never— I never got this growing up. I always had to put on a cheerful face to not worry my— my family. This means so much to me. Thank you, thank you (Y/N).”

You clutch him tighter, running a hand through his hair, as he sobs into your shoulder. You feel for him. You understand the struggles of having to carry everyone else’s burden even though it shouldn’t be your responsibility in the first place. You ended up solving and resolving each overblot with only some of your classmates and practically no teachers. No responsible adults were around to help fight Riddle, restrain Leona, stop Azul, and punish Jamil. It had been getting exhausting. Thankfully, you got a week to yourself, but this wasn’t about you and you turned your attention back on your new friend, Neige. 

You allow him to get all the tears, sorrow, and pain out of his system. When his sobbing slows down and his breathing starts to even out, you reach into your bag to pull out some tissues, nudging Neige’s face with them. 

Upon feeling the tap, he looks up from where his face was buried in your shoulder. Tears and snot run down his face, and he takes the tissues with a small smile. 

“Thanks,” he breathes, taking the tissue and blowing into it.

After giving him some water, snacks, a lot of tissues, and more cuddles, he’s much more relaxed than he was earlier. His tired eyes are unable to focus on anything specific, as they flutter to stay awake. He continues to lean on you for support.

Chuckling, you ask, “Wanna lay down?”

Letting out an almost incoherent murmur of approval, he clutches onto your clothes, before asking, “Promise you won’t leave?”

You give him a soft smile that he’s unable to see with his eyes closed, and you lay the two of you down on the towel. You rest beside Neige, as he makes himself comfortable, nestling into your arms. 

“Of course, Snow,” you answer, “I’ll make sure to protect you if anything is out to get you.”

He nuzzles into you with a smile filled with sweet dreams, as he drifts off to sleep. After a while of listening to the ocean waves lap against the shore and feeling the slow steady breathing of the person next to you, you also find yourself lulled into the land of dreams.

~~~~~~

“You’re already skipping school. You might as well take the day off to relax and enjoy yourself,” you persuade, “Besides, would you leave your new friend behind to hang out at the beach by themselves?”

You look at Neige with playful and expectant eyes. He lets out a sigh and a small smile slips through, as he concedes. 

“I suppose taking one day off wouldn’t hurt.”

You give a cheer.

“Race you to the ocean!” you shout, scrambling to your feet. 

Neige squeaks in surprise, before he latches onto your ankle, tripping you. Landing on your hands with a small oof, Neige rushes past.

“Ok, pretty boy! I see how it is,” you cackle. 

Launching yourself from the ground into a runner’s sprint, you catch up to him. Wrapping your arms around Neige’s waist, you use your momentum to spin him around a couple of times before flinging him in the opposite direction of the coast. He screeches at the unexpected attack and begins laughing as he stumbles back, trying to regain his balance. Without hesitation, you turn back to the destination and bolt toward the finish line. 

The tempered ocean water hits your feet, slowing you down, as you raise your fists and cheer.

Neige jogs over with a stuttering laugh.

“Alright, alright, you win. Are you happy?” He asks with a grin.

“Immensely,” you beam.

~~~~~~

“We’ll have a [favorite ice cream/gelato flavor] and biscoff gelato, please,” you order from the ice cream parlor you found. 

The man behind the counter nods with a smile and begins scooping out your request. Neige’s eyes are wide as they turn to you.

“You don’t have to pay for mine,” he insists, pulling out his wallet. 

You stop his movements by putting a hand over his.

You hold eye contact with him, as you say, “I like and want to spoil you. You’re sweet, so getting you something sweet only makes sense. Please let me do this.”

Neige’s face heats up and you watch his brain malfunction for a few seconds, before turning away. You take the opportunity to pull out your card and give it to the owner of the shop, paying for your snacks. 

“That’s so sweet of you to pay for your boyfriend like that,” the owner comments, swiping your card.

Grinning, you wrap an arm around Neige’s waist, tugging him closer to you. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t treat himself that often, so I have to make sure he gets what he deserves,” you answer, winking at Neige.

Neige’s hand rushes to cover his blush as it spreads to the tips of his ears. The owner coos at you two, handing you your ice creams and card. You thank him on your way out, still attached at the hip with a flustered Neige. 

~~~~~~

The magic wheel zooms through the streets of Sage’s Island, and the sun casts a golden glow on you and Neige. He’s pressed right up against your back, clinging onto your waist. It’s warm and comforting. You’ve been riding aimlessly together for about half an hour, but seeing the sun setting, you figure you should take him home. 

Sneaking a glance at your companion, you watch his wide-eyed gaze explore the mountainous scenery. You smile before speeding up. You feel Neige’s chest move with twinkling laughter. He squeezes you tighter and leans in. Today has been a far better day than expected.

The sun has partially set in the sky as you pull up to the gates of the Royal Swords Academy. Putting the vehicle in park, you dismount the wheel, before offering your hand to help Neige off. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you say with a wink. 

Neige’s breath catches, as a hand comes to block his mouth in embarrassment. He places his other hand in yours, using it to get off. With both feet on the ground, he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. You might as well have, you note, as the stars begin to peek out.

“When will I see you again? I want to see you again,” he pleads.

You blink in surprise at such a bold statement, before chuckling. 

“Well, I can come back tomorrow if you want me to. You know I have the week off,” you offer with a fond smile.

“Really?! You would do that? That wouldn’t ruin your vacation, would it?” he clarifies at a rapid pace.

You laugh, leaning against the magic wheel. 

“Honestly, Neige, if I didn’t leave NRC’s campus, I’d probably get dragged into some kind of shenanigans with Ace, Deuce, and Grim,” you explain, “I love them, but they’re a handful and I want a break. I would much rather hang out with you. It’s more peaceful and relaxing. Besides, I had a lot of fun today and I like getting to know you.” 

Neige’s mouth opens in a small oh, as his gaze softens. He clasps his hands in front of his heart, simply gazing at you. For a few moments, you just hold each other’s gaze, content and comfortable in the silence. You reach out to tuck a loose strand of hair away from Neige’s face. You let your hand linger, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb against it. His eyes droop and he nuzzles into your hold. Unable to resist, you draw him closer and loop an arm around his waist, before remembering–

“Your beret,” you murmur, “Let me get it for you.”

Moving to open one of the compartments on the magic wheel, you grab Neige’s hat only to settle back into the space in front of him. Placing the beret on his head, you let him adjust it. As he finishes, you notice unfamiliar red lettering along the border. Leaning in, you take a closer look.

“Someday my princess will come,” you quote.

Smiling, you continue, “Mmm, that’s cute. That sounds like something you would say, Neige.”

Your thumb runs over the embroidery, following every swirl of cursive on the beret. Your eyes flicker down to his to realize that you’re rather close. You can’t help but take a peek at his lips. They’re red, just like when you first met him, but this time they're slightly parted. You find yourself locking eyes with Neige’s brown ones once again, drawn together like magnets. Neige presses his body more snugly against you, watching for any signs of discomfort, as he rests his hands on your hips. You play with his lapel, before moving up to his shoulders and finally wrapping your arms around his neck. You give a playful smile, as you draw closer, and you feel Neige’s quiet laughter against your lips. Eyes sliding shut, you lean in. 

Before you can kiss, however–

“Neige, Neige! There you are!” 

“Do you know how much you made us worry?”

“We couldn’t find you after you ran out of the dorm– *achoo*!”

“And you–you left your phone at the dorm, so we had no way to contact you!”

“We looked everywhere in the academy, *yawns* even my favorite napping place.” 

“I can’t believe you skipped class. You should take us next time.”

“Toby, what are you talking about? We’re not supposed to skip class.” 

“Oops, sorry, I forgot.”

Neige lets out a whine, as his head falls against your shoulder. With the moment ruined, he hugs your waist tighter in protest. Laughing, you pat the poor boy’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. You take a look past him to identify the source of the shouts.

You spot seven short figures toddling their way over to the two of you from RSA’s gates. You’re unable to make out the fine details in the diminishing light, and instead opt to look back at Neige, his pitiful form still draped over you. These must be the seven dwarves that he was talking about earlier; the ones he grew up with. Based on their behavior, they seem to care about him just as much as Neige expressed his love and concern for them. You squeeze Neige tighter, grateful that he has a secure support network. He’s already been through a lot just based on what he’s told you so far.

Neige lets out another groan of despair, as you turn your full attention back towards him. Feeling a bit playful, you bring your face right next to his ear.

“I won’t let you go without a little something,” you tease.

Neige perks up, looking at you with wide and attentive eyes.

You chuckle at his reaction, murmuring that he’s cute, before leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. He melts into your touch, gripping your waist tighter. Pulling away, you tap your own cheek with a quick wink. In the dim light, you’re barely able to make out the flush spreading across his face. His Adam's apple bobs, before he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle, and after a few seconds pull away.

“Enough to tide you over?” you question.

“...Barely,” he whispers, still stuck in the same spot, star-struck. 

“I trust your friends will make sure you get to your dorm safely?” you confirm, starting up the engine of the magic wheel. 

He nods.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Snow.”

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he replies, before shaking out of his stupor and calling out, “Make sure to get home safe!”

You laugh, as you leave the Royal Swords Academy… at least for today.

“Thanks! Will do!” 

You’ll be back tomorrow. 

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #neige x reader #neige leblanche #neige leblanche x reader #twst neige x reader #twst neige #disney twisted wonderland #royal sword academy #twst rsa #fluff #romance #twst fanfic #soft boi #this took so long to finish #i'm so sleep deprived #worked on this instead of sleeping #clem writes #clem writes fanfics #i was planning on making this into a mini series #but idk anymore cause reader ends up coming onto neige at the end #can't handle the love triangle angst low key #reader insert #it would've been neige x reader x vil #i love vil though #he has his problems but like... don't we all #anyway love u! #can't believe you made it this far lol

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - Prologue

author note: prologue for my 1000 followers events! Event explanation and poll to follow shortly, keep an eye out for it! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Life has a way of throwing curveballs at you.

Some can be small inconveniences, like when you go to the supermarket only to find out that your favourite ice cream is no longer on sale. Or when you make a cup of tea, only to find out you have no milk.

Other times, the inconveniences can be a bit larger, like when an appliance breaks and you suddenly have to fork out for a replacement. Or when you lose your wallet and have to cancel all your credit cards.

Or for you, when you get hit by a fictional carriage and end up waking up in the world of your favourite mobile game.

Life is just full of curveballs.

You thought you were dreaming. No, you wished you were dreaming. Either way, being transported into the fictional world of your favourite game was not on your bingo card for this year.

The lid of the coffin you rested in suddenly burst into blue flames and slid away, hitting the stone floor with a dull thud. You squinted as your eyes were assaulted by the green glow of the lanterns that lit the room, and then you jumped when you heard a surprised cry in front of you.

“What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake!”

You stared with wide eyes at the familiar furball in front of you. You blinked a couple of times, rubbing your eyes and thinking that you’d gone insane. “… Just gimme your uniform, and—”

“G-Grim?!” You shouted, your expression twisted in disbelief. “Yeah, that’s me! Wait, how do you know—” Grim yelped in surprise as you all but fell out of the coffin, scrambling to your feet with a wild expression on your face. You span around, seeing the familiar sight of floating coffins and gothic interior. It took until Grim blew a puff of blue flames at your feet did you snap out of your shock. “Now listen here, human—”

“Don’t do that, you little rat.” You huffed, picking up Grim with ease and balancing him against your hip like you would a small child. Grim spluttered, taken by surprise by your casual attitude, flailing his little arms and preparing to blow another bout of flames. “H-hey, whad’dya think you’re doing—”

“Shush, I’m trying to think,” you scolded, shooting him a reproachful look as you added, “and don’t even think about blowing any more fire at me. If a single hair on my head even gets singed, I’ll feed you to the lion.”

“What?! What lion?!”

You only gave a pointed look before you carried on your investigation. You left the coffin room, feeling your stomach twist and a tension buzzing against your skin. This couldn’t be real, right? This must just be an incredibly realistic dream. With your free hand, you pinched your cheek, hard. Nope, still here.

“Ah, I’ve found you at last. Splendid. I trust you’re one of this year’s new students?” You looked up suddenly at the new voice, only to find yourself face to face with the infamous Night Raven College headmaster, Dire Crowley. “My, were you ever eager to make your debut,” Crowley snarked, arms folded as he glowered at you, “and bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school’s rules.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. This was playing out exactly like the prologue of Twisted Wonderland. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Grim open his mouth to complain, and you quickly gave him a squeeze, effectively shutting him up with a disgruntled squeak. “Yeah, yeah, we’re a package deal – sorry about that,” you waved him off, eager to get back to the matter at hand, “where am I? This must be some mistake—”

“No, no. There’s been no mistake. Your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber.” Crowley declared, and that sinking feeling in your stomach just got worse. This was proceeding exactly like the prologue.

It wasn’t until you looked on at the chaos currently taking place in the Mirror Chamber, Grim having jumped out of your arms and begun rapidly spouting flames at everyone in sight, Riddle and Azul chasing after him whilst Kalim hopped around helplessly, sporting a freshly singed behind, that you realised that you had indeed been transported into Twisted Wonderland. Right in the place of the poor, often dumped upon and always in the wrong place at the wrong time main character. You felt your shoulders sag as the implications of your situation begun to hit you full force.

Just what were you going to do?

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x y/n #twisted wonderland x y/n

[euphoricfilter]

like crazy ~ part one

☆ﾟpart one of four

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au ||

summary: the story of why you loved to dance in the rain.

word count: 14k

tags/ warnings: duke! taehyung, jimin, fluff, so much love, angst, death(s)/implied murder, mentions of blood, mentioned suicide, mentioned puking, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, smut in the forms of: implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex (don't be stupid, this is fiction), oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, cum play, talks of pregnancy and babies

notes: this mini series is very loosely inspired by an au idea i wrote a while back about an immortal m/c. i'm going to try and keep updates every other week but i am moving home really soon so if there's any change in the schedule then i'll post about it!! and as always, feedback is always encouraged <3

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

“A lot has happened since we last spoke” You look down at the gravestone, moss and mud having found home over unnerving death, “Sorry it took me so long to visit” Maybe it helped that the sun was out, tears that were meant to fall soaked up in golden rays of light that warm your cheeks rather than wet them. 

You place a bouquet of red chrysanthemums before the thick slab of stone, closing your eyes briefly. Not a thought in your mind as you revel in the peace of what was once a roaring home. 

“Now, where should I begin?” 

The day you remembered your first life, it felt as though your world had tilted off its axis. That everything you thought you’d learnt about yourself was nothing more than a singular star in a galaxy that sat in the vast universe. A mere atom in the formula that builds you as a person. 

It was like a never-ending spiral. Little pockets of a past life you were never supposed to know, hidden between rouge pieces of space rock and black holes of a different time. Where one misstep had you slipping down a rabbit hole of the unknown with nothing to grab onto. Spiralling down like you were Alice, except you were far from Wonderland. 

You weren’t even sure if you were in denial, or if it was all a far-fetched dream crafted by a wild imagination. Perhaps it was something more like guilt, because as much as Jimin was most definitely the love of your life; he was simply the love of this life.

Strange, heart-wrenching emotions had weighed on your shoulders as you remembered a past lover, who had held your heart ever so delicately in soft hands. And you’d held his, cradling it to your chest until your hearts had beaten in unison. Where wild fantasies had painted a forever, that was never going to be forever. 

Your skin had crawled as fingertips that no longer exist had danced over your body, and burning lips, kissing you in places that should only be Jimin’s. A touch not that of your lover’s, digging into sacred places, secret places that you had only ever worked up the courage to show Jimin. 

The sudden force of having to re-live grief when you yourself should also be dead had sent you into a frenzy. With too many sleepless nights, and too many harsh words sent Jimin’s way as you tried to navigate so many new stimuli at once. This love for another man was like a phantom hand latching onto your heart and squeezing, pulling, and sinking you further down. Sinking down, down, down until a whirlwind of emotions had flushed over you. Joy. Excitement. Sorrow. Heart-ache. Hatred. Love. Too much love. So much more love. A different sort of love you had never felt. Love love love. 

There were too many secrets. Secrets you didn’t truly understand, a jumble of words that melt into slush and clog your brain, sparking against neurotransmitters and mingling with more information than you knew what to do with. Secrets that go away when Jimin is stood before you, and you’re reminded of who your heart now belongs to. The world finally silent, and hands stop grabbing you, and you can finally breathe again. It was as if Jimin had become a catalyst for your fraying feelings. 

The story of Jimin had bloomed in spring. 

When the sky felt as though it were at the tips of your fingers if you were to reach up high enough. And the world smelt of flowers and herbs that sat on window-sills of rundown houses. Where skin was sun-kissed, tender and pink on the back of your neck. And all the evils of the world were taking a nap for the afternoon with the cats that lounged in the shade under trees. 

“Excuse me”

You perk up, squinting when the sun hits your eyes. 

The memory of your first encounter with Jimin will always be one you find yourself going back to. Vivid enough that when you dream of this day, you’re often tempted to reach out and touch him as if he were really there. 

His name on the tip of your tongue, tickling the back of your throat and mind, though nothing comes out as the scene replays itself for the thousandth time. 

It’s like a well-practised play, where you pose as the main cast while simultaneously being the audience. (Maybe it was more of a tragedy, a shame when you know how this one ended.) A little jarring that you have no control over your own body, lips moulding around words so many times you could recite the first conversation the both of you had over and over again. 

Sickly regret holding you in its palms, because there are so many more things you want to tell Jimin, words that he’ll never get to hear. 

It mustn’t have been very long after midday when you’d met. Sweat tickling the back of your neck and untamed grass pocking at your ankles and between bare toes. 

The air smelt of burning wood, crackling fire nothing but a whisper in the wind as footsteps crunch over gravel, and children thump into the tall grass and crush delicate flowers under the weight of their tiny bodies. 

The dress you were sewing is dropped into your lap in favour of cupping your hands around your eyes to see the face of your visitor. Your cheeks dusting the lightest shade of pink when you finally get a look at his face. 

You knew of Jimin, as did most on your estate. The other seamstresses never knew when to close their mouths, always tittering away about everyone and everything that lived in the area. Mindless gossip that you always found yourself turning away from when their giggles would get too loud, or opinions too crude for your liking. 

Jimin had become somewhat of an enigma since turning into an adult. Names were thrown around like he weren’t ever to hear them; though you know his mother works in the building next door. Sure to have heard what her friends had been saying about her son behind her back. How much of a shame it is that he has such a nice face but no money. That no woman would ever want to settle for a man with nothing to his name, even if their babies were to be beautiful. 

Or how their daughters had wandered into the city and found wealthy bachelors, who bought them dresses lined with thread made of gold, and jewellery that weigh down their necks. Who eat like royals, and prance around well-kept gardens into their husbands’ arms. 

Thoughts ever so shallow you never found yourself stooping to their level when they’d nudge you for your opinion. The bitter remark that their children had abandoned them had always clung to your lips, because surely if they cared they would have lifted their parents out of commoner status and housed them in luxury. 

The rumours of Jimin’s beauty were true, that much you now knew. Whatever child-like innocence you had left inside of you dubbing him as something akin to a garden fairy; just as you imagined them when you were young. 

Not quite dainty, yet not thick muscle, something a little softer around the edges. And with his overgrown hair haloed by the sun as he takes a step to the side, blanketing you in shade, you think he looks like a dream. 

“Yes?” your head tilts, gaze flitting to the scarce bouquet that he holds. Tips of his fingers evidence that he’d dug them up himself, wet soil clinging to his skin and boots; just as rough and old as the rest of his clothes. Though really you find you have no place to judge when you, yourself are dressed no better than him. 

“These are for you” He thrusts the flowers into your face, entirely too eager as dirt falls into your lap, though you find yourself laughing. Uncaring that your mother’s dress bears the brunt of his enthusiasm. 

You clear your throat when he avoids your eyes, “From you?” 

And he nods, watching from the corner of his eye as you take them in gentle hands as not to let any of the smaller flowers fall out of place. You lay them delicately over your lap, feeling around the grass for your thread. 

You snap it with your teeth, tying the stems of the flowers together so you wouldn’t lose any of them. A pot already in mind that you keep beside your mattress in the bedroom. Dust had collected around the rim, and lime scale clung to the insides, though you think the flowers would look lovely beside you as you slept. 

“And–” he rubs his hands over his pants, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, “And this” He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket. 

The tips of your fingers brush against one another as you take it from him. Curiosity wins over the heated flush that threatens to dust over your cheeks at the accidental contact. 

‘I think you’re pretty’ 

“Would you like to join me?” you smile, patting the space beside you, Jimin’s own lips curling up at the corners. 

“I’m Jimin” 

And you refrain from telling him you know. Because the Jimin you knew was the one that had been tossed from mouth to mouth, built on flimsy lies and stupid expectations. Entirely built by rotten imaginations and women who had nothing better to do than chatter about other people’s lives when their own was crumbling just as much. 

“Y/n” you giggle, outstretching your hand for him to shake. 

Jimin’s eyes curl into little crescents as he smiles, a laugh bubbling up his throat “Nice to meet you, Y/n” 

“Nice to meet you” You nod, “Oh! And, I think you’re pretty too” 

“Do you think I can take you on a date? Tomorrow?” he turns to you, and you blink up at him. 

“So soon?” 

“Too soon?” he winces. 

The corners of your lips turn upwards, busying yourself with finishing mending your mother’s dress, “No, I quite like how straight to the point you are” 

Jimin’s chest deflates as he sighs, “I thought it might have scared you a little” he admits. 

You hum, “No one’s ever asked me on a date before” you admit. 

A wave of ease falls over the both of you, a unanimous understanding that there weren’t any expectations between the two of you. That as much as love was thrown onto the table, it didn’t have to be what the two of you got out of this. 

Friendship, when you’re alone, is just as precious as a lover. Another human being with very human emotions and morals that match yours is just as special as something a little more than platonic. 

“No way” he laughs, shoulder knocking against yours, you bite back a smile, “A girl as pretty as you?” 

“Mmhmm” 

“Then it’d be an honour to be the first” feeling bold, Jimin’s arm slips across your shoulders, “And hopefully the last”

“Ah is that so?” you drop the dress onto the grass beside you, pushing yourself to sit on your heels as you turn to face Jimin. 

He nods, eyes flicking from your own to your lips, then back up again. Perhaps only mapping out your face into his mind, carving out every little crevice that makes you, and burning it into his brain. Or maybe it’s something a little less innocent. 

You lean forward, a chaste kiss pressed to Jimin’s cheek before you pull back; a shy smile mirroring his, flushed cheeks probably matching his too. Though you find yourself liking the feeling, something ever so foreign yet welcome, you can’t help the airy laugh that spills from your lungs. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been the incessant tapping at your window that had woken you up like a little bird was pecking at the old glass. Understandably, fear had settled in your heart, it wasn’t often you were woken up in the middle of the night like this. 

The floorboards creaked under the weight of your body as you slipped off your mattress, socked feet barely making a sound as you plan an easy escape without your uninvited visitor knowing you were going to find your mother. 

You almost trip over your own feet when the tapping stops, Jimin calling out your name. 

You scuttle over to your window, tugging your curtains open, “What are you doing here so late?” you whisper when you unlatch the window, pushing it open. 

“I forgot to give you this” he raises his arm, a singular sunflower clasped between his fingers. 

“You came all the way here to give me this?” you ask, baffled. 

“Yes, I forgot to pick you a bouquet before our date this afternoon” he nods, “That…and I just missed you” 

“Would you like to come in?” you take a step away from your window. 

You see the unfiltered surprise on his face, “Too soon?” 

He shakes his head, “I just wasn’t expecting it is all” 

You pluck the sunflower from between his fingers, turning to place it in the vase with the other flowers he’d gifted you over the last week. 

You turn back to Jimin as his boots thump against the floor, he kicks them off, shuffling in one spot as you take a seat on your mattress. 

“Come here” you hide your smile, biting your bottom lip. He’s ever so careful as he takes a seat beside you. The both of you fall onto your backs like you often did in the grass at the park. 

Soft silver moonlight spills into the room from the open curtains, cool night air washing over the both of you as you stare at the ceiling. 

“I really like spending time with you” Jimin breaks the silence, though his gaze remains trained on one spot of your roof. 

“I really like spending time with you, too” You tilt your head to look at him, unexplainable happiness filling your body until you felt like bursting. 

He hums, next words barely above a whisper. “I hope we can be together for a long time” 

“I would like that” 

Jimin turns his head to face you, the softest smile on his face, “I’m glad” 

 Love with Jimin was pure. The both of you were young enough that it didn’t matter if it were rough around the edges, imperfect; though you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It wasn’t hard to fall in love. Not when it was Jimin.

For every date he took you on, he would spend hours in the park picking flowers for you. 

His mother had always adored them and could talk about anything botanical for hours. She knew all their meanings and all their worth. Her love for one of the world’s tiny treasures brushing off on Jimin growing up. Over the years the reason for his love had changed, something special to his mother was now something special to him. 

Because flowers now reminded Jimin of you. Where soft petals between the tips of his fingers felt like your skin under his hands, always reaching out for you, holding any part of you he could. How the world around you smelt of flowers as he braided them into your hair or you made promise rings with wilting stems that needed a little bit of love; a new life, a new purpose. 

And of course, Jimin had heard all about the men in the city who bought acres of land for their lovers. Gardens tended to with warm hands but barely there love. And Jimin’s dream was to spend afternoons in a garden, your knees brushing as he plants flower beds and vegetables. So he could wake you up each morning with a new bouquet and a letter as to why he loves you so much. 

“What’s this one?” you tuck Jimin’s hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“A red chrysanthemum” He tilts your face, thumb caressing the skin behind your ear. 

“Yeah?” you breathe, eyelashes brushing against your cheeks as his lips barely brush over your own, and Jimin hums. 

You smile into the kiss, “And what do red chrysanthemums mean?” you whisper, arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

“I love you” 

You pull back, eyes widening a fraction. Three words that felt like they should be whispered, a secret that the two of you shared but never spoke about. You knew you loved Jimin in some capacity, you weren’t stupid. And you knew he liked you back, he’d made that known; and yet those three words had you feeling as though love was the only emotion that mattered. That the only thing you could ever do was love Jimin.

“Too soon?” he smiles, thumb running over your bottom lip. 

You shake your head, “No, not at all” 

“This is for you too then” His free hand slips into his pocket. Piece of paper tucked between two fingers, he drops it into your awaiting palm. 

‘I love you ♡” 

Young love didn’t have to be rushed. You didn’t have to stagger after Jimin as he pulled you along, or him chase after you as you sped ahead. It could be late-night talking about all the seemingly insignificant things in life. How hard growing up was or the insane expectations for success that neither of you had a chance of grasping. 

Marriage didn’t have to be your only reason. Not when Jimin had become many of the reasons you liked waking up in the morning, or making lunch for the both of you to share on scarce breaks at work. 

It could be slow dancing in the moonlight, as Jimin hums and crickets chirp. Or afternoons spent lounging in the sun with pinkies intertwined and breaths in sync. Or, now whispered ‘I love yous’ melting into soft kisses to cheeks and lips and noses. Or pink flushed cheeks and smiles that hurt your face, the good kind of hurt that makes you giggle and want one more gentle press of his lips to your own. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You dip your fingers into the shallow edge of the lake, “It’s pretty cold” 

You peek over your shoulder as Jimin pulls his shirt over his head, lithe muscles flexing under the motions of his movements. Every sharp line and soft ridge of his body was illuminated by the silver light of the moon. 

“Guess we better warm up then” he grins, eyes raking down your body. They then linger on your face, and it’s not often you wonder what Jimin’s thinking. He usually speaks his mind, clingy shyness about his feeling for you never holding him back when it came to his thoughts. 

You laugh, “Perv” your own shirt haphazardly shucked off your body, thrown into a pile with the rest of Jimin’s clothes. 

His arm slips over your waist as you kick your panties off, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms as your boyfriend takes a step into the lake. 

His chest opens as the initial shock of the cold crawls up his spine. Jimin watches you fidget, arms wrapped around your bare breasts, “Come on, baby” he reaches a hand out for you, walking further until he’s waist-deep in the water. 

An easy smile is on his face as he beckons you over, wading closer to you when you work up the courage to slink into the water. Your breath hitches as you take Jimin’s hand, legs wrapping around his waist. He throws your arms around his shoulders, murky water rippling around the both of you as he spins you around. Your bare chest pushes up against Jimin’s as you pull him closer, your body easing a little at the extra heat. 

“You’re pretty” he murmurs, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, hoisting you up a little higher. 

You push his hair from his forehead, lips lingering over warm skin when you lean down to press a kiss over his hairline; your hands cupping his cheeks, eyes flickering across his face. You weren’t sure how to explain how you felt, Jimin had always been better at words than you had been. 

It’s just, Jimin in the moonlight always felt right. Because for once the world fell silent, it felt like it finally belonged to just you and him. He looked ever so pretty dusted in silver, honeyed skin kissed by the wonders of the sky. Blemishes nothing but pretty places to kiss, each moment your lips touch his skin another reason for you to wonder how you even ended up here. 

“I love you” you whisper.

But that never felt like enough. Three frail words that you utter over and over again, that should really lose their meaning over time, are the only words that ever seem to come to mind when it’s Jimin. Nothing fancy. Nothing poetic. Nothing that’s more than an ‘I love you’ because no matter how many times you seemed to say it, the weight of your words is always understood by Jimin.  

And he laughs, “How abrupt of you” 

You bite back a smile, “Sorry, it just came out” 

“I might love you more, you know” His eyes close. 

You press a kiss over his eyelids, “I think that’s impossible”  

He hums, “I don’t” 

He peeks an eye open, smiling when he sees the frown on your face. 

“Every breath I take, and for every beat of my fragile heart, I will love you. Until the day I lay on my deathbed, and we must part ways, my love will be yours.” his eyes meet your own, “Though I know we’ll meet in the sky, and I’ll hand you my heart once more” 

“And I’ll hand you mine” Your eyes search his, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. 

“I’m glad, my love. And I’ll cherish it for as long as you’ll allow me” 

“Forever.” you say, wondering if his eyes really held galaxies or if they simply reflected the sky, “It’ll be yours forever” 

“Then I have something to tell you” 

Your eyebrows crease, and a strange sense of dread and excitement mixes inside of you. And you aren’t sure if you’re jittery from the cold or nerves or fear. 

“What is it?” you urge. 

Jimin swallows, hands travelling over your bare back and down your waist, “I’ve put down two gold coins for that house we had been talking about” 

Your chest deflates, lungs wringing themselves out of all the air you had until you’re laughing. Almost falling backwards into the water if Jimin hadn’t pulled you closer to his body. 

“Have you really?” you breathe, hand tangling into the hair on the back of his head, “Park Jimin, don’t lie to me” 

He smiles, chest shaking with his own breathy laughter, “Never, my love. Truly it is going to be ours” 

You shake your head, “How did you find the money for it” 

“You know I have been working double shifts as of late” he hums, wet hands pushing your hair from your face, eager to see your blooming happiness. 

“Yes, but I thought it was for your mother” 

“She earns enough to feed herself, and I wanted a place of our own. And I know how much we’ve both dreamed of this moment, I had to do it” 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” your lips mould into his, a moan of appreciation swallowed as you tilt your head; tongue poking at the seam of his lips. 

“I do now” he huffs, pulling you in for another kiss by the back of your neck. 

“We’re really going to have a home” 

“Yes” he laughs, “Forever ours” 

“I can’t believe it” you whisper, “Pinch me so I know it is real” 

A moan gets caught in the back of your throat as Jimin’s teeth nip at the tender skin behind your ear, plush lips kissing over your skin, saliva slicked and heated. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You think you can find your and Jimin’s love in the little wonders of the world. Because as much as he wanted to hand you the universe, both of you knew that was impossible. That your love was tucked away, safer when hidden in dreams of a shared future. Tucked away in a home that was now yours forever, because neither of you had plans of going anywhere. 

As selfish as it may seem, you’d stolen spring to be your own. You’d met in the spring and found a place for yourselves as flowers bloomed. You were Jimin’s spring flower and he was the sun and the moon and all the pretty things in between. 

It wasn’t hard to fall into a routine, your lives were like clockwork, never stopping. It had always been that way, except now you’d stay within the precious walls of your home, and Jimin would return to you before the sun slipped behind the horizon and dinner was finished cooking on the fire. 

Most mornings the both of you would wake up before sunrise, and you’d eat near-stale bread on the chairs Jimin had made outside the front door. Where once or twice a butterfly had come to kiss your nose in good morning, and then Jimin would kiss the same place over and over until you’re both giggling like it was the first time you’d kissed. 

And for the days he slipped out of the house before you woke, he would leave little letters around the house for you to find throughout the day. 

‘Last night I saw a star as you slept, and it reminded me of your eyes. Briefly, I thought to wake you but after seeing you so at peace, I decided to join you instead ♡’  

He’d always had a secret liking towards poetry and found himself sitting with a quill and paper as the moon sat in the sky, thinking of poems about you. And only the ones that made him smile, and made his heart jump up and down inside his chest did he ever leave on his pillow for you to wake up to the next morning. 

You’d clean the floors between sewing as Jimin worked as a blacksmith, lithe frame bulking up over the last couple of months. And he would make sure to leave you a note before leaving the house, with every little thing he would find that he loved about you. 

‘Today’s reason is your smile ♡’ 

Evenings were your favourite, as were Jimin’s. Both your bodies ease into one another’s as you sit on worn-down cushions while playing checkers that your father had carved for you as a child. 

Or you’d simply lay your head over Jimin’s thigh as he sings for you under the stars. Bellies almost full and hearts the most content as the universe writes your love in shooting stars, its ink the soft glow of the moon. 

“I have a surprise for you next week, so take the day off” Jimin’s fingers rake through your hair, tucking it ever so delicately behind your ear. 

You peel your eyes open, “And what about your own work?” 

“I have already asked for a day away, no problem” He smiles down at you. 

“What sort of surprise is it?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper, carried by the wind to Jimin’s ears, who hums. 

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I mustn’t say, it will ruin it” 

“But I’ll be curious” You jab a finger into his stomach, lips curling into a smile when he leans down to capture your lips. 

“Poor thing” he whispers, stealing another kiss. 

‘A clue to your surprise: It reminds me of you ♡’ 

“I still don’t know what it is” You slide Jimin’s most recent note across the table, and he shrugs. 

“Your final clue” He hands you another piece of paper. 

‘Think of when we first met’  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited” Jimin laughs, arm slung over your shoulders. 

You skip ahead a little, walking backwards as you smile over at Jimin who takes one of your hands, helping you twirl as if you were a princess and he was the prince. You’d spent every night sewing a new dress with leftover fabric from the tavern; a special occasion called for a special outfit.  

And Jimin had smiled and laughed so much he’d almost fallen off the back of his chair as you’d spun for him. He’d called you utterly beautiful and then tugged you over his lap for a kiss, maybe two. 

“Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been eager to know what your surprise is” 

“Happiness looks good on you, my love” Jimin stops walking, pulling you to his chest. 

“Then I must look good all the time, with you around” 

“Where do you learn these things” His hand covers his mouth, a lame attempt at covering his smile. 

“You” 

Jimin raises his eyebrows, astounded, “When have I ever been cheesy?” 

“All the time. I’ll show you when we get home, I have all those letters you’ve left me” 

“You kept all those?” he gapes, footsteps falling in time with your own as you both start wandering back down the gravel path. 

“Of course. I still have the first ever one you gave me, and then all the ones that came after that” 

You bite your bottom lip, willing yourself not to laugh when you catch sight of Jimin’s rose-dusted cheeks. 

“Then you may think I’m extra cheesy today” he announces, fingers interlacing with your own. 

“Is that so?” you hum, shoulder knocking against his arm. 

Jimin turns to you, “Do you trust me?” 

You blink. 

“Of course” 

“Then please close your eyes” 

“Right now?” your head tilts, eyes squinting to gauge how far away the end of the pathway is, “It doesn’t seem like we’re anywhere that a surprise could be” 

“We are” he turns to you, “It won’t be a surprise if you keep looking though” 

You nod, eyes narrowing; sceptical. 

“If this is where you secretly murder me then I swear on my grave I will come back from the dead Park Jimin” 

He laughs, “It would be impossible to live in a world without you, I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you if it weren’t for your own pleasure” 

You bring your hands to cover your eyes, back straightening when Jimin takes hold of your arm, turning you in the direction of the forest. 

“Careful, the path is uneven this way” He pulls you further under the blanket of trees. 

“Are we almost there” you stumble, amused laugh shaking your shoulders as Jimin’s other hand falls onto your waist to keep you steady. 

“Almost” 

The both of you stumble to a stop, your eyes squeezing shut behind your hands as you wander into the sun, out of the shade. 

“Are you ready?” 

And you hear the unease in his voice, a week of pressure building up. Bubbling until it’s now fizzling out of him in nervous rivulets, hands clammy as they run up and down your arms. His feet shuffle against crunchy grass, and this might be the most jittery you’ve ever seen Jimin. 

“Yes,” you tell him, keeping your eyes closed as you take hold of his hands, squeezing his fingers between your own. Jimin swallows, Adams's apple bobbing under the weight of it. 

His eyes wander over your face, “May I kiss you?” 

The corner of your lips curl up at that, “Yes” you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups your cheeks. 

The tension in both your shoulders releases as your lips mould together, ever so slowly, neither of you rushing as Jimin’s tongue teases into your mouth. He laps up every little noise that slips off your tongue, sweet like nectar. 

Your eyes slip open, entirely focused on Jimin’s. “I really hope you like it” He keeps your focus on him, foreheads still touching, noses knocking against one another. 

“May I be honest with you?” 

And he hums, “Yes, of course” 

“If it’s from you, then I will always love it” 

“That seems a little extreme” he laughs, though unease still chews away at his mind. 

“I don’t think so. Surely you would like anything I gifted you” 

He nods, “Of course, I would” 

“Then it’s no different for me, so please don’t worry” you whisper, eyes slipping closed once more as you press a featherlight kiss to his plush lips. 

“Keep your eyes closed for a moment” he whispers back, and you hum. 

Jimin’s hands fall away from your body, shadow slipping away from behind your eyelids as he steps away from you. 

“Open them” 

And you do. 

“Oh Jimin” you whisper, a twitch of your lip the first sign of a smile. 

As far as you can see, there are just flowers. The most vibrant you have ever seen, almost glowing under the warm light of the sun. For all the flowers Jimin had given you over the years, you think there must be every colour he’d ever thought to bring you; all swaying in tandem as if it were the most beautiful ocean. 

The field stretches until it meets the sky, land completely hidden by a blanket of wildflowers. 

You don’t know where to look, so many places to look but only two eyes. Your head is pulled in every which direction, mouth falling open in awe. 

“Where did you find this place?” your voice comes out breathless, gaze only briefly meeting Jimin’s before you’re drawn back to acres of untouched land. A whole ecosystem thriving on its own, untampered with by human life. 

“On the way back from a job. It reminded me of you, and I knew I had to bring you here” he steps closer to you, fingers brushing against your own. 

You turn to face Jimin, “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Thank you for sharing it with me” 

You slip your fingers through Jimin’s, “Would you like to dance with me?” 

“Right here?” his eyes widen. 

You nod, tugging him towards the sea of flowers, “Yes” 

“But we have no music” his resistance nothing more than a show as he makes no move to stop you. 

Wild grass tickles both your ankles, delicate petals of smaller flowers caressing your bare legs as you hike your dress up. 

“That doesn’t matter” you laugh, pulling him further and further until overgrown flowers dust over your waist like gentle fingers, and a butterflies’ wings tickle your cheek. 

Jimin watches as you twirl, hands outstretched for him to come closer. Your body knocks into his as he pulls you into his chest. Both of you fall in sync, as curious hands wander over arms and backs, down to waists and hips. 

You flinch when something wet hits your nose, Jimin turning his face to the sky. 

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” he says, and you tilt your head to look, “Perhaps we should go home” 

You shake your head, “But we only just got here” 

“But the rain, my love” he takes your hands, taking a step back, though your feet stay planted in their spot. 

“A little bit of rain never hurt anyone” You pull him back into your body, eyes squeezing shut as a raindrop collides with your lashes. 

The both of you are washed in a gust of shade, the sun hidden behind dark clouds that bleed into the horizon. 

“Won’t you dance with me?” you look up at Jimin, clothes starting to mould into your skin as the sky rains more unshed tears. 

“I suppose” he grins, arm falling around your waist. 

Your hair clings to your foreheads, sodden leaves wetly slapping against your arms and legs. Rouge petals that had plans of rotting on the soil now hanging on to your dress and Jimin’s pants. 

Your dress doesn’t fan out like a royal’s would when Jimin spins you, neither is he really dressed like a prince but the both of you feel as though you could be of that status in that moment. 

Your eyes fall shut, smile never leaving your face. It’s as though your body evaporates, that the world around you fizzles upwards in little bubbles and you follow their lead. Chasing after the light that shines down on you like a beacon. 

Something strange tugs at your heart, sinking you further and further into the darkness as you kick upwards until you’re spinning and the world is spinning with you. And the darkness feels all too familiar, your footsteps practised perfectly as if a routine. 

Hands roam your body. Both yours and his laughter muffled underwater, a whisp of a soul slipping through your fingers when you turn towards the deep timbre of another voice, a voice far deeper than Jimin’s. His laugh vibrates in your chest as phantom hands graze against your naked skin. And he’s calling your name, your mouth opening to call back except nothing but air puffs past your lips; air bubbles caressing your cheeks as they float upwards. 

Your feet move on their own without much thought as you turn in every which direction, only to ever be met by darkness; feet caught in quicksand that has you sinking further away from the light. 

There’s something on the tips of your fingers as you reach out and an awful pressure squeezes at your chest and the echo– the echo of a voice you’ve heard before. Everything is awfully jumbled, words shoved down your throat, acidic in your stomach– poison as it absorbs into your bloodstream. 

You stumble over your feet chasing after where the stranger’s voice had come from and suddenly your eyes are open as you collide with the floor. Brain rattling within the confines of your skull and your whole world shakes a along with you. 

Jimin’s arms cage your head, chest heaving as he holds himself up over your body. 

You feel puddles of water and sodden soil soak into the back of your dress as you sink further into the ground. 

“Sorry” he whispers, droplets of water from his hair falling onto your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, I forgot where I was for a moment” you admit, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. 

“I could tell” he laughs, falling back onto his heels. 

Jimin tugs you up by your arms, pushing your wet hair out of your face. 

“Maybe we should go home” he murmurs, “I’d hate to have another accident” 

You nod,  “I think that’s a good idea”

“Let’s go home, my love” he pushes himself to stand, and you glance down at your hands. 

“Did you hear another man’s voice?” you blink away the rain from your lashes, Jimin’s eyebrows furrowing. 

“No? It’s only the two of us here” he takes your hands, helping you up, “Did you hear someone?” 

You shake your head, “No, it must have been something else” 

“You know” Jimin starts as you trek out of the flowers, “I’ve never met anyone that loves dancing in the rain as much as you” 

“I can’t explain the feeling” You turn to him, the smallest of smiles on your face. 

“Then should we dance every time it rains?” 

“I always dance when it rains” You pull him closer to your side, a futile attempt to steal some of his body heat. 

“Yes, but I always watch. Maybe I’ll join you from now on” 

“I would like that” you hum. 

And that should have been the end of it. A conversation left in the past where its only leeway into your future is Jimin joining you the next time it decides to rain. Except, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

It was rotten how for those few moments the world hadn’t been yours, and Jimin hadn’t been Jimin, and you hadn’t been you. Or that the other voice that had definitely been in your head, a whisper in your ear, an echo on the other side of the dark plane. A siren’s song pulling you further into your own demise, forbidden land you should have never passed over. 

It shouldn’t have been anything more than how much you truly loved dancing in the rain, where it was just something you had always loved and always done without thinking much about it. 

You turn your head to look at Jimin who lay beside you, finally asleep after the both of you had taken a bath. So at peace with himself and the world, as the weight of emotions, you’re unfamiliar with breathe down the back of your neck and you lay awake. 

It’s when you close your eyes, you start to fall. And the eyes that meet yours when you open them aren’t Jimin’s. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

For every life you lived after this one, the love you had here will cling onto you forever, sticky like you’d dipped your fingers in molasses. And maybe it’s because this had been the first time you’d learnt what love truly was, or maybe Taehyung had carved such a large hole in your heart that only he could ever truly fill. So even in life after him, he continues to burrow inside of you as his soul finally rests. 

Pure love was an addicting feeling. And maybe Taehyung had made you greedy, grabbing onto such a wonderful feeling over and over until it destroyed you. It wasn’t fair to blame him, but surely your greed had stemmed from somewhere.

And love could only ever be as magical as you’d imagined it if it begins with Taehyung. 

And so, the story of your first life, and therefore your first love starts with Kim Taehyung. 

Taehyung and Jimin had been the most similar of your loves. Both of them had always liked the more delicate things in life. 

Taehyung liked to read how whimsical the ocean was, white seafoam as gentle as clouds, and waves that caressed ankles that wandered the shore. Or how the stars always seemed that little bit brighter when you were in love, the universe shining its approval of something so perfect. He liked the idea of faeries that danced under the light of the moon, or reading forbidden love stories and poems that hurt his heart. Only to be mended with stories of truer love and lifetimes dedicated to another being. 

Taehyung’s sole purpose in life was to become a duke and run the estate after his father passed. Except he had never liked to be shoved into a mould, crafted by hands that had no care, rough as they shaped him. He despised the fact his life was gifted to him just so he could be chained to a role he had no purpose of fulfilling. 

His spirit had always been that of a wild bird, curious about things he had no business knowing, and wanting to wander where forbidden. 

He loved the freedom that birds had, how beautiful their feathers were, gliding through the sky without a care in the world. They had something he didn’t, and maybe his admiration had stemmed from some weird sense of jealousy. But, that never stopped the look of pure joy on his face whenever he caught a glimpse of a dove dancing on the waves of the wind. 

One of Taehyung’s hobbies had become complaining about his classes. The both of you giggled under one of the trees outside his window, shoulders knocking against each other’s as he told you stories of how his politics tutor was surely a witch, and there was no doubt in his mind that his literature teacher was a ghoul. 

The world felt as though it were crumbling at his feet on the days the two of you couldn’t meet. And so, he’d send you letters in secret, asking to meet at the front gate of the estate; where he’d hand you flowers through the bars, or kiss the back of your hand, only to beckon you closer when that doesn’t feel like enough. His plush lips warming your cheeks until he finds your lips and the both of you are melting into cold metal bars, the shyest smiles on both your faces when a maid catches the both of you. 

Most days were spent in the garden, or the drawing room where the both of you could talk for hours. You liked flicking through catalogues of dresses for the coming seasons, always asking Taehyung what he thought. Wondering if he’d like a new broach for his jackets, or if a new waistcoat would suit him. How wonderful the both of you would look matching, with a handkerchief you’d embroidered for him sat in his breast pocket– every gentle prick of the needle through fabric and each delicate line of tread, laced with love that lays beside his gently beating heart. 

Taehyung liked to recount all the things he adored about love, reciting poems and lines of novels he’d read before bed, and then telling you everything he adored about you. Because ‘love’ and ‘you’ should always fall in the same sentence in his eyes. Love would never truly be ‘love’ if you weren’t in the picture. Your silhouette was painted within each frame of his life, tucked in corners of the canvas or slipped far within his heart and mind. 

Taehyung and love were perhaps a synonym of one another. 

He was the epitome of love. 

All things romance and passion, and all things special between two people that have you shy and kicking your feet. Every moment feels like the long-awaited kiss after chapters of build-up and tension, where you have to look away from the book for a brief moment to recollect your thoughts and then bite your nails to hide a smile. 

If you had to describe Taehyung in one word, you think you’ll always gravitate towards eccentric. 

“I think the reason I was born, was to love you” he’d told you one evening, the stars like a halo around his head as he’d taken your hands into his own. 

You hadn’t known what to say, the corners of your lips quirking up at the sides because, of course, he’d utter such sweet words while the both of you laze in the gardens. Not quite ready to part ways just yet. Even if your carriage had been sat outside the house for over an hour, and your supper was probably sat on the table at home. 

“What a sorry reason to be born” you’d whispered back. 

“I don’t think so. The opposite, in fact” he tugs you a little across the grass, closer between his legs, “What is the point of life if it isn’t for unconditional love? And a mind that functions with the sole purpose of loving another?” 

Maybe it was that moment that you realised you loved love. That you loved loving Taehyung and you loved that he loved you just as much as you loved him, if not more. 

“Then, you’re my reason for living” It had fallen off your tongue quicker than you had thought to catch it. Though the smile that had stretched onto Taehyung’s face is one that will forever be etched into your mind, it had been innocent, content. 

You’d seen him smile so many times and yet, something had shifted in your mind, any qualms you had about letting go and succumbing to the purest form of adoration had fizzled out in both your hands. 

Because life wasn’t so bad when you had someone to love. 

“Just as you are my reason to live” he says. 

“I hope the both of us live forever so I never forget this feeling” you’d interlaced your fingers, cheeks flushing the lightest pink that’s veiled by the silver moonlight. Though he probably feels how warm you are when he cups your face, pressing a kiss over the tip of your nose. 

“Forever?” he hums, “Even if you were to forget, I would remind you over and over for as long as we’re together, and every life after that” 

“I’ll remind you too then” you promise, though Taehyung laughs, chest vibrating under the weight of his voice. 

“I could never forget, not when it comes to you, my love” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You don’t remember when you’d met Taehyung, you think he’d always just been there. 

Perhaps the both of you had snuck out of a ball back in the day, two rowdy children giggling on the balcony as you whispered about guests. Which ones you liked, or the ones your mothers’ would mutter about under their breath. The both of you had done it so many times that it would be fitting for your first encounter. A habit the both of you would keep up as you grew older as well. 

Or maybe the both of you had camped out under the tables while your mothers flitted from group to group, and you’d stolen cakes from plates and perfectly cut sandwiches from unattended trays. Where you’d exchange slices of tomato for his pieces of cucumber, and you’d both share squares of cake from one fork. 

Friends from childhood had started bleeding into something a little more as the two of you grew and realized that maybe friendship wasn’t enough for either of you. And maybe that had been the little seedling from where your never-ending greed stemmed from. A constant feral need for constant love that was depicted in careful strokes of paintings and well-thought-out words bled onto a page with dark ink. 

Taehyung had known early on that it was always going to be you he married. There was no doubt in his mind that you were going to wed. It was not often he put his foot down when it came to the choices made for him in life, and making it a point he had no interest in any other woman than you, had always been a point he’d made extremely clear. 

Marriage hadn’t been something you’d put much thought into until Taehyung would bring it up as you drank tea together of an afternoon. And after the little seed of possibility had been planted in your mind, you knew you wanted to marry Taehyung. 

And you’d never second-guessed yourself, because if it was going to be anyone, then it was going to be your best friend. 

“If I were to wear a white dress, would you wear a white suit?” you lay the magazine over your chest. Taehyung pushes his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose when he tilts his head down to look at you; head resting over his thigh. 

“If that is what you want” he hums, “White flowers may be too much, so let’s add colour” 

You run a finger over your bottom lip, “Purple?” 

“Of course” he nods, “I’ll braid them into your hair too” his fingers tickle over your hairline. 

You push yourself to sit up on your elbows, “I think it’s bad luck if the groom sees the bride in her dress on the morning of the wedding” 

Taehyung runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “To hell with tradition” 

“Your mother isn’t going to be very happy” you smile, “All she ever talks about is the perfect wedding” 

Taehyung smiles, “Yes, but it isn’t her wedding. I think I’d be beyond miserable if we weren’t to see each other, I must tell you how beautiful you look before we meet at the end of the alter” 

“It would only be a few hours” you press, eyebrows raising. 

“A few hours too many. Who is supposed to help me with my tie if not you?” 

You fully sit up now, “You’d have a maid or two aiding you” 

Taehyung frowns, whatever paperwork he was reading long forgotten on the couch as he tugs your legs over his thighs, fingers dancing over the bare skin covered by your skirt. 

“But they don’t do it as you do, and I have to look my best the day we tie souls and vow to be lovers for the rest of our time alive. It’s an important day” 

“I suppose you’re right” you hum, brushing his hair from his forehead, “I too, would be lonely if we were to part on such a joyous day” 

It hadn’t been long after the both of you had entered adulthood that Taehyung’s father had died, and only a few months after that the two of you had gotten married. 

You’d worried for Taehyung, knowing that even though his relationship with his father had never been the best, at least a small part of him should have been sad that his soul had left to rest. But no matter how much you lightly prodded, and made sure to ask if he were okay, Taehyung never shed a tear. 

He never truly found a way to articulate his feelings; losing someone he never saw as a father left the smallest hole in his heart. A pinprick, because Taehyung wasn’t heartless and knew the old man had brought him into this world, something he will forever be grateful for– but that was it. 

For the thousands of days you and Taehyung had spent together, the day he had proposed would be your second favourite of them all. He hadn’t made it extravagant, nor did he make it a huge point by proposing at a large gathering. He knew you despised those sorts of events, so he had asked you to be his bride at your favourite spot. 

The pond in Taehyung’s gardens had always been your favourite. It felt as though the world only belonged to the two of you when you spent evenings alone, sat on the bench, where fireflies danced over the water, their reflection like little stars scattered across the pond, the moon so much larger in its reflection than it looked in the sky. 

The day of your wedding, and all the days after that would forever take the top spot.

Taehyung had always loved your soul. He knew you were pretty, of course, you were; you were the most ethereal being he had ever come across. 

The faeries and pretty little wonders he read about, he always pictured you in their place. But it wasn’t always about the way you looked that had Taehyung coming back for more, or his heart thumping ever so hard against the skin of his chest whenever you were around. 

He thought you had the most wonderful soul that he liked to dip his fingers into, gentle like the softest waves, or cradle it to his chest. The most delicate part of you, ever so precious, the rawest form of yourself that he’d hold on to for as long as he was allowed. Because if one day the two of you were to ever part, he’d find the path of your soul, trace his fingers through every dip and curve he’d memorized, and make his way back to your side. 

The night of your wedding, the night the both of you had given yourself to one another fully, was never a moment Taehyung thought he’d be ready for. It’s not that he was second-guessing his choice– sometimes in life the moments we’ve been waiting for feel like a lifetime away. So many hours and even more minutes between now and then, that when the day stumbles before you in all its joyous glory, no amount of falling into your mind in silent preparation had ever truly prepared you for this. 

Taehyung had worshipped your body like you were his only goddess, you were his religion, his reason for life and death and everything he breathed and consumed in his fragile mortal body. Your souls knotting as your lips pressed so gently against one another, their pinkies forever intertwined as they melted like candle wax and hardened as one lifeform. 

Taehyung particularly loved the feeling of your nails digging into the delicate skin of his shoulders. A feeling forever ingrained into his mind, sending a shiver up his spine when his mind wanders to how you looked in candlelight, spread bare for him to defile. 

The both of you felt as though the honeymoon phase was nothing but lies, an easy scare for those who fell too fast, drowning in acidic love that dragged two people away from one another in harsh waves. Because for you and Taehyung, it never ended. 

Every day that you woke up to Taehyung beside you, had you burying your face in your pillow, smile so hard to contain you covered it up with a kiss to Taehyung’s lips as he slowly woke up. 

“I love you” he’d murmur, eyes barely open. 

“I love you more” a hand cupping his cheek, you’d press a kiss to his jaw; sometimes tickled by the stubble that had grown in. 

Something ever so mundane, yet it always seemed to bring you so much happiness. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

For a week during the summer, Taehyung would hand his duties over to his assistant and take you away for a short vacation. 

You liked the little house the both of you owned on the other side of town, secluded from the rest of the world. 

It had been one summer when your love for rain had started. You often found yourself reading by the window when the summer showers would pay you a visit, dousing the garden in muddy puddles and the gentle pitter-patter of the world’s tears hitting the ground easy white noise as you danced across pages of books. Or simply watched Taehyung sits on the piano bench, only so he could sit in your company.

Taehyung had always loved playing the piano, one of his many loves that he’d buried with the immense amount of work that had piled on to him since taking the seat as head of the household. The grand piano that sat in the far room of the house was his secret door of salvation. 

“Will you play me a piece?” you motion towards the piano, doors to the garden hooked open. Sure to slam shut with the wind picking up. The air was a little sweeter that afternoon, a gentle breeze raking through your hair, licking at the tops of the pages of your book. 

“I haven’t played for a while” Taehyung closes his own book, “But if it’s for you, I could never say no” 

You take a seat beside Taehyung as he flexes his fingers, gently running his hand over the ivory keys. 

“Would you like me to get your music book?” you lay your head on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. I doubt I’d remember how to read much of it anyways” 

“Do you remember my favourite piece?” 

Taehyung’s tongue wets his bottom lip, “I should hope so” 

Your eyes close as the first note penetrates the air, your head jostling slightly as Taehyung reaches the other end of the keys, his cheek knocking against the top of your head. The tips of his fingers dance elegantly, gentle with each deep hum of the piano’s song. 

You perk up at the first sound of rain, barely there, almost concealed by Taehyung as his movements become bolder, each thick note more pronounced, each deep hum vibrating through your skin. 

You lift your head from his shoulder, “I didn’t think it would rain today” 

You take one look at Taehyung, the smallest smile teasing at his lips when you stand. You kick your slippers off by the open door, toes curling into the damp grass as you step outside. 

You blink as a raindrop falls on your nose, slipping until it’s wetting your lips. You turn back to look at Taehyung, waving when he lifts his head to look at you; and he winces when he presses the wrong note. 

You wander further into the garden, hiking your skirt up so it won’t drag across the wet soil. 

As the rain gets heavier the sound of the piano is slowly drowned out, the world yours for the moment before you’re turning back to Taehyung. 

“Tae” you call back inside, beckoning him over when he turns towards you, “Come dance with me” 

The piano is left and forgotten as Taehyung pushes himself to stand, shoes piled with your slippers as Taehyung steps into the garden. He slinks towards you, hair starting to cling to his forehead as the rain gets heavier. 

“You’ll catch a cold” he takes your hand, tugging you into his chest. 

“But the world is so beautiful when it rains” 

“Just this once I’ll indulge you” he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

As much as the world looks wonderful in that moment, Taehyung outshined it all. Your clothes stuck to the both of you like a second skin, your hair tickling the side of your face, clinging to you like sticky wet vines down the back of your neck.

Taehyung’s hands wander your body, pulling you closer when you start to drift away– your hips finally falling in sync. All those hours of classes on how to dance are washed away by the rain as the both of you stumble, almost falling over each other’s feet. 

“Look” you point towards the back of the estate, “there’s a rainbow” you laugh. 

Taehyung follows your line of sight, “How pretty” he hums, his hands falling to your waist. 

Your fingers tease over his chest, heart hammering under his skin, mere seconds away from jumping out of his skin. Taehyung’s hands wander further down, a surprised moan catching in the back of your throat when he grabs the meat of your ass; tugging you into his body. And you can feel his growing erection against your stomach.  

“Not in the garden” you whisper, fingers trailing lower until you’re gently tugging at his belt. 

Taehyung leans down, warm breath fanning the side of your neck. He presses a wet kiss to the unblemished skin, “I wouldn’t give the serving staff the pleasure of seeing you fall apart for me” he whispers, sodden hair falling over your shoulder.

You take his hands from where they’re teasing over the top of your thighs, “Let’s go” you take long strides back towards the house. 

“Where to, my love?” he trails after you, the most giddy smile on his face. 

You look at him over your shoulder, “Our bedroom” 

Your feet slap wetly against the tile floors, muddy footprints trailing behind the both of you. Youthful joy thrums throughout your body, giggles hard to keep down as the both of you stagger through the hallway towards the bedroom. 

Taehyung’s overzealous in the way he opens the door, and you both wince when it bangs against the wall. The briefest clarity grazes your mind before lust sets back in, and all you can focus on is the incessant throbbing between your legs, and the man stood before you. 

You kick the door closed, Taehyung pulling his wet shirt over his head when you turn back to him– your dress is soon to follow. 

“Would you mind helping me?” you turn your back to Taehyung, shoulders curling inwards as his fingers trace over the intricate ribbing of your corset. 

He’s gentle as he tugs at the ribbons, and you heave a sigh of relief, muscles finally easing a little. Dull throb sinks out of your ribs as you heave a deep breath. 

You turn around, Taehyung’s eyes trailing to your bare chest, curving down the slope, fingers itching at his sides to sink and dig his nails into the plush flesh. He swallows, Adams's apple bobbing under the weight of desire. 

“My beautiful wife” he whispers, hands running up the length of your arms before he’s teasing the edge of your breasts. You trace over his belt, tugging impatiently as he pulls you towards the bed. 

You fall backwards onto the mattress, air momentarily punched from your lungs. Taehyung’s arms cage your head, thigh nudging your legs open for him. 

Your wet hair sticks to your neck, small droplets of water falling over your cheeks from Taehyung’s own hair as his eyes wander over your face. Windows to his soul wide open as sickly sweet love dances within his eyes, adoration you know you’ll never get from another man bared naked, yours for the taking. 

You rut up against his knee, damp cotton panties dragging deliciously against your clit. 

Taehyung’s arms flex as he leans down, plush lips trailing down your jaw, gently plucking soft moans from the back of your throat with every mean nip of his teeth over delicate skin. 

Your thighs clamp around Tae’s leg, arms slithering around his shoulders as you use him for your own pleasure, short bursts of pure arousal wracking up your body with every purposeful tense of his muscles. 

“Good girl” he groans, falling to hold himself up by his elbows as his lips map out the rest of your body– kissing over your neck, the underside of your breasts, down towards your stomach. You whine as he kneels before you, hips bucking upwards to try and chase the slowly fizzling pleasure. 

He kisses your mound over your underwear, tips of his fingers barely brushing over your clit as he trails them down towards your covered folds. Thumb splitting your labia, guttural groan rumbling from his chest as he feels your slick heat.

He can’t seem to stifle the chuckle that slips past his lips either as you whine, the most pitiful pout tugging onto your face as he teases you. 

“How needy” he croons, adding a little more pressure over your entrance, “I’ll make sure to make you feel good” 

You lift your hips, a silent invitation for him to tug your panties off, and he does, dropping them beside him; forgotten as he looks at your slick soaked pussy. 

“Tae” you whisper, impatient as your fingers tangle into his wet hair, careful as you try and tug him closer to where you needed him most without hurting him.

“Hm?” he hums, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he pushes them open a little wider, making it easier for him to slip closer to his favourite place. 

Your toes curl as he bends, placing the lightest kiss over your clit, “Want you” 

“Want you too, my love” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your folds. 

He licks a bold stripe from your entrance to your clit, tongue dipping past your walls before he’s pulling back, wad of spit dribbling over your already sodden cunt.

Your thighs threaten to twitch closed, and when Taehyung notices this he tugs them over his shoulders, dragging you a little further to the edge of the bed. 

His thumb teases over your clit, thrumming at the sensitive little bud as he pushes his tongue back inside of you. The moan you let out is sure to have echoed down the halls, your embarrassment only amplified when you feel another dribble of slick gush past your walls, sure to coat Taehyung’s chin shiny. 

“M’ gonna cum” you hiccup, hips frantically bucking upwards as Taehyung further smothers his face into your pussy. 

He hums, a new wave of arousal coursing through your body at the unexpected vibrations. 

It’s a haphazard flick of your clit that has you tumbling head first into your orgasm, thighs quivering as they clamp around Taehyung’s head, though that doesn’t seem to deter him as he licks into your cunt, swallowing down your release. 

“S’ too much” you sob, hands pushing your lover from between your thighs. He kisses your knee, head flopping across your leg as he looks up at you. 

Your stomach clenches at the dopey smile on his face, thumb running over his bottom lip, still shiny with your arousal. 

“Are you tired, my love?” he asks, fingers curling around your wrists, kissing your palm, then the tips of each finger. 

You shake your head, “I can still go if you’d like” 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you”

You swallow, unexplainable love swelling inside your chest. 

“Please make love to me” you whisper, pink hue deepening in shade on your cheeks as Taehyung stands at full height, shucking off whatever clothes he still had on. 

You can’t help but wet your lips, watching as he runs a gentle hand over his length, slicking his cock up with pearly beads of precome. 

You push yourself up further on the bed, legs falling open as Taehyung kneels before you. 

He runs a finger through your folds, barely dipping a fingertip inside of you before he’s pulling out, pushing your thighs further apart. 

He guides his cock to your entrance, slicking the head with your cum before he’s gently pushing into you. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, cunt clenching around Taehyung’s length as he gently rocks into you. 

He groans, barely pulling out before feeding you another inch. His hands roam up the length of your body as he finally bottoms out, hips rutting into you by habit. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss which he melts into, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head, tongue teasing over the seam of your lips. 

He licks up into your mouth, concoction of your saliva clinging to his tongue when he pulls back. 

“Ready?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, muscles falling lax as Taehyung pushes your thighs up to your chest. He almost pulls out, the air punched from your lungs as he snaps back into you. 

Unabashed, you moan, Taehyung’s name tumbling from your lips like it were the only word you knew as he thrusts into you. 

It’s wet when Taehyung’s thighs meet your ass, sticky with arousal that clings to both your skin and moans a harmony with one another. 

Your hand snakes down the length of your body, between your thighs, teasing over your clit as Taehyung throws his head back, utterly consumed by unadulterated pleasure. 

“Together” he groans, hips losing their calculated pace. 

His cockhead nudges over your sweet spot, a whine dripping off your lips that Taehyung catches, kiss messy, teeth clashing. 

You pick up the pace on your clit, fizzling pleasure slipping down your spine, slick gushing from your hole, so many feelings, so many emotions– all amplified as endorphins buzz at your brain, a shockwave of dopamine setting you alight.   

You feel Taehyung twitch between your walls, your pussy clenching sporadically around his length as he nears his orgasm. 

Taehyung tips over the edge before you do, creamy white cum painting your walls in thick ropes. Your own orgasm following as you feel another wave of Taehyung’s seed flood your cunt. 

His hips twitch as you continue to clench around him, pushing his release further into you. 

Your chest stutters as you try and catch your breath, fingers splayed over your mound as you fall back into reality. 

Your moan as Taehyung pulls out, a hiccup following as he presses a kiss to your cheek. His fingers gather up the dribble of cum that follows his cock, pushing it back inside of you. And you twitch at that, overstimulated. 

He reaches behind your head for a pillow, your thighs falling to the bed, to which Taehyung tuts. 

“Lift your hips up for me, darling” he soothes, singular hand gathering both your ankles, pulling the lower half of your body from the mattress so he can slip the pillow underneath you. 

“You’d look awfully pretty baring my child” his hand trails down your stomach, over your womb. 

“I hope this time we are lucky” you tell him, finger interlacing with the ones over your stomach. 

“Me too, my love. Our child would be the most precious little thing” 

You smile, eyes slipping shut as you paint the image of what your baby would look like, “I hope they look like you” 

“I’d always wished they’d look like you. Their mother holds all the beauty of this cruel world” 

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, “Then how about they look like the both of us, as their father shares all of that beauty” 

“That would be wonderful” Taehyung pushes himself off the bed, slipping on a robe that had been forgotten on one of the chairs that morning. 

“What if they aren’t a boy?” your hands fall over your chest, watching Taehyung as he gathers the bowl of water and towels. 

He turns to look at you, “What would it matter if they were a girl?” his eyebrows furrow. 

“Wouldn’t you need an heir” 

He wets his bottom lip, “Boy or girl, I’m not bothered, my love. If we were to have a son then I would never subject them to the horrors of becoming heir. And if we have a precious little daughter, I would love her all the same, and if one day she decides she wants to take over the estate then I would let her” 

The corners of your lips tug up into a smile, “Then I am glad” Your hand finds his as he takes a seat beside you on the bed, dipping the towel into water, gently dragging it over your sweat-slicked skin. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Falling in love with Taehyung had made you a lot of things. 

Juvenile had never been on top of that list, though when you think about it, it really should have been. Or that somewhere written in the fine print of your story, neither of you would die, that you’d both freeze in time and continue your lives for the rest of eternity. 

Some days when you’d sit alone, you wish Monet had been around during your life with Taehyung. His paintings as beautiful as the love you shared. Paintings full of purpose, the world through the eyes of a man– impressionist paintings that had so much raw colour, so much more vibrance than the real world. 

You wish he’d have been able to put paint to canvas, where every gentle stroke of his brush was a piece of stupid, young naivety put into breath-taking art. Meaningful, purposeful, and beautiful. Because your ignorance would have made a beautiful collection, a series of a time when the future wasn’t as perfect as his art. Bringing both you and your lover to downfall. 

Your life was not the art of Monet, nor was it as mesmerising as Van Gogh’s Starry Night. You weren’t frozen in time like you were part of history, forever documented on paper and hung for the world to see. 

You were naive enough to think that with Taehyung’s new rise to power, somewhat unexpected in high society, he wouldn’t have one or two enemies. 

The end of your first life hadn’t been what you had wanted it to be. 

As much as you remember the day you had gotten married or all the afternoons you and Taehyung had spent in the garden, dancing in the rain, under rainbows and the sun that peeked through the clouds, there to celebrate your love just as much as the both of you were; what was supposed to be the perfect ending like all the far-fetched stories Taehyung read, this was more of a tragedy. 

Because that’s what it was– farfetched. 

You remember the afternoon that the perfect life you had, had crumbled. Sand slipping through your fingers, falling to the bottom of the hourglass. 

You lay on the couch, your foot tapping against the arm, Taehyung’s quil tinking against the bottle of ink. In recent months you’d found yourself reading Taehyung’s favourite books, all of their spines worn down, loved and read over and over. 

“Do you smell that?” you push yourself up onto your elbows, the book laid over your lap. 

“Smell what, my darling?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his tired eyes. 

Your eyes meet Tae’s, “Something smells as though it’s burning” 

The both of you sit in silence for a moment before Taehyung pushes his chair back, peering out the window. His fingers try and pull at the latch, finding it stuck, and he turns back to you. 

“Maybe I’m imagining it” you tell him when you see his eyebrows furrow. 

“I can definitely smell something” he turns back to you, “I can’t tell what. Go and call someone to open this window, it’s jammed”

Your book is dropped onto the couch as you push yourself up, you go to open the door to Taehyung’s office, only for the door not to open. You push a little harder, shoulder knocking uncomfortably against the hardwood. 

You press an ear to the door. 

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, stalking towards you. 

“It won’t open” 

Taehyung makes a noise from the back of his throat, and you step out of the way when he takes hold of the door handle. 

He mirrors your earlier action, shoulder knocking against the door. 

“It won’t open” he turns to you. 

“I know, my love” A gentle smile moulds onto your lips. 

You press your ear to the door again, “Do you hear that?” 

Taehyung follows; ear pressed to the door, “Burning?” 

“Burning?” you stand straight. 

You crouch down, fingers feeling over the gap between the floor and door, “Hello?” you call out, hand flinching away as heat licks over your fingers. 

“Is anyone there?” Taehyung shouts, fist banging against the door. 

“Taehyung” you tug at his shirt, trying to pull him away from the door. He relents, taking a step forwards, “Taehyung, it’s a fire” You take his hand. 

“What?” 

“It’s a fire” You show him your fingertips, hands shaking slightly as the reality of what was happening settles in. 

“You’re hurt” he murmurs, “If one of the staff would just answer we could treat your wounds” his lips barely brush over the burn. 

“Taehyung it’s barely an injury, not when we’re locked in here with a fire right outside that door” 

He swallows, “We’ll find a way out” 

“How?” you dare ask, “We can’t go out the window, that’s suicide from this high up” 

His foot taps against the floor, hand running over his jaw in thought. 

Your focus is snatched away from your lover when something creaks, burning flames slithering under the crack under the door, molten snakes with no goal in mind. 

Taehyung pulls you further into his office, the door crackling as the flames start to chew it up, an onslaught of heat spilling into the room. You can smell the gasoline, splintered wood glistening in it as the door creaks off its hinges, flinging the fire further into the office, and you watch as it singes over the carpet. 

The flames dance before you, a mesmerising dance, crawling up the walls, heated footsteps stalking across the rug, heady puffs of carbon monoxide smoking into the air. 

Your hand flies to cover your mouth when a thin wisp of smoke slips down your windpipe, tickling your throat and searing at the inside of your lungs. 

Taehyung pulls you into his chest as you back into the wall furthest away from the fire, “It’s going to be okay” he heaves, his own hand covering his nose and mouth, dry cough spluttering past his lips. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as the fire slinks closer to the both of you, dangerously close, teasing as it flicks at your ankles, its amble arms chewing up the bookcases, rage only amplifying with each novel it consumes. 

You catch sight of a silhouette standing outside the office, body veiled by thick flames that continue to slink into the office. Another splash of gasoline only makes it burn brighter, sweat tickling the back of your neck. 

Your arms slip around Taehyung’s waist, and he helps you both sit on the ground, arms now holding your shoulders. A lame attempt at holding you away from the blazing fire that creeps closer. 

Your lungs can’t seem to get enough oxygen, panic setting into your bones as you heave for a full breath. Your eyes water as you choke on what should have been a rush of oxygen, only your lungs burn with the ash that settles inside of you, clinging to your windpipe– coating the inside of your mouth. 

“Try not to–” Taehyung coughs, hand lifting to clasp around his throat, cheeks flushing a deep red “-breathe it in too much– cyanide” 

A yelp gets caught in your throat as the flames flicker too close to you, singing the hem of your dress. You try and kick it away, hand flapping down to make sure the fire doesn’t chew at any more of your clothing. You try to ignore the prickly burn to your bare skin, eyes squeezing shut as you try and curl in on yourself to make you smaller. 

You tug on Taehyung’s shirt, dry cough lurching your body forward that Taehyung tries to catch only to heave. 

“I love you” you whisper, the both of you cornered. Nowhere to run. 

The figure stood outside the office long gone, fire now out of their control. A wild beast that had no plans of stopping until it had chewed and gnawed at your home, until it had nothing to fuel it anymore, leaving behind piles of ash and broken dreams– charred bodies and guilty minds to the ones who had started this. 

You flinch backwards when Taehyung’s desk folds in on itself, flames spitting out its joy as the planks of wood slowly char under the heat; a warning for your own destiny. 

His fingers lace into the hair on the back of your head, pulling you into him, “And I love you. When the both of us are reborn, I will find you, and we can fall in love all over again” he manages, the flames looking like hellish wings behind his back, slowly licking at his shirt, sizzling the fabric– more chemicals sifting through the air and into your fragile lungs. 

Taehyung curls further into you when the fire licks at his shoes, easily chewing through the leather, deft fingertips tracing up his legs, and over his body.

“Don’t say that” Your fingers loosen their grasp on his shirt as you heave for another breath, mind entirely gone as you spin, the world spinning with you. Your brain felt as though it were being flushed out with helium, pressure so much you think it might explode. 

Your eyes squeeze shut.

And when you open again, Jimin’s there. 

His eyes still wide with shock. 

You feel bile rise up your throat at the sight of him, blood smeared across his perfect face, puncture still oozing red from his neck soaking through his shirt fully. Your floor is in no better shape, though you think there's as much of your own blood as there is his. 

“Jimin?” you whisper, vision momentarily veiled by salty tears that fall down your cheeks like pitiful pearls, mixing with the crimson the drips from a gash in your head, dull ache migrating to behind your eyes. 

“Jimin you have to wake up now. Please” 

He doesn’t move, not when you hear footsteps from the other room– heavy boots that clatter against old wood– not when you call his name. Not when the front door creaks closed and the world is silent once more, or when your chest stutters out another breath and you feel another wave of blood gush out of your stomach, adding to the puddle below the both of you. 

“Jimin” you call again, choking on your own sob, fists balling up, “Jimin, please don’t leave me. I’m scared” 

You look into his eyes. Nothing. All signs of life spilt onto the floor. 

In a sick and twisted way, you’re glad Jimin had gone before you. 

You’d have hated it if he had to watch you dead on the bedroom floor while he slowly follows you. At least now you could be with him a little longer, even if you couldn’t tell him goodbye for the last time. Or tell him how much you love him, or how happy he’d made you, or how grateful you are. 

So many words left unsaid, that you swallow back down with a sob. And they mix with the bile that singes your throat, so close to spilling onto the puddle of red as you make eye contact with your dead lover. 

You drag your body through the blood on the floor, closer until your chest is pressed against Jimin’s and your body falls lax against him, arm slung over his side. 

You press the palm of your hand against your open wound, what little hope you had left inside of you, the smallest voice whispering that maybe you could survive. Though somewhere deeper down you know that your soul will soon follow Taehyung’s, and now Jimin's too. 

You push your head into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, tangy, metallic blood staining your lips as you kiss over the tainted skin. 

He was still warm, skin still very much his as your fingers skim over his back. Ever so gentle as though he would crack if you weren’t careful. And you would have gathered him up in your arms if you’d had the strength. 

And at that final moment when it settles within your mind and your heart that your body can no longer hold onto the slither of life still inside of you– the easing thump of your heart mellowing inside your chest. You remember the little note Jimin left on his pillow for you to wake up to that morning. 

“When you and I hug, our hearts are locked behind our ribcages and touch through our skin. Always beating in sync. And for as long as my heart beats beside yours, it will belong to you. For those moments we part, perhaps it falls out of sync, and when we reunite, my heart may just be reminded who it beats for. And we will be in sync once more ♡’

☆ﾟ thank you for reading!! reblogs are always appreciated, and please let me know what you think!!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung imagine #taehyung fic #jimin imagine #jimin fic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fic #hoseok imagine #jungkook fanfic #taehyung smut #jimin fanfic #ot7 x reader #bts jungkook #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #taehyung #bts #bts poly au #bts x female reader #bts taehyung

[noxdont]

LumiHarem & their fave pastimes together

Dilumi

Napping together. Honestly with the amount of things this man has on his plate, it's amazing how still manages to find some time for himself. Although when he does, he'd already be exhausted. One day, Lumine was there waiting for him in the manor and the sight of her just made him realize how tired he was for the day. And so they ended up lying on the large couch by the windowsill, nuzzling in each others' embrace. Since then it's become Diluc's favorite part of the day.

Kaelumi

Stargazing. (Yes I will keep pushing this agenda and I will never shut up about it) Them just finding any comfortable spot that gives them the perfect view of the night sky is more than enough. Before Lumine came into his life, Kaeya would often find himself ordering another drink at the tavern or in some old ruins trying to find more answers to the lingering questions in his mind. These days (or nights) he'd find himself searching for a certain traveler and just settling himself by her side as they silently watch the stars shine and burn above them.

Venlumi

Picnics. If he finds out that his beloved traveler is back in Mondstadt, he'd immediately whisk her away to Windrise and Lumine lets him because being with Venti also gives her some time to relax. They'd most likely be lying underneath the large tree at Windrise, Venti asking her about her adventures with his head on her lap while Lumine catches up with him. They'd have small picnic basket by the side filled all sorts food (Lumine always bakes an apple pie because she lowkey loves spoiling Venti) and a bottle of apple cider.

Albelumi

Reading together. Other than trying out various exercises and experiments, another pastime both Lumine and Albedo enjoy doing is reading books together. May it be fiction, non-fiction, some old documents or a book Lumine found in the midst of her trip, they'd eventually find themselves in their usual position. They're both underneath a warm blanket, Lumine's head leaning on to his shoulder as she reads through a novel recommended to her by Lisa while Albedo leans against her as well as his reads through another book Lumine found during her adventures.

Zhonglumi

Drinking tea and sharing stories (although most of the time Zhongli is the one who does the talking because he likes sharing about various things and Lumine enjoys listening to him). Third Round Knockout, Liuli Pavilion or at the stone table on Mt. Aocang, these three places have become their usual spots. It simply started out with Lumine inviting Zhongli for tea when she'd have some free time in Liyue and eventually it just became their thing. Lumine grew this habit of collecting tea recipes and ingredients from different places so she could share it with Zhongli while he tries to think of the tales he has yet to tell her for their next date meet-up. (He'd always try to choose the longer ones so that they'll spend more time together)

Chilumi

Fishing. Other than beating up each other to pulps like the romantic couple that they are, Childe also enjoys fishing and the fact that Lumine is starting to get more and more into it makes him all the more happier because he gets to spend more time with her. Sometimes they'd chat for a bit and talk about their families, sometimes it gets a little competitive and they'd end up just duking it out but most of the time right after their little activity, Childe would took her hand in his and leads her to the sandy shorelines of Liyue as they watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon.

Xiaolumi

Collecting random things. The word pastime probably doesn't exist in Xiao's vocabulary but if he miraculously does get some free time, he'd instinctively find Lumine and join her with whatever she's doing. And most of the time, he'd catch her collecting things either for personal use or for a commission. Whether it was collecting violetgrass and qingxin flowers on mountaintops, finding starconch shells and some cor lapis, Xiao has gotten used to helping Lumine find these things that he's memorized the spots where they'd mostly find them. Neither of them really needs to point out on how it was starting to turn into their little routine, all they know is that being with each other like this made their day a little better.

Thomalumi

Cooking. Ever since Thoma found out that Lumine also cooks, he suggested they start sharing each others' recipes when they have the time and Lumine happily obliged. From taste testing partners to mini cooking competitions to almost trashing the entire kitchen, Thoma never expected he'd enjoy cooking more than before. Every time he'd hear that Lumine was back in the estate or is at the teahouse, he can't help but be excited as he wonders what kind of dishes they'll make together this time. And as soon as they're done cooking, they realize that they made a feast large enough to feed the entire estate. Making sure that they don't waste any of the food, they'd invite the rest to share the feast with them.

Ayatolumi

Going for a short walks together. Ayato spends most of his time reading and signing papers under closed doors to the point where Ayaka and Thoma worries that he might end up overworking himself. Their prayers were answered in a form of golden traveler who seems to be one of the few people that Ayato can't say no to so convincing him to go on a short walk together was fortunately not that difficult to do. At first it started out as a way for Ayato to take breaks but somehow it became something he'd look forward to even as he works. When he hears three soft knocks at his door, he's already on his feet and ready to leave his office.

Goroulumi

Archery. Here we have another workaholic whose hobby can still be considered as work but then again, Gorou being committed to his job and position are just few of the things that makes him so loveable. Lumine has always been interested to train with the bow although she never really found someone to properly show her the ropes, this little tidbit slipped out while she was having a conversation with Kokomi and Gorou's ears perked up in interest.

"Then how about I teach you?" offered the general with thinly veiled enthusiasm. How could Lumine ever say no to that?

And so whenever they both have the time, they'd find each other on their usual training spot. Lumine making steady progress although she occasionally gets stuck on a problem. Cue Gorou appearing beside her to either fix her stance and explains the parts where she went wrong. Lumine never misses how his touch would linger longer once their eyes would meet. And the happy sway of his tail once she hits the target dead center.

Heilumi

Solving riddles. One would think that there isn't a riddle that the genius Doushin of the Tenryou Commission couldn't solve, Heizou takes pride in that very notion until he came face to face with a riddle that he has never heard before. The traveler sat across from with an innocent smile while a mixture of interest and frustration rung through his entire being. Not that Heizou never got the answer right, it just took him a lot more time (days even) to actually figure out Lumine's riddle. Once his mind managed to come up with an answer, he'd immediately go and find her. Overflowing with excitement, he'd pull her by the side from whatever she was doing and says his answer proudly. Lumine would reward him with a pleasant smile before complimenting him for doing a job well done. She would then present another riddle, another challenge that Heizou gladly takes and by then the cycle continues. Heizou has no problems admitting that he's been enjoying their little exchange but it might take more courage for him to admit that what he's truly looking forward to was seeing her smile every time he gets to solve her riddles.

Kazulumi

Cuddling. Kazuha is a huge cuddle bug (change my mind) and what better way to enjoy cuddling when it's with his favorite person? Cuddling just became natural to both of them and Lumine always welcomes it no matter the occasion. Being in each other's arms, often sneaking kisses on the other's cheek, temple and even lips before nuzzling into the crook of their partner's neck. Either of them can initiate the cuddling session, all Kazuha has to do was to hug Lumine from behind and tell her how much he misses holding her. Lumine on the other simply makes a grabby motion towards the samurai before he's instantly making his way towards her. Cuddling sessions are not and should not be disturbed, Kazuha has made this quite clear towards the others as he holds Lumine tighter.

Ittolumi

Playing with children. Everything with Itto almost seems like a pastime but Lumine doesn't mind. Being with the oni always give her this freeing feeling like she was able to escape runaway from the constant commissions and responsibility to enjoy life even just for a quick moment. Itto has been playing with some kids in Inazuma for quite some time now and Lumine never really had a chance to see more of it other than them having fun. But when Itto literally scooped her away for her to join them one day, Lumine found her perspective changing. Under the playful, almost rash, and boisterous oni that he was, there was another side of Itto that not many often see. Such as him instantly bending down to comfort a crying child, bringing back their smile when he'd notice them frowning all day or him making sure to keep them safe when they were in any sort of danger. Itto dragging Lumine along to his usual routine was unplanned (a spur in the moment decision really) but it surely wasn't unwelcomed. Lumine witnessing another side of Itto and being given a chance to step back from her usual routine offered warm comfort. And Itto being able to enjoy the things that he does best without being judged or criticize made him happier than he thought it would.

#genshin impact lumine #genshin lumine #lumine harem #lumiharem #diluc x lumine #dilumi #Kaeya x Lumine #kaelumi #Albedo x Lumine #albelumi #Venti x Lumine #venlumi #Childe x Lumine #chilumi #Zhongli x Lumine #zhonglumi #Xiao x Lumine #xiaolumi #Thoma x Lumine #thomalumi #Ayato x Lumine #Ayatolumi #Gorou x Lumine #Goroulumi #Kazuha x Lumine #kazulumi #Itto x Lumine #ittolumi

[goawaypopup]

Roddacember Day 5: Magic

Something I like about the magic of Deltora's universe, something that not every fantasy media tries or manages to pull off, is how it's less a scientifically defined thing and more, almost, cultural.

Something like Dungeons and Dragons has spells that aren't just strictly defined, but universal. I can turn bat guano into a fireball by exploiting the laws of fictional physics, and someone across the continent can do the same thing if they learn how.

Other works will have something a little closer, where you have to be one of the people born with special blood. Magic is just something that happens sometimes, and if you're not either a random monster that innately uses it or one of the setting's wizards, you're out of luck.

What Rodda does, though, hits on an aspect of magic that I think is a better use for it than as setting dressing or a plot lubricant: the wonder.

Magic, as a piece of human imagining, is the natural consequence of a world where we have to work very hard to do things. "What if," says the archetypal everyman, "these dishes leapt into the sink and washed themselves, and I could stop using my precious god-formed fingers for things other than reaching for bonbons?"

The natural progression from there is... what if I could do things that I can't do now with any amount of effort? What if I could wipe away sickness with the touch of my hand? What if I could call upon the untameable forces of the natural world?

We all know, in the modern day, that the world is cold and made of smaller building blocks than we can comprehend. Disease is not made of elemental evil, but a multitude of complex problems of human homeostasis that our words and understanding can only capture the very surface of.

Of course, we still tell stories of magic potions that can cure any ailment. This is what magic has always been all about. It bridges the gap between the things that humans find meaning in, and the things that matter to the mechanical universe. A world with magic can have these categories be one and the same.

The way that magic works in Deltora reflects this principle. Magic comes from the land itself, and seems to be invested in rare lineages that have strong ties to it - the dragons and the royal Del line, the Torans, the Maris, the Fellans, the sorceress Tamm and the mud of Tier, all (that we know much about) carry magic because their ancestors found meaning and power in the land. And all of their powers are different, and - for the most powerful, still-united groups - used to maintain the connection with the land, and meet the needs of the people.

There is a spring in the Emerald Territory woods that checks whether it likes your inner motivations, and if it doesn't, kills you dead (via dendrification). There is another spring on another continent, this one definitely untouched by human hands until its discovery, that instantly heals wounds both internal and external, and apparently can restore blood to your body, specifically to allow the local yakbeasts to complete their migration and maintain a healthy ecosystem. We have 8 separate known instances of tribes finding - being gifted - extremely powerful magic stones that allow them to unify and defend their people. These are completely nonliving places - that clearly have motivations like people.

In Deltora's universe, in the eternal dialogue between people and the world, the world is actually talking back.

#roddacember 2023 #roddacember #deltora quest #magic

[jeongin-lvr]

dee, you know that reality singles inferno? there's this fancy hotel where's the "paradise", and it has a private pool and the vibes are just so sexy and to be fully perfect, only having hyunjin swimming there (ik, sex by the pool sounds only good in theory, but we're talking about fiction here, so...) could you please make this work? 💞

OH YESSSSSS !!! I actually HAVENT watched it but I do know a bunch ab it bc of clips I’ve seen online <//3

So I’m picturing Hyunjin with his pretty brown hair soaked and clinging to his forehead, bringing out the bronze tone of his eyes and flush in his cheeks as he kisses you. Again and again, the orange tone of the sunlight reflecting on his back and burning his skin but he doesn’t care. He’s stepping forward in the pool and pushing you backwards until the cold stone of the pools edge hits your back; you give a soft yelp which allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth, his big hand going to clutch your jaw lightly, fingers pressing into the sides of your chin and tickling the edge of your ear.

The two of you had been flirting the entire show and even though others tried to pursue both of you it seems that you two were an inseparable pair right from the start. Hyunjin couldn’t get enough of you and it didn’t take long for the two of you to get a moment alone together, forgetting the outside world as you sunk into each other. Clinging onto skin at random and kissing until your lips were a red hue and your eyes held a glassy film.

“I need you now, princess…” he’d groan against your lips, holding tight onto both your waist and the rough edge of the pool. You’d only be able to nod and cling to his shoulders in response, giving into him without much defiance. Quickly he’d push aside your pretty bikini and sink his dick in, lips swallowing your squeaks of both pleasure and pain as the water between you two thrashed with every movement. “Say you want me. Tell me, baby.” His words ripped through your ears and made you whine, your fingers beginning to hurt from the way you held him. And you whispered softly that you were all his, the creeping sunset behind the two of you as the temperate water of the pool waved back and forth; his body flowing like the waves around the two of you, his movements steady and slow, yet deep enough to draw the little wails from the deepest parts of your chest.

It felt romantic. But you didn’t need paradise surrounding the two of you to feel it <33

#nonnies ! #I Hope this is good… I struggled for a bit to find the words #eeeee #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin skz #skz smut #skz hard thoughts

[gailynovelry]

Catacombs Formidi || Short Fiction

Well, I don’t actually remember why they put me down here. I did something wrong. Of course I did; that’s the only way it happens. There’s no prying the lid off of the masoleum entrance by mistake. I’m sure you remember it better than me. The door is like a coffin, isn’t it? It has to be heavy, it has to be so far above the hallway floors, it has to fit into the ceiling like a glove.

Yes, it’s to keep us in.

No, I don’t think you can find it again. It won’t do you much good if you do. You do smell . . . recent. Do you remember what you did?

No, you don’t have to answer that.

I don’t care what you did. Maybe I was better, maybe I was worse. Now I am worse.

This is the warning you will want first. You can’t die down here. Trust me. I don’t know exactly when we stop being strangers and start being denizens, but you’ll cross that line before you ever find some fabled exit. It doesn’t let go of you that easily. You think you’re on the brink of something — starvation, exhaustion, dehydration. You taste dust, dust, dust. And then you keep going. And going. And going.

The needs burn, but they’re just noise, alright? Alright. Ignore them now. Satisfaction is temporary. Existence is long. If you do something you’ll regret, you’ll have forever in the darkness to think about it before you start to forget again.

What are you besides your needs?

It’s not a trick question. You’re going to be asking yourself this a lot in the coming centuries, and it’s too easy to be changed by ruminations.

Yes, I do have reasons to lie to you. Trust me when I say that I am ignoring them.

If you feel your way along the walls long enough, a few days or a few decades depending on how quick you are on the uptake, you’ll realize that the skulls aren’t real bone. It’s stone, carved. The writing is real. Incantations? Spellwork? Laments? No, I don’t know what language it is. Old. Old. Old. Some other civilization was doing it long before us. You’ll encounter their own mistakes in here, and the language barrier would be easy enough to learn around if they hadn’t been here, specifically, for so long.

Yes, I suppose they would be dead if they weren’t here. Again — it’s not a blessing. We can call it undeath, sure. But there’s more to it than that.

No, I don’t know why anyone would make this.

But why the punishment?

Give it a few centuries. The pointlessness will sink in.

I did speak correctly. There are others here besides me, and this is my second warning. If you are recent, you will not want to meet them.

Malicious? Some are just jealous, actually. Some are afraid. Some will want to put you out of your misery, not yet knowing that it can’t happen here. Some are just . . . hungry. So, so hungry.

Wait until you are not recent. You will know it eventually. It will hit you one day, as you shuffle through dry air and over broken rock; you will realize that you have been in here longer than you had ever been out there. You will be comfortable feeling your way through the darkness, and the idea of light will make you nervous. What would you even do with it? You see yourself more clearly without it.

Yes, I’ve met some of the others. They’re monsters. This is not a comment on their character, necessarily.

Like I said — who are you, divested of your needs?

A lot of people are their fears.

You become things, down here. I shouldn’t give you the specifics. I can, if you insist, but not in any great detail. I will tell you about the ones that I do not think — that I hope — you will not become. I brushed up once against someone who was nothing but sharp edges. Warm, wet edges. She was quiet. Quieter than you. I think it hurt her to move.

There was one who hated himself, hated me, hated company. He couldn’t do anything about it but screech. He’d shriveled in some way. Practically a worm. I don’t think I have a reason to fear his fate, not as I understand myself.

The ones speaking in old tongues, intelligible or no, almost never have human shapes. I think it’s a little scarier when they do.

I met— I met a pair once, who had been secretly afraid of being too reliant on one another, afraid that their devotion had doomed them. They had become conjoined in some way. I . . . did not ask.

Meeting people might affect you, yes. Might give you their fears, their shapes.

What am I afraid of?

. . .

Best not to speak it into truth.

. . .

I do have an idea of what I look like. I’ve never seen myself, not since coming down here, but I know it better than I knew myself when I had the luxury of mirrors. Best to keep it to myself. You should thank me, I suppose.

No, please don’t touch me. You don’t want to do that.

Yes, I do want it. I want it very, very badly.

Shhh. That’s enough. They threw us in because we are repugnant to them — criminal, yes, that’s the story — but I’ve been here long enough to realize that people are more complicated than that. Monsters too.

I am so sorry. You cannot show me that kindness.

Look, the talking sates my hunger for a while. Company takes the edge off, but it’s still there. You smell recent. You smell human still, and I can’t help the longing.

You should leave now.

Trust me.

#short fiction #short story #existential horror #horror #writeblr #creative writing

[clonerightsagenda]

#recently read November 23

The Golem of Brooklyn by Adam Mansbach. A stoned art teacher accidentally creates a golem who decides his mission is to stop an upcoming alt right rally.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. Finally got around to this. A unicorn seeks the rest of her people and is forever changed by the mortal world.

How Can I Help You? by Laura Sims. A failed novelist working at a public library realizes her coworker was a killer nurse - and becomes fascinated with her as a topic for a new novel.

Last to Leave the Room by Caitlin Starling. While investigating why her city has started sinking, scientist Tamsin finds a new door in her basement - and then her doppelganger walks through it.

A Haunting in Hialeah Gardens by Raul Palma. Buried in debt, nonbeliever Hugo works as a babalawo. Then he's given a chance to clear his debts if he can end the very real haunting of his debt collector.

Before the Streetlights Come On: Black America's Urgent Call for Climate Solutions by Heather McTeer Toney. An environmental justice book discussing the climate crisis' disparate racial impacts.

The Centre by Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi. Anisa is referred to a secretive language-learning program with miraculous results... and a sinister secret raising questions of translation, appropriation, and power.

The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2023 ed. by R.F. Kuang.

#recently read

[brewsterispunkk]

diamonds and stones: prologue

pairing: clyde logan x reader

summary: the beginning of it all

warnings: brief mentions of domestic violence

a/n: im dedicating this one to @acrossthesestars :) they offered so much encouragement and support the first time i tried to get this fic off the ground 2 years ago. after some reworking and new inspiration, im trying again !

series masterlist

prologue:

You had been obsessed with Greek mythology when you were young. 

Maybe it was the timelessness of it all, the beauty, love, tragedy. The might of the gods like Zues and Poesidon, the fierceness of Athena’s wit, the firm unforgiving curve of Hera’s brow. The constellations in the deep, inky sky called out to you.

You learned to read them, pick them out in each season. Orion and his bow, Sirius, wagging his tail at you from millions of lightyears away. You liked to talk to them sometimes, when it got tough at home. When the yelling came to be too much. You’d hole up in some corner with a book reading, or you’d look out your window and wonder. Speak to the dark and wonder if maybe they could hear you.

They had endured tragedy too, after all. And though a stepfather that hit you wasn’t a nine-headed beast or a minotaur, it might as well have been. You wondered what it would be like to walk among them; in the time of the Gods. To witness Persephone tumbling forth to the underworld as the world opened up from under her, to see Hera’s rage and wrath and pain firsthand, to feel Poseidon's breeze as Aphrodite was born of the sea-foam. 

You loved them; the myths. And the fiction that followed them, books inspired by stories thought up millennia ago.

But one goddess always confused you. You always avoided her stories; the fiery goddess of warmth, of belonging. It hurt too much. The deity that controlled the two most powerful things that you could never touch; fire--the piercing, blazing, sting of it all. Beautiful to look at and just out of reach. Enchanting candles and bonfires you could never touch, lest you become another Icarus, and melt away from the heat of it. Fire, the thing only the gods could touch. And the other: Home.

Home, the word felt foreign on your tongue, bitter.

The goddess of belonging, the deity of home. Hestia smiled at you from every page she appeared on, lips curving into a wicked smirk, holding something over your head you knew you could never achieve. Never possess, never grasp. 

 It was said that Aphrodite was the goddess of love, that you knew. But it was something you didn’t believe; to you, Aphrodite was the goddess of passion. Of deep, rushing urges, flighty decisions. She was the goddess your mother's tumultuous relationship was born of. And though what she and your stepfather had was piercing and painful, there was no love to be found there. That you were sure of.

No, in your mind Hestia was the goddess of true love, not just the shallow illusion of it. Warmth, stability, belonging: these were all characteristics of love itself. Something you’d never known.

Your mother loved you; That much you knew to be true, but it was a tragic type of love. The type the poets and romantics wrote about. Your mother was Ophelia, sinking into the deep. She was Juliet with a dagger piercing her heart. She was Cordelia, dying of a heart broken by betrayal. A love from Aphrodite had made her like this. She had been all but ruined by your father, as you saw it. She loved you, fiercely, but as though she was trying to provide enough for a mother and a father.

She tore herself apart trying to conceal what was truly happening from you; the bruises, the broken glass, the old jeep missing from the drive-way. And when he did take it out on you, she tore herself apart trying to put you back together. And that was tragic. More tragic than the fates of Orpheus and Eurydice. More tragic than the birth of Dionysus. More than Echo’s love for Narcissus. 

And so the goddess of the hearth and home taunted you.

Appalachia was a beautiful place to grow up, but for a little girl living in her own head, it could get lonely too. The mountains and foothills of the blue ridges lived in your soul; That much you knew. They spoke to you, told you stories, kept you company where there was none.

Your family had made home here for generations. You were as much a part of the land as it was a part of you. Like the West Virginia license plate said, you grew up the same way: “Wild and Wonderful.” Barefoot and wild, a true daughter of the mountains.

Where there wasn’t a father, there were the wildflowers. When your mother would shut down, go quiet and for once stop pretending that everything was alright, there was the oak tree with a tire swing. Through the fights and the screaming and the slamming, there was always this. The land. The grass beneath your feet, the wind in your hair, and the mountains above your eyes. And when it was too hot to be outside, your books were always there to welcome you back to the fold; to provide escape. 

So, though your life wasn’t perfect by any means, you’d always remember your Gramma’s words. She lived miles away--to the east, in Boone County, a place you’d visited only as an infant--but she made the hours-long journey whenever your mother needed her, which was often. When she’d catch you sulking about something trivial, like a lost card game or not being allowed to have sweets before supper, she’d arch an eyebrow at you, hand on her hip and say:

“Watch your spite. Whatever attitude you put out into this world is what you gon’ get back.” 

This, you’d think. I can be content with this. And the West Virginia wind was always there to answer you with its gentle swaying, older than the trees.

-

The first thing your mind registered on the day that you ran was the cold hand on your shoulder as you bolted awake, gasping.

It was still dark outside, the sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the horizon beyond the trailer that you’d only called home for a few weeks now. Your room was bathed in darkness, and your eyes adjusted, only being able to make out the rough shapes of the objects in your room. 

You opened your mouth to scream, too scared to look beside you at who had grabbed you. You’d heard some girls in your class talking about a girl getting kidnapped only two weeks ago one county over. When her hand closed over your mouth to stop you, you visibly relaxed. You could smell the lemon perfume still splashed across her wrist, faint after what must have been a long shift at the diner. Mommy.

“Shh, shh,” She soothed, her other hand stroking your pajama-clad back, “it’s me, sweetie, it’s mama. It’s just me.”

Your little fists rubbed your eyes groggily, taking in your surroundings. You brushed your crazy bed head away from your eyes. It was dark, and the digital mermaid clock on your nightstand read 3:32 am. At the foot of your bed, there were two suitcases; ones you’d only seen when Kieth, your mom’s boyfriend, had gone away for work trips. You’d looked forward to those times; It was when the house was calmest, when you were allowed to have the windows open (Kieth didn’t like it when you’d leave the windows open; it meant people could “see too much”). Your mom would put on her old Fleetwood Mac records and tell you stories about your daddy--How they met and how they found out they were pregnant with you. 

You weren’t allowed to talk about your daddy when Kieth was home. He didn’t like it and he’d get that mean look on his face.The kind that made your mom freeze. You were scared of Kieth. Which was why you didn’t know what his suitcase was doing here instead of tucked away where it belonged. He’d be angry about that, and everyone knew what happened when he got angry.

Your mom smoothed your hair behind your ears, whispering with careful purpose, “Time to get up, sweetie. It’s time to go.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Go? Go where? It was still nighttime, as far as your seven-year-old brain could tell, and you were tired. 

Swallowing a yawn you began, “Mommy--”

“Shh!” She whisper-yelled, hand coming over your mouth once again. In her eyes was a look you’d never seen before. Your mom was scared. Your eyes widened, not fully understanding what was going on, but understanding that something was going on, and whatever it was, it was bad. She inhaled through her nose and through her mouth, slowly lowering her hand.

“I’m gonna explain the best I can, sweetie, but you’re gonna have to be real, real quiet, ok? We gotta hurry.”

You frantically nodded, eyes drawn together in what could’ve only looked like complete terror. 

“You and I are leavin’, lovebug. I got all we need here,” she patted the suitcase, “and in the car. We’re goin’.” She explained, looking over her shoulder at the cracked door. You could hear Kieth’s loud snoring from the other room.

“Like on vacation?” You asked in a tiny voice, confused. You’d never been on vacation before; Not a real one anyway. Only weekend trips to Atlantic City with your cousins every now and then. Your mom closed her eyes for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. Not like vacation,” she sighed, reaching up to grab your cheek. “I’m sorry honey, really I am. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize we have to go. But we do.”

You wouldn’t know what she was referring to until years later, not really grasping what she was saying in a half-awake, eight-year-old brain. Years later, you’d realize she was referring to Kieth: how sorry she was that it had taken this long for her to leave him. Still, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you nodded at her. You hadn’t realized she was crying until she reached up to wipe under her eyes, sniffling. 

She hugged you then, tight. Tighter than you think she’d ever held you before. In that moment, you’d thought that it was more for her than you. You hugged her back. 

She sighed, “c’mon, baby. Get your shoes on.”

“Where are we gonna go, mama?” 

“Gramma’s, honey. She’s got a room all ready for us.” By now she was busying herself with getting your pink tennis shoes on your feet. Standing up, you let her pull your sweatshirt over your arms. 

She looked younger like this, you thought. Like a Princess, here in the moonlight under the cover of nighttime. Here the darkness hid the dark circles and worry lines that made her look older than she actually was. She grabbed your hands.

“Okay, now we’ve gotta walk really quietly, honey. You’re gonna have to put your feet where mine were, do you think you can do that?”

You nodded, peeking around the door, half expecting Kieth to be standing there, hand raised. You silently thanked whatever god was out there that Kieth had never let you get a dog—you didn’t know if you’d have been able to take it with you. 

With careful, slow steps you creeped down the dark hallway, dodging the floorboards you knew to be creaky. 

After ten minutes of careful precision—well, as much precision as a half-asleep ten-year-old can have—you made it to the old pick-up that had belonged to your father. The gravel crunching beneath her feet, your mother lifted you up into the back seat. After jumping into the front seat herself, she took a deep shuddering breath before slowly turning the ignition, eyes squeezed shut. The gear moved into drive, and head leaned against the window, you slept soundly, without fear, for the first time in years. 

By the time you woke up, it was almost five o’clock. The sun was slowly beginning to show its rays, the sky fading from a deep indigo into a light yellow. You looked out the windows at the mountains, thankful that at least one thing felt familiar. The blue ridges always did. 

Your mother turned back, smiling at you. A real smile. It made your heart stutter a bit. 

Maybe Hestia hasn’t abandoned me, you thought, thinking back to the days when you’d curse the name of the goddess of fire. Back when you actually believed in the goddess of fire. 

“Well look who decided to wake up,” your mother smiled, her eyes crinkling. You stifled a yawn, stretching. 

“What’s going on?” You asked apprehensively. “Why did we just leave like that? Mama, when we get back he’s gonna be—“

“We aren’t going back.” 

You blanked. Not going back? What? The amount of times you’d wished for this exact scenario were too many to count. You should be happy. But what would you do? Would you live with grandma? Where were your things? You only packed one suitcase and your friend Emma had borrowed your Mulan TShirt—oh and school! Where would you go to school—

Your mother said your name. Your eyes snapped to hers in the rear view.

“It’s gonna be okay. I've got a plan, we’ll be fine.”

She paused and you turned to look at the trees passing by. She sighed before speaking again, “okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Good. Oh look!” She gasped, pointing to her right, at a bright green sign. 

Now Entering Boone County

“We’re here!” She sighed. “I haven’t been back here since your daddy…” She trailed off, but you knew what she meant. She hadn’t been back here since your daddy had died. Keith wouldn’t let her. 

Gazing out of the window at the moving trees, you only thought of what lie ahead. You’d moved enough times in your life, first for your dad’s military postings, and then because Kieth never liked to stay in one place for too long. This wasn’t new, but something about it felt that way. You’d like to stay in one place for a while after this one, you thought. As you watched the hills and farms and houses, the sun began to rise, coloring it all gold. You could get used to this. 

As you entered the town, you felt it in your chest: this was going to be home. You were sure of it. 

#logan lucky fanfiction #logan lucky #clyde logan x female reader #clyde logan fluff #clyde x reader #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan fanfiction #clyde logan x you #clyde logan #adam driver fanfic #adam driver #adam driver nation

[citylighten]

What was your inspiration to write a mafia/mob/cartel/la familia type story?

So, I was primarily raised by my grandma and her sisters and they loved mafia films. Like, my grandma considered Robert De Niro to be her man. My grandma apparently wrote a whole mafia story in her notebook when she was a teen. 😂 I saw Once Upon a Time in America (my grandma's personal fave) and parts of The Godfather when I was really young, but I wasn't enthralled in these films. I didn't even understand the workings of the mob. Yet, I respected these and held fascination for them because it was my grandma's interest and I love my grandma! Some time passes. I'm in 6th Grade. My best friend becomes obsessedddd with Scarface. [which I feel is a general thing that's apart of black culture 😂😂] I mean she has her first fictional crush! And I'm in class endorsing it like a good friend! I saw that movie a total of three times when I was a preteen due to the love of my friend, including a lousy BET cut and even now I would say that is one of my favorite gangster films. Some more time passes and I'm still really into this genre even though I'm still dumb about the inner workings and hierarchy. I just know it's suits and action! In high school I wrote a shitty mafia AU story for a anime fandom I was in. We don't talk about that, but it was like a stepping stone and it was fairly well-received by my friends. Fast forward into adulthood and in 2016-ish? I made my OC Sal! Although Sink or Swim takes place in the modern day, Sal and Eve were originally historical ocs! So, I tried to do a lot of research through film. Instead of watching documentaries or reading thoroughly, I watched films like Harlem Nights, Goodfellas, Mean Streets, Godfather, A Bronx Tale, Casino! And in watching these movies I had the mindset of, "okay, I wanna take these elements for Sal, I wanna leave plot themes like this out." also shoutout to the video games Mafia I, II, and III. They had some immersive storytelling. I roleplayed Sal for awhile on tumblr and eventually I met @ladygangsters who was equally into the gangster genre! But due to her love of the series Narcos, I learned a lot more about the cartel beyond my shallow Scarface knowledge. She's really the one with all the cartel ocs, broadening my horizons!😂 I didn't know if I wanted to do a gangster story on simblr tbh. Mostly because tackling a complex story was daunting and it's WAY EASIER to just do slice of life narratives. When I first started Sink or Swim I was lowkey freaking out irl like, "I don't know what to do, I don't know I'm doing, oh my god I'm gonna torment myself with this story." But I didn't scare ya'll away with my content. I didn't feel overwhelmed when I reached certain heavy points of the story. I feel like I trust myself to tell this story now more than I did when I first plotted it out. And now I'm doing a lot of heavy co-writing with @ladygangsters and we treat our writing the way we would if we were still rping with each other, so that brings a high level of comfort.

#thank u for the ask sorry its long 😭😭

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside

Chapter Fifteen

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 3.1k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and does not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

I pulled myself up from the confines of my bed, my limbs aching from my long sparring session with Minho the night prior. My time spent with him helped grow my confidence in my ability to perform tomorrow, but at the steep cost of weak muscles. 

Sliding onto the floor, I spread my legs out and stretched my hands forward toward my feet, the pull of my muscles creating a contradicting blend of pain and relief. I rolled my head on my shoulders before collapsing back against the side of my bed, my head falling against the mattress as my eyes gazed up to the ceiling. 

The reality of the situation was sinking in, up until this point I still hadn't felt like a true member of the team, but tomorrow granted me the opportunity to prove myself as worthy of working alongside these boys. I needed to ignore the voice in the back of my head, telling myself of my inability to perform. 

The unknown of tomorrow was looming, we had no way of predicting if anyone would be standing watch, seeing our every move. We were unwelcome visitors in a discreet and elaborate operation, if they had evaded detection up until now, who knows what else they had up their sleeves.

Minho was thorough with last night's training, focusing on specific self defense in the event I was caught without a weapon. His sharp agility gave me an insight to an opponent's skills that I hadn't had the opportunity to go up against yet. The absence of his snark allowing him to go strictly business, his focus pointed and determined. 

He had felt like a drill sergeant, demanding the repetition of blocks and attacks until they were ingrained into my memory like a carving on stone, his façade only dropping every time he lifted me back to my feet after sweeping my legs out from under me. I was sure bruises were going to be peppering my skin any day now, a water coloring blend of colors across every limb. I attempted to pull each arm across my chest, trying to further stretch my abused muscles. Dropping my hands to my knees, I took a deep breath with a huff, pulling myself to my feet with a groan.

Slipping into the living room, I dropped myself onto the couch beside Jisung, watching him engrossed in a video game across the screen of the TV. After multiple failed attempts to beat his current boss, he fell back in defeat, hollering out into the room leaving echoes down the hall.

“Let me give it a try” I choked out through my amused laughter, my hands reaching out and grabbing for the controller. He side eyed me in silence before reluctantly handing it over, letting me pull my legs up onto the couch and crossing them beneath me and getting comfortable before selecting the large Try Again plastered on the screen.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the controller for dear life, my heart rate spiking with every blast from the enemy while I tried to pull the character to the side with a dodge. Jisung yelled orders at me from the side, I attempted to shut him out, my focus strictly pointed on the mission at hand.

“DODGE! DODGE! HE’S COMING FROM THE RIGHT!” He squealed, his aggressive stressed squirming beside me throwing me off as he flung himself to the side dramatically and tried to cover his eyes.

“YAH! Can you shut up please!?” I pulled one of my legs out from under me, attempting to kick him with no avail as I avoided pulling my eyes from the screen. “Do you want me to get you past this level or not?” Jisung whimpered as he pulled a pillow across his chest and clung to it, finally going quiet as his eyes flicked across the screen, watching the enemy's hearts slowly start to diminish.

With a final concentrated shot the boss fell to the ground with a crash, an exhale of the breath that I was unaware was lodged in my chest released as I threw my hands in the air in victory.

“I’ve been working on him for days… How were you able to get him in one try?” Jisung stared at the screen with drooping shoulders in defeat.

“If you were quieter I could have beat him faster.” I took a pillow, smacking him in the arm with it, triggering a yelling match between the two of us that was quickly interrupted by an abrupt dropping of a binder in my lap.

I looked up, my eyes meeting Minho standing above me before he dropped on the couch adjacent to ours. Jisung and I quickly fell silent as I stared down to the binder, then back up to Minho in confusion.

“And what might this be?” I slowly opened the binder, finding photos with elaborate profiles connecting to each person.

“It’s Ateez. We don’t know who we might be up against tomorrow, and with your two unknown interactions with them already Chan asked me to get you familiar with their members.” Minho responded flatly as his eyes left mine and flicked down to the binder, instructing me to look at it.

The first page held a grainy, unfocused picture. Yet I quickly recognized the face, the features of the man who sat across from me at the club showing clearly through the poor quality photo. The name Park Seonghwa sat below it, followed by multiple bullet points leaning me to realize he was Ateez’s equivalent of Minho, a master of many skills.

Flipping to the next page, another equally poor quality photo sat at the top, another recognizable face with the name Jeong Yunho below it. I quickly flipped through the other pages, realizing every photo was terribly taken. I let the pages fall back on Yunho before glancing up to Minho through my lashes with a raised brow.

“You expect me to identify them with these photos? You hire some crappy P.I. to take these or something?”

“I took them myself.” Minho leaned back with crossed arms, his face scrunching in irritation. “Not like I can just google them and have an abundance of their photos or anything.” Jisung snorted beside me as he stifled a laugh, Minho’s eyes quickly darting to him in a sharp glare, shutting him up immediately. Minho gave him a sarcastic, mocking laugh before turning back to me again and nodding to the binder. “Listen, it’s the best I’ve got for you, okay?” With a roll of the eyes I studied the words below Yunho’s name, similar bullet points in a list like Seonghwa's detailing his features, height, and skills.

Damn, he’s tall.

“You really put a lot of thought into making this, how long did this even take you?” I couldn’t help but let out a slight amused chuckle, imagining Minho putting together the documents only to print them and organize them carefully into a binder for my lesson.

“That’s besides the point, just focus on learning their faces and names.” Minho pointed toward the binder, urging me to continue.

“Okay, driver and data analyst. So he’s kind of like Felix?” With a nod of the head, Minho’s hand came up and gestured for me to flip to the next member. The man in the photo had dark hair, a subtle wave to it as his bangs sat across his forehead. His facial features were soft, in the photo he seemed to be mid conversation with someone, a slight smirk across his face. His initial appearance seeming un-intimidating until your focus is pulled by discreetly hidden toned and strong arms poking out from the sleeves of his shirt. “Kang Yeosang?”

“Don’t let him fool you.” Minho leaned forward, settling his elbows upon his knees and nodding to the photo. “Expertly skilled in hand to hand combat.” His eyes met mine sternly. “If you encounter him, I want you to keep your distance. Focus on his every move, his goal is to get you in close proximity to give him the advantage.” I studied the photo once more as I lifted my brows and nodded in response.

The next page presented a member that stood strong, chiseled features and wide shoulders accompanied by a miniscule waist.

“How is it that Choi San is somehow built like a dorito with muscles?” My fingers lightly held the corner of the page as my eyes continued scanning it, seeing the title of assassin directly below his name.

“I don’t suggest taking a bite out of that one, he bites back.” Jisung piped up, side eyeing the page beside him. With a snicker Minho tried to hide his laughter before immediately composing himself once more.

“Another one I want you to keep your distance from, even farther than Yeosang. He can get you in hand to hand and weaponry. The guy is discreet and quick, he’ll get to you before you even realize he’s there, and he’ll take you down in complete silence.” I cringed slightly, taking note that he was one I needed to stay alert of. My eyes squinted at the next photo, each one still difficult to fully see each member. This next one was another tall member, a more gruff member, his face with a few scars.

“There isn’t really a title under Song Mingi, why is that?” My brows creased together, looking up to Minho in confusion.

“He’s an absolute wild card, there’s no predicting that one. He can act impulsively, not a single care when it comes to using more extreme measures. We pride ourselves in avoiding death when possible, but I’ve watched the guy explode a car with men inside. Don’t underestimate him, and don’t assume he’s worried about going the full nine yards.” I was taken aback at the thought of the car engulfed in flames, I quickly flipped the page, a bit unnerved by Mingi.

The face on the next page appeared like he may be one of the younger ones of the bunch, his photo looked like it was taken at the same time as Yeosang’s, possibly the one who he was speaking to. A bit smaller in stature and a bit softer in appearance, looking at the bullets, it appeared that Jung Wooyoung was more of a con-man type, skilled in tricking those around him with a crisp sleight of hand. Choi Jongho was their medic, I squinted at the grainy photo, he wore a tight black button up that framed his strong hidden frame.

One final page remained, flipping to it, a face felt like it was staring directly back into the camera as though the subject had pinpointed Minho’s presence when he attempted to take his photo. One eye was hidden behind an eyepatch, the other glaring deeply into my soul. His aura radiated darkness around him and sent a chill down my spine, before I could read past the photo Minho spoke up again.

“Kim Hongjoong.” I looked back up to him, his eyes pointed directly on the photo before me. “I know we’ve spoken a little of him already, but he’s their leader. Strict, and easy to go off the rails when angry. Honestly if we come across the group, your chances of interacting with him are fairly low, he tends to lead from a distance. But don’t let that fool you, he’ll always still be close on your tail, you just won’t be aware of his location.” Minho finally leaned back into the couch once more, now looking up to me as I flipped back through the binder, attempting to re-study each of their grainy faces. “They’re not a group to take lightly, they mean business and will go to extremes to get what they want.”

“Do they not have any snipers? For the most part, I see the majority of their members can correlate with one of us, but I don’t really see any long range skills here.” I studied the bullets below each member carefully, searching for any sign of their possible sneaky gunman.

“They don’t have a designated one, no. But when they’re in need of it, they commonly put Seonghwa or Jongho in the position. It can give us an advantage when they’re unaware that we have Hyunjin and Jisung planted.” Minho’s fingers drummed on his knee as he crossed one ankle over his leg, relaxing back into the cushions of the couch.

“Yeah I had an unpleasant interaction with Jongho one time.” My head turns in Jisung’s direction, his hand scratching on the back of his neck with a crooked smile. “He found me on top of a building once when he was trying to post up, it was my first time actually seeing him face to face to be honest, he’s usually in the shadows.” With a hum and a nod I closed the binder, setting it on the table in front of us.

“So this is who we think we might be up against tomorrow?” I leaned back, crossing my legs and settling my hands in my lap as I repeated each member of Ateez in my mind, trying to drill in their facts into my brain.

“It’s a very strong possibility, yes. If not tomorrow, at some point we will." With a slight side nod, Minho looked as though he was briefly lost in thought as he studied the floor. Sometimes I find myself curious about what was going on in his strange mind, but that was a bridge to cross for another time, I wasn't sure if I was quite ready to open that barrel of monkeys.

My fingers gently ran across my bottom lip as I thought through each person, and the possibilities of combat with them. I felt like Yeosang and San would be my biggest worry, although the thought of being face to face with Seonghwa again sent chills down my spine. On the other hand, we’ve got wild card Mingi, who knew what kind of impulsive choices he might make in the heat of a battle.

“Don’t overthink it too much, you can take these guys no problem. You just needed to know each of their strengths so you can have that ability.” I’m snapped from my thoughts as Minho spoke up, slightly surprised by his positive reinforcement for once.

“Well thank you, hopefully your shitty photography can provide me with enough context of their appearances.” My hand settled on his knee as I looked up to him with pleading eyes “But for the love of god, don’t become a photographer, you suck.” I left him with a cheeky smile as he rolled his eyes back into his skull.

“Ha ha, you’re very funny.” He shrugged me off as he stood. “Last time I ever give you a compliment.” He grumbled under his breath. Jisung chuckled beside me as Minho made his way into the kitchen.

“Listen, all I’m saying is you’re much better at your current job, I’m just saying stick with it.” I chuckled as I fell back into the couch, picking up the binder once more and flipping through the pages.

“Is that your weird way of complimenting me back?” Minho glanced over his shoulder to me, a slightly amused, yet confused smirk on his face as I looked back at him with a cheesy smile.

“Com’on Hyung, if you had become a photographer instead you couldn’t be blessed with our presence every day!” Jisung spread his arms out wide with a cheeky grin, clearly proud of his statement. Minho and I slowly turned to Jisung with quizzical looks, the three of us sitting in silence staring at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter.

“Blessed, cursed, same difference.” Minho shrugged with a subtle grin as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water before leaning against the counter and raising the glass to his lips. I leaned my arm over the back of the couch, looking back to Minho as I tilted my head.

“But now that I think about it, how did you even get into all of this?” Silence fell on the trio once more, Jisung quietly clearing his throat in the background as the air grew tense and thick. Minho looked into the glass as he swirled the remaining liquid around.

“It’s a long story, you don’t need to be bothered with it.” He took another swig before setting it on the counter and leaving to go upstairs in silence. I glanced back to Jisung, who sat uncomfortable with the exchange that just occurred.

“What just happened? Did I cross a line?” Staring at Jisung in confusion, I rubbed my fingers against the inside of my palm, my lips scrunching in embarrassment.

“It’s a sore spot for him, honestly best not to ask, he doesn’t really like talking about it.” I found myself glancing down the hall towards the stairs, my intentions weren’t to offend him, unaware of the rough topic. I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling guilty that I seemed to have ruined a rare positive moment with Minho. “All of us have our stories of how we ended up here, but we all kind of try to forget the period before we had each other. Minho has withheld quite a bit of details of his past from most of the members, Chan and I are the only ones who know his full story”

“Well don’t let me pry any further… I-I’m sorry for even bringing it up” I sank into the cushions of the couch once more, my eyes scanning different spots on the floor as a method of distraction as my thoughts jumped through so many questions.

“There’s no reason to apologize, you had no idea.” Jisung reached forward, grabbing the controller off the coffee table and switching over to a multiplayer game. “Let’s just play some more, try not to think about it too much. He’s fine, he’s not mad at you, don’t worry.”

I quietly nodded as I took the secondary controller as he handed it to me. As he started up the game I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander, what could’ve been so bad that Minho doesn’t want to talk about it at all? What led up to him getting involved with SKZ in the first place? I bit my lip as the game booted up, Jisung hitting the start button and triggering it to begin, granting me the needed distraction from what just happened.

Next Chapter

#stray kids mafia #stray kids #skz mafia #skz #lee know x reader #lee know enemies to lovers #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #fanfiction #stray kids freeze #lee know mafia #lee know mafia au #alternate universe #lee know fic #drunkewok #tiger inside

[phyllisthefirst]

No tired sigh, no rolling eye, no irony - Part 1

[So, after rewatching the episodes and lurking in the Band of Brothers fandom for a few months, I've decided to finally get active myself and try my hand at a little writing. I love so many of the Easy Boys, but I felt like giving Luz some attention, so here we are. I haven't really had time to do much research yet, so there'll be a lot of inaccuracies to handwave away.

Obviously, this fic is based on the fictionalized representation of the Easy Company men as portrayed on the show. I intend no disrespect to the real men.]

[Masterlist] [on ao3]

Part 1

The first time Phyllis Baker meets George Luz, he nearly knocks her over with his radio. He can't really be blamed for the collision - the radio's a heavy, unwieldy thing and she guesses he's only just received it and hasn't had time to familiarise himself with it yet. And she was the one who rounded the corner at full speed, still riled up from another morning's worth of being overlooked and talked down to and sent for coffee instead of doing her actual job. It's the perfect blend of ingredients for an explosive collision.

"Watch where you're going, Private!", she snaps. "That radio is top-of-the-line equipment, and the military certainly wouldn't want to see it wasted on someone who can't even manage to navigate a corridor, let alone a warzone."

The effect of her words is immediate: The young man's face falls, overcome with a mixture of shame, guilt and fear. His big, brown eyes widen until he resembles nothing so much as a kicked puppy. And Phyllis feels her insides sink as if her stomach had been filled with stones.

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am. I should have paid better attention."

Phyllis runs a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she's spent years trying to suppress that's been coming back with a vengeance lately.

"It's not your fault; I didn't watch where I was going. I should apologize for snapping at you."

She doesn't know why she says those words. Never apologize unless you absolutely have to , that's what she's been trying to drill into herself, because every apology these men hear makes them more sure in their assumption that they're better than her. But something about him makes her forget about that self-imposed rule.

Oh, who is she kidding - it's the eyes.

"Did you just get assigned a radioman?" She nods her head towards the radio, although it's fairly obvious that was her clue.

He nods his head, vigorously.

"Yes! We got our designations at breakfast, and this morning we'll begin our specialized training."

"Well, then you better pay close attention - you and that radio may be the difference between reinforcements or defeat one day."

He nods again, somehow even more energetically, tucks his radio under his left arm and raises his right in a salute.

"Yes, Ma'am."

For a second, she thinks he's mocking her. But his face is earnest as ever, the salute perfectly executed and held until the radio under his arm begins to slip and he has to support it with his right. Then she realizes: He thinks she's an officer, or a sergeant at least. He sees the modified WAC uniform she's wearing and doesn't even question why there are no sergeant's stripes, no lieutenant's bars on her jacket.

He doesn't question that she belongs here.

He might be the first man to do so.

She's still working through that revelation, staring at him wordlessly, when he clears his throat and hitches the radio higher up under his arm.

"I ought to get going, Ma'am, or I'll be late for training."

"Of course. It's been nice meeting you, Private..."

"Luz, George Luz."

"Private Luz. Have a good first day of radio training."

With that, she turns to walk away, all her social graces depleted for the day - only to be stopped in her steps when he calls out:

"What's your name, Ma'am?"

When she turns back around, he's smiling, open and curious, and she can't help but smile back.

"Perhaps we'll meet again, George Luz. I'll tell you then."

He laughs.

"I'll hold you to it."

It only occurs to her when she's already rounded the corner that that exchange might be misconstrued as flirting.

What a ridiculous idea, she tells herself. As if any man would ever think that she was flirting with him.

***

The second time George Luz meets Phyllis Baker, he gets the feeling she's trying very hard not to be seen.

He doesn't know why she thinks it would work - even with her shoulders slouched, her hair up in a severe bun and her lipstick a subtle, natural shade she's still awe-inspiring in her olive drab skirt and jacket and still very much a woman, and those are rare around here.

He's been wondering about that, actually: What is she doing here? There are women preparing for the war, he knows that, but they aren't necessarily stationed at Aldbourne. The nurses are in nearby Swindon, and he hasn't yet seen any members of the WAC around here.

But then, what better excuse to approach her than to ask about exactly that?

He mumbles an excuse to Tab and Perco, with whom he was on the way to The Crown after snagging a rare weekend pass, and jogs over to where she's standing by a half-unloaded supply truck, frowning at a clipboard.

"Ma'am? I believe you still owe me a name."

She startles at being addressed, clearly very engrossed in her task, and he feels momentarily bad for disturbing her. But after a moment's struggle to get her bearings, she seems to recognize him, and even smiles.

"Private Luz! How's the radio training coming along?"

"It's going well! I think. At least I haven't blown the whole thing up yet."

She laughs, the melodic sound at odds with her severe appearance. Together with the fact that she remembered his name, the sound makes him bold.

"But don't believe you can distract me from my goal: Your name...?"

"Phyllis Baker. But I have to correct you right there: I'm not an officer, so you don't have to address me as such. I'm sorry I let you believe otherwise the last time we met."

He shrugs.

"It was my mistake, wasn't it? Not your job to teach me how to read someone's insignia." He tilts his head to look at the sleeves on her uniform, but they don't really clear things up. "But if I may ask - what is your rank? And why are you here?"

The second the question is out, George has to fight the urge to slap his forehead. Of all the ways he could have posed that question... His cousin joined the WAC and told him a little about what the women have to put up with in response to their attempt at joining the war effort - doubt, hostility, and outright smear campaigns questioning their morals simply for joining up. He guesses she knows a little about those difficulties as well, and the pinched expression on her face suggests the same. He quickly corrects himself.

"I mean, what division are you with? I didn't know there were WACs at Aldbourne."

"There aren't. I'm with the 506th, to support the logistics and supply officers."

He nods, not fully understanding yet but not stupid enough to ask for more details. But before he can ask, she blurts out:

"Which means I know more about logistics than most of the men around me, but they still insist on ignoring my advice in favour of sending me to get coffee."

She's barely finished speaking when her eyes widen comically.

"I mean... I didn't mean to say..."

The surprise on her face turns to outright fear, and he quickly reaches out to place a calming hand on hers, right where she grips the clipboard with white-knuckle force.

"No need to explain. Our CO's an absolute ass."

For a moment, the fear in her eyes remains, then it slowly eases out, replaced by a relieved smile. He drops his hand, surprised to find himself reluctant to do so. Her skin is soft, surprisingly so for such a pragmatic-seeming woman.

"Most of my superiors are sensible men, luckily. They just have their difficulties accepting that they're supposed to work with a woman sometimes."

He nods, not quite knowing what to say to that - he can imagine but probably never quite understand what she's dealing with. Then something else occurs to him.

"So, where did you learn so much about logistics?"

She hesitates for a moment, the way he's seen her do before.

"My father is in the import trade. I've been helping him at the office since I was a little girl, and I’ve been running his entire office for the European branch for years."

George whistles through his teeth.

"That sounds like a lot of responsibility. And you gave all of that up just to come here and fetch coffee?"

She laughs again, a sound he's quickly becoming addicted to.

"We all should do our part, shouldn't we?" She tilts her head to study him, and he suddenly feels like a specimen under a microscope. It's a strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation.

"What about you, Private Luz? How did you end up here?"

He shrugs - compared to her, he doesn't have any special knowledge to add to the war effort - just his body and a certain recklessness he hopes will translate into fearlessness, when the time calls for it.

"Like most of the men - Pearl Harbour was attacked, and I figured I better sign up to do something ." He grins, aware that he's making himself seem a little too selfless with that description. "Plus, the pay's double for a paratrooper."

She laughs again.

"So is the risk, I hear."

"Hopefully the glory as well."

It's a stupid thing to say - sure, he doesn't mind the attention his uniform gets him when they're out trying to impress women - even though he never takes it quite as far as some of the others, presenting sob stories of their impending heroic death in the pursuit of some female attention. But he probably should try and make himself look a little more upstanding in front of her, shouldn't he? Then again, he has a feeling she'd see right through any front he'd try to put up.

"You're the first ones to attempt dropping out of airplanes into occupied territory. I'm sure your place in history is secure."

He doesn't know what to say to that, but he doesn't have to come up with an answer: Behind them, Muck, Penkala and Malarkey are passing by on their way to the pub and calling out to him.

"Hey Luz, you about done bothering the lady?", Penk calls out, and George suppresses the urge to send him a rude gesture. He does have some manners.

"You're not bothering me," she says, a little hastily, and he swears he can see the faint hint of a blush on her cheeks. "But I don't want to keep you from your friends."

"Why don't you just come with us? Or join us later, if you still have work to do."

She looks at the truck beside her, grimacing.

"I do, unfortunately. Half of that truckload was supposed to go to Littlecote, but no one seems to be able to figure out which half. I'm afraid I'll be here a little while longer."

"That's a shame. Some other time then? You gotta meet the guys - we're both part of the same division after all."

"Sure, maybe some other day."

That doesn't sound very convincing, but George chooses to believe it's just because she's mentally preparing to go back to work, and not because she isn't all that keen on going to the pub with him.

"Well, if you ever find the time, look for us at The Crown. If you can't find me, just ask around for Easy Company, and the boys will take care of you."

"Easy Company, huh? I've heard of you."

"That's cause we're the best. Have been since Toccoa."

"Is that right," she teases.

"That's right," is his firm reply, followed by an equally firm "and we'll prove it just as soon as they finally drop us into Germany."

With that, he jogs off to catch up with Skip, Penk and Malarkey. When he turns around to look back at her, Phyllis's head is already bent over her clipboard again.

#band of brothers #george luz #band of brothers fic #George Luz/OC #Hi! Im new to this fandom and I havent posted a fic in years #So I'm super nervous but excited.

[shecantbother]

Pink Sand

This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction ever. I recently watched The Gray Man (I'm obsessed) and created an account just to read/write fan fic about my wonderful Six! Great film, great characters but Six found a special place in my heart. Not really sure how this works but I wrote something and you can let me know what you think.

P.S. Also first time writing in this perspective so I felt like I was learning how to ride a bicycle again.

Sierra Six/Court Gentry x Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1936k?

Summary: Sierra Six (Court Gentry) is assigned to eliminate one of the world’s most dangerous criminals hiding out on the Bahama islands. His cover is an American tourist on vacation. Six is the best at what he does and wouldn’t let something like romance distract him from a mission…that’s until he met you one night on the pink sand beach.

You head back to your boat to enjoy dinner then decide to take a walk on the beach before bed. The November air is cool and the sounds of the waves gently crashing on the shore is like a lullaby. There’s just enough light from the restaurant in the distance and the night sky. You sink your bare feet in the cool sand with each step but stop as you notice a figure on your favourite sitting rock.

“Damn tourists”, you mumble to yourself. Still advancing towards the stone, the figure now appears to be male. Do you turn around or nonchalantly walk past him? You pause, puff, and kick the sand before heading straight towards your stolen spot. One shouldn’t be afraid to walk on their own beach you suppose…well not your ‘own’ beach but you’re a local with that right.

Attempting not to appear awkward or timid, you continue with your eyes straight ahead and thumbs in your shorts pocket- wiggling your toes in the sand. A whimper escapes as you step on a shard of glass. “Damn tourists”, you hiss while hopping on one leg.

“You okay?” A low but soft voice asks. You look up to find the stranger that stole your spot looking down on you with a straight face and intense eyes. His large frame is so close to yours so quickly, making you feel vulnerable.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just a poke…doesn’t seem deep”, you mutter. Instantly, he scans you and the surroundings as you’re concerned with your foot. It’s not exactly odd for a woman to walk on the beach alone at night, but he was trained to never put anything past him, not even the cute baby in the stroller.

“It’s dangerous going barefoot at night”, he says. “And alone.” The assassin stealthy reaches for his pocketknife as he inspects you. You don’t seem like a threat, barefoot, wearing denim shorts and a crop top, plus you sound local. So, what are you doing out here?

“My name isn’t on it, but this is kind of my spot”, you joke. “I’ve never seen you out here before.”

“Just arrived on the island today.”

“Oh, welcome. Work? Vacation?”

“Vacation”, he quickly answers knowing he was there for work.

“Nice, how long are you staying for?” You catch yourself, “I’m sorry, I’m prying after I just accused you of stealing my spot.”

“The rock?” You can have it back, no problem”, he quips. “It is a nice spot though, should probably get your name on ASAP.”

He gets a giggle out of you that he finds surprisingly pleasant and disarming.

“Y/N”, you say with a soft smile.

“Kevin”, he lies. The moonlight hits his face as the clouds dance across it, revealing cold eyes.

“Nice meeting you Kevin. I hope you enjoy your trip. I’ll be heading back now.”

“Can I walk you back?” Part of him genuinely wants to remain in your company for some reason and the other wants to rule out you being sent to sabotage his mission.

“That’s fine, I’m good”, you say. “Will probably see you around somewhere…this island is tiny”, you gesture with your fingers. You give a final wave goodbye and walk off but then turn around.

“Oh, if you need a boat tour…I’m your girl.” Shameless self-promotion, but a girl’s got to eat.

He barely raises and eyebrow. “Oh? Where do I find you?”

“Here and there, just look for the boat with the swimming pigs on it.” You tell him while walking backwards.

“Actual swimming pigs?”. He’s genuinely curious.

“No, just a painting. It’s called the Swimming Pig.”

“Hm, interesting.”  He seems amused but it was hard to tell. He did not express much emotion.

“Any who, see ya”, you turn around and make your way back home leaving the mysterious stranger in the sand.

……..

Six knows there is no room for distraction when on a job. He’d already located his target and is planning the right time to execute as he casually sips a fruit punch right across from the unsuspecting criminal. However, something else catches his steely eyes- sitting across at the bar in a floral maxi skirt and halter top with a red hibiscus tucked behind her ear.

 You turn and your eyes meet but Six awkwardly tries to underplay it. Too late, you flash the widest smile and wave your hands as if he was a friend you haven’t seen in a while. What he thought was a smile looked more like a grimace as he gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

There is something warm and welcoming in the air. Maybe it’s the island breeze and sunshine he thought, trying to dismiss the energy he feels from you.

Stay put. Great, she’s looking at me again. The tall man rises from his seat and casually makes his way to the bar.

“Hey you. Kevin, right?”

He clears his throat, “right”.

Just walk away, don’t sit down. He proceeds to pull out a seat next to you.

“Do you remember my name?” You give an impish grin.

“Y/N”, he studies you well without you noticing.

He remembers, this pleases you and you study him too. The fitted black tee-shirt reveals his lean and muscular physique, along with the tattoos gracing his body. In daylight, his eyes are like the ocean. They seem void at first and makes him look perpetually bored, but they are the part of him that reveals the most.

“Those look interesting”, you gesture at his arm. “Any special meaning?”

 “Ah, not really… Greek. Just a guy trying to get a rock up a hill.”

“Sisyphus?”

“Right, him.”

“Are you trying to get a rock up a hill Kevin?”

“It feels that way sometimes… most times.”

“Well, I hope you make it up that hill someday.”

Six nods his head in agreement and is grateful for your kind words.

You both sit there for a while, awkwardly exchanging glances as you try to keep up with his glare but fail. He utters nothing of course and you take a sip of your drink, playing with the tiny umbrella. Usually, he finds people evading eye contact untrustworthy, but somehow, he finds you…cute.

He wants to talk to you, but don’t know where to start. How could he try to get to know someone that he’ll inevitable end up leaving behind because of work? That’s right, work… because of it he has no life, no joy, no real happiness. It’s only times like these, on the job where he can live a little and sip a fruit punch on the beach.

He clears his throat. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“S-sure”, your eyes light up.

 Heading towards the beach, you instinctively take your sandals off and continue barefoot. He watches you curiously and gives a faint smile.

“You forgot what happened last night?”, he teases.

“It just feels so much better. Warm sand between your toes.”

Six admires your freedom and joins you barefoot in the warm sand. You walk along the pink sand beach, looking towards the turquoise waters and occasionally at each other without saying a word. You’re not used to such a silent man, but you welcome it.

 “Want to join me at my spot?” You shoot him a playful smile, skipping towards the large, smooth stones. Like a gentleman, he helps you up and you both sit down overlooking the ocean. You watch the occasional couple pass by, families in the distance, and the sky transition from blue to pink to violet and then stars decorate above. You point at the stars; he looks up and tells you about the constellations. Your hands accidentally touch, sending tingles throughout you both.

“Sorry”, you both chime and smile sheepishly. He likes the feeling, and holds your hand, letting your fingers interlock. Yours are the softest he’s ever felt. You ask him about work, he tells you how stressful it is, he asks about your boat, you tell him about your dreams of sailing around the world. You go around the universe and back, sharing your childhood experiences, woes of adulthood and exchange laughs, all while under the stars.

The restaurant is alive, with music in the distance. Two strangers that have never felt this close to another, gazing into each other’s eyes. Somehow, you find comfort in each other. He feels a knot tighten in his stomach at the realization that this is yet another beautiful thing he is denied. The warmth of another that could possibly be someone he could call his own.

“I’m leaving tomorrow”, he says softly.

You can’t hide your disappointment and shock. “I thought… but you just got here.”

“Something important came up and they need me back.”

“Can’t someone else, do it?”, you almost plead.

“Apparently I’m the only man for the job.”

Technically, the man lies for a living. Then, why did it feel so wrong this time?

“Oh”, you turn back to the ocean. Calling yourself stupid for feeling so strongly towards a man you just met. Six notices your attempt at hiding your feelings and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. He’s stoic and seemly emotionless, but beneath it all is empathy and warmth he rarely gets the opportunity to give.

“I wish I could stay”, he says softly. Resting your head on his shoulder, he wraps his arm around you allowing you to lean on his chest. You stay like that for a while, looking out into the black abyss and listening to the waves crash.

Fingers interlocked as Six walks you back home. This is the end of what could have been, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. You stood where there was just enough light illuminating you both.

“Will I ever see you again?” You ask.

Not willing to tell you anymore lies, “I don’t know”. It’s probably safer if you never do.

This hurt, but you smile still…just faintly.

“Good night, Kevin. I’m glad I met you.” You reluctantly unlock your hand from his.

“Good night.”

You turn around to unlock your door and each step feels labored. Before you could turn the key, he grabs your arm to face him. Six gently pushes you back against the door with one hand on your waist. There’s no time to think as he leans in, tilting his body to reach your lips. The heat radiates from your lips to the rest of your body, and you’re now under his control. He takes everything in one breath, and you swear time stops. A soft moan escapes you as he parts your lips with his tongue and his grip on your waist tightens. Before you could touch him, he releases, with you both burning for more.

You can breathe again, not that you were complaining. You can see it now, the pain in his deep blue eyes that he hides so well. You rest your palm over his heart, “take care of yourself, okay.”

“You’re so sweet”, he sighs. “Thanks, you too.” Wishing he could say more, do more, instead, he just lets you go. It’s better that way. If he has no one to love, he has no one to lose.

#sierra six x reader #court gentry x reader #the gray man #sierra six #court gentry #sierra six imagine #the gray man fanfiction

[isfjmel-phleg]

November 2023 Books

To Nowhere and Back by Margaret J. Anderson

Short time-slip story. Bit of an odd ending, but I enjoyed it.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins (reread)

Reread in anticipation of the film, which I'm going to have to wait to see.

Between Floors by W. R. Gingell

Slowly making my way through this series. The character interactions in this one grabbed my attention, and I'm looking forward to the next installment whenever I can manage to get it.

84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

Read for a book club that I'm sort of in. This was the first assigned book that I've actually wanted to bother with in quite a while, and then I wasn't able to join the discussion (no voice from a cold). Even so, I don't know what I would have said. I liked the book well enough but don't have any particular strong feelings about it. I guess I was expecting something a lot...more in-depth?

Giant Pumpkin Suite by Melanie Heuiser Hill

An extremely dedicated and single-minded young cellist has an accident that forces her life to take a different direction and finds growth and healing in helping her brother raise a giant pumpkin, a project that will bring them closer to their entire neighborhood. I enjoyed this a lot.

The Faces of Fear by Monica Hughes

This is an aggressively 1990s book with some rather dated perspectives, but I enjoyed the premise of the protagonist developing a friendship with someone she's never met through a VR game they're playing together, which has been designed to prey on their specific fears.

Sandwriter by Monica Hughes

I'd need to reread this one for it to sink in fully, but the worldbuilding and characterization were enjoyable, and I'd like to read the next book.

The Shadows of Rookhaven by Pádraig Kenny

Not as emotionally affective as the first book but nonetheless good. Although it had been long enough since I had read the earlier installment that I had forgotten names, and it was a bit difficult to get reoriented since the narrative expects you to remember everything right off the bat.

Tin by Pádraig Kenny

Beautiful. Moving. I never expected to get so invested in mechanical characters.

The Supergirls: Fashion, Feminism, Fantasy, and the History of Comic Book Heroines by Mike Madrid

If you're going to discuss female characters in comics, maybe don't devote a significant portion of the book to overly detailed, purple-prosey descriptions of objectifying costumes or use derogatory terms to describe real or fictional women. Madrid claims to feel a connection with female superheroes but seems most interested in them for objectification while presenting his views as empowering/exalting them. Also way too many contrived comparisons to things in music history.

The Cloud Forest by Joan North

Some interesting characterization but too mystical (if that's the word I'm looking for) for my taste.

The Hideaway Summer by Beverly Hollett Renner

Such a delightfully middle-grade premise of young siblings who end up spending their summer living on their own in a vacation house near the woods and their domestic adventures. A lot of fun.

The Dark House of the Sea Witch by Joan C. Robinson

Slighter than Robinson's other books which I've read, but a well-written read.

Moonbranches by Anne Rundle

Fantastically Gothic atmosphere, but a weird, weird ending. I don't know how to feel about this one.

Mystery on the Isle of Skye by Phyllis A. Whitney

More of a travelogue/informational guide to the Isle of Skye than an actual story or mystery. Which doesn't make it bad, but I was less invested in it compared to other books I've read by this author.

Secret of the Stone Face by Phyllis A. Whitney

Standard Whitney mystery, not one of the more memorable ones for me.

Comics

The Ray 1994

The miniseries that preceded this ongoing series had a fascinating premise but not so much emphasis on characterization, so I was delighted to find that that changed with the 1994 series, which has a different author. Lots of shenanigans, to be sure, but we also get Ray's difficulties adjusting to adulting in the real world after living in lightless isolation for eighteen years, his doubts and insecurities and bouts of depression, and most of all, his complicated relationship with his father, the legacy he's been forced into, and his potential to become more like his father than he's willing to recognize. The Terrills have a fascinatingly complex and dysfunctional dynamic that provides a lot to analyze, and I'll be thinking about this series for a long time.

there is so much drama here that is being slept on, where are the Rayfam fics?

#random personal stuff #well it certainly was a month that I read some things in