#and the gate tree image thing

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 25 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Content Warnings: The last scene (Igris p.o.v.) contains some elements of gore—this is a work of fiction and I do not condone or glorify violence in real life.

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

"(Name)?"

Jinwoo’s voice pulled you back to reality, the ethereal images of your mindscape dissipating into the humid air of the jungle. The ghost of a father’s warmth vanished entirely, leaving behind an ache that felt too deep to name.

Under a canopy of branches and leaves shielding you from most of the rain, you sat perched on the uprooted trunk of a tree, the poor thing yet another victim of the battle that had raged mere moments ago. Its splintered roots protruding like skeletal fingers.

Your gaze trailed over the battlefield, past the litter of corpses sprawled across the muddy ground. The heavy downpour diluted the blood pooling in the soil, streaking crimson rivers through the uneven terrain. The dungeon’s boss laid lifeless in the background, and the shadow soldiers wordlessly harvested magic cores from the fallen. Even with the restrictions of a Red Gate, they worked tirelessly, ensuring nothing of value was wasted.

The quiet crunch of footsteps tore your eyes away, lifting your head just in time to see Jinwoo approaching.

"Ah, done already?" you asked, forcing out something that barely passed as casual. The scepter in your hand dissolved into the usual flurry of tiny luminous butterflies, the warm glow flickering briefly before vanishing entirely, tucked away in your pocket space of an inventory.

Jinwoo said nothing at first. He simply plopped down next to you on the fallen trunk, shoulders brushing against yours. The words were forming on your tongue before you even realized it.

“Jinwoo, I—”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened and he instantly caught you before you could completely double over, his hands steadying you by the shoulders.

“Hey…” He whispered worriedly when he saw your scrunched up expression, your lips glued tight.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was slow, careful, as though afraid that saying too much would only overwhelm you further. However, his expression darkened when he saw how your hand instinctively shot up, pressing lightly against your neck.

{The meeting with character < Sung Il-Hwan > cannot be shared.}

“It’s the system again, isn’t it?”

You nodded pitifully, eyes squeezing shut against the growing discomfort.

Jinwoo didn’t like this. Didn’t like seeing you in pain. Didn’t like seeing you hurt. The vulcan incident was a dead giveaway.

His grip on your shoulder unconsciously tightened, his fingers pressing down just a little too hard.

You flinched—just barely, just a small, involuntary reaction—but it was enough. Jinwoo’s body tensed, the barely-contained wrath inside him threatening to spill over.

He inhaled sharply.

Exhaled.

Pulled back just slightly, loosening his grip, his thumb instead beginning to trace light, soothing circles against your arm. Slowly, your breath steadied.

And yet—

When you lifted your gaze to meet his, the guilt was plain in your eyes.

That was when Jinwoo truly felt it. The unmistakable churn of fury rising in his chest.

Why?

Why were you looking at him like that?

“Sorry—"

“Stop.”

Without hesitation, his hands slid to your waist, pulling you into him. The movement was fluid, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if this was simply where you were meant to be.

Your heart lurched at the sudden proximity, but Jinwoo only exhaled, resting his head against your shoulder.

He sought warmth.

Not just any warmth—yours.

The warmth that had always been there, always within reach, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

And how funny, really.

Here he was, seeking comfort from the very person he was supposed to be comforting.

Because he knew—he knew that if he let his frustration take over, if he allowed his rage at the system’s interference to boil over, it would only hurt you more. And that was the last thing he wanted.

"Whatever it was that you were going to say, stop." he murmured into your shoulder, voice quieter now, "The fact that you still, always, try to tell me first—even when you can't in the end—is enough."

You fell silent at his words, thoughts hidden in depths of your mind.

Before you, the system’s interface flickered to life, displaying a tally of the experience points earned from your support during the raid. You ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of Jinwoo’s breath against your skin, his damp hair brushing against your neck.

Without thinking, you shifted slightly, tilting your head just enough to allow him more space. Your hand found its way to his back, resting there in a quiet gesture of reassurance.

The sound of rain filled the silence between you.

And then—

You hummed.

A quiet melody, soft and familiar, barely rising above the rhythmic patter of water against leaves.

“That tune,” he murmured slowly. “You’ve sung it to me before.”

You blinked.

“I did?”

The memory surfaced before you could even search for it.

A bleeding hunter in the abandoned corner of a dungeon.

His head resting on your lap as you healed his wounds.

“…Oh.” Realization dawned. “I guess I did.”

“Wait.” Your head turned to him, the motion almost robotic, though the position only allowed you to see his dark strands. “You were conscious?”

A slow, almost sheepish exhale.

"Barely."

There was a pause. Then, so quietly you almost missed it—

“You have a nice voice.”

Heat crawled up your spine before you could stop it.

Jinwoo shifted slightly, and the gesture was like he was nuzzling into you.

"What song is it?" Jinwoo asked, as if nothing had happened. "I can’t find it anywhere."

Your lips parted slightly.

"You searched for it?"

“Scoured.”Your heart tripped over itself when Jinwoo felt the need to emphasize. "I thought finding the song was the closest I could get to hearing you again."

“I—” Gosh. Did Jinwoo even realized how adorable he was being?

"It’s a song I also heard in passing… Can’t remember exactly where." A small, hesitant pause. “Maybe it just stuck with me.”

It was a song from your world.

“Mm.” Jinwoo scooted closer, if that was even possible. The front of his chest was already pressing flush against yours.

“Can you sing it again for me?”

Wow. Just… wow.

“Please?”

You yielded.

Your lips parted—

And you began to sing.

-----

Jinwoo’s gaze followed your hovering finger over the golden screen, observing as you clicked a dotted button. A new page overlaid the main menu.

“That’s new.”

“Nope.” You popped the letter ‘p’-sound. “It’s my second, and apparently the last, ascension quest.”

You scrolled through the <Final Ascension>’s list, skimming past the check-marked objectives: <Reach Level 200 – (200/200)> and <Ascend your summons to the final stage and maxed out their level – (8/3)>.

At the bottom of the page, an entry caught Jinwoo’s attention:

{ 3rd Requirement: ???

Progress: ---

Status: ---

Note: The last requirement will be revealed in due course as you continue your journey. }

“That’s vague.” Jinwoo huffed.

You just let out a sigh, flicking the interface away with a gesture. “Your <Key to Cartenon Temple> wasn’t exactly clear-cut either. At least the system isn’t playing favorites this time.”

His lips quirked into a brief smile, but it faded as you continued. “Besides, it’s not the first time the system’s pulled something like this. That first ascension quest was in the middle of our fight with Baran—”

You stopped mid-sentence as you felt Jinwoo stiffen beside you. The angle still prevented you from seeing his face fully, leaving only the top of his head and the curve of his ears in view. His sudden rigidity made your chest tighten.

“Jinwoo?” you asked gently, concern lacing your tone.

He didn’t respond, merely shifting closer, as close as possible, to ground himself in this quiet moment with you.

You lifted a hand to pat his cheek lightly, coaxing him to lift his head. When he did, you brought your other hand up, cradling his face gently. Leaning forward, your forehead pressed softly against his, your gazes locking for a moment before his shifted to where your hand rested against his skin.

“That time,” he murmured, voice low, “the black marks…”

You understood immediately.

“They were the result of contamination in the mana flow,” you explained, your tone calm and matter-of-fact. “Even after I managed to filter it out using the flowers, there were remnants left behind.”

It truly broke your heart when he tried not to flinch, eyes snapping to yours so briefly before looking at your hand again, while his voice held a note of incredulity, mixed with something deeper—hurt, perhaps. “You knew?”

“That absorbing it would cause my body to shut down? Not quite.” You admitted. “While I suspected something might happen, I didn’t anticipate the accumulation having such an effect. On our first trip there, the black marks on my hands didn’t do anything.”

Sensing the protest forming on his lips, you instantly added, “Precisely because they didn’t show any effect, I didn’t consider it urgent enough to mention.”

There were more important things to worry about—was what you thought, remembering his mother.

Jinwoo’s lips fell into a thin line, jaw tight.

"I made a promise to protect you."

“And you did,” you replied firmly, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “The best you could.”

You wasted the <Holy Water of Life> on me.

You didn’t remember it being mentioned that Jinwoo used all six of the elixir in the original story, only thrice. So, at the very least, you could rest easy knowing that you didn’t take the life of some character meant to be cured via that one bottle you had consumed.

“Not enough.” His eyes darkened, frustration seeping into his tone. “If I were stronger—”

“Would you say I’m a deadweight, then?” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended.

His gaze shot up, horrified. "No! Why would you—"

“Because my powers are essentially halved—can even be less than half—in places like that.” Your gaze bore into his, unyielding. “I can’t change that. Neither could you.”

Your voice echoed faintly in the rain-drenched jungle, and his mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, he bit his lip. His expression remained a storm of emotions—guilt, frustration, and a lingering vulnerability he seldom let surface.

“Jinwoo,” you said softly, your tone more tender now, “you’re doing more than enough.”

His lips parted as though to argue again, but you stopped him. “I was the one who decided to trust the system and go through with it.” Your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within. “It was a risky, split-second decision, yes, but it was worth a try to hijack Baran’s mana reserve.”

You would’ve succeeded even without my help—you wouldn’t doubt yourself like this if I’m not here.

“The system wouldn’t have given me the quest if completing it meant I would die, remember?” You tilted your head slightly, meeting his conflicted gaze. “If it didn’t need me anymore, it would’ve left me alone instead.”

Strange... ̶̧͗ ̶̖̫̔̾ ̵̧͗̊h̷̺̆̅ȯ̴͓̥̆w̵̘̿̒ ̵̫̂͘ͅc̴͍̼̃́o̷͔͉͑̓ȗ̵̯l̸̯̊d̸̘̫̊͘ ̸̫͓̏I̴͖̻͗̓ ̴̮̱͊̉b̶̤̝͌̀e̶̯̦͆͝ ̸͚̓͂s̴̖͝o̷̮̍ ̷̢̆s̸̗͙̾ṷ̸̜̓r̵̞͌e̴̹̽͜ ̵̣̇ͅȏ̵̰͎͝ḟ̵̪̤ ̷̣̯̈t̵̥͑h̸̝͌͋a̴̝͋́͜t̴̨̯̓?̶̩͆

{ . . . }

Jinwoo’s hands clenched faintly in his lap.

“We don’t know exactly what would’ve happened.” And you pushed aside the intrusive thought. “We don’t know how much it would take.”

“Jinwoo.” You gazed upon those kind, caring, stormy greys. Offering a small smile, gentle and reassuring. "We're in this together."

Don’t blame yourself.

The silence between you thickened, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His eyes searched for answers in yours, and whatever he saw seemed to soothe the storm within. You watched as the tension in Jinwoo’s face began to melt away. The faint crease in his brow smoothed out as he exhaled a long sigh. The tight line of his lips softened into the faintest of smiles. The frustration that had etched itself into his features ebbed away like the receding tide. The weight on his shoulders seemed to lift slightly as he brought his hands to rest atop yours, still cupping his cheeks.

His skin felt somewhat cool against yours, a contrast to the warmth radiating from your palms. His fingers curled lightly over your own, as if anchoring himself to you, unwilling to let go just yet. Then, he closed his eyes, his expression becoming more relaxed, almost serene.

It was a rare sight—Jinwoo letting his guard down entirely. The tension that so often coiled within him like a tightly wound spring had loosened. He looked utterly vulnerable yet so at peace. There was something heartbreakingly endearing about it, the way he melted into your touch with such quiet trust.

A soft giggle almost escaped you; the sight was just too adorable. His usual guarded demeanor giving way to something boyish and sweet. The great and mighty Sung Jinwoo, leaning into your hands like a content cat basking in the sun. The temptation to tease him was strong, your palms pressing lightly against his cheeks in jest, but before you could act, he opened his eyes.

What greeted you made your breath catch.

His half-lidded gaze was heavy, made his pupils seemed dilated, irises that ethereal shade of bright blue. The droopy edges made him look drowsy, lazy, yet his focus was unwavering, almost hypnotic. There was a strange, dazed quality to his expression, as though he’d been lulled into a rare state of peace, so utterly content that he hovered on the edge of slumber, yet fought to stay awake, unwilling to look away and miss even a second of the sight before him.

It was as if the only thing tethering him to the present, the only thing he wanted to see in that moment—was you.

And oh, how that look did something to you.

A rush of warmth spread through you, feeling as if your body might catch fire. You instinctively tried to pull away, head leaning back just enough to create some distance, desperate for an escape. But before you could retreat entirely, Jinwoo’s hands tightened gently over yours, keeping them firmly in place.

Your eyes darted away, hoping to regain your composure, desperate for a distraction. They landed on the littering corpses of magic beasts scattered across the muddy ground. Before you could utter a single word in your attempt to change the subject—

“You don’t need to ask for permission,” Jinwoo beat you to it, his tone soft but certain. “They’re your spoils as much as they are mine.”

Your head snapped back to him, and you instantly regretted it.

Why? No, not just because of the whiplash you were experiencing. But also, because he was still looking at you like you were his haven. Achingly tender, almost worshipful. His gaze hadn’t softened; if anything, it had grown heavier, more intoxicated on you.

You thought this would end when he closed his eyes, but then he proceeded to shift his head just slightly to the side, tugging on your hand with just enough force to bring it closer. His lips brushed lightly against the inside of your palm, unhurried, halting your thoughts.

Then, with deliberate care, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right above the spot where your pulse thrummed. Jinwoo took his time as though savoring the contact, the faint rhythm beneath his lips. When he finally lifted his gaze, glowing eyes locked onto yours once again.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Dangerous.

“Mother.”

You jolted, your hands yanking back so quickly you feared you might have pulled Jinwoo along with them, or worse, accidentally scratched him in your haste. Relief washed over you when you realized you hadn’t, ignoring the brief glimpse of disappointment in his grey eyes. As you cradled your hands against your chest, your fingers instinctively brushed over the spot he had kissed.

The palpable pulse was louder now, faster under your fingertips.

“Sire.”

Your head turned to see Red standing nearby, her posture straightening from a curtsy after greeting Jinwoo as well.

Jinwoo nodded in acknowledgment, though you didn’t dare look at him again. Instead, you made the discreet gesture of fanning yourself with one hand, trying to cool the rising heat out of view. Your other hand remained pressed against your chest, feeling your drumming heartbeat as it slowly steadied.

That was too much.

Red’s perceptive gaze lingered on you, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her timely interruption. This composed child of yours had always been uncannily the most attuned to you among the others.

“Mother, may we begin <The Feast> ?” Red’s calm composure betrayed nothing, her tone remained measured, though the knowing glint in her eyes suggested she had seen enough.

My sweet, sweet child, you thought with fond exasperation. I’m going to spoil you to bits once we’re back home.

A private tea party with you would suffice, Mother, came the unspoken reply.

“Yes,” you answered, finally finding your voice. “Yes, you may.”

-----

Jinwoo was, understandably, a little unsettled.

It was just a flash of something sharp peeking past Red’s lips, glinting in the dim light, made all the more unsettling by the sudden, ignited hunger in her eyes at your simple permission.

He thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, some illusion caused by the jungle’s shifting shadows. But the smile that followed, fleeting as it was, left no room for doubt. If asked to describe it, Jinwoo would struggle between words like “alluring” and “unnerving”. It was a look that sent goosebumps rippling across one’s skin, like staring too long at a blade glinting in sunlight.

And as it turned out, that was only the beginning.

-----

Igris was, understandably, a little unsettled.

He was not a shadow who easily found himself at a loss for words. He had faced countless enemies, stood beside his Liege through most harrowing of battles, and witnessed displays of power that would render lesser beings trembling in fear.

Then again, this could very well be one of those newer experiences.

The shadows had just about completed their task of collecting magic cores for their Liege. Each of them was accompanied by your summons, the usual pairing: a soldier and a butterfly, the latter usually a personal dedicated support for that one shadow—a formation established early in their Liege's cooperation with you and maintained ever since.

As the last shadow soldier stepped away from a lifeless corpse, the number of red butterflies increased. This was not unusual. In most cases, the red ones were the most diligent in storing and distributing the energy gained from the living and the freshly defeated. Igris had learned this firsthand through observation during joint operations and later confirmed it through the many conversations his Liege had with you.

From a shadow’s perspective, these butterflies, when at work, siphoned an essence often resembled near-transparent wisps drifting from their targets’ bodies until none remained. Typically, the targets were already dead by this point, and since his Liege could still call upon their souls without issue, it became clear to Igris that souls were not exactly what the butterflies were feeding on.

Thus, it was an unspoken certainty: once there was no energy left to harvest, the red butterflies would leave their targets untouched.

So, imagine his surprise at the scene before him now.

The first clue that something was different came with the sound. It was subtle at first, nearly swallowed by the rain—a low hum, rhythmic yet discordant, like paper tearing. Then, the scent: the iron-rich tang of blood, thick and pungent, saturating the air more potently than it had during the height of battle. The atmosphere itself felt heavier, the damp earthiness of the rain-soaked ground mingling with something raw and visceral.

From Igris’s vantage point, the kaleidoscope of wings shimmered iridescent as they descended upon the battlefield, resembling curtains falling to signal the end of a play. At first glance, their movements seemed no different from their usual post-battle routine—fluttering, siphoning, the eerie white wisps floating around them as expected. But as the swarm enveloped the fallen beasts, it became apparent that this was no longer a mere routine.

It was a frenzy.

Limbs that appeared delicate, outwardly made to only be strong enough to support their own body weight, moved with unnatural strength. They dug into flesh and pulled, tearing through skin and muscle with the ease of a blade slicing through parchment. It was as though the beasts’ bodies were the fragile ones, not the little summons. With surgical precision, they ripped through tissues and chipped away at bones, the gleam of their tiny proboscises betraying no hesitation.

Igris didn’t know how such creatures, originally built for a liquid diet, could dismantle corpses with such efficiency. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Monster consuming their kind, eating humans even, was the norm. Even the shadows were no exception—especially beast-type soldiers like the ants and bears still indulged in the habits of their former lives, tearing into their enemies without a second thought. Even the orcs partook in such practices from time to time. Though they no longer required such sustenance, some instincts proved difficult to erase.

So no, it wasn’t the act itself that disturbed Igris.

It was the way they did it.

The simple and gentle flutter of their wings, the precise and calculated movements of their limbs, the effortless grace of each bite—it was all too deliberate, too synchronized. Pattern of movements, solo and with another, resembled silhouettes of performers. Each motion mirrored a meticulous choreography, rehearsed and perfected for centuries. And yet, the reality of this elegant display was a savage massacre. No beast was spared, no corpse favored. All were stripped away from their most earthly possessions—their bodies, their physical existence—with the same ruthless accuracy as the butterflies did not just eat, but also play with their food.

Igris had never considered himself a connoisseur of art. He barely remembered caring for such frivolities when he was alive, save for the artistry of battle. But if there was ever a performance deserving of the name danse macabre, this was it.

His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Who would have thought those delicate creatures were capable of such a thing? Capable of stripping sinew from bone with such efficiency?

It was all too easy to forget that the very same butterflies that provided healing and support had stolen that energy from the living in the first place. That fact too be damned; on most days, the wisps they harvested looked like nothing more than soft clouds they played hide and seek with, or a shimmering mist they weaved through.

Now, those same creatures just painted a more vivid picture. The grotesque scene be the fine wine spilling onto the ground, soaking into the canvas. The severed nerves and veins be the strands of an artist’s brush dipped in ink—dipped in blood. The rainwater, far from washing it away, acted as a solvent, softening the edges and blending the red into the damp earth. The colors bled together in a masterpiece of similar hues, framed by the black of their wings against the dull, muddied backdrop. The light reflected on each droplet, all over the scene, cascaded down ethereal wings and gruesome carcasses, gave off that finishing polished look, just like what varnish would do on paintings well-done.

What incongruity. And yet, somehow, how fitting.

Igris, who had borne witness to countless battles and their aftermaths, had walked through desolation, through carnage and destruction, had stood amongst the living, the dying, and now the fallen. And yet, it was his first time seeing anything quite like this—as surreal and 'lively', like moving pictures.

The jungle’s muddy terrain had become their stage, where the grotesque and the beautiful performed a duet to the orchestra of chimes and tearing flesh. The corpses strewn about were no longer remnants of battle. They were offerings.

No—bouquets.

Thrown at the feet of the dancers by the audience.

This was not a curtain-call anymore, this was an encore.

And the audience were the shadows.

So at least, Igris was not alone on this thought.

A quick glance at his fellow soldiers confirmed that much. They had finished collecting the magic cores, their task complete. But not a single one moved to leave. Not a single one spoke. The sight before them should have triggered some primal urge to flee—some lingering instinct, no matter how faint, to recoil at the sheer wrongness of it. But they did not move. They did not look away.

They were mesmerized.

Igris’s sharp eyes caught the subtle tremors in some of them. The telltale signs of unease. Fear? He recognized the ones most affected—those often paired with the red butterflies in battle.

Under normal circumstances, he would have deemed this a failure. A soldier trembling at the mere sight of their allies? A disgrace. One that would merit a harsher training regimen to ensure they never faltered again.

But this time?

This time, he supposed he could spare them.

Because for all his experience, for all his time spent serving under their liege, he had always believed that the dead had but one thing to fear: their king’s wrath.

And yet, this—this spectacle that blurred the line between beauty and horror, that none could look away from—this thing that played at the edges of death’s dominion—

Perhaps it was not quite fear. Perhaps it was something close.

Close enough that it left them frozen in place, wondering. Wondering when they become a part of it.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [30/01/2025]

Okay, so, I'm not too happy with how this chapter turned out. But right now, I'm out of words and ideas on how to fix it. Plus, I wanted to proceed to the next few chapters which I find more exciting to write. And, I'm also entering a new semester on the 17th, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to write and post again.

Also, I wanted to ask you all: since this my first time writing something close to gore, I wanted to ask if this much is already considered as gore, mild gore, or not at all?

While this chapter might not be my best work personally, I hope it will do well nonetheless.

Oh yeah, since I didn't put any lyrics in here, the song TP!Reader sung to Jinwoo is open to interpretation. Personally, I was listening to Rise Up by The Fat Rat while writing the past scene mentioned (referring to Chapter 4).

Feedbacks are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. 🙏💕

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑾𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: You catch the eyes of the last person you would expect

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: Working on Doctor´s treatment part 2, if you have any ideas, requests, questions message me!

Nevermore academy, education soil for creatures of kinds you would never even dream of. But preferred by many, you could hear about them as Outcasts. No human with a healthy mind would ever think about walking by their land or the woods. Vampires, werewolves, sirens, gorgons,... you name it. They guarantee you don´t want to mess with them.

Clearly, that´s from a human´s perspective.

As for Outcasts themselves, they don´t feel that way about them. Of course, the dirty looks that are shot their way everytime they step into the Jericho make them a little cheerless, but that wasn´t their image. That is what people created in their heads based on actions and incidents where they weren´t even present.

Wednesday was skeptical about this school, her parents used to go there for a couple of years but she isn´t like them. Or at least that is what she felt and she was sure of it. Breaking rules and always be right is like her second name and looking just at the gate of the Nevermore she knew, this school wouldn´t be any different than others. It won´t hold her inside for too long. And her roommate already persuaded her about her plants as soon as she stepped into the dorm.

The werewolf girl showed her around and explained the system of the school. The girl must admit, it was catching her attention, being around outcasts was indeed more enjoyable than around people, even though sometimes outcasts were more predictable than humans. But still, this reason wasn´t big enough to make her stay.

She wanted to escape and the girl had it planned to the last dot. Packing her things, going to the festival, and meeting up with Tyler. He would then drive her far far away. And it would have gone like this if Rowan didn´t touch her. The vision made her follow him, Wednesday went to warn him about the danger that waits on him in the trees. It turned out that he was the danger waiting for her.

And the thing she witnessed... Wednesday was sure what she saw was real, that it wasn´t just a figment of the imagination. He said that she would destroy the school and everyone in it. But the strange part was that everyone kept declining that as if she didn´t see him all bloody yelling in agony. And that made her stay.

Wednesday was now sitting in Botanical Science class. Unfortunately, she needed to sit next to Xavier who was trying to impress her with his ability. She wasn´t scared of the spiders, otherwise, she was drawn to creatures like this. The spider was slowly coming her way and now everyone was watching the interaction, waiting for the girl´s response.

On the millisecond the annoyed face appeared on Wednesday´s face as she went to slam the fake eight-legged animal but was stopped by a blue flame that was shot straight to the spider. Everyone knew who’s the fire was. You were just sitting there a couple of tables from them looking at the Xavier with an unimpressed look on your face as you held up one finger with the blue fire above. Then the fire suddenly disappeared and you went back to doing your work.

The students around the school knew you, you were unique and a lot of them wished they could do what you can. You hated that, everyone only wanted the power but nobody saw the background of it. Even though they were used to your power, it didn´t stop them from being in awe every time.

The goth girl saw you a couple of times around, she didn´t know under what category of outcasts you belong. Enid only said that you weren´t what most of them were, nothing more. And her roommate wanted but even the biggest gossip girl around the school knew barely minimum about you.

Wednesday shot her eyes at you without moving her head, slowly scanning you. She must say she didn´t expect that. This was the first time she had ever seen something like that. You shot the ball of fire straight at the fake spider and burned it into the ash in seconds, the spider stood zero chance against the fire. It didn´t touch Wednesday but she sure could feel the hotness of the flame.

„Thank you Y/N. Well it looks like Wednesday wasn´t really mesmerized by your skills Xavier.“ Mrs. Thornhill commented and went back to teaching. The boy only put his eyebrows together as he looked at you and then faced the other side of his seatmate in embarrassment. The class laughed under their breaths at the sight of Xavier’s sulking after failing to impress their new classmate.

After the class, Y/N took her books and started to walk away. She isn´t much social person and she doesn´t care about it. The girl likes it better on her own, it feels calmer that way. Y/N only talks when it´s needed, so with her teachers, parents, or her only friend in the school. She doesn´t even have a roommate which is like a win to her.

„Next time your rescue isn´t needed.“

Y/N turned around to the voice and saw a girl who sat with Xavier. She knew of course who she was, she was the talk of the week of course. This was the first time she had seen her from this close, or almost close. It was clear Wednesday doesn´t like crossing the personal barrier between two bodies. But even from this apart Y/N could notice her deep brown eyes which were staring straight into hers and barely seen freckles across her face.

The taller girl only nodded, breaking the eye contact, and walked away from the girl. Wednesday kept looking at your fading figure in the hallway till she could hear tough steps approaching her.

„She caught your eye, huh?“ Enid smirked at her new roommate as she leaned carefully so as not to touch her. „I can´t blame you, she´s really something.“ Enid sighed dreamely at the thought of you and Wednesday now looked at the girl with a slightly disgusted face before turning around to leave.

„Leave these comments to yourself.“ Enid only laughed at her as she started to follow her to their next class.

Wednesday kept thinking about you almost the whole day. More like about your ability. Hate to admit it but it was interesting. Enid said you aren’t wich or some magician that you can just control fire, or more like it´s just coming out of you.

When Y/N is not around they call her a Dragon of Nevermore or just a Dragon, they know better not to call her that when she is near, the girl doesn´t like that. And when she´s somewhere around they don´t talk about her so she wouldn´t hear, for their own safety.

Now was Wednesday´s writing time and she just kept sitting there staring blankly at the empty page. She wanted to continue with her new book but her mind went back to the blue flame every time. She sighed in frustration and went to her bed. Thing saw her thinking hard, she had something in her mind and he was glad that something ripped the thoughts of leaving this school away.

Students were now sitting outside, enjoying food and chatting with each other. Wednesday saw her roommate eating and talking loudly with her vampire friend and a couple of others. She wasn´t a fan of a lot of people but she also couldn´t care less if the attention wasn´t placed on her. She was scanning the pentagon looking for a place to sit. Preferably alone. The girl felt a soft tap on her black boot, there was a Thing facing her.

„What are you doing? You want to be seen by somebody?“ Wednesday hissed at him, trying not to look suspicious. Thing only pointed his finger somewhere. She looked up from him in the direction and found you sitting by the table on your own, quietly eating while looking down at your plate.

Wednesday sighed and made her way to you. She didn´t know why, her mind started to recalculate her options of where to sit. And understandably you were the safest option, she knew you wouldn’t try to talk to her.

And so it was like that. You barely looked at who sat beside you, Wednesday somehow felt like you could feel that it was her, that´s why you didn´t need to look at the new intruder. Students looked their way, now silently watching the invisible interaction between the two of you, looking for any change of behavior they were used to seeing from both of you. But nothing. You just sat there next to each other eating food, minding your business. The girl felt a soft tap on her boot again, this time only to tease her, Wednesday kicked him away not showing any emotion on her face.

The werewolf girl saw you both sitting next to each other, smiling softly at the image. She liked the idea of both of you together, you would look good. It was clear that you nor she were good at social interaction, and this? This was definitely unexpected. Most of the time when someone wanted to sit with you, you looked at them, not saying anything because it wasn´t even needed. They understand very fast what you meant.

You didn´t shoot Wednesday one look.

„How does your ability work?“ Wednesday asked without looking at your side profile as you chew on your food. You kept your stoic face without any unnecessary muscle work not understanding her question. The girl was slowly getting annoyed by you, it seemed like you ignored her.

Wednesday was getting used to people asking her useless questions or pleasing her attention which she ignored. Sometimes she made savage comments to shut them down. This was the other way around, now she tasted her medicine.

Y/N looked at her scanning her facial expression, why would she want to know about her? Of course, not a single muscle moved but her mind was the opposite, jumping from one thought to another not understanding the girl right now.

The young Addams was getting frustrated at the girl beside her. She wasn´t getting a single thing from her.

„Uhm... I don´t understand.“ Y/N finally said looking around to find something to take her mind off of the conversation and the look she was giving her. She didn´t like talking about that.

„Why is it blue?“ Wednesday of course knew why sometimes flame was a different colour than red. But she wanted to know if you could control it to that part when it changed it’s shade or if it was always like this.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and went to eat again, that action completely thorn off the new girl. Wednesday saw that this was getting nowhere so she let it be, but she will get her answers.

Unconsciously, you just become her new prey.

A couple of days went by since the joining of the new student, and everyone slowly started to come back to their things, forgetting about it. There were still students that liked to get on her nerves but most of them now didn´t mind her. They were quite afraid of the goth girl and she obviously had not a bad word for it.

„Y/N! Hey!“ the cheerful voice greeted you as you slowly approached the construction. This was one of your favorite places to go to. Not a lot of people went to this place so it was always so calm in there. The boy had a beekeeper´s suit on holding some equipment in his hands.

„Hey Eugene, how are the bees?“ The girl asked looking at the thing her friends currently work on. He was the only person who made her comfortable to talk with.

They knew themselves since the boy came. He was shy, he still is but back then it was much more, always looking at the ground, not looking at anyone, minding his business. At first, it was like a nightmare to him, he didn´t want to tell his moms that he had no friends, wanted to save them from being worried so it was better to keep that information to himself.

Minding on his own of course didn´t stop the bullies. Why would it, be right? He had never understood why they acted like that to him, it kept bugging him for a long and to the point when he was afraid to go out of his dorm room.

It was like this until it was Outreach Day, it was his first time to go here and he didn´t know what to expect. Eugene was set to work at Pilgrim World and he found him again. It was much worse this time because no one was around to interrupt them from what they were going to do. Unexpectedly someone came, at first the person was trying to talk them out of it but as the boys started to treat that person too, they got beat up. It was Y/N that came to save him. It was like a dream, the boy saw the tall girl a couple of times at school, he always thought that she looked savage, not caring about things that weren´t important. And he wanted to be like her but his mind wasn´t strong enough to believe in himself.

From that day the girl would keep him company wherever he wanted and like a sibling, you had each other's backs. Y/N was Eugene´s role model, someone he looked up to, his moms were so happy to hear that he had someone like her.

„They are good but they missed you!“ Y/N smiled softly at the short boy´s words. It was true, recently they weren´t spending much time together, but it was nothing serious, they just had separate things to do.

„I missed them too.“ She whispered and looked at the bee´s hive outside the window.

Wednesday was walking in the forest. She had to think about this dreadful place, her dead classmate and her loud roommate made it impossible. She enjoyed walking alone through the dense tree foam. It created a dark atmosphere. A lot of people were afraid of woods, but on Wednesday there was nothing to be scared of, she would walk there even in the darkness. She came by the lake as her boots were taking steps along the stones around. There was an old, wooden dock jutted into the water and the waves were dancing along the gentle wind.

Suddenly she heard something from the other side of the lake. She turned her head to the noise, her hunting instinct was now on looking into the center of the sounds. The girl could see a person standing there, hands together in a praying-like position with their head down. It looked more like they were praying or meditating. Wednesday could see slow breaths based on the small shoulder movements along with the person´s chest.

She took a small step to the front to have a better look at the scene. Suddenly the person turned their face in front of them, one leg moved back making them lean a little. One arm was moving up above their head and the other one was stretched in front of their body. Both hands were slowly turned into fists. And what happened next made Wednesday stand in awe.

The fire splutters out of one of the hands into the wind. The person took a step and jumped up turning their body high in the air kicking with their leg along with the hot flame. When they came down they turned their back around now jumping backward landing on their hands as they bounced back into the feet before doing a backflip layout. The blue fire was spewing all around, changing directions like it was listening to your body.

It was absolutely known who it was. You were the only one with the ability to control a blue fire. Wednesday couldn´t tear her gaze away from you. In situations like this, it was hard not to show an interest. The young Addams wasn´t someone who pretends.

The waves of water were lazily moving like a rhythmic melody along with your movements. As she was now standing there from the other side of the water, looking at you almost without blinking, it created the feeling of a border. As if the lake was a boundary separating her and you, separating her body from the unknown, from things that she wanted to know about but didn´t know how to move, how to make the step. So desperate to explore the untouched land.

It has now been a couple of days, the case was moving painfully slowly. Wednesday shared some evidence with the sheriff´s son and Enid. The girl didn´t like getting a lot of people into her soup but at the same time, she wanted others thoughts, even if it didn´t matter to her.

Thing has been quite a handful even with his remarks on someone. The young Addams have been sitting with you every lunch break, without a single word or glance. Just sitting there, quietly eating not bothering each other. Enid and Thing were great at getting on her nerves by teasing her about it.

Why they were like that? Wednesday didn´t know, she was only sitting with you at lunch, without any interaction at all.

Since that time in the forest, she didn´t see you use your fire. You barely use it. A lot of students were shocked when you burned that spider-like they weren´t used to seeing that, and now Wednesday knew.

They are currently having a class, she and Enid were sitting together paying attention, or at least one of them.

„Hey.“ Enid whispered leaning her head slowly into her classmate's direction. „Do you know where is Y/N?“

„How am I supposed to know the answer?“ Wednesday answered with a low voice, taking notes on the paper.

„Well, you are pretty close so I thought you would know.“ Enid shot her a quick glance before facing the teacher again as if she was listening this whole time.

Wednesday stopped her writing and turned to her roommate. „We aren´t close one bit. Just because we are sitting together doesn´t mean we are close.“ Her gaze was sharp looking straight at the side profile of the girl next to her. Enid didn´t mind her, she was now used to Wednesday´s behaviour so she only smirked.

After the class, she went to Eugene. Now as a member of hummers, she needed to spend some time also in the hives. She owned him for having her back at times when she went to investigate. He was exactly like her brother Pugsley, defenseless against the pitfalls in the world. Somewhere inside of her, she grew a soft spot for him but she didn´t want to accept it. Like always.

„Hey Wednesday, would you mind if we left earlier today? My friend is sick and I need to bring her some medicine.“

Her eyes were enough for her to see that her only friend of him was Y/N. Eugene didn´t talk about you a lot, only sometimes, like that you are also a member of hummers but nothing more. She could see the two of you sometimes in Jericho, walking around or after classes, like two siblings.

But now she knew the reason for your absence.

Y/N was lying on her stomach with a pillow over her head. Even though her room was already dark because of the covered windows, it still felt like there was a lot of light. The bed under the girl was like lying on tough ground. The thought of lying on the ground crossed Y/N´s mind a lot of times. Her body was on fire.

It has been like this for a couple of days, only in her room, without any light or social interaction. The only one she could see this awful day was Eugene, he was so sweet. Where would she be without him, only God knows. He brings her food and all the needed medicine. Even though he was trying so hard to help you nothing worked. And it wasn´t his fault.

Because of your ability your body gets too heated up sometimes, most of the time when you use flames too much. That´s why it´s better to train more so you can control it better and at the same time your body heat. But these were the consequences of the success.

No medicine could help, or at least you thought there was nothing. When this happens you are dealing with it just like this, waiting till it stops.

The knocking on the door tore you away from thinking about this uncomfortable position your body was put into. You just wanted to ignore it, even if it was Eugene but another knocking was heard, this time more louder than the first time. It was too much and your head started to spin around the room as soon as you got up.

Slowly opening the door, leaning against the door frame. You were waiting for Eugene with the food in his hands, you were waiting for Principal Weems with her questions about your absence, and you were waiting for Thornhill with the class work you missed.

What you weren´t waiting for was Wednesday Addams standing right in front of you with a bag around her shoulder.

She was looking at you with her signature stare, staring right at your face. She noticed your fallen eyes, bags under them, and lowered shoulders.

„You look horrible.“ That was her first word as soon as she saw her classmate. It was nothing like compared to the first day she saw you.

„Appreciate it.“ Y/N whispered back at her, not moving a single muscle in her body. The taller girl thought that maybe Wednesday made a mistake and she didn´t want to go into your room. But the Addams never makes a mistake.

She slightly pushed you into the room as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She could feel the heat of your body as she touched your chest in that millisecond. It was too hot and of course, the dark-eyed girl's body was most of the time under the normal temperature of a human body so everything compared to her felt warm. But this was too much, it was like touching a fire with a bare hand.

„What are you-“

„Sit down.“ Wednesday commanded to you, cutting you from sentence and you like a good dog listened to her. You kept your eyes on her the whole time, she went to your table by the wall, pulling up her bag with some things, and she started to do something. You didn´t see what she was doing because the only thing you could see was her back.

Wednesday then turned around to you, holding something like a small cup with some strange liquid in it. You wanted to gag at the smell of it, it didn´t look drinkable.

„Drink it.“ She pushed it even further to your mouth as you only pushed your head back away from it. Was she trying to poison you? You wouldn’t be so surprised, it was Wednesday after all. She was getting frustrated by your childish actions so she took the back of your head and brought you closer to the cup. The taste of it was awful, you just wanted to throw up.

„Swallow it.“ And you did. You could feel it as it went down your throat it was cold but so refreshing after your high temperature.

„Now lay down, you will feel better. Believe me.“

And you did. Lying in that uncomfortable bed, praying to fall asleep quickly.

„It´s because it´s hotter than red. I can’t control it.“ You said with your eyes barely opened. Wednesday kept looking for you to continue. „Blue fire is hotter than red. That´s why it´s like that.“

„I know.“ She whispered back. You don´t remember much of how you fell asleep but before the Hypnos took you away you could see her sitting on your chair looking at you. 

The next day Wednesday was sitting eating her lunch at your table, again without you. She must admit it felt strange but nothing she couldn´t manage to get over.

Suddenly she felt a presence next to her, and the dark-eyed girl slowly turned to the person who dared to sit next to her. Her eyes were met with the person she helped yesterday. She didn´t expect you to recover that quickly, she was guessing you would be fine by tomorrow, but here you are the next day.

„I see you feel better.“ She commented looking at your figure, as if yesterday you weren´t dying from high temperature.

„Yes, thanks to you.“ You still kept looking at her, your eyes were wide staring at her silently thanking her. Wednesday looked at her plate, not giving you another glace, her plate with food was now the most interesting thing.

„You don´t have to thank me.“ You only smiled at her actions, it was cute like she was embarrassed for helping you. You need to pay her back.

A couple of days went by and a lot of things changed. The two girls started to talk more, it was most of the time on the lunch break or sometimes when they caught themselves in hives. They weren´t friends yet but this was a great road to start the friendship between them. Wednesday even told Y/N about her case and her progress from the start.

Y/N was an intelligent, really open-minded person. It was good to have someone like her nearby if the shorter girl needed some opinions. Y/N was always available, she never turned Wednesday down. They spend more and more time together, the young Addams sometimes sits with her in class, or goes to her dorm just to talk or for help, you even told her about your ability more. Wednesday didn´t want to accept it but somewhere deep inside of her she knew, she had grown a soft spot your you

Now it was soon to be Rave´N Dance and you were thinking about it. Going there didn´t even cross your mind in the past, you had no one to go with so every time it came you and Eugene went out and did something. But now it was a little different. Maybe she wouldn´t even go, this didn´t seem like her cup of tea and why would she even go with you? There were a lot of other candidates who would have a bigger chance than you. Or maybe she would say yes, why are you doubting yourself if she didn´t enjoy your presence you wouldn´t be spending so much time together. You need to at least try. And that´s exactly why you were now standing in front of her dorm.

After a soft knock was heard on the door Wednesday did not expect to see you. You were standing before the door a couple of steps back as if you were afraid to disturb the dorm of the two girls. You were wearing your casual clothes, a black oversized hoodie and some big sweatpants, hands behind your back.

„Hey...uhm... I-I´m sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to ask you if...“ you didn´t even look at her, your head was down looking at your shoes. Your voice was low and Wednesday barely caught the sentence that left your lips.

„Y/N you need to talk louder than that, I can´t hear you.“ She just kept looking at you, trying to find the answer by your body language. You were nervous, because of what?

You sighed and turned your head in her direction, looking straight at her face. „I wanted to ask if you would go with me on Rave´N Dance.“

The young Addams for the first time in her life felt like she didn´t know what to say. It was unexpected. Sure it wasn´t like she would decline your offer. She liked you, as a person. You were currently number one closest to her, beside her roommate of course but with Enid it was different.

„Y/N… I already have someone to go with.“

Ouch. Well, it was something you were prepared for but it still hurts a little. Yeah, like she would go with someone like you. God, it was embarrassing.

The taller girl only nodded her head looking everywhere but at Wednesday. She pushed air out of her lungs and slowly pushed her hands from her back. „Y-Yeah okay... don´t need to worry I just thought I would ask.“ You smiled awkwardly and gave her the black rose that was hidden behind your back.

„Here... This is for you.“ You looked into her black eyes, this was the first time you saw her like this, so vulnerable, but only her eyes showed that. „Well I´ll go, you don´t have to feel sorry, I get it.“

She took the flower from your hand as you turned around and started to walk away down the hallway. Her eyes kept watching you till she didn´t see you anymore, her eyes went to the black rose in her hands. It was beautiful.

Wednesday could tell that you were the only person who she ever felt so much emotions because of. And now she felt miserable.

Today was the day of the Rave´N Dance and you were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to spend some time with Eugene but he had some plans which he didn´t say what it was about so you were just by yourself.

Wednesday wanted to talk to you about it but every time she mentioned it you said it was okay, so she stopped. You didn´t want to know who she went with and if your ego would take it.

The small paper slid under your door, you stood up and took it into your hands. You didn´t know who´s writing was it.

Meet me by the entrance at 9 pm.

-WA

It was sure it wasn´t Wednesday's handwriting. You saw it a couple of times when she was giving you class work which you missed the days of your sickness. But it was her initials because you didn´t know anyone with the WA.

That´s why you came to her dorm looking for answers. You knocked on the door and waited. The note is still in your hands. The dark-eyed girl opened the door, looking at you with a questionable look in her eyes.

„Hey, what brings you here?“

You showed her the note in your hand. „I saw this note, I didn´t know i it was from you or not. You are the only one I know with a name that starts with these initials.“

Wednesday studied the note. It looked like a cheap version of her writing. As if someone was trying to copy her handwriting. It was sure who it was. She´s going to kill him.

Shouldn´t she be preparing? You just noticed her and how she still was wearing casual clothes. The dance started in a couple of hours and she still hadn´t even started.

Wednesday saw in her peripheral vision Thing, he was behind the door giving her thumb up. If he had a face she was sure he would be smiling from ear to ear.

„Yes, it´s from me. I wanted to ask if you would go with me to the Rave´N.“

What?! You were shocked, she wanted to go with you? But, but...

„But you said you are already going with someone?“ Wednesday leaned her head a little to the side, not meeting your eyes.

„Yes but something changed.“ She was still facing the other way but it took you too long to answer to she looked back at you with raising an eyebrow. „Well? Would you go with me?“ You nodded with your head.

„Great, meet me down at nine.“

And after that, you ran as fast as you could.

Wednesday closed the door and looked at Thing with dark eyes, he ran under the bed to hide from her. She just sighed and looked at the rose standing in the jar with a water on her table. She wasn’t really mad.

Your hands were shaking and your body felt hot. What were the main two things you could sense at that moment? You were standing exactly where Wednesday told you to, coming a bit earlier because it´s better than late and you could only imagine what would Wednesday do if you came late.

Looking around the passing by students somewhere double looking to make sure it was you. It was the first time they saw you in formal clothes like this. You didn´t feel very comfortable with all the glares and on top of that those tight clothes.

These things were forgotten at the same time as Wednesday came down. She was wearing a dark black dress and her hair was done perfectly. She looked beautiful, like always. You were glad that you were matching even though you didn´t talk about your clothes. You were also wearing all black.

„Hey.“ She gently greeted you as she came to you. „Are you ready?“

You nodded at her smiling softly, you offered her your arm, didn´t know if she would take it but to your surprise she did. And just like just like that you walked to the ball room. As soon as you stepped in everyone´s eyes were on both of you. It was shocking, sure a lot of people saw you these days together, but you were almost the same. But they didn´t expect to see either of you on Nevermore ball.

Enid was smirking at the two of you, glad it was you instead of Xavier. It was her plan after all and with a little help from Thing it became real.

The two of you decided to drink something and as you were standing there chatting a little with Enid, you saw Xavier´s glarings. Why is he staring at you like that? You didn´t break the eye contact, not letting him win. The dark-eyed girl saw you and took you by your hand.

„Come.“ She was really gentle that night, like a whole new person. But only you could catch that, she didn´t let anyone else see but you.

And you were having fun dancing around, chatting, and drinking. It was so refreshing, you didn´t have this much fun in a long time.

„Thank you for going with me.“ You said as she had her hands around your neck slowly dancing to the song. She kept looking at you with wide eyes. This was the second time you saw her eyes like this, the first time was a couple of days ago when you came to ask her to the dance.

This was the first time you were close like this, your hands around her slim waist and her around your neck. Looking at each other, to others around it looked like you were talking with your eyes. Your body was too hot compated to hers.

Wednesday’s heart was cold, that’s was people around her said and they weren’t far from the truth. But now as she stands infront of you and you are looking at her and holding her like she’s the only one in the world… her heart warmed.

„No need for that. I would do it twice.“ Wednesday said before she smiled gently at you.

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Soul Meets Body

After the final battle with the Netherbrain, you and Halsin have found solace in what was once the Shadowlands. Domesticity and nature interweave with your every day life now that you are parents, but for the past few months, something has been missing. Halsin shows you how much he's missed your body.

Pairings: Halsin (dad!) x fem reader (plus sized after giving birth)

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, body image issues, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5.2k

Requested: yes

A/N: As a plus sized fan fic writer, I hardly see plus sized stuff, especially for Halsin so I decided to write something! This fic deals HEAVILY with body image issues of a plus sized reader after giving birth, so please read with caution if that is a trigger for you! ALSO: based on notes and patch updates from Larian, the Shadowlands were renamed the Reclaimed Lands, and in original notes for Halsin, his last name was Silverborough! So that's why those details are included. Also also dad Halsin is my fave ok bye.

The sun hung high in the sky midday, casting beautiful shadows through the leaves of the trees. The nearby laughter of children cascaded throughout the village, leaving a permanent smile on your face wherever you went. Your baby Lora, wrapped snug in a sling on your chest, cooed as you weeded the perimeter of the village, tossing the uprooted plants in a basket for Halsin to use later on.

Little feet scampered past you, calling your name in greeting as you knelt in the soft earth. Every time a little voice graced your ears, you perked up - what a life you were now leading, filled with such hope and joy. You felt lucky from the moment you woke up, to the moment you went to bed, for three reasons: the beautiful children that graced the Reclaimed Lands, which was once the Shadowlands, your beautiful daughter Lora, and of course, Halsin.

Your life had taken on new meaning once the final battle against the Netherbrain was won. Throughout your journey, you thought that the one thing you wanted more than anything was to return to your old life - to go home to the familiarity of Baldur's Gate. But when you had met Halsin - and subsequently fell in love with him - everything had changed, and you found yourself back in the Reclaimed Lands with the Alderman himself, becoming the unofficial parents of more children you had ever expected to have.

Of course, some adults came to the Reclaimed Lands to start anew as well - people pushed out by the curse returning home, or some wanting a fresh start. The little village you now claimed as your own was growing by the week, and nothing filled your heart more than knowing the love you and Halsin had put into cultivating the safe space.

A mere two months after you had gone home to the Reclaimed Lands, you discovered you were with child, baring the tiny bulge of Halsin's baby. It was no surprise to either of you - the elf who wanted to do things "as nature intended" acted on those natural instincts as often as they found him, and the idea of starting a family together was something both you and him couldn't get out of your head.

Once you had become pregnant, Halsin was unsurprisingly the perfect partner. Caring and attentive, you never needed nor wanted for anything. As if he could read your mind, before you could even ask, Halsin would appear with whatever you seemed to crave. Whether it be the particular berries near the river you seemed to want at night, a massage under his giant hands, or even a shoulder to cry on whenever your ankles swelled or back ached, Halsin was there to provide for you.

Your lovemaking never ceased while pregnant, either - in fact, your sex life with Halsin seemed to do nothing but increase. Often times, you caught Halsin staring at you while you absentmindedly cleaned up after dinner, or played with the children during the afternoon - his eyes falling to your growing belly. At night, while you sat on top of him, legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusted into you, he sucked and nibbled on your swollen breasts, his hands gently caressing your belly and large behind.

"How beautiful you are," He would breathe into your ear, your bodies slick with sweat, "Creating this beautiful life inside of you. You are ethereal...I am in awe. I am not worthy of your beauty." He'd cup your cheek and suck on your bottom lip as you quietly cried his name, tears overflowing from your eyes from both pleasure and love.

When Halsin was feeling more territorial, taking you from behind, but still being more gentle than usual, he would lay his chest flat on your back so he could be as deep as his cock would allow. "Knowing that everyone can look at you and see that I did this," He would grunt, his thrusts strong and pleading, "Knowing I filled you with my seed. That I love you so often and so well that the future is growing inside of you. I need it. I crave it," His would say through gritted teeth, "Everyone knows you're mine. And I am yours. Forever."

Once Loradove was born, your sexual appetite had basically ceased. Nights that were once full of screaming and thrusting and panting were now full of changing diapers, aiding cries, and soft lullabies. Halsin, of course, was the most doting father - taking Lora without asking so you could rest, playing with her so you could do some chores, or even doing the chores himself. He was the perfect father - you knew his urges to have you were increasing tenfold as every month passed that you didn't make love. But you also knew he would never complain...thinking only of his sexual urges made him feel selfish, you knew, and he would never want to act selfishly towards you.

It had been five months since Halsin last touched you in that way. Truth be told, it wasn't just that you were too busy with the village and children and your own daughter to have sex. You also couldn't bare to look in the mirror at your newfound "mother" body. A body that, once, when fighting goblins and monsters alongside Halsin and saving Faerun, was taut with muscles and curves. Now, your belly was soft and expanded, the defined muscles you once had nowhere to be found. Stretch marks decorated you stomach and thighs, and you needed a completely new wardrobe. You dreamed of being the type of mother you had known throughout your years - weeks after giving birth somehow going back to what they once were - small and desirable.

You only felt ugly. Looking at Halsin's body, rock solid and sexy, there was absolutely no way - in your mind - he could have found your softness alluring, especially when he had met the smaller, more attractive version of you. The idea of being fully naked in front of him used to send shivers down your spin and make your heart race, but now, it was enough to make you cry.

A child's playful laugh snapped you out of your day dream, your hand limply holding on to a bundle of mugwort that you had pulled a few minutes prior. Shaking your head, you placed it in the basket near your feet, watching Halsin appear into the village around the bend. A few children had run over to him, immediately hanging on his large limbs like he was a tree branch. He smiled and lifted them in the air, sending them flying before he caught them, gently kissing their temples and placing them on the ground.

As his usual way, he scanned the village, his eyes softening when they found you. You stopped weeding and stood, your smile matching his. A few moments later he was by your side, the children trailing behind him. He bent his head to give you a soft kiss - one that still gave you butterflies.

"My heart," He spoke gently, his hand immediately finding your waist. You winced inwardly as he gripped the soft rolls of your side. He slowly pushed back the cloth wrapping that hid Lora's face, and when her eyes met his, she instantly cooed. The smile Halsin reserved for her appeared on his face, and he gently pulled her from the cloth, holding her close. "My little one. How beautiful you are! Were you helping your mother today?" He eyed you, his eyes glittering. You chuckled.

"Quite so. If she wasn't swaddled, I'm sure she'd be reaching for the belladonna to try and have an afternoon snack," You sighed, smiling and wiping your brow, "She's lucky she's so cute."

"Cute?" Halsin asked, his eyebrows raising, "She's magnificent. Breathtaking. She is perfect...cute is nowhere near the word to describe Loradove Silverbough." Suddenly, Lora screeched, causing Halsin to furrow his brows immediately.

Laughing, you gently placed your hand on his bicep, "I think she also is tired."

He chuckled, pressing a small kiss on her cheek, "I will put her down for her nap. Go, do whatever your heart desires, my love. I will see to it that you have the afternoon for yourself. Daddy's got it from here." He winked, causing you to blush.

How the word "daddy" had changed in your lexicon in 9 months.

A few minutes later, you found yourself at the nearby creek on the outskirts of the village, your sweater off and laid beside you in the afternoon heat. Your feet dangled in the cool water, the laughter of the children still around you as you dozed in and out of a nap in the sunlight. Moments like this one were not rare - with Halsin, it truly was a partnership, splitting responsibilities 50/50.

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was setting, a sure sign of heading home. It was almost dinner time, you knew, which meant that you had spent at least a few hours dozing off by the creek. Your feet, wrinkled from being submerged for so long, felt chilly as you took them out of the water. Holding your shoes in your hands, you made the short walk home, passing by the children being herded inside by the adults.

As you opened the front door to your cottage, a whiff of food hit your nostrils, sending your stomach growling - some sort of roast was being prepared, with the sounds of banging pots and giggling coming from the kitchen.

"My heart!" Halsin cried, "Is that you?"

"Yes, I'm home, Halsin." You shouted back, dropping your shoes by the door.

"Lora! Mama's home!" You heard Halsin proclaim, to which Lora responded with a delightful squeal. You smiled, wiping the immediate happy tears from your eyes.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

As you rounded your way to the kitchen, you found Halsin plating up dinner, Lora in her little feeding chair, bits of mushed food all over her face. She immediately reached for you when she saw you, so you scooped her up, grabbing a towel from a nearby table and wiping her face gently.

"My precious angel, you eat like such a little whirlwind." You murmured, kissing her eyelashes. She cooed and grabbed at your hair as felt Halsin's hand on your shoulder. Turning towards him, he smiled and leaned down to kiss your cheek, then slowly moved to your earlobe.

"My love," He breathed, his voice low. A shiver went down your spine as you leaned into his body. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the familiar feeling of comfort warming your body. He sighed contently and ushered you towards the chair nearest you, "Sit, my heart. Dinner is ready."

You sat, opening your eyes again and smiling. He placed the plate in front of you, and was about to take Lora from your hands but you shook your head, holding her closer.

"I missed her."

Halsin chuckled and sat across from you, "Of course. If she gets too rowdy while you try to eat, I'll put her back in her chair." He made a face at Lora, who made the same one back - their version of a secret handshake.

Idly chatting about your days, you ate dinner slowly, savoring the moments with the two of them. Soon Lora was starting to fuss, alerting the two of you to her nearing bedtime.

You bathed and dressed her, putting her down in her crib while Halsin washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Walking into your bedroom, he was discarding his clothes for the night, slipping into the bed the two of you shared. As you walked in, he smiled.

“Did she go down easy?” He asked. You nodded.

“For the most part. Some tears when she realized that it was bedtime, but she was so exhausted that she went down almost as soon as her back hit the bed.” You took a sleep dress from your closet, putting it over your day clothes. Underneath the dress, you slipped the straps of your shirt off, and then your pants; the way you had gotten changed every night since Lora was young. Halsin said nothing of the intricate dressing, but you knew he watched you every night, probably wondering why his love wouldn’t stand naked in front of him. You turned and he smiled softly, patting the bed next to him.

As you laid next to him he tucked the blankets to your collarbone, kissing your forehead. “Early night? I have quite the day ahead of me tomorrow.” You yawned and nodded, nuzzling into him.

“Yes. I, myself am also exhausted.”

Halsin blew out the lamp and wrapped one of his strong arms around you, falling asleep almost instantly. You closed your eyes as well, but sleep came harder for you - the nap you took earlier in the day apparently robbing you of sleep this evening.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Halsin’s voice spoke in the dark room. “My love…are you alright? Your stirring woke me.”

You huffed as you moved on your side, throwing your arms at your side in the blankets, “I’m sorry, Halsin. I’m having a hard time falling asleep.”

Halsin was silent for a moment, but you felt him move closer to you, as he had drifted a bit during sleep, an arm wrapping around your waist. He started to pepper kisses on your neck, his breath hot in your ear. Eventually, his hand lightly palmed at your breast, your nipple gently pinched in between his fingers.

“Well…if you can’t sleep…maybe we can make use to the extra time given to us.” He whispered in your ear, rolling your nipple in his hand. Your heart fluttered, but you felt your stomach drop. Gently pushing him away, you turned to him.

“Halsin…” You started, unsure of what to say. This wasn’t the first time Halsin had tried to have sex with you since Lora was born, but every time he had tried previously, your excuses of being tired seemed more plausible. Now that it was five months, you weren’t quite sure what to say.

The hand that palmed your breast found its way to your cheek. “Please, my heart. Talk to me. I don’t want to pry, especially after you have given me the gift of our beautiful daughter…but why won’t you let me make love to you?”

In the darkness, you felt like you could cry. How could you explain to this man - this sweet, caring man - how you felt so uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping together? How you were afraid to show him what your body had become…how you were afraid that, if he saw you, he wouldn’t think of you the same?

It wasn't as if you didn't want to have sex with him - your heart stirred often when you saw him. There were so many nights where you just wanted to reach out to him - to bury his head in between your legs, or take his member in your mouth. Often you were so pent up with sexual frustration that when Halsin left the cottage, and Lora was down for a nap, you had to pleasure yourself in order to find some sort of release.

As his thumb stroked your cheek with such care, you knew it wasn’t fair to him to leave him in the dark like that. To leave him wondering if he had done something wrong, no matter how embarrassing your reasonings seemed.

You swallowed your nerves, placing your hand on his. “My body…” You started, your voice low. You could already feel the tremble in your voice as you held back tears, uncomfortable with your admission of these feelings, “My body is not the same as it was when we first met. When we…first fell in love.”

“Of course it isn’t,” He spoke plainly, “You have given birth, given Lora the gift of life. It is as nature has intended it - change is inevitable, and your body is meant to change when you grow full as one does when pregnant, my love.”

“No, that’s - that’s not what I meant,” You sighed, trying again. “What I mean is…my body is not…as nice as it was when we met. As…beautiful. As…sexy. I’m afraid you’ll look at it and be…disappointed. Dissatisfied.” Though you couldn’t really see him, you cast your eyes down to your sleep shirt, unable to look in the direction of his eyes.

A large span of silence passed. Slowly, he lowered the hand cradling your cheek. Heat rose in your body, flushing your cheeks.

"How...could you say something like that?" Halsin eventually asked, "Your body is beautiful, no matter what it looks like. You think a little softness will deter my yearning for you?"

"It's not just 'softness', Halsin," You said, the tears spilling from your cheeks, "It's...rolls. It's stretchmarks. Dimples and expanded skin where there was none before."

Suddenly, the oil lamp on the bedside table was lit. Halsin stared down on you, his brows furrowed in sadness. He took your face in his hands, kissing away the tears that had spilled.

"Oh, my love," He sighed in between kisses, "If only you could peek inside my heart...inside my brain. So you knew that my words match how I really feel, that I am not exaggerating," Pulling away, he smiled softly and looked into your eyes, "Your body. Is beautiful. It is a beautiful work of nature - of art. Your size does not dictate how badly I want to be inside of you. Your soul does. I love your body in every way it comes...would you stop stirring for me if I had added rolls and marks? If I had dimples on my thighs, or added skin on my belly?"

You smiled at his tenderness, which you always somehow knew he would respond with. "Of course not."

"So please know that when I mean my body stirs for you, I mean it. I would never want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable, but know that I have fantasized about ravaging you ever since the cleric gave us permission to make love after Loradove's birth. If you'll have me...please let me show how much I yearn for you."

You bit your lip, looking at him. He was completely nude - as he slept every night - and was on top of you. The very sight of him was causing an ache in your core, and you pressed your thighs together. Slowly, you leaned your head forward, pressing your lips to his.

At first, it was gentle, but as you felt his body press into yours, you very quickly found yourself get carried away, your tongue pressing into his mouth. Very gladly he opened his mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, and as you felt his erection press into you, you moaned. Nervously, you reached down to the hem of your sleep dress, but desperate to feel Halsin's skin on yours (and to get it over with), you grabbed the dress and pulled it over your head, discarding it on the floor.

There.

It was over with.

The one thing you had been so anxious over - finally being naked with Halsin again - had finally happened. You had discarded your clothes in front of him, being fully naked with him for the first time since you had given birth. Holding your breath - wracked with nerves - you watched his eyes take your body in. He didn't speak for several moments as his eyes moved from your head, all the way to your feet multiple times. He moved one of his hands from behind your back, to slowly tracing lines down your body, sending shivers up your spine. Dipping his head to your body, he started to slowly kiss you, gently planting kisses on your stomach, on your thighs, paying extra attention to the stretchmarks that covered your lower half.

Finally, he looked into your eyes, and you realized they were glassy with tears. He shook his head slowly and he enveloped your lips in a kiss that was so passionate, it knocked the wind out of you. When he pulled away, he cupped your cheeks once more.

"For you to think that you are anything other than beautiful is a thought I never want you to have again," He spoke, his voice low, "I covet every mark, every dimple, every soft roll on your body. Regardless if you gave life or not...your body is a beautiful work of nature, and if I need to make love to you every night in order for you to see it, I will gladly sacrifice." He smiled lightly, kissing you again. Shivers ran up your spine as he lowered his fingers to tease your clit, his fingers weaving in between your folds. Once he felt how wet you were, he moaned into the kiss, "Silvanus help me, you're going to make me finish before I even start."

His touch sent shockwaves through your system - five months of your pent up sexual desires for Halsin were starting to unravel, causing you to careen to your orgasm faster than you ever have in your life. As Halsin rubbed circles on your aching clit, you whimpered, your arms finding their way around his neck. He held you close as he brought you to him, leaning you forward so you were mere inches from his face.

"My gorgeous, gorgeous, girl," He whispered, kissing your temple. The combination of his increasingly deep movements on your clit, and the tender whispered nothings in your ear was leaving you overstimulated.

"Halsin...I'm already close." You whined, gently biting down on his shoulder. He chuckled and growled at the bite, taking his fingers off of your clit and inserting two of them inside your cunt.

"Already? My heart...I'm afraid I will be sending you over the edge many times tonight if that's how long you are going to last." As he pumped into your pussy, you threw your head back, pressing your back into the bed. Quickly, he slid down your body, gently kissing you along the way. He never stopped pumping his fingers, but as soon as his head reached your core, he pressed your legs open with his nose to suck on your clit, taking it in his mouth in its entirety. He moaned loudly, his tongue lapping over your entire pussy, the wet sounds emanating from the two you absolutely sinful.

Arching your back, your vision started to fuzz as you squeezed your eyes shut. As you looked down at Halsin, he seemed absolutely enthralled by you, his face reminiscent of the eating a delicious meal. His fingers curled upwards as he continued to switch between sucking on your clit, to lapping at your folds with his large, flat tongue.

"Gods, I'm going to come!" You whined, gripping his hair as he sucked. He didn't deviate from his movements, completely focused on making you feel his ecstasy. As you bucked your hips into his face, your orgasm crashed around you, Halsin inserting one more finger to pump into you to send you over the edge.

You screamed his name, so loudly you felt like you were going to blackout. Halsin continued on for several moments before he pulled away slowly, taking in the sight of you writhing underneath him. His chest was heaving as he gripped your thighs, his eyes dancing as he took you in. When you finally calmed down enough, you opened your eyes, looking into his.

Immediately, you burst into tears.

"I was so scared to do that." You confessed, your tears spilling over. You laughed, embarrassed, as Halsin leaned forward to kiss you.

"Never," He said, his tongue sliding on your lower lip, "Never be scared with me. Never again."

Resting your hands on his solid chest, you felt your desire focus, watching Halsin stroke his cock above you. You moaned at the sight of him - large, and beautiful, and fucking perfect.

You would never go this long without him again.

"Halsin, if I don't have you inside of me soon, I think I'm going to go crazy." You said, reaching down to help him with his strokes. His mouth fell open and he lolled his head back, murmuring your name. He took your hand from his erect penis to his mouth, kissing it gently before he lined himself up with you.

"Anything you desire, my heart." He said, before taking your hands and pinning them above your head. He held your wrists with one hand as he slowly slid inside of you, never breaking eye contact. The further he slid in, the more you two moaned, brows furrowed. Once he bottomed out, he growled. "Hells - I do not think I'll be lasting too long, either."

You laughed and he chuckled, winking at you before he began to thrust. Slow and deliberate, he grunted with his movements, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

You couldn't help but moan - there was no trying to stay quiet anymore. The past few months of not having Halsin had made you so pent up, that any touch from him seemed to cause your core to stir.

Picking up his pace, the headboard creaked. Halsin palmed at one of your tits, dipping his head to suck on your nipple. You arched your back so he could take you deeper in his mouth, and soon, he started to suck on the skin around your nipple. Heat rushed to your head as waves of pleasure continued to spread throughout your body.

As the two of you fucked, you were sloppy, messy. Noise and juices and movements shared between the two of you with no regard, with no holding back. Both of you were desperate for each other's touch, your whole body felt like it was on fire.

Eventually, as Halsin thrusted into you, he spread your legs with his other hand, abandoning your wrists above your head. After he spread your legs, he pressed one of his large fingers to your clit, circling it slowly.

"You, are so beautiful," He spoke, every word accentuated with a thrust, "The most beautiful creature nature has ever created. The most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

"Gods, Halsin - you make me feel so good. You fuck me so good." Your whimpers were bordering on incoherent as he fucked you, but it didn't matter. You were safe - you were fucking the love of your life, and Hells did it feel good.

"That's it," He spoke, moving your legs so you were on your side. He stopped thrusting for a moment to adjust you, closing your legs on his cock so he could thrust deeper, "That's it, my beautiful goddess," He be began to thrust again, and palmed at your tits, "I love this body. You are so beautiful. I love you."

"I love you too," You moaned, your back arching, gripping the sheets underneath you, "Daddy, I love you."

Halsin's eyes were set ablaze at your words. Your use of Daddy before Lora was around during sex, but you had a feeling that it took on a whole new meaning while you fucked him. He smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. You could tell by his thrusts that he was nearing his edge, which was soon for Halsin.

It seemed the five months had the same affect on him, too.

"Daddy's fucking you good?" He groaned, grabbing a fistful of your ass. He squeezed hard before winding his hand back, giving you a tight slap on one of your cheeks, "You like it when Daddy fucks you like this?"

"Yes!" You screamed, grabbing hold of his forearm, "Gods, you make me feel so good!"

His grip on your ass tightened as he started to switch between his thrusts - slow and measured, and rough, pounding into you so hard his cock coming in contact with your cunt made a loud SMACK noise with every movement. Your walls clenched around him as he roughly gripped your hips, his hair becoming wet with sweat. Every time you clenched around his cock he growled, a noise that reminded you of an animal - feral, full of wanting.

"You're going to make me come," He said, his chest heaving. The sound of his cock and balls slapping against your wet core filled the room at an increased pace, and he didn't stop. "I'm going to fill you, my heart."

"Fill me," You commanded, looking into his eyes. Halsin groaned and leaned forward, his forehead touching yours. With three more thrusts, he growled and released, filling you with his orgasm. A silent scream came from his lips, followed by him murmuring your name over and over again. He bucked his hips a few more times to drain himself in you before he slowly slid out, immediately cradling you in his arms.

Both of you were panting, sweating, but you didn't care. You were holding on to each other for dear life, thankful for how the night turned out.

Halsin kissed every inch of you from your chest up, cupping your face with the utmost care. Pulling away, he looked at you.

"You put the stars in the sky, my heart," He spoke, gently kissing you. "The moon...the sun...they pale in comparison to your beauty," Gently running his hands over your body, he titled his head, "How do you feel?"

Still catching your breath, you smiled at him, "Incredible. Beautiful." You answered, honestly.

Halsin's face lit up and he pressed a kiss to you again. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and soon, his body was pressing against yours again, his pent up desire found his movements.

"If you give me just a bit of time, I would love to make you feel beautiful again." He spoke, sending shivers up your spine. Brushing a piece of hair out of your face, you were about to reply.

Suddenly, Lora cried from her room. Both of you stopped in your tracks, and when you realized she wasn't going to stop, you bot started to laugh. You went to get up from bed, but Halsin gently pushed you down, springing up himself.

"Rest, my love. I have her," He started to walk out of the room, but turned back quickly, "When I come back into this room, you better not have put your clothes back on."

You giggled and titled your head, feeling seductive for the first time in Gods knows how long, "Mr. Halsin, if you don't watch yourself, you're going to have put yet another baby in me."

Halsin's eyes darkened, and you knew you hit his desires on the head. His cock twitched and he coughed, trying to control himself. "Who says that's not the plan?" He asked, before slipping into Lora's room.

You laid back down on the bed, your breathing returning to normal. From the other room, you heard Halsin speaking softly to your daughter, singing her a lullaby to get her to go back to sleep. Pulling the covers over your body, you relished in the feeling of the blankets on your naked skin. Sighing happily, you moved your legs around in the bed, the sensation spreading warmth throughout your body.

How lucky you were.

---

If you liked this one, don't forget to leave a comment - it’s so so appreciated ❤️ Thank you all for reading!

[floralhuqzz]

Mine, Not Yours (Joe Goldberg x reader(fem)

(Chapter 2: The Window)

MASTERLIST

⸻

I come home to Love.

The sound of Henry cooing. The scent of something too organic cooking on the stove. The life I built. The life I chose. The life I’m supposed to want.

“Hey babe,” Love calls from the kitchen, eyes glowing like she’s proud to be domestic. Like she hasn’t crushed skulls for love. Like she’s healed.

She kisses me and I kiss her back, and for a moment, I pretend.

I pretend I didn’t spend the afternoon with you. That I didn’t memorize the way you held your coffee like it was the only warmth you’d known all week. That I didn’t hang onto every word you said—your dreams, your disappointments, your laugh.

I pretend I didn’t think about your lips.

I pretend a lot these days.

But pretending gets harder the longer I stay in this house.

“Everything okay?” Love asks as she spoons something quinoa-based into a bowl.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Long day.”

She nods, believing me. Why wouldn’t she? I’ve been so good lately. So present.

Except I’m not here.

Not really.

Because you’re out there.

Somewhere.

And tonight, I can’t sleep. Again. Surprise, surprise.

I sit in the room upstairs. The “office.” The one with the creaky floors and peeling paint. Love wants to renovate. She wants to fill it with nursery toys and dreams I don’t share.

I sip cold tea and stare out the window. This window doesn’t look like much. Just some trees. A streetlamp. And then—

There.

You.

What?

You’re right there. A few meters across. Second floor. A mirror image of mine. Your curtains are wide open. Lights warm and soft behind you. You’re pulling your hair up, your silhouette framed like art in motion.

You don’t know I’m watching.

You don’t mean to be doing this. Right?

Or do you?

No. No, of course not.

You don’t know we’re neighbors. Yet.

Fate’s funny like that. It likes to throw me lifelines disguised as red flags. It likes to test me.

I lean forward, careful not to make a sound. You move away from the window, but I see enough. Just a glimpse of your world. Your walls lined with books. Your bed half-made. A coffee mug by your laptop. One I watched you sip from hours ago.

Are you writing? Journaling? Maybe you’re thinking of me, too.

Or maybe not.

But that doesn’t matter.

Because this?

This changes everything.

We’re neighbors.

That means I don’t have to follow you anymore. You’ve come to me.

And that has to mean something.

No more “accidental” encounters. No more guesswork.

Now I can really learn who you are.

Now I can protect you.

Now I can get close… slowly.

Naturally.

Perfectly.

You have no idea I’m just a window away.

And that’s what makes this so exciting.

So deliciously dangerous.

So inevitable.

⸻

The next morning tastes like obsession.

Love is in the kitchen humming something soft, feeding Henry mashed banana like this is a normal life. It’s not. Not when you are on the other side of this house. A few feet. A few fragile walls between me and the one thing I shouldn’t want.

I barely slept. How could I? You were right there—your light, your movement, the shape of your world dancing just behind that open window.

And now, it’s morning.

And I hear you.

Your voice floats over the fence. You’re laughing. Talking on the phone maybe. The kind of carefree sound that cuts through the air like a blade.

I peek through the slats of the wooden gate in the backyard, pretending to water a dead plant Love swears she can revive. And there you are. Standing just on the other side, your back to me. No makeup. Oversized sweatshirt. Hair messy and perfect.

You live there.

Right there.

So close I could count the freckles on your shoulder if you turned around.

I shouldn’t talk to you.

I should go back inside.

But I don’t.

Instead, I do something harmless.

I toss a book. Over the fence. Not one I care about. One I planted, just for this. A softcover, dog-eared Hemingway. Something that wouldn’t hurt if it landed wrong. Something just believable enough.

It hits the grass with a soft thud.

You jump, spinning around.

“Hello?”

Your voice again. Closer.

I wait. Two seconds. Three. Then I make my move. Slowly. Naturally.

I crack open the gate like I’m surprised. Like this is some kind of accident.

“Oh—hey,” I say, brows raised, playing dumb like a seasoned liar. “Sorry, did something land over there?”

You bend down and pick up the book, flipping it over in your hands. Your eyes meet mine. And I see the moment it clicks.

“You’re the guy from the bookstore,” you say, a small, surprised smile pulling at your lips.

Caught.

But not in the bad way.

In the perfect way.

“Joe,” I say again, stepping closer. “Didn’t realize we were neighbors.”

You laugh, holding up the book. “You throw books over fences often, Joe?”

I fake a sheepish grin. “Only the ones I don’t like.”

And there it is. That silence again. That flicker of curiosity in your eyes.

This isn’t a coincidence anymore.

This is fate.

And you have no idea how far I’ll go to make sure it stays that way.

You’re still standing there. Holding the book like it’s more than paper. Like it’s a key.

To me.

To this.

“I guess this means I owe you a new one,” you tease, glancing down at the Hemingway. You don’t know yet that I own three extra copies. That I picked this one because I knew the spine would crack just right when you touched it.

“Or maybe I’ll lend you something better,” I say, stepping just close enough to smell your shampoo. Vanilla and storm clouds.

You shift your weight and smile, playful. Unaware.

“I won’t say no to book recommendations from the guy who runs a whole bookstore.”

God. You make it too easy.

“Deal,” I say. “Come by whenever. I’ll put something aside for you.”

Your eyes squint a little, studying me. Not in a suspicious way. Not yet. Just curious. Interested.

“I still haven’t finished the last list you made.”

Of course you haven’t. That list wasn’t made to be finished. It was bait. A door I left open.

And you walked through.

“I could curate something new,” I offer. “Tailored. To you.”

You laugh softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. The same way you did when we first met. And it kills me. That something so small could feel so intimate.

“I like the sound of that,” you say. “I guess I’ll see you soon, neighbor.”

And then—just like that—you walk back to your side of the fence.

My pulse slows, but my thoughts spin faster.

You’re in my orbit now.

A neighbor. A routine. A reason to step outside.

And I tell myself again:

This isn’t stalking.

This isn’t obsession.

This is fate.

And fate doesn’t knock.

It throws a book over the fence.

⸻

[antlrqueen]

𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔.

synopsis: a southern gothic cult au, where lottie is a long time and highly enmeshed member and you're the newest lost lamb to join the flock. think eden's gate of fc5 meets the freaky wilderness shit that has been going on in the show. pairing: lottie matthews x gn reader. all parties are 18 and over. warnings: vague mention of religious themes and shady practices. word count: 669.

part 1/? of my lottie and her lost lamb series.

as the milky lace curtain billows, your eyes instinctively cast upwards, catching the first streaks of sunset painting the spring sky. for a moment or two you lay there on your mattress, breathing in the fresh air that breaks in through the cracked window, chest rising and falling in the most peaceful of rhythms. it's only when you catch sight of the bed beside yours, empty and covered by a tattered knit blanket, that a pressure crashes down on your ribcage so violently that you're sure it'll crack open.

you've forgotten. today is meant to be it. your last day here, at least of your own free will. you might be the newest member of the flock, fresh-faced and fully embraced by the others, but this was never meant to be permanent. and the more you stop and study your surroundings, the more you listen to the teaching and preaching of its leader, the deeper the seed of suspicion roots itself in your body. this isn't your home. this isn't your family.

throwing on your boots and heading out the dusty old cabin, you spot her. sat under a tree on the outskirts of the compound is your roommate, deceptively appearing so small and frail from this distance. as your near closer, you notice her eyes are closed, her mouth moving to utter silent words while those long arms are curled around her torso in a tight embrace.

you inhale, readying your own mouth to talk, when suddenly her focus is on you and the words are snatched from the reach of your tongue. her impossibly dark orbs, doe-like and now searching yours, have a habit of making you lose every track of thought, and had the unease of your goal not weighted your every limb, you're sure right now the only thing on your mind would be the divinity of image her in this fading daylight.

"what's wrong?" she quietly greets, the thick of her brows pinching over cute nose, her head angling up at you. those concerned eyes of hers burn into your very being as you debate how to answer, hovering restlessly in front of where the other is positioned.

"nothing, i just..." you lick your lips and swallow, throat burning drier than you thought. silence falls again, the only sign of life coming from the branches swaying in the gentle breeze above you both. with a pained sigh, all your overdue offer is, "lottie."

the usage of her name earns a slow blink from her and you feel it, the energy shifting and muddying, the former softness of her expression completely draining and a hollowness carving out of her face instead. "no." she shakes her head, her messy brunette locks tumbling dramatically with the movement. "not yet."

"i think it's the right time to go," you begin, voice audibly weak from the power of her disapproval. "i just don't think this is for me. you all feel so strongly about the cause and i feel...well, i don't know what i feel." except that you care for her. that you long for her. that you're only still here for her. your cheeks redden as you guiltily tear your vision away from the girl sat on the ground. "isn't it better for me to leave now? before i've become an official member. before i am lustrated—"

your explanation cuts dead by the way her head unexpectedly snaps away from you and her stare becomes wide. your back automatically straightens as you glance over your shoulder to the direction that has consumed her attention but you find nothing of interest. as you turn back to her, you're nearly knocked to your feet with a fright. instead of sitting, she now stands lank and looming over you, a childlike wildness claiming her features.

"come," lottie excitedly beams, her warm hand closing around yours, and as she tugs you further away from the tree and towards the derelict church, the faraway melodies of familiar songs start to penetrate your ears.

[peter-parkers-left-pinky]

The Twelve Screams of Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

A/n: So I just felt like writing a Christmas thing, don’t ask why. This is the first one shot that I’ve made and decided to post. Just to preface this, Y/n Chekhova is a former Russian Hydra agent. (I swear the Russian part is relevant). Also I want to add that I interpreted Peter Parker as an adult in this.

9:10 AM — Avengers Compound, Common Room

Tony Stark was humming Let It Snow under his breath as he stirred his overpriced eggnog latte with a candy cane. He was, by all accounts, in an excellent mood. Christmas was in full swing, the tree was lit, the food was hot, and nobody had tried to blow up the compound yet. That was a win in his book.

Most of the team was already in the kitchen, crowding around the massive buffet Tony had forced the catering staff to prepare. Steve was trying (and failing) to slice a honey-glazed ham with a knife that definitely wasn’t meant for meat. Sam and Rhodey were arguing over whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie (again). Carol was spiking her cocoa with something strong enough to light a jet engine.

It was all very on brand.

Except…

Tony checked his Rolex again, brows knitting.

“Ten minutes late,” he muttered.

Bruce glanced up from the French toast station. “Who?”

“Y/n and Nat.”

Bruce blinked. “They’re late?”

Tony nodded solemnly. “Y/n Chekhova. The human chronometer. Miss I-Show-Up-At-Mission-Briefings-Twenty-Five-Minutes-Early-Even-If-It’s-On-Fire. That one.”

Clint looked up from his plate. “Maybe they’re just… y’know, being married.”

“Exactly. Which means someone has to go get them, now, before they make me miss the toast schedule.” Tony pointed dramatically at Peter.

Peter, who had been happily inhaling powdered sugar waffles, froze.

“No,” he said, mouth still full. “Absolutely not.”

Tony shrugged. “You’re her best friend. She tolerates you. That’s about the highest honor you can achieve with Chekova. Go on. Knock on the door. Say it’s breakfast time.”

“I don’t wanna die.”

“She won’t kill you.”

“Natasha might.”

Tony looked at him with pure, smug confidence. “That’s a risk I’m willing to let you take.”

Peter turned to Clint, eyes wide and desperate. “You’re coming with me.”

Clint sighed. “No I’m not.”

Peter grabbed his arm. “Clint. If she doesn’t kill me, Natasha will. You’ve walked in on them before, right?”

“Twice,” Clint said blandly.

Peter stared. “How are you still functioning as a person?”

“I drink. A lot.”

⸻

9:15 AM — Outside the Romanoff-Chekhova Bedroom

Peter stood in front of the door like it was the gates of hell.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Just knock. Say ‘Merry Christmas.’ Don’t look inside. Everything’s fine.”

Clint leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee. “You’re overthinking it.”

Peter gave him a withering glare. “You don’t overthink interrupting two elite Russian assassins during potential holiday sex!”

Clint smirked. “I don’t think. That’s why I’m still alive.”

Peter groaned, braced himself… and pushed the door open.

Because of course he did.

And of course, the universe hated him.

⸻

9:16 AM — The Worst Decision of Peter’s Life

The door creaked open and Peter barely had time to register what he was seeing before the image was permanently burned into his retinas.

Natasha was on top.

Y/n was underneath, blanket mostly kicked off, hands clenched into the sheets like she was about to launch into orbit. Her face was flushed, her hair a chaotic mess, and her expression—somewhere between shocked and mortified—snapped from dazed to homicidal in a second.

Peter froze.

Clint peeked in over his shoulder, gave a tired sigh, and immediately turned back around.

“Oh hell no,” Clint muttered. “That’s a you problem.”

Y/n screamed—in full-volume, furious Russian.

“ЗАКРОЙТЕ ДВЕРЬ! ЗАКРОЙТЕ ДВЕРЬ СЕЙЧАС, ПОЖАЛУЙСТА, Я УМОЛЯЮ! ЗА ЧТО?! ЗА ЧТО, ПИТЕР?!”*

Peter screamed back. “I’M SORRY! OH MY GOD—I’M SO SORRY!”

He flailed backward, nearly tripping over Clint’s foot, red from head to toe.

Natasha, still entirely too calm, barely glanced at them. She tilted her head like she was judging the weather forecast.

“Next time, Peter,” she said smoothly, voice laced with that signature assassin chill, “you knock.”

Peter scrambled for the hallway like the room was on fire.

“Oh—also,” Natasha added as he reached the threshold, “please close the door.”

He slammed it shut like it personally offended him.

⸻

9:20 AM — Kitchen

Peter arrived back at the table, hair wild, sweater askew, and looking like he’d just escaped a horror film.

Tony looked up from his mimosa. “Well?”

Peter sat down in silence.

Tony gave him a cheeky grin. “You find them?”

Peter said nothing. Just picked up a napkin and covered his own face with it like that would erase the trauma.

Clint walked in a moment later, calm as ever, and grabbed another cinnamon roll. “Yup. They’re alive. And busy.”

Tony raised his glass. “As predicted. What a beautiful Christmas miracle.”

Peter finally muttered from under the napkin. “She screamed at me in Russian. I think I have PTSD now.”

Tony sipped his drink. “Put it in a report.”

⸻

Meanwhile — 9:23 AM, Bedroom

Natasha hadn’t moved.

Y/n, on the other hand, was face-down in a pillow, still swearing in Russian between muffled groans of shame.

“You didn’t lock the door,” she growled into the pillow.

“You were on top first,” Natasha said casually, sliding back down beside her. “It’s your job.”

“My job is not—” Y/n sat up slightly, flushed to her ears. “—to be publicly humiliated because of your inability to plan for interruption!”

Natasha smirked. “They shouldn’t have barged in.”

“They are Avengers. Not dogs.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Tony sent Peter. That’s basically a puppy with anxiety and a physics degree.”

Y/n flopped back down with a groan. “This is your fault.”

“You’ll live.”

“You said we had time.”

“I said I’d make it worth the time.”

Y/n turned her head slowly. “You are devil.”

“I’m your devil.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “Lock door next time.”

“I will,” Natasha said, not looking sorry at all. “Eventually.”

And then she climbed right back on top, because Natasha Romanoff didn’t like to leave a job half done.

⸻

10:00 AM — Finally Arriving at Breakfast

When Y/n and Natasha finally arrived in the kitchen, they looked suspiciously well-groomed. Natasha was smug. Y/n was wearing a hoodie, hood up and her eyes locked firmly on the ground like it might swallow her whole if she focused hard enough.

Peter refused to look at either of them. In fact, he just pushed his plate away and went to lie on the floor.

Tony beamed. “There they are! Merry Christmas, newlyweds!”

Y/n muttered, “You are reason I suffer.”

Natasha kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too, dorogaya.”

Tony raised his glass again.

“To unlocked doors, bad timing, and emotionally resilient best friends!”

Peter whimpered from the floor.

Y/n glared at him from across the room. Peter made the sign of the cross.

Clint just started pouring Bailey’s into his coffee and muttering about early retirement.

It was, undeniably, the most festive disaster of the year.

———————————————-

*Russian translation: CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR NOW, PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU! FOR WHAT?! WHY, PETER

[noyaspeach]

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

[vagabond-umlaut]

beckoning you, slowly, subtly

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart yearn stronger.

Or: Gojo grapples with himself in the wake of you preparing to leave Tokyo Jujutsu High– in the wake of you preparing to leave him.

▸ Gojo x Fem!Reader; Former Teacher x Former Student; Reader has graduated from high school and is moving overseas for college; Gojo is 24-ish while Reader is 18; He's such a sad pathetic boi here; You think Reader is better? She's worse; Angst and Fluff; Use of humor as a coping mechanism [until it fails]; Very soft character study

▸ I wrote this as a prequel set minimum 10 years before the fic 'ensnared' -> You need not read that to read this, though. This is a standalone fic, through and through! 😊

Gojo feels nothing towards you.

No, he doesn't. He really, truly bears no feelings, whatsoever their nature might be, for you.

But... if it indeed is so... then why the hell are his knuckles so hesitant to strike the wood of your door, eh?

Gojo stays in this position for a beat or two more, before dropping his fist back to his side. Exhaling a mute yet deep sigh as his gaze travels over the tiny flowers and trees painted on the door. Next moves to the shoe rack beside, filled with neat rows of sneakers and flats. And finally reaches the cheery yellow paper taped to the door, your name written on it in smooth letters–

Before he can even realise it, the sorcerer finds his fingers over it, so wary yet wanting as they traverse the lines and the loops of the letters, eliciting a very soft murmur of the same from within, the latter darting past a dry throat and a heavy tongue...

"Sensei!"

The door suddenly springs open. Of course, with no one but you behind it.

Were here anyone else except him, Gojo is certain, they would have jumped feet in the air in response. Good thing, he isn't just some 'anyone else'. The sorcerer quickly withdraws his outstretched hand to stuff it into his pocket. And grins, the way he always does when caught in contemplation.

Big. Bright. Happy. So much so that it will either puzzle, or better yet, piss the other person off, eventually making them leave him to his devices...

"Heyyy," he drawls, decidedly making a show of his infamous breezy image— jarringly contrasting the manner his Six Eyes study your once decorated–now empty room, "Packing and everything's done, wow. Thought I might visit you one last time before you leave for..." Australia, but he chooses not to say it. Breezy image, remember?

Borrowing a beat to think– to make you think he's thinking, that is– the man resumes with a noisy chuckle, "Before you leave for wherever you're headed. When's your flight, by the way? Tonight or tomorrow morning?"

Whatever reply he might have been expecting from you, two shiny eyes and one o-shaped mouth certainly weren't on the list... You're pretty swift to erase them, however. Wiping your sweater paws over your face, you mimic his posture and grin back.

Cheeky, obviously, but much too strained than the ones you've given him so far... Your amused voice intrudes on his quiet scrutiny of you. "Why, Sensei? Missing me from this moment itself, eh?"

"Nah," he shoots back with a dismissive wave of his hand. Noting then ignoring the stinging twinge in the middle of his chest— no matter the fractional fall in your features; no matter anything, everything. "I'm literally waiting for when you'll walk out the school's torii gates— even more for when your plane will take off the tarmac and leave Japan! I was stuck teaching you for the better part of the past four years. What makes you think I'll miss you, heh. I'll be incredibly relieved, if anything."

"Ah," you say, following a moment's pause, "I see."

Quite an unenthusiastic reaction, if he's being honest; Gojo doesn't mind it, though. Not in the slightest.

Not even when he watches you regard him, oddly intense and pensive for a while, before you return to clearing your desk. So neat and tidy and dead with no books nor pens nor stray sketches strewn over its surface. The same way the rest of the room now seems: dreadfully dreary and dull, now that you– you with your bubbly self, shining in this damned dark school, jujutsu world– is moving away–

Oh.

Oh no.

You're moving away.

Which is... okay. Yeah, it's okay. But, but, but– "When will you come back?" The question escapes the confines of his mind into the stillness of your room, soon joined by another– one he bites his tongue and draws blood for, the second it leaves his mouth.

The tiny quaver in the words betraying the steady front he has put on very well– Until now. Until you— Too bad [or maybe, good] you've always read him rather well– so much so that you whirl round the instant the sentence flies into the foot in between, your crumpled features meeting his crumbling mask.

"You will come back, right?"

"I–" you start, eyes brimming with the same tears you wiped away so insistently then; he never hears you finish your answer, however.

Two tiny hands fling themselves round his neck, and before he can realise it, the sorcerer finds himself bent at the waist, nose nudging your temple while your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, the collar of his jacket growing progressively wet with every passing second.

The man stops himself from returning your embrace— You were his student. He was your mentor. Your door is open. His Six Eyes sense Shoko and Utahime coming this way. He isn't meant for such empty shows of sentiment. He isn't sure if your gesture is as unfeeling as he hopes it is—

Screwing his eyes shut, he sighs. Yet offers no resistance when he feels your fingers unclasp from his shoulders then move to his hands, lifting them to keep them lightly on the small of your back.

Oh, well, whatever.

Gojo is still certain he feels nothing towards you.

Except, maybe, this steely resolve of his, engraving itself a cliff-like niche in his mind: To protect. To cherish this sweet feeling of you both in each other's grasp.

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

[vee-vee-writes]

Bilbo's Little Sapling (Bilbo’s Daughter POV)

Request by @that-teen2003: "Reader (adult) is bilbos daughter (yes biological) readers mother and bilbo had a one night stand and reader was given to bilbo. When the company arrived to bilbos they all take notice of some things not really meant for a hobbit hole, but they don’t question bilbo. Once everyone is there they bring up how bilbo will help them, but he says no because he has his baby girl to look after. The company along with Gandalf and shocked, bilbo goes on and says his little sapling cant be alone. They all here this and slightly back off, but still persistent, but image there shock when his daughter walks through the door, taller then Gandalf and bloody from the deer she hunted. She ends up joining her father one the quest, but not without a few of the dwarfs flirting with her along the way, as well as them finding out how scary a father hobbit can be when it comes to his daughter."

Notes: This is a companion piece to the original request. I hope you enjoy it :3

Original request here

Unusual was probably the understatement of the year when it came to you. While he loved you, Bilbo was awful at keeping his distress over your lack of interest in settling into the bookish life he lived. Prim and proper merriment was the way of the hobbit and yet you had always found yourself attracted to danger and adventure. There was little of to be found in the Shire, so you’d learnt to make your own fun years ago. Frolicking through the woods, climbing the biggest trees you could find, gathering wild fruits, nuts, and berries, swimming in the lazy river current, and, your favourite, hunting game. You’d started off small, trapping small game. After stumbling across an old dusty book shoved into a long-forgotten corner in your local library you had taken a keen interest in the sport. Your love had only grown from there and after mastering small traps you’d set your sights on bigger prey.

Unfortunately, you’d found yourself woefully inadequate with both short and long bow. So, after telling your father you were off to visit some relatives in Buckleberry, you had made off to Bree and enlisted some local help. After parting with some coin at the local smithy you had been set up with the proper equipment for someone of your stature. Hunting equipment was rare in the Shire, even rarer for someone as tall as you. It took time to find someone willing to teach you to use it, most gave you the once over and then went back to their business. But you had found an old city guard who had migrated to Bree from some distant place for a quieter life. After paying good coin to the man, you had spent several days in his company training. While by the end you were by no means an expert, or anything other than a beginner really, you had begun to grasp the basics. It wasn’t like you could really stay much longer either, if your father somehow found out what you’d been up to you were certain he’d have died on the spot. Bilbo Baggins was known to have a flair for the dramatics of course. So, you’d bid farewell to your new friend and set off for the weeklong trek home, ready to put your skills to the test on the way there. 

—— Time skip ——

Though you had been gone a little over two weeks something seemed different about Bag End as you approached it. Wiping the blood out of your eyes you shifted the wait of the buck on your back so that you had a spare hand free to unlatch the gate. The soft glow of candlelight out of one of the windows struck you. Bilbo was a hobbit of routine and by this time he was almost always tucked up in his favourite armchair doing some light reading. Stepping through the gate you ventured closer, eyes flickering around the entrance for any changes. That was when you spotted it, an odd mark scratched into the door. This certainly hadn’t been there when you left, you were sure you’d have noticed it. Panic flared up and with a mighty shove the buck was abandoned on the doorstep as you grasped for the hilt of your hunting knife. It was still slippery with the odd droplet of blood you had missed when giving it a quick clean after your kill. You’d only injured the buck with your first shot and quickly decided it would be unfair to keep shooting until you landed the final blow. Instead, you’d unsheathed your knife and slit its throat. You’d hadn’t anticipated the blood that had sprayed up over you nor the continued dripping over you as you’d carried it home. 

Grasping the brass knob in the middle of the door you wrenched it open, flinging it as you rushed in hoping to take the intruder off guard. Stepping into the warmth of Bag End you ran down the hall towards the dining room. Hushed baritone voices met your ears as your long legs carried you towards them. The backs of several figures came into view, including your father’s familiar waste coated figure. He didn’t seem to be in any trouble but was holding himself in an unusually meek way. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” you yelled out fiercely as you skidded into their view. Each figure whipped around to meet you and fifteen pairs of eyes landed startled onto your figure, each taking in the sight of your wild bloodied form.

[pars-ley]

Title: I still want you (part one)

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

Summary: Legend has it that there's a being of nightmares residing in a dark castle deep within the woods. But...what if the man who roams those halls is not the monster he's made out to be?

Genre: fantasy au / cursed jimin / strangers to lovers / fated lovers / angst / fluff

Rating: 18+ (sfw) (part two will have smut)

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of demons / description of murdered character (not main character) / talk of curses and spells / really insecure Jimin / 

Word count: 7.3k

Banner: @caelesjjk is the G.O.A.T for this perfect banner 

Moodboard: Me

Beta: @anyamaris @colormepurplex2 @heathfritillary thank you so much for all of your help, suggestions and endless cheers for this!!!

Authors notes: for @ksmutsociety ’s ‘the velvet vault’ event with the prompt dark academia. Inspired by “the truth untold” song, mixed with Beauty and the Beast meets Tim Burton. The poem at the end was written by the wonderful @colormepurplex2 thank you so much.

My playlist:

The truth untold - BTS

Who - Jimin

Not by the moon - Got 7

Dopamine - Jackson Wang

Like crazy - Jimin

Scene one

Hearing tales about this infamous garden is one thing, but seeing it before you, that is something else entirely. 

Your eyes must be deceiving you, for such beauty couldn't exist in just one place; especially within this dark, cruel town. 

People here have long given up on happiness, love, even decency. With more magical creatures being discovered and invading the town, some wreaking havoc and others spreading fear like wildfire, a lot of people feel trapped here. 

You, being one of them. 

Living a life constantly looking over your shoulder is not ideal but it is something you have come to accept. Especially after the death of your mother, which has shaped you into a much more vigilant adult.

One evening, she didn't make it home before the darkness blanketed the sky, your mind raced throughout the night, until first light peeked through the trees and illuminated your answers.

Her lifeless body strung up in the centre of town, by those demonic, soulless beings, hung for everyone to view and gawk at. The image still haunts you almost four summers on and so does the comprehension behind her death.

Your mother had been a powerful enchantress, having regular visions that, more often than not, came true. She could charm objects with magic to bring a variety of privileges; protection, love, knowledge, luck, anything to help ease the wickedness of the world. She made potions from the plants that grew on our windowsill, all medicinal and all made with heartfelt care. 

All of this made her more capable of protecting herself than anyone in this town and yet, she still ended up dead. 

Her dagger, laced with a protection spell, had still been tied tightly to her thigh, not even an attempt to be taken out of the harness. Had she even had the chance to try? 

You had removed it from her lifeless body and kept it close to you ever since. 

You did not know what she had been doing in the woods, or what kept her out so late on that fateful day, but you knew that whatever it was, surely involved magic. If she pushed herself too hard with spells, she lost too much energy and wasn't able to use more if needed. 

The questions around her death have plagued you ever since. 

Here in the garden, however, you feel an odd sense of peace, something you haven't felt in a long time. However reckless it may be for you to enter, you slowly open the unlocked gate. The loud creaking of the hinges makes you pause, frozen in panic while you scan your surroundings. Your hand moves to your mother's dagger that now resides hidden under your skirt, tied to your outer thigh with a makeshift holster.

When nothing moves or makes a sound in return, you slide yourself in through the small gap and step onto the stone pathway.

The smell hits you like an ocean breeze; intoxicating fragrances swirl around you, trapping you in a cage of flowers. One that you would gladly lock yourself into.

Your feet seem to move of their own accord as you stroll through the abundance of colourful flowers, softly skating your fingers along velvet petals with a ghostly touch.

As you walk, a little basket full of berries in hand, you realise how much lighter you felt, as if you were lifted on a floating cloud, carrying you along in the wind. Your aching heart felt calmed; soothed just by being in here. 

The variation of flowers is unlike anything you'd seen, every colour you could think of in so many shapes and sizes it is hard to fathom them all. But it’s the white rose bush in the centre of the garden that catches your eye and draws you in further. As you had given in and succumbed to the temptation, trespassing onto the grounds of the large, ornate castle your town spoke about frequently. The fear and the guilt, however, had left you as soon as you entered. 

In closing the distance between you and the rose bush, you also edge much closer to the tall, round tower that stands alongside it. Surrounded by a wildflower floral blanket and yet, the dark, unwelcome castle looks out of place in all this beauty, and a shiver cascades through you. 

Unsure if your mind is playing tricks, you glance up at the windows, searching for any sign of the eyes you can suddenly feel upon you. Every part of the castle seems thick with shadows, empty and un-lived in. But you have heard many rumours of the man within. A twisted man who stays hidden away inside, so grotesque and sinister he hides from the world. Many stories shrouded in mystery, kept the village alight with curiosity, but all of them had the same message. 

Stay away from the castle.

Maybe you are a fool for coming here, although searching for the reality from the tales was not your initial intention, but admittedly, you are surprised by your surroundings. It’s as if two different worlds coexist within the outer walls.

A garden so beautiful it wouldn't be unbelievable to see cherubs and angels holding hands and dancing around the shrubs, but with the backdrop of a dark, secret dwelling housing an angry beast.

Seeing no movement or signs of life in the many windows, you continue on your venture.

Your footsteps make no sound as you tiptoe carefully across the grass to the roses.

Such a simple flower but your unmatched favourite.

White roses remind you of your mother, a delicate, breathtaking woman who stood out everywhere she went, but with a natural, understated beauty. 

Leaning down to deeply inhale the familiar scent, the promise of satin petals on your fingertips grew too much as you reached out to touch one. Your fingers glide like silk along the curled edges, tiny dew drops still inside from the morning's breath.

What you wouldn't give to just have one of these roses in your pitiful garden, but it would be too out of place and unbelonging. Much like yourself in this garden.

Placing your basket on the ground beside you and kneeling down to the bush, you want nothing more than to crawl inside its stemmed cage and stay there. 

The sounds of birds chirping echo around you, as the orange afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, glowing and warming your skin slightly. Angling your face up to it and enjoying the feeling on your skin, you sit humming peacefully to yourself.

The sudden sound of a gasp from above silences you. Your eyes fly open and your head snaps up sharply to an open window on the first floor of the tower.

You manage to catch a glimpse of someone before they retreat out of sight and back into the shadow. You bolt upright to stand, frozen in place. Your eyes remain fixed in the same spot, looking for any sign of movement. The ability to call out is swallowed by fear in your throat, and so you stay silent and unmoving for what feels like an eternity before half a face peers out at you from behind the window frame. 

There were many tales of the grotesque character that resides within these walls, but no mention of a man so breathtaking he could be a fairytale prince. 

Perfect skin that glows in the peachy sunlight and smooth, plump lips that could make the beautiful roses in front of you envious beyond measure. The one visible dark eye, a hidden jewel in a cave of wonders, widens briefly as he meets your gaze before quickly retreating back into concealment.

"Hello?" you call out softly, finding your voice but not wanting to startle him further. "I'm sorry for intruding, but your garden is so beautiful I had to see it for myself.”

Silence.

Worrying you've made a grave mistake, you're about to turn away and leave for fear that your presence is not welcome, when a shy and yet alluring voice sounds; echoing around you.

"Please, stay and enjoy it."

Turning back up to the window, your eyes find his half-form, noticing his ivory knuckles as he clings to the window frame as if forcing himself in place.

“Thank you.” You nod and sit on the grass once again, your skirt billowing out around you. Your eyes remain stuck on his statuesque stance.

“I had no idea anyone actually lived here,” you say into the thick silence, your voice echoing across the empty grounds.

The one eye of his that you can see darts around at the woodland area beyond the walls before returning to you. Not even a whisper of a response, and so, you continue to try to find out more.

"Are you alone?" you ask, eyes roving around the castle windows once again, waiting for the beast you've heard so much about to appear.

He nods. “I've been here for many years.” He finally speaks up, but with wavering hesitance you can hear as his voice trembles.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together this puzzle in your mind. 

What could this man have done to warrant such hostile tales being told about him, or is it simply because he hides himself away that the townsfolk fear him?

He doesn't look much older than you, if he had ventured into your town you would remember him. You can't help your curiosity. “Why have I never seen you?” you question innocently.

You're not certain, but it seems as if he grimaces, shrugging into the shadows for a brief moment. “I don't really venture out much.”

How lonely he must be. Alone, in such a vast castle, hiding himself away, what a sad existence.

You are in no position to talk about anyone else's existence, as you're not exactly jumping for joy about yours, either.

Shrugging those thoughts away, you realise how impolite you're being, especially after breaking into someone else's garden and you introduce yourself.

His cheek reddens as he stammers out, “I-I’m Jimin, P-park Jimin.” 

Unable to help the smile that stretches across your mouth from this endearing, timid man, you reply, “It's nice to meet you, Jimin.”

A furious blush spreads to his hairline and down his neck, a sight that not only intrigues you but warms your chest, too. Your gaze stays locked on the sight until you see his eye drift out, looking over at the expanse beyond the castle.

“The sun sets, you should not be out in the woods during darkness.”

His warning is apt and true, you know that better than anyone. Since the world of magic had taken over, nighttime is when the most demonic creatures come out to do their bidding.

Glancing back towards the gate, you know you should leave, your head screams at you to go, but something else pulls you to stay.

Almost as if he senses your hesitancy, he asks, "Will you come back again?”

A strange tightness pulls across your chest, a feeling you've never experienced before. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," he responds, nodding eagerly, and with that one-word answer, your mind is made up.

“I can return tomorrow?” you suggest bravely, hoping you're not overstepping his boundaries, but pleasantly discover the opposite, with a half smile so breathtaking you're almost blinded.

“Tomorrow it is, then,” he says simply, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. 

A distant cackle snatches your attention away, a stark contrast to the sound of his melodic voice. You collect your basket and whisk yourself away, out of the garden and into the dusky woods, leaving just as quietly as you entered and running home as fast as you could before nightfall envelopes you. 

Before all the monsters come out to play with the mere mortals, unable to resist their sadistic and seductive ways.

That night, you lie in bed, listening to the havoc created outside around you but unable to stop thinking of Jimin.

Seeming so meek and sweet you wonder what he's doing there all alone. Why do the village tales only ever speak of a monster who hides within the castle and not angels who could be guarding it?

He seems so desperate for company and yet, so afraid at the same time. Questions race in your mind, unable to silence them as you wonder about his story.

Who is he? Why is he in that castle all alone and hiding from the world?

You’re consumed with him until sleep takes over, and instead of the usual terror that frequently haunts your dreams, you are visited by the beautiful man in the dark tower.

Scene two

The following day, before the noon sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, you begin the journey to the castle in the woods. 

Your feet seem to move of their own accord, faster than usual, with nothing but the image of the mysterious man from the tower in your mind.

The gate creaks open as you push through it, and your eyes go straight to the tower window. 

You're met with only darkness. 

Stepping quietly into the garden, you make your way to the rose bush, bringing you directly in sight of the window. That's when you notice them. 

A bunch of five white roses, tied together with a pale pink ribbon, lay on the grass in front of the bush, the stems perfectly trimmed and now beautifully symmetrical. Gently, you skate your fingers lightly over the petals. 

“Do you like them?” a soft voice sounds from above.

Your mouth pulls into a smile upon hearing his gentle tone echo around you, comforting you in an unfamiliar embrace. Although, he'd conquered your waking and sleeping thoughts since your meeting yesterday, you had not done his angelic voice justice in your mind.

You turn to greet him. “I do. Are they for me?”

Half peering out at you like before, he nods, his left cheek glowing pinkly in the sunshine.

“Thank you. I will cherish having a part of your beautiful garden in my home.”

He beams at your words and hides even more of his face further behind the wall. “They will protect you from evil.” 

Glancing down at the flowers in your hand, you notice nothing out of the ordinary and wonder what he could possibly mean. “How so?”

“M-magic,” he whispers, although even that seems to echo into the silence around you.

A bird flies out of a tree nearby, squeaking loudly, and you both look over to it. The atmosphere seems to change by the mere mention of the word. Magic. Most folks tend to stay well away from anything involving that. It wasn't easily accessible or cheap to purchase, which leads you to wonder how this could be possible. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you ask, pondering the idea.

He laughs, “Unfortunately not. I was given some seeds bewitched with a spell from an enchantress. No evil can enter this garden or my home while these flowers grow here.”

Mulling that over, you stroke the petals of the flowers in your hand, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia. His words are like a blast into your past, making you miss your mother’s magic, something that, unfortunately, does not come as naturally to you. 

So, as long as you have these, you will be safe from the evil that roams in the dark blanket of night. Relief fills you, alongside a hope you thought was lost long ago. 

“Thank you, this is a very kind gift.” Smiling up at him, you set the flowers back down on the ground. “Speaking of gifts, I also have one for you.” Squatting down to your basket, you lift the handkerchief off to reveal the fresh loaf of bread, the mouth-watering smell hits you, but you ignore it. “I baked this loaf for you this morning; it's still warm.”

He stares down at you, still half hiding but trying to get a better view into the basket. “F-for me?”

You nod. “Would you like me to bring it to the door?”

The silence stretches on, as his eyes bounce around the garden, looking everywhere but at you. Instantly, you panic that you've made him uncomfortable, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and quickly, you interject, “I could just leave it in the doorway, and you can collect it when you like.”

Waiting for what feels like an eternity for a response, your feet welded awkwardly to the ground, until you hear him let out a heavy sigh. “N-no, wait by the door, I'll just be a moment,” he replies quietly, as he whisks himself away back into the shadows of the tower.

Heading in the direction of the large main doors into the castle, walking slowly along the pathway through the garden, your heart beats hard within your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, and possibly loud enough to be heard on these grounds.

Slowly, you ascend the steps and wait in the large arched doorway. The wooden doors are old and carved with grotesque faces. Leaning closer, they look to have been carved crudely and without care, seemingly having been placed out of anger or fear instead.

The sound of the wood creaking makes you jump, as the door opens just enough for you to place your basket through it. An elegant hand comes out to greet you and as you place the basket handle in it, your fingertips graze his. A vision hits.

A scene playing out before your eyes.

Images flash quickly in your mind. All of you and him. A hooded Jimin. 

At first, they start off with smiles and light touches before evolving into passionate nights and warm embraces. A heat cascades through your body that you've never experienced, your face feeling aflame under his hesitant, one-eyed gaze.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, concern etched in his furrowed brow. 

Swallowing hard, you nod. “I'm fine.”

You do not wish to tell this stranger about your own powers of clairvoyance. If the wrong person knew, you would be punished and left outside at night for the demons. Besides, you need to determine the meaning behind this vision first, unlike any other you've had before, they are very rarely about you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts as he begins to withdraw.

“Wait,” you say urgently, “won't you come and walk with me? It's a beautiful day, and I would love a tour of the garden.”

Your eyes search the dark gap in the opening, but are unable to find anything.

“I can't.” His voice is barely audible.

“I would like it very much, if you would join me,” you ask again gently, but not wanting to push or make him uncomfortable.

“No, you wouldn't, not when you see me.” The sadness in his voice makes your chest tight.

“Jimin, I don't care what you look like,” you stress, “I do, however, want to enjoy your garden, it would be a shame if I can't have the person who created such a paradise show it to me.”

You're met with only silence until you hear a long, sad sigh from inside. “I'm sorry, I can't. Please enjoy it, I need to return to my tower.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the door is closed, and you're left longing to get to know the man who could be your future.

Scene three

Several sunsets pass, each day involving a visit to Jimin’s garden where you spend your time sitting in the floral atmosphere, letting the calmness wash over you and enjoying the sun on your face. 

He stays up in his tower, watching, while the two of you speak endlessly. Exchanging tales of your childhoods, memories you’d long forgotten coming to the forefront of your mind and escaping past your lips. 

You explain your love of drawing, anything you see beauty in, which nowadays isn’t much, so you drew your memories and your mother. 

He expresses his love of poetry, often reading by the fire every night before bed, sometimes writing his own. Whenever there’s silence it is never uncomfortable, just more time to sit and enjoy each other's company.

You discover he’s an author, having written many stories of his own. He gifted you three of his books to read after you had begged to know his writing; embarrassing him and turning his cheeks pink until he agreed.

His way with words is like nothing you have known before. Every sentence enters through you and embeds itself in your soul. Every word is a caress to your heart, feeling his poetic prose touch places inside you never knew existed. 

It inspires you. 

Before you can process the thought, you reach for your last bit of charcoal and let all your emotions illustrate the page, continuing on until the morning.

As soon as the sun appears over the hill beyond the view from your window, you get ready and leave, bringing your picture rolled up and tied with the same pale pink ribbon that bound your magic, undying roses.

You can’t wait to gift him a piece of your art, and if you were honest, a piece of your heart. No feeling could describe the way your entire body felt fit to burst, with the way this man made you feel. Your heart previously only beating out of necessity rather than desire. Skipping through the gate to your usual spot, you call out, “Jimin!” 

Your heart pounds wildly inside you in a rhythm that is a personalised symphony just for him. You wait only a moment before he appears, smiling out at you.

“Someone is up bright and early today,” he remarks joyfully.

Seeing him, you’re always taken aback by how your memories have not done him justice at all, especially in the bright first light of morning, his flawless skin illuminated gold from the rising sun.

“I have not yet been to bed.” You laugh.

Worry creases his brow. “Whyever not? Is everything alright?”

Holding your hands up to calm his concerns, you add, “Everything’s fine, better than fine, actually.” Your feet begin to pace in circles around the white rose bush. “When I finished your books I-”

“You finished all of them? Already?” he interrupts, bewildered.

Nodding, you continue on, “How could I not? Jimin, they’re beautiful.” 

His entire face reddens before he shields it with his hood, the sight makes you flustered in a way that surprises you. Making your own skin feel hot, even on this chilly morning.

Clearing your throat and swallowing to try and ease the tightness you feel, you pull your scroll out of your basket and hold it up to him. “Now, it is my turn to give something that lasts longer than a loaf of bread.”

He peeks out from his hood, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Can I?” you ask, pointing to the main wooden doors.

He hesitates briefly. “Give me a moment.”

Rushing to the entrance, almost tripping up the steps in your impatience, you wait, fiddling with your skirt nervously. When the heavy door creaks open, your heart deafens your ears, the erratic beating the only sound you can hear momentarily. You place the scroll through the gap in the doorway and watch as his slender hand comes out to take it gently from yours, his half-face appearing from the shadows.

He pulls the bowed ribbon and you watch as it falls silently to the ground. When he unrolls your parchment your eyes remain fixed to him, observing his reaction. Watching as his apprehension turns to astonishment has your heart singing with relief. His fingers reach out, kissing the paper briefly. He stutters, then stops, words disappearing into the thin air, the breeze carrying them away. 

His cheeks turn scarlet again and you watch as his eyes take in the close proximity of the two of you sketched out on the paper. Inspired by the many emotions that have been building a slow crescendo inside you for the past few weeks of being in his company. You let a story of your own play out on the page, one full of hope.

The two of you; surrounded by fragrant blooms with his tower far in the distance. Your hands entwined, with your eyes on him as he looks out of the page, hood up covering half his face in shadow.

“I-it’s beautiful,” he whispers, eyes not wavering from the picture clasped tightly in his grip. “You are very talented.”

It seems to be your turn to blush now, as you glance away shyly, mumbling a thank you. 

“I will frame this and hang it in my bedroom, so I can look at it every day.”

This makes your heart soar. 

“Jimin?” you speak up hesitantly, not wanting to spoil his mood or ruin the moment but unable to restrain from asking again. 

He meets your eyes then, “Yes?”

“Will you please accompany me in the garden today?”

His brow furrows, expression pained as he looks back down at the picture and returns his gaze to your face. Just when hope starts to fade, he sighs and nods. “Just a moment.”

Your heart jumps gleefully, rattling your chest like a caged animal desperate to escape and be reunited with its owner.

The door closes for a few minutes and, just when you think he's changed his mind, disappointment seeping in, it opens again.

Hesitantly, he steps out. His hood is pulled up over his head, as he’s focused solely on the ground, casting his whole face in darkness. You are desperate to see him, his pillowy lips and crescent moon eyes.

Slowly, you reach out and entwine your hand with his, slotting perfectly together. He stills briefly before squeezing yours in return. That confirmation is all you need. Closing the small amount of space between you and cupping half of his face, you whisper, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does so. You’re surprised to see his visible eye watery with tears, almost brimming over the edge, and your heart breaks. Unable to stop yourself, you wrap him in your arms and hold him tightly, cradling him close to your body. His scent swirls around you, taking over your senses and replacing the floral scent of the garden; fresh, clean and woody. Alluring in the most intense way. 

His arms wind around your waist hesitantly, and when you feel him relax in your embrace, you, too, feel the swell of emotion inside. While he had not yet spoken of what had happened to him in the past, you were hoping that one day he would trust you enough to tell you his story. Who knows, today might be the day of many firsts for you both.

Scene four

Walking hand in hand, followed with sounds of the chirping birds surrounding you through Jimin’s garden, is something you didn’t realise how much you craved, until you were doing it. 

Having his hand in yours feels like a dream, after so long of waiting for this bridge between you to be crossed; unable to keep the smile off your face as you tread carefully through the grounds.

It wasn’t until this day you realised you had seen only a part of this estate. Jimin leads you through a walkway enclosed with tall rose bushes, surrounding you in a floral cage. 

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, admiring the wicker trellis.

He nods shyly, glancing slightly across at you. 

You are in your element here. The days spent with him are your brightest and most enjoyed, but when the walkway ends the sight that greets you has your mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Jimin,” you gasp, “this is beautiful.”

Your eyes scour your surroundings. A beautiful pond covered with lily pads and pink water lilies, is encircled by large rocks and such a variety of vibrant flowers a rainbow would be envious of the colours.

“Shall we dip our feet?” you ask, childlike excitement evident on the wide-eyed look you give him. He smiles, unable to stop, but you can sense his slight hesitation. Pulling his arm, you lead him to the edge of the water where you slip off your shoes. Sitting on the stone ledge, you gently pull him down to you. Obeying your request, he timidly joins. The water is cold as you dip your toes and as you look down into it, you’re surprised by how clean it looks; able to see right down to the bottom and the fish residing there.

“You must be in this garden all the time?” you ask, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I used to, before…” He stops himself, and you can feel him tense beside you, turning his head away slightly.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A frustrated breath leaves him, his head hanging in defeat. “I do want to. I want to tell you everything,” he admits, “but I must confess, I’m not used to being around other people.”

That much you had gathered, but hearing it breaks your heart just the same.

“And,” he continues, “I have never been as close to anyone as I am with you.” He glances at you then, attempting to gauge your reaction.

Smiling, your cheeks warm from such an admission, you toy with the words you should use to respond. “I’m glad to hear that, Jimin. I can assure you, the way you feel is very much reciprocated.”

He scoffs, and the sound confuses you as you attempt to find his eyes within the darkness of the hood, but to no avail. His head hangs low. “I think you underestimate my words.”

Frowning, you grasp at what he could mean by this, and panic sets in, thinking you may have the wrong idea about the direction your relationship is heading.

“I don’t expect you to mirror my feelings and believe me, you are under no obligation to keep coming here, I do not want your pity.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jimin, I do not pity you. I’m here because I want to be.”

He finally meets your eyes, desperately searching yours. “Really?”

Taking his hand and placing it on your chest and over your pounding heart, you say, “I have never known anyone like you. Someone so…” You search for the right wording, wishing you were capable of his prose, “fascinating. You are truly an enigma to me that I'm more than happy to keep trying to figure out.”

He looks out at the water, the sunlight highlighting the pink glow of his cheeks. 

“I come here because I want to spend time with you. I wake up and look forward to seeing you everyday and I will continue to come here until you are bored of my company and turn me away,” you add teasingly, but a real fear lies underneath somewhere. You silence it by looking at your hand still wrapped with his.

He laughs, “You will never have to worry about that, I could never tire of your company, you mean far too much to me.”

Your chest tightens with an emotion you cannot hide as you lean your head on his shoulder. He moves taut under your action, but quicker than you could imagine, he softens under your touch and leans his head atop of yours. You sit there for what feels like hours, talking and basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun until the skin of your feet turns pruned and your stomach grumbles, breaking another comfortable silence. It is only when a demonic screech echoes from the woods outside of the walls, do you realise the time. 

Jumping up, water splashing as you do, you look at the setting sun and gasp. “Oh, no.”

The darkness has begun and you will not have enough time to make it home. Images of your mother’s lifeless form haunt your mind briefly before you force them away.

Jimin is up and at your side in a flash, arm cradling your shoulders. “It's ok. You're safe here,” he says gently, rubbing one of your arms with his thumb. The action soothes you and brings you comfort. “Come, you can stay with me tonight, I have many rooms.”

You relax slightly in his embrace and find yourself sinking into the crook under his arm, relishing in the close contact you've been craving. He pulls you closer, a firm grip around you and pins you to his side. 

Your arm ventures under his cloak and winds around his waist, holding yourself against him.

Glancing up, he's already smiling down at you and you can't stop the blush that heats your entire face.

You both head back towards the castle, you nestled against him as the darkness slowly envelopes you. When you head up the stone steps to the castle, nerves turn in your stomach, the realisation of spending the night in his home dawning on you. 

Watching the doors close, shutting out the night and the chaotic noise from outside, you sigh to yourself, feeling surprisingly at home with his warmth and presence by your side.

Scene five

The tour of the castle is long but riveting. So many rooms to explore, and he shows you every single one. Pointing out various art pieces handed down from his parents, endless novels in the library, and even an old dungeon below, unused and dusty.

He discloses that his father had died when he was little, too young to remember him, but that he has a portrait of him in his mother's bedroom he often looks at. His mother had passed away when he was fifteen, after becoming ill during a harsh winter and grew too weak to recover. He has been alone ever since. Your heart aches for him. To have been alone since then must have been truly isolating, but you could relate to him in more ways than you care to admit.

You share your story of your beautiful mother, enchanting to everyone who knew her, who had been killed by the demons just after your 18th birthday. A father who you have never known and, as far as you had been told, had never been in the picture. All you knew about him was that he was a sailor and from what your mother expressed, was more in love with the sea than her. 

You learnt not to ask questions about him as it only made her sad and distant.

Your shared experience with loss and loneliness cements your bond further as he shows you the room you could sleep in, adjacent to his.

“You will be safe here. I will be right across the hall if you need me at all.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand as your fingers stay entwined the entire route through the castle.

“Jimin?” you interject.

He looks over at you, hood still pulled over, casting half his face in shadow.

“Will you take this off?” you ask, fingering the soft velvet of his cloak.

He stares at you but his eyes soon turn distant as a frown furrows deep in his brow, a scene playing out in his mind that you are not privy to. “I cannot let you see,” he whispers.

You turn him to face you, cupping his visible cheek in your hand. “I promise you, Jimin, it will not change how I feel about you.”

He laughs sadly, “It will.”

“Park Jimin, are you calling me shallow?” raising an eyebrow, you challenge him.

He simply shakes his head. “I'm a monster. You shouldn't even be wasting your time here with me.”

“You could never be a monster, your soul is far too pure and good.” 

Slowly leaning up on your tiptoes, you place a chaste kiss against his cheek. “Please, don't hide from me anymore,” you beg.

His eye widens from the touch of your lips and he can't help but turn towards you, focused on your mouth. When his hand comes up to stroke your hair, you lean into his touch and before you know it, your lips are connected. Heat races through you, making your limbs move without thought, hands sliding inside his hood and around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

His arm winds around your waist as he moans into the kiss, desire and love vibrating through you. His soft, pillowy lips mould to yours, moving with fierce determination as your back suddenly meets the doorframe of your bedroom. His hands slide up your spine, pinning you against him. You luxuriate at the feeling of the strong muscles of his body pressed against you.

Wrapped up in his scent, with the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands embracing you so tightly, your bosom grows with the love your heart has housed for him, still expanding tightly inside you.

You pull away slightly only to gasp for air, and that's when you notice his fallen hood. His body stills when your eyes connect and you see the panic in them, but before he can move, you grab his hands and entwine your fingers with his.

“I hope you are planning on kissing me again, because I don't plan on moving just yet?”

He doesn't respond, but his gaze drifts to your lips and you can see the conflict in his eyes, between running away and giving into temptation.

Detangling your fingers from his, you cup his face with both hands, your thumb strokes the puckered skin on one side of his face. The scars appear like burns, covering one side of him, marring one eye so bad he could barely see out of it. Your fingers go to his thin hair on that side, patches of it missing beneath your fingertips, he looks down and away from you but you steer him back.

“This doesn't change anything, Jimin. You're still the most beautiful man I've encountered.” 

His eyes flit from each of yours, tears brimming the edges, searching for truth within them.

“I would like you to kiss me again,” you say, your voice thick with want, “please.”

Leaning in slowly, he surrenders to your request, pressing his mouth against you once more.

Scene six

When your desire subsides somewhat and your head clears, the two of you manage to part from each other, your growling stomach interrupting the shy silence.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, before taking your hand and leading you down to the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table, you watch in awe as he prepares fresh tomato soup to go with the second loaf you had given him yesterday on your visit. All vegetables grown in his garden and picked by him.

You eat together in silence, exchanging flirtatious and sometimes shy smiles. When your stomachs are full, with night truly closed in, he lights a fire in the drawing room, closes the curtains, and beckons you to join him on the fur rug. 

Watching him in the orange light of the fire, you feel overwhelmed with need. The need to be close to him, the need to take care of him and protect him, even the need to claim him, something you have never felt before. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask, as you join him.

“If that is what you wish of me, then of course.” He grins, and you get lost in it for a moment. The way his two front teeth slightly overlap, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks rounding, everything about him draws you further into the opening blossom of love. 

“May I lay on you?” you ask, pointing to his lap.

He stares at you hesitantly for a moment, before nodding and moving his hands out of your way.

Positioning yourself comfortably on the rug, you lay your head on his legs, feeling the way he tenses slightly from the action but soon relaxes under you.

His hand lingers by your hair indecisively before he pushes any apprehension away and plays with the strands loosely between his fingers. “What would you like me to read?” his voice whispers pleasantly above the crackling firewood. 

“Something you've written.”

“Would you like to hear the poem I wrote for you?”

Your heart soars, hammering wildly in your chest. “You wrote something for me?”

“Hmm-mm.”

You nod frantically, nerves suddenly drying your mouth and rendering you speechless.

He clears his throat quietly and starts,

“In the quiet din of morning's light,

You creep silent and curious into my domain,

An alluring spectre; a breathtaking sight,

Welcomed like that first sweet kiss of spring rain.

The roses bend to catch your gaze,

And the dainty lilies stretch in quiet grace,

As if the garden, in silent praise,

Seeks to beholden the awe of your face.

Your fingers brush the leaves so light,

A touch that makes the greenery hum,

Like a velvety kiss of soft delight,

Or warmth from the day to come.

You pause to take in your fill,

Ivy curling in lazy spirals at your feet,

And for a moment, time stands still,

Even the songbirds pause their larking for a beat.

I watch you, quiet like a shade,

As you explore the blooms beyond my window,

Careless and free, with no mind paid,

Like a beacon of light against unrelenting shadow.

With every glance, you draw me near,

But still I keep my secret held tight,

Afraid you’ll flee if you could hear,

The pain that shapes my heart at night.

Yet in your eyes, I see a spark,

A light that calls to me, calm and clear,

A love that could find me in the dark,

And chase away my most crippling fear.

I wear this pain, my broken mask,

Staying hidden within my castle walls,

But it's in your warmth and light that I wish to bask,

A blue flower in your garden; no longer a ghost of these hallowed halls.”

A wet trail down your cheek spills onto his trousers, a swell of emotion that you could no longer contain. His angelic voice quoting such beautiful prose from memory creates a whirlwind of feelings inside you. Seeing yourself through his eyes and hearing his feelings, so raw and open, moves you in ways you could never have imagined. 

You feel beautiful and emboldened. 

Sitting up, your eyes meet. He smiles sweetly when he sees your tears and gently wipes them away with his thumb. Pressing your lips to his, the inability to stand the distance between you any longer overwhelms you. 

As he holds you in his arms and you lose yourself in the kiss. A vision snaps behind your eyes, removing you from the moment entirely. Unlike the first one, full of love and happiness, this one freezes the blood in your veins and stops it cold as you take in every detail of the horror behind your eyes.

Fire wilts the flowers in the garden, petals curling and turning to ash. Orange light blinding and thick smoke choking, tightening your heaving chest. Demons running rampant through the grounds as you wander unsteadily to find him. And when you do, everything else around you ceases to exist, as your heart splits inside you.

Jimin's lifeless body, upturned and suspended from the tower.

[jjwolves]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ DEAD INSIDE, THE INNER MIND ┈┈┈┈

What: 10 Merci X Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

Who: Merci, from ENA by Joel G

How Much: ~1,200 words; reading time ~4 mins

Images: Top -> Joel G; Divider -> @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Warnings: Profanity

Genre: Romance

✄ Merci’s “body language of the gods” can be easily misunderstood. She’ll scream out a warning to passerby about the dangers of this cursed place, and they continue on, blissfully unaware of the ruin which befalls any who enter. She’ll cuss out someone who bowled her over in a rush to get into the Cosmic Dervish before the gate closes and they’ll offer a quick “thank you” and a thumbs up. She wasn’t giving them directions, dammit! And she’ll confess that she cares a lot about you one day, sidling up next to you, and you’ll think she says, “Stay safe out there!” Fucks’ sake. Of all the times to read her words as warnings.

✄ Direct communication seems to be off the table, since everyone who hears her happens to be a dumbass. As a result, she ends up trying to lay her feelings out in a way that is hard to misinterpret. In the evening (if time ever really mattered), the first thing you see when you come home is the stark white of Merci’s mask and gloves, her silhouette leaned against a nearby hand-tree. When you sit on a rock next to her, she offers you some sake and you drink together in kind, warm quiet. And if the quiet happens to be kind of cool instead, the sake more than makes up the difference.

✄ Usually Merci prefers to stay covered in obscurity, making sure you’re safe from afar and only emerging to angrily stomp over and drag you away from things which could harm you, trick you or warp you into something else… But suddenly she begins appearing more regularly in your life, summoning herself to your side without the need of shadow to hide her. (And by shadow, I of course mean comically contorting perfectly into the shape of a tree or rock she’s hiding behind so you don’t see her). 

✄ Her love language is quality time and words of affirmation (ironically). When you tell her how cool she is, how safe you feel with her around, how weird and awesome her hand-puppet-mouths are, or really just about anything else, she playfully pokes you with her stick in what is likely a metaphorical slip of the mask on her part, but she doesn’t care. She’s flustered and sweating and trying to play it off. “Thanks, pal!” you hear her say. She said you were ‘fine as hell, yourself,’ how do these mistranslations keep happening!?

✄ At first you view her as an aloof, mysterious artist who sagely observes from afar. She does her best to keep this appearance up because she likes to be cool for you. “I kind of get the feeling that everything you do has a lot of intention behind it. I like that,” you say, and Merci replies by relaxing her posture, like she’s saying no big deal. Don’t lose your head over it. The truth is, though, that she’s stuck in an invisible maze due to her communication problems–a struggle many mimes undoubtedly endure, in both regards. It’s difficult to navigate her feelings for you while maintaining the “cool, silent mentor” character she crafted for herself. But this character is held together with stylish monochromatic tape and entirely self-imagined poise. 

✄ When Merci gets frustrated with something, her stoic facade pretty much instantly shatters to pieces as she starts stomping, banging her head into walls and launching into a dance routine of rage. Her hands curse and yell and hurl whatever mad libs profanity the insult factory in her brain slapped together and had moving on the conveyor belt. She’s surprised, after she’s done blowing off steam, that you’re still standing there, patting her back. Smiling comfortingly, maybe even a touch amused. You don’t say anything, keeping with the silence routine. But you think that you want to try to understand Merci a little better.

✄ Merci eventually learns that you like her for her, and not the super cool, aloof master that she thinks you believed her to be. “I never really thought that you were super stoic all the time,” you admit one day. “I dunno, I just thought it was charming you went so out of your way to impress me. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by calling you out. I like you for who you are.” Merci shakes her head while leaning against a nearby wall. Her hand speaks for the first time in a while. “I guess I’m not as good of a performance artist as I thought,” she muses. “Heh. Yeah, you need some practice.” She startles, and says, “Wait–wait. Fuck. You understood me!” You’re surprised by this, too; you hadn’t even noticed you were hearing her words as intended until now. It seems you finally understood the body language of the gods. Or at least your girlfriend.

✄ Not long after you had begun to understand Merci better, your relationship took a bend towards the romantic. It was fairly natural; one day you realized that you two spend a lot of time together and cared a lot for each other. One day you realized, hey, Merci sure likes making me laugh, spending half of her time at my house, and kissing me with her mouth-hand-puppets. Oh. How had you not noticed? A part of you was glad to have skipped over the awkward date proposal part and gone straight to where you both wanted the relationship to be. It was a soundless and graceful arrangement which glided into place like a silent performer in the dark.

✄ One of your favorite hangout spots is the one with the yellow sky and the bridges made out of beads, feathers and string. Once in a while, a plane with party streamers on it passes overhead to play music nobody wants to hear. You come here often, holding a balance competition to see which one of you can last the longest standing on top of a pole. Merci usually wins but tries to make it sound like you were a lot closer to winning than you were. At one point, an obnoxious Diet Blood trader makes their presence known with the clattering of their cart and their shouts for you, pressing you two for directions. Merci’s mouths are already firing off. “Take the left bridge and be prepared for the dangerous terrain that follows. Good luck!” The trader takes her advice, but you two snicker as he leaves. It’d be hard to explain to him that Merci actually said that she and her partner were busy and that annoying fucks like him should go find a ditch to lie in.

✄ Merci is a little bit overprotective of you. Despite the whole “sage overseer” schtick she defaulted to when she didn’t know how to interact with you very well yet, she’s still an experienced and slightly world-weary soul. She cares a lot about you and likes to hover around you like heady perfume. When you go somewhere, she has a tendency to invite herself along without asking. She has to keep your dumbass out of trouble. If someone’s mistreating you or swindling you, then Merci will swoop in to fight in your corner. This usually involves walking up to the confrontation and immediately throwing an unhinged, screaming tantrum at the offender until they leave. Once they’re gone, expect a hand-smooch from a victorious Merci waiting for you to praise her for her splendid defense.

A/N: I had fun writing this. If there's requests anyone has for ENA-related stuff like this, then send them my way. Merci has a fun design and her mistranslated dialogue interests me a lot, so I tried to run with it. It's kind of impossible to say regarding canon, but for these headcanons, the mistranslation thing is a Merci-specific issue and not just a weird area effect. Although, if we start saying that ENA's inability to understand Merci is Merci-specific, then my boy Robert has this problem too. Hmm. Fuel for thought.

[ririya-translates]

Fumi Birthday Story and Flower

Starting with Kisa in April 2024, Towada began posting "short" stories on the official Jack Jeanne website for an entire year of character birthdays. Unfortunately due to life things, I wasn't able to translate these at the time, but I especially wanted to get Fumi's story out since it's a conversation between Fumi and Tsukasa that feels relevant to Duckweed.

All birthday stories take place on the day of the character's birthday in the in-game year (June 14th for Fumi) so it helps to have played up to that point. I use they/them pronouns for Tsukasa.

Since I had to skip a year, I'll also add the "image flowers" they're doing for birthdays this year. Fumi's is the red camellia which Ishida describes as a flower that blooms impressively even in harsh environments and that captivates people's hearts with its elegance and beauty.

"Fuumi, happy birthday." A luxuriant voice wove through those congratulatory words. Sarafumi Takashina stood at the gates of Univeil Drama School, about to descend the stairs encompassed by countless interwoven trees. He looked over his shoulder with a slight wry smile. There behind him was Rhodonite's class lead―― or their Al Jeanne, or their tresor, or all of the above. It was a minor, no, a big complicated problem for both of them so best to leave it be for now. Tsukasa Oshinari, part of Fumi's same 76th class, smiled placidly. "Thanks." At this casual mention of gratitude, Tsukasa walked towards him, "Where might you be going by yourself on a day like today?" Without a word, Fumi passed through the school gates. Tsukasa naturally followed suit.

"…So, what is it?" Fumi asked Tsukasa as they descended Tamasaka Hill. "Whatever do you mean?" "You aren't the type to reach out to someone simply to wish them a happy birthday." "That's so mean!" Tsukasa's voice rose with a shout. But they immediately returned to their usual smile. To that soft veil masking their feelings. But Fumi had an idea of what this was about. ―― The issue of Kisa Tachibana's class transfer. Kisa had unleashed a blinding amount of light as Quartz's new unpolished gem as the Al Jeanne during the newcomers' performance. Him taking on a Jack role for the first time in the upcoming summer performance should have been the topic of discussion. But instead, the other classes for and against him being a Jack butted into things, to the point where a whole riot broke out about him transferring classes. Tsukasa headed up one side of this battle. It seemed likely it's what they wanted to talk about. They had said Kisa's talents could be displayed to shine most brightly at Rhodonite.

But in the back of Fumi's mind, he remembered the uneasy expression on Kisa's face. He remembered how Kisa looked after Univeil's principal, Shuri Chuza, stated that he would grant the request depending on the summer performance results. Those eyes which hungrily took in everything, not letting a single moment of Univeil's performances pass him by, had turned dark and cloudy. Droplets fell from them like rain.

Fumi remembered the conflict that rose in his heart, not knowing how to best react. Kisa's childhood friend, Soshiro Yonaga, watched her with a dark and solemn expression too. And Fumi couldn't ignore that even Shirota, who normally looked over Quartz from a bird's eye distance, had narrowed his focus onto Kisa. On the other end, Kai stared out at the twisted emotional whirlwind Neji had pulled the class into. "Huh, that's weird isn't it?" Only Suzu's wonderfully direct voice rang out.

To be wanted by others is to be toyed with by others. This was Fumi's daily life too. While he was wished a happy birthday by people he knew and even those he didn't, they were also sizing up his youth and talent. They told him about his remarkable future, his curse the rest of them had so wished to receive. But even through his hatred of it all, he reached out his hands towards this talent. He must continue dancing, no matter what. He could see a cage of countless hands around him. ――Until

Fumi found freedom in his days at Univeil when a certain someone was by his side. Every day their paths crossed was another colourful flower in those outstretched hands. It was good to pick and decorate with whichever flowers caught the eye. And to kick it all away if they turned to tangled vines. (Maybe Kisa can be like that too someday.) He felt like he wanted to reach out. But at the same time, even though he chose his words with the other person in mind, if the person on the receiving end didn't bear the weight of this experience, they would be left like merely a nice-looking facade of paper-mache that could only crumble. If left in this state, this person could get completely crushed. And so, all he could do was watch from a distance, staying close enough to help if Kisa started drowning.

"Hey, Fumi." Tsukasa addressed him, noticing he had gone quiet. They were already at the bottom of the hill and continuing on to the winding side streets towards Nakakoji. They walked through the smattering of voices from passers-by. Then Fumi noticed something. He noticed that Tsukasa had gone as quiet as he had. Before he had a chance to think about the meaning behind this silence, Tsukasa spoke up. "Are you lonely with Tsuki Tachibana gone?" It had been said as casually as asking about the day's weather, but the shock to Fumi felt like the sky was falling. Being unable to keep up his appearances, he accidentally looked at Tsukasa with his face defenseless. Tsukasa did not look at him. Tsuki Tachibana. Fumi's former partner. Everyone at Univeil knew about their relationship, yet it was territory nobody else could enter. Until this rose-coloured bird feigning ignorance calmly flew right in. "….Haha. Ahahaha!" he laughed reflexively. There was something strange in the depths of his heart. (Oh right, they had someone like that too.) He quickly narrows his eyes as he recalls the memory. There was a shadow of a rose behind that question. Tsukasa's partner was someone from Rhodonite's 75th class who graduated two months ago. As the class lead, Tsukasa remained composed, but that didn't extend to the depths within their chest. They were both excellent actors, after all.

――I am a tresor. That is my pride. The Tsukasa who proudly and boastfully said those words was now tinged in sepia tones. They once had that sort of freedom. They used to sing whatever they thought of, whatever they wanted. Tsukasa carried the heavy crown of Al Jeanne and took up the compass of class lead in a shockingly small amount of time. Last year’s final play was one of the reasons why. Tsukasa gambled everything to stand on-stage next to their Al Jeanne partner as a tresor in the final play and dropped out of the individual award rankings. Rhodonite came in last place. With every rise comes a fall; behind every joy lies a sorrow.

Fumi could never forget that look on the side of Tsukasa's face when they saw the results. Tsukasa had dropped the curtain on themselves, on the protagonist who stood in the middle of the stage singing freely. (I guess I did too.) The one who used to dance all over the place with the freedom and intensity to destroy everything now had his hands tied in trying to regularly check on the state of Quartz. Were they missing anything? Was anything falling apart? (…Tsuki was like that too.) His former partner. Fumi had intended for them to stand side by side, but in reality, Tsuki was always watching out for him. Fumi stared dead ahead as he took a step towards Nakakoji. "Well, I," A person floated up into his mind. No, make that 'people'. "I'm having a lot of fun lately." The gears of the new Quartz students were starting to turn. It had still only been two months. No, it had already been two months. Fumi had a sense that what they had could only be created by his class in particular.

"…Fumi." Then Tsukasa finally looked at him. "Can you answer me at a time like this with just a 'yes' or 'no'?" they said with a stupidly sunny face. Fine. Neither of them needed comfort or understanding from each other. At most they would cross paths, sparks of rivalry would fly, and then they'd go their separate ways. "Fumi, you should do something for me. It is your birthday, after all." "That's the opposite of how it normally works." "Present, please. Give me Kisa, please." Tsukasa had forcibly changed the topic. This is the one Fumi had initially expected. Their face had returned to that of the Rhodonite class lead. "You know, Fumi. I'm interested in seeing Kisa as a Jack. I'd take especially good care of that one," Tsuksa said with passion. "What are you expecting me to say to that? I'm not gonna say 'oh here you go'." Naturally, he had no plans of complying. (…Buuut, this is quite a curious thing.) The two of them who used to do as they pleased were now acting for the sake of others rather than themselves. It's what could be called 'growth'. Even though that growth required devouring freedom to become larger, Fumi thought this was a good thing. Because he himself had once been free, he now wanted others to live freely. Like a carefree cat doing as it pleases. (I've taken a liking to that one, huh?)

[yuriskies]

A fun element to Otherside Picnic vol 8 (spoilers ahead after the break, if you're still planning to read it) is an easter egg about the location of Toriko's apartment. Actually, "easter egg" might be underselling it a bit; it has a huge amount of thematic relevance to Toriko's character. So here's the easter egg: if you follow Sorawo's description of her path to Toriko's apartment, you can actually find the building on Google Maps.

The train arrived in Nippori. Pushed by the rush of people, I got off, went down the stairs, and out the gate. I climbed the hill, out of breath, in the unrelenting rain. The wall of a graveyard continued along the left-hand side. Turning onto a side street at the top of the hill, I could see Toriko’s apartment in the middle of a residential area ...the building uses an autolock system... Getting off on the fourth floor, I headed into the hallway. The town I could see over the chest-high wall was misty in the rain.

The fun thing about this is that Sorawo's narration is just specific enough to follow along. In a way, it's an invitation to the reader to imitate Sorawo. Prior to the events of the series, she spent time tracking down the sites of ghost stories from the minor details that leaked into their narration. Tracking down where the weirdness happened placed it in context; stories from the edge of reality seem more reliable when the reality can be charted.

So, let's do it. Sorawo mentions a graveyard wall - this can only be Yanaka Graveyard, located on the west side of Nippori Station. Yanaka is located on the former grounds of the Tenno-ji Buddhist temple, and is one of Tokyo's largest cemetaries by area. It is the resting site of the final Tokugawa Shogun, as well as a who's who of Meiji-era academics, literati, and government officials.

The road along the north edge of Yanaka Graveyard goes up a steep hill, and where it reaches the top, a side road splits off on the left to go into a residential area. Going into street view shows that all of the buildings along this road are only two or three stories tall, except for a building at the very back. It's four stories tall. The building has an auto lock system at the front door, and chest high walls along the hallways to the apartments. Bingo.

The fun part of this is the name of the apartment complex: 山口マンション (Yamaguchi [Mountain Gate] Mansion).

The first part of the thematic relevance here is its relationship to Satsuki's monologue about being brought into the Otherside.

"What happens to the people who don't return?" "Who knows? They probably die, right?" "Life and death aren't the issue. Once you get to that point, that is." My brow furrowed. "What do you think mountains are made of?" Satsuki asked, smiling. "Trees and stuff?" I said without putting much thought into it. When I thought of mountains, the image that came to mind for me was the mountains of my home prefecture, Akita, covered in green. "If trees were sapient, they wouldn't think of themselves as a mountain. Only as a single tree. It's the same concept. People who go into the mountains, regardless of their mental state, are still people. But the wind that blows through the trees. The rocks. The birds. Every speck of rock covering the bedrock. The beasts, hiding in their dens. The ancient mollusks, sleeping in a geologic fold. The morning dew in a spider's web. The bacteria and microorganisms in the soil, breaking down the body. None of these individual constituting elements is the mountain on its own, yet the mountain is made up of them. So it is for those called by the mountain. Living or dead." She raised her hand, pointing all five fingers at herself. "That is how it is for me." Uncurling her fingers, she pointed at me. "That is how it is for you."

This "mountain gate" connection also ties back to Sorawo's previous visit to Toriko's apartment in File 4, where she opened the door to the apartment and encountered the ultrablue void of the Otherside. Thematically, this places Toriko's apartment at the interface between the surface world and the Otherside. The back of the building also abuts Yanaka Graveyard, and so thematically, also forms an interface between life and death.

Sorawo touches on this latter theme in the back half of File 26, when Toriko forces herself on Sorawo in her parents' bedroom. Sorawo becomes profoundly uncomfortable - equally, if not more disturbed by her surroundings than Toriko's behavior. After relocating to Toriko's bedroom, Sorawo realizes the following:

This home was a grave, and Toriko the crypt keeper—that's the image that I was getting. The sudden feeling of resistance I'd felt when we were in the bedroom might have come from that mental association. Even if it weren't the place where her parents had once slept, it was almost like flirting in front of a Buddhist altar. After entering Toriko's room, I finally got it. This room has color. It's the room of a living person.

Toriko's bedroom forms a small bubble of life in an otherwise dead house. The interface between life and death isn't simply close to Toriko's living space, it is actively defined by it. This ties in closely to Toriko's character, given that she's admitted her pushiness to do relationship things in the Otherside is driven by a fear of loss. Her mothers suddenly died, and Satsuki suddenly vanished. All she has left of them is her cherished memories, and she wants to form those memories with Sorawo, just in case.

Another element in play here is Sorawo's relationship to the Otherside. At multiple points in the series, the Otherside seems to suddenly draw closer when Sorawo gets stressed out with her thoughts about her relationship with Toriko. The most obvious example is in the hot springs when the mannequins appear immediately after Sorawo feels backed into a corner with Toriko's "cute boobs" comment, but those fears are also linked to Hasshaku-sama (both times the entity appears as Sorawo contemplates jealousy and the possibility that Toriko will be taken from her), Satsuki's surface world appearance (Kozakura implying Sorawo is manifesting Satsuki through her jealous fixation), the the love hotel girls' party (the lion dancers appear as Sorawo is trying to avoid a romantic bath with Toriko), and Satsuki's appearance in vol 7 (when Sorawo is considering where she would be without Toriko). In a sense, the terrifying aspects of the Otherside to Sorawo are closely related to the terrifying aspects of a defined relationship with Toriko.

One puzzle piece in play is a conversation from vol 7, as Sorawo, Kozakura, and Toriko are figuring out their approach to exorcize Satsuki. They discuss the concept of "atmosphere" and its ability to transmit emotions, particularly fear, and explore ways to change that atmosphere. Toriko mentions that she's mostly heard ghost stories where sex changes the atmosphere. Sorawo then elaborates to a doubtful Kozakura with the following:

No, it's true. There's stories where they were in a real bad situation, but then they started saying all sorts of lewd things and they survived. I don't tend to say that ghosts are this way or that, but sex is the source of life, so that makes it the polar opposite of ghosts, which belong to the world of the dead... At least, there's that sort of reasoning. It's an idea that's been around since ancient times.

Sorawo also goes on to mention that in some situations, the atmosphere can be overwritten, but in others, these attempts only reinforce it more strongly.

The thing about ghost stories is that for all its other indiscretions, it's an elegant genre in strange ways. There's not a lot of bawdy stories in it. Maybe that's because if you're trying to scare someone, and then sexual elements get involved, it hurts the atmosphere. Anyway, I only brought up the sex stuff as an example of how the atmosphere can get changed. It's too weak to be her weakness. There's some real nasty ghost stories with sexual elements, and there are people who've had scary experiences at love hotels.

All of these concepts start to interweave with one another when the two relocate to Toriko's bedroom. Sorawo immediately notices a change in Toriko's demeanor.

Her expression looked uneasy, without composure. She wanted me, but also feared rejection. Despite the way she'd been breathing heavily through her nose as she led me here by the hand, now Toriko was just standing there awkwardly. As if once she'd dragged me into her room she didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe as we entered what remained of the domain of the living inside this house of the dead, Toriko had come back to life.

This scene firmly links Toriko's fear of the Otherside (death) to Sorawo's fear of the Otherside (relationships). In her moms' bedroom, Toriko had been demanding, frustrated, and angry - the malicious emotional states traditionally occupied by spirits in ghost stories! However, she settles down when she enters her own bedroom. For Sorawo, passing through this interface changes Toriko from an unknowable force who inspires fear into a very human entity with whom she can sit down and discuss the uncomfortable topic of sex. In turn, this allows Toriko to an explore an aspect of their relationship that she views as fundamentally life-affirming. After this scene their Othersides are no longer totally different, or inspire mind-numbing terror, but are now operating on a common logic.

The concept of an atmosphere comes up again just after their first try at sex. Toriko has finally found a turn-on for Sorawo, and Sorawo describes the feeling in the same analytical voice she uses for ghost stories.

Until mere moments ago, our nakedness had been no more than that. Just another awkward state of undress, like when we got in the bath. Not anymore. My nudity, and Toriko's, took on entirely new meaning. One little switch inside of me got flipped, and it caused a startlingly dramatic change in my perception. It was mystifying how, as that change occurred, it swallowed up the entire atmosphere of the scene, including Toriko. Stuff like this can happen... I thought in a daze. The room was dominated by my lust which had suddenly materialized. As it overlapped with Toriko's desire, the atmosphere inside the room became something kind of extraordinary.

Prior to their second go at sex, Sorawo and Toriko take a moment to talk over their last remaining fears about sex - using their Otherside-altered body parts on one another. They come to the mutual realization that they have both been afraid of harming one another, but not of being harmed by the other. This last discussion is important, because it totally diffuses their fears around sexuality prior to indulging it. So as they travel into the deepest reaches of the Otherside, they have total trust and intimacy with one another - and an absolute lack of fear relating to what the Otherside represents to them.

The color of the calm world was blue. As we whorled together, intertwining, the ultrablue abyss spread out endlessly beneath us. We didn't fear it. Because this was our place. No one was watching us. No one knew we were here. We were the only ones watching, and the only ones who knew. So the only things Toriko and I have to fear are each other.

"Was it just me who wasn't that scared?" "Nah, it was the same for me. Everything around us was blue, but it wasn't scary." "I wonder why?" "I dunno, maybe because we were on the side that scared people?" Toriko got a mystified look on her face when I said that. "The side that scared people? You mean the Otherside's side?" "We weren't human anymore, were we, Toriko? When we were there." "...Yeah." Toriko suddenly moved closer to me and chomped down on my ear.

So to bring this full circle, this is why I love this particular easter egg, and Otherside Picnic in general. The setting is treated as an important aspect of the story, and it is carefully chosen for its emotional content and thematic relevance. Toriko's apartment isn't just some random place in an upscale neighborhood of Tokyo. It's a fundamental part of who Toriko is as a person. It's a location that lends a huge amount of thematic subtext to Otherside Picnic as a relationship story, and to the reader's interpretation of the Otherside.

Is it a metaphor for death? For queerness? For our ability to truly bridge the gap in understanding between self and non-self? The reader is invited to imitate Sorawo, and in doing so, finds a treasure trove of understanding. The little rush of discovery shows us what keeps Sorawo interested in exploring a totally alien world and trying to understand its workings.

Miyazawa's writing actively rewards readers for engaging with every little bit of the story, and it really tickles the analytical part of my brain.

[delirious-donna]

Chapter 1: The Perfect Home

pairing: vamp!Kakashi Hatake x female reader

No, this would be a long game and no fleeting meeting in a dark alleyway to alleviate the gnawing hunger in his stomach. You were not instant gratification. Cunning was required and he relished the thought of the chase that would be born from it.

The house was perfect. Love at first sight. A long abandoned stately home would be the perfect place to plant your roots and focus on your writing. There's only one problem... someone already lives there, and he can't wait to meet you.

wc: 3.4k

tw: vampire AU, smut/suggestive throughout, strangers to lovers, talk of blood, minor mention of suicide and parental loss, slight pervert Kakashi, dream sexy times, heavy(ish) petting, this will be the most tame part and I am not sorry for how jam packed full of smut this story will be, reader described as curvy

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Two

Moving would never not be exhausting.

You panted heavily, dropping the box in your arms to the floor with a heavy thud that sent a flurry of ancient dust motes into the air. There were so many boxes still to be moved, and the thought alone pulled a groan of fatigue from your chest.

It would have been so much easier had you chosen a cute little apartment to move into, but no, you had fallen head over heels in love with a musty, dusty old mansion located in the arse end of nowhere. That alone spoke volumes about your personality—your desire to buck the norm and set your own path in life.

Imagination and creativity flowed through your veins like the very blood that continued your existence, and of course, when you came across the dilapidated mansion on one of your evening strolls, it would be love at first sight.

It was difficult to describe the immediate pull you felt towards the building as you gazed longingly at the high arched windows on the top floor, but it was right there in your chest, and you couldn’t deny it. Maybe it was the author in you that resonated with the now empty residence—imaging the place in its glory days and who might have called the place home.

There was no doubt that it had once been a majestic property, and it wasn’t at all hard to picture the gilded edges of the steep roof unbroken and sparkling in the last rays of the setting sun. The dark charcoal of the solid stone walls strong and unblemished and the ornately twisted wrought iron of the balcony railing a pretty addition to lean against and enjoy the summer breeze.

Heavy purple drapes still hung in the windows, and it gave the sense of someone or something wishing to hide from prying eyes despite being abandoned for so many decades.

Curious…

A ‘For Sale’ sign lay slumped against a mighty oak tree that resided just within the fearsome looking gates of the property, appearing as if it had been listed on the market for a considerably lengthy period without any interest.

You had to admit that the wickedly sharp spikes atop the gate might seem unappealing to some, but to you, it was simply another puzzle piece that intrigued you even more. Intrigued enough to pull out the notepad you kept tucked away in your purse for just such times. Normally, you used it to capture bursts of writing inspiration that struck at weird times, tonight you scribbled down the realtor details listed on the sun-bleached board.

When you finally turned to resume your walk home, the mesmerising spell of the house at last breaking enough to release you from your silent gazing, a shadow flitted across your vision from the tallest window. It was gone before you could refocus your gaze, a sharp intake of breath caught in your throat whilst an indescribable sensation swept through you.

It caused the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stand to attention, on alert for anything further. The moment dragged on, eyes fixed upon the window in question and your heart thundering in your chest. Was it a trick of the light or was your brain trying to convince you of things that simply were not there?

After the longest time, you moved away but the further you got from the house, the more you felt as if the place tried to call to you—trying to sway you back with a kind of magic you couldn’t comprehend.

~

The realtor had been rightly dumbfounded with your insistence of purchasing the property without asking for a full tour of the estate. They simply couldn’t realise how hypnotised you were with the place and that there was likely nothing that would sway you away from the decision to own the house.

When they realised you were a cash buyer—an impatient one at that—they became far more accommodating to your wishes.

According to the realtor, the property had previously belonged to the Hatake family, and it had been considered their ancestral home.

The Hatakes were a wealthy family with their hands both firmly into agriculture and the farming of the surrounding lands, dirtied by fertile soil and the sweat of hardwork. Those once rich farmlands now made up much of the nearby metropolis, where nothing fresh or green grew without a planning permit and enough paperwork to drown a person.

They had prospered well over a century and a half ago until a series of tragedies befell the family and ultimately resulted in their demise.

The biggest ink stain on the Hatake history was the tragic life and disappearance of the last born Hatake. The details of which were apparently still largely a mystery in these parts. It was a local story, and one that you had not previously heard of, but the realtor was more than happy to tell the tale for you.

The story went that the son departed the mansion one day after losing his father to suicide and had not returned. His mother had passed away during childbirth and with the only son missing, the house fell into silence and disrepair. Eventually, the bank became the owners by default and the property had stood uninhabited for nearly a century.

How could you not find that intriguing?

From there it was an easy descent into a rabbit hole of theories—considering the potential outcomes of this mysterious missing Hatake and wondering over the details of the apparent suicide of his father.

Your heart tugged for the young man, what a horrific set of events for any person to endure. Part of you could well understand why he may wish to disappear and hoped it hadn’t been as nefarious as the realtor tried to portray.

What you didn’t know at that point, but would soon discover, was that the missing Hatake had long since returned to his family home, and he was more than looking forward to introducing himself to you.

~

Kakashi Hatake, the rightful heir and owner of this property, paced the cramped room in endless agitation. He was not used to such confined spaces, having previously roamed his home freely since his return. In fact, he loathed to feel trapped. It had a way of bringing up unwanted memories and soured his mood.

His instincts were drowning him in unfamiliar sensations, his physical body reacting to the lone female presence that was so close and yet still so far. His headache only grew brighter behind his eyes whilst he continued to fight against his normal compulsion to rest during the daylight hours—hiding from the sun.

Running a hand through his unruly silver hair, he managed a deep steadying breath to regain his composure. He recalled the rage that had consumed him not even a few hours ago with a tight grimace and barely leashed growl. He was never going to react well to the presence of two men in his home, even if they were only carrying furniture into the various rooms whilst his new guest directed them cheerily.

He had not been pleased by their being there at all, yet he knew it was a necessity of the transition. Despite his best efforts at rationalisation, he continued to direct his awareness to pay close attention to the moving men. His mind was running riot at the mere thought of what perverse things a young female, such as yourself, could fall victim to by their grubby hands if given the chance.

How perfectly hypocritical of him.

The razor-sharp, elongated points of his fangs sank heavily into his bottom lip whilst he contemplated on all the perverse things, he wanted to do to you, and he hopefully would do, soon.

This was one of his favourite fantasies come to life, the pages of his well-thumbed romance novels becoming a reality that he was living, and the thought was a very pleasant one. It shamed him to do so, but Kakashi pressed his palm down on the front of his pants, the fabric far tighter and restricting on his growing erection than he wanted to admit.

He was a monster.

Kakashi’s hunger was practically palpable, nostrils flaring wide as he scented the delicate and intoxicating fragrance of your blood. It wafted easily to him as you wandered your new home, carrying boxes and examining the contents at leisure. Kakashi could only describe it as sweet with a hint of spice, akin to hot honey and he absently licked at his lips. Despite having taken precautions against this very situation, the blood from the previous evening had not been anywhere near sufficient to quell the thirst that was manifesting rapidly.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but he knew, deep down, that you were somehow different. The realisation did as much to terrify him as it did to excite.

Kakashi was a vampire, an old one at that, and it had been a long time since he felt any sliver of fear. He was the thing to be feared, not some alluring young woman he didn’t even know—yet.

Thinking back to the night where he had first sensed your presence, he let a small smile curl the very corners of his lips. It was intriguing to recall how his body had seemingly moved of its own accord that evening, feet pulling him over to the small gap in the curtained window like a puppet connected to strings made of blood red thread.

A lone figure stood just outside the gate, watching and longing for something… for this house, his house.

Dressed in an oversized hooded sweater and tight navy jeans he had tsked grumpily at the standard of modern fashion. When had tight bodices and skirts with layers upon layers of petticoats gone out of style? A shame, truly.

However, he could at least tell that you were curvy even beneath the baggy material that tried to hide that very fact, and your hips had that lovely roundness that he was particularly fond of.

He hadn’t been ready for you to leave when you first showed signs of departing, a hand reaching out to touch the glass separating you both without thought.

The suggestion had been thrown before he could stop himself. The result, your head whipped back around to stare intently at the window, the one he was watching you from. It was his fault, and he silently cursed at how easily he had been able to steal inside your mind and implant the idea that a shadow had passed through your vision when it had not.  

Your name whispered to him in that moment, causing an unbidden grin to widen across his face. You were in love with this house—his home—and Kakashi chuckled quietly whilst planning his next set of moves.

He released your mind without further incident, allowing you to slip into the warm summer evening rather than listening to the urge to pursue you into the darkness as he was his instinct.

No, this would be a long game and no fleeting meeting in a dark alleyway to alleviate the gnawing hunger in his stomach. You were not instant gratification. Cunning was required and he relished the thought of the chase that would be born from it.

~

Finally, after a gruellingly long day of strenuous work, you threw yourself atop your plush bed. Your back sinking deep into the soft as a marshmallow comforter. It had been one of the very first things you unpacked after assembling your new bed, quickly followed by your toiletries and you silently praised yourself for that genius forethought.

Waves of fatigue hit you at full force, followed by a deep yawn that rattled your ribs. It was going to be a big adjustment going from a pokey little one bed apartment to a large and empty mansion, and most of your friends thought you to be mad to take on such a project but they couldn’t see the potential that you could. 

However, one thing you had not fully anticipated was the noises that accompanied the house.

You would swear that the floorboards creaked only to torment you at your most vulnerable moments, and the sound of the old pipes being used for the first time in decades was enough to fray the last of your nerves.

This was far more unnerving than you imagined, a far cry from being scared in your old apartment where in the worst case you could run to the neighbours you trusted. Out here the nearest house was a good ten minutes away by foot, you were alone, and it spooked you.

After a frustratingly tense soak in the beautiful claw-footed porcelain tub in your ensuite bathroom, you exited squeaky clean and no longer smelling of musty curtains. You grabbed the nearest clean clothes you could reach, happy to curl up in anything as long as it was fresh and smelled familiar.

The oversized grey t-shirt covered your underwear and dropped down to your knees, the fabric soft from years of wearing and it smelled like home, a welcome thought on this particular night.

Tomorrow was going to be another full-on day. You needed to rise with the sun if you were to make the most of it for unpacking and the deep clean that many of the rooms needed before they were habitable.

With that in mind, you slid beneath the thick duvet and rubbed your cheek sleepily against the pillows. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed you like a coveted possession, and you drifted into a seemingly peaceful slumber.

It would not last…

~

The sound of your name whispered against the shell of your ear, floating on a wind that whipped softly around your consciousness. It prodded delicately at your sleeping form and watched with glee when you turned to press your face deeper into the pillow, slipping into a dream that would be like no other.

All was dark.

Everything was still and unmoving, a tremor of trepidation rippled through your mind. You became aware of your form quite suddenly, blinking as if out of a dream and into a reality, but you would not be fooled so easily.

Glancing down you could see the oversized shirt you’d pulled on before clambering into bed and your bare toes even lower still, wiggling against a hardwood floor.

You tried to raise your hand, to feel the fabric of your shirt between your fingertips but the action felt heavy… restricted… like wading through thick treacle. Warm breath caressed your neck, jolting you out of your confusion and leaving your heart thundering in your chest. It was gone as soon as it had appeared, and you longed to close your eyes, but fear kept them wide and watching.

Again, without warning, a black gloved hand appeared and touched the flare of your hip as if someone stood behind you, yet you couldn’t sense anyone there.

All you could do was watch as the strong fingers pinched the material of your top, much like you had wanted to, until it twisted in their grip. A low grunt of disapproval floated in the air around you, disembodied and clearly irritated, followed by a masculine voice which made your body quiver.

“You should be in satins, silks, lace.”

There was something immediately attraction about the voice, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Yes, you were trembling with fear of the unknown, quaking on the spot, but there was a deep secret part of your psyche that felt a rush of exhilaration.

A quiet hum sounded by your ear, a wave of warm breath fanning over your neck and the gloved hand reappeared higher up your body. The index finger ghosted the curve of your jaw, not touching yet close enough that it almost felt like it was. It was impossible to suppress the whimper leaving your mouth, and it was followed by a request made by the stranger.

“Will you let me… touch you more?” The disembodied voice asked, sounding like hot honey dripping your spine. Just breathless enough that your skin prickled pleasantly.

You swallowed, throat working hard whilst your sensible brain warred with the spontaneous part that demanded, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

A ‘yes’ almost tipped your tongue, if only to find out exactly what might happen, but you had a concession to add firstly. “If you make yourself known, then… yes.”

A chuckle tickled your ear.

You could feel the air behind you ripple with power that felt ancient and foreign, and without turning, you knew there was someone standing there now. It made you antsy, your fingers wriggling in want to reach back and feel what was there. Surely a foolish idea given your inability to run.

“I won’t hurt you, little one. Consider this a safe space, and if you tell me no, I will listen,” he reassured unprompted.

Perhaps he could hear your heart as it ricocheted around your ribcage or feel the itchy tightness in your limbs. Whatever it was, you appreciated the candour and took it for truth, no matter how crazy it was to do so.

The wet muscle of your tongue passed over your lips, wetting them thoroughly and giving your consent with a single nod of your head. It was all it took for the presence at your back to pull you into their chest, hands around your upper arms without exerting pressure, fingertips tracing soothing circles into the skin below the sleeves of your shirt.

He was tall, with a strong chest that you were content to rest against. You had expected his body to feel hot like his breath had on your neck, but he was surprising cool given the circumstances.

His head dipped over the curve of your shoulder and tufts of silver hair entered your periphery. Your eyebrows pinched at the wet marks he left over your neck, seemingly drawn time and again back to the wildly beating thrum of your pulse.

Despite the coolness of his body, his lips were far from cold, and they spread wildfire into your veins without restraint. Never had something felt so wrong but entirely right at the same time.

It took you a long moment to notice that his other arm had wound around your front, the equally gloved hand exploring you with a touch that was as careful as it was eager. Long, slender fingers gripped at your hip, kneading at the curve of your waist, and even dared to drift higher to softly paw at the weight of your breasts.

He continued until your nipples stiffened beneath the thin cotton, your head falling back when he pinched the bud between finger and thumb, the friction intensifying in the pit of your belly.

“I have no doubt that you taste divine.” The stranger whispered against your neck, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Whilst you had always enjoyed stories about faceless strangers luring women into fantasy situations, never had you thought it would be you. You reminded yourself that this was a dream and nothing more, a concoction created by a fatigue addled brain. Yet, it was hard to remember that when you felt as if he was drawing closer and closer to touching you below the waist.

With a newfound sense of confidence, you swayed your hips to press yourself further back into the frame behind you. Ignoring the flare of danger ringing in the back of your mind.

Ringing… right.

Now you thought about it there was a ringing building in your ears.

It was irritating.

An incessant buzz in your head that turned everything around you to static.

You felt him stiffen, a loud exhale of angry breath blowing strands of your hair across your shoulder. His roaming hands paused, and an intimidating growl made you shudder.

“Dammit!” He yelled angrily, and you instinctively knew it was uncharacteristic of your mystery man. “I’ve not had long enough with you…”

There was no time to ponder any of what had happened, or the feeling that you knew this man in some way. Your fingers shot up to wrap around his wrist, a desperate act to hold on but it was like trying catch smoke.

The blaring ring of an alarm clock ripped you from his grasp and back into consciousness. Back into the comfort and safety of your bed.

Blinking and confused as to why you wanted to stay… but where and with who?

[shinra33459]

I feel terrible for Spider

I get that a lot of people don't like Spider as a character, but when looking through his backstory, his childhood has been straight up fucking awful. And what better way to showcase this than to do one of my favorite things: playing psychoanalyst. Miles Socorro was born on Pandora in 2154, likely a few months before the Battle for the Tree of Souls. Growing up, he resented his father, and his mother, Paz, was killed in the final battle who he feels the closest kind of connection too, even though he never got to know her. Back in Hell's Gate when he was growing up, he wasn't close to his foster parents, Nash McCosker and Mary, and really only returned to them to eat, sleep, or when the Sullys didn't want him around. He grew up his entire life immersed in Na'vi culture, so much so that he feels like he's more Na'vi than he is human, even going so far as to paint blue stripes on his skin, style his hair in Na'vi dreadlocks, and wear a Na'vi loincloth to feel more like one of them. He's fluent in their language, knows the customs of the Omatikaya, learned to live as they do, hunt as they do, and survive as they do. In a way, he's a mirror image of Jake with the key difference being that Spider doesn't have an avatar to put his consciousness into. All the while, Neytiri treats him like shit his entire childhood, berating him, keeping him away from family gatherings, and even trying to forbid him from seeing Kiri when he was growing up. Jake stands up for him from time to time and is somewhat accepting as Jake knows exactly what Spider is going through, but even then, Jake literally refers to Spider as a stray cat. Not as the person Lo'ak and Kiri are the closest to and view as a sibling but likening him to a stray animal. Neytiri has valid trauma, but that does not excuse her actions. Her actions border on actual emotional and psychological abuse, and then when slashing him with her knife and then holding him at knifepoint and threatening to kill him as leverage, it crosses the line into physical abuse. Her pain gives her no right to treat a literal child the way she has. A child is not responsible for the sins of the father, and he didn't ask to be born human, hell, he didn't even ask to be born, period.

Now, it's obvious that he looked up to Jake and Neytiri in some way before everything, maybe not parental, be he obviously had a deep respect for them. They were the parents of the people he saw as siblings, and it's obvious that even back then, he was looking for any sort of parental affection. From when he was an infant to when he is 16, he never had anything really resembling that in a way that truly mattered, which is likely another reason why he hung out with the Sully family as much as he did, and likely hoping for anything resembling that. So, when Quaritch comes back, and says that he cares, even if Quaritch was just doing it to manipulate Spider, is it any wonder he started forming a bond with the man, especially over the months he was in captivity? He's been cut out of any parental affection for really his entire life, and here comes a Na'vi clone of his biological father who appears to be offering that to him. Combine that with the possibility of some form of Stockholm Syndrome, is it any wonder why he saved Quaritch as well? And then by the time Spider is fully adopted into the Sully family, he's 16 years old, two years away from being a full-grown man. The damage is already done. If he were a real person, he would be psychologically scarred beyond belief, and it wouldn't be surprising that a person like Spider would end up with behavioral issues, difficulties forming healthy relationships, boundary issues, self-esteem issues, and potentially substance abuse issues among a laundry list of others. This poor kid deserved and still deserves way better than what he's gotten, and it's likely that his treatment over the years, not having any kind of a stable childhood, growing up without a stable family, and so many more, likely damaged him for the rest of his life. I genuinely hope that he can find some kind of peace in the upcoming movies, because thus far, his entire life has been one gigantic trainwreck.

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 3.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. no warning except main characters being dumb and some SERIOUS tension

part six: the dreams and the sunday market ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xv. the dreams

you were dreaming of kissing jeon jungkook.

  it was akin to a recurring nightmare, the way you woke up in cold sweat after picturing his beautiful lips on yours in your sleep. ever since the night where the two of you shared dinner, the image haunted you and chased you even in your lack of consciousness. it didn’t help that your day always began at five a.m, leaving you waking up, distraught, and no sun to warm your surroundings. 

  today in particular was not looking to be on your side. you slept through your first two alarms after getting lost in the dream of kissing jungkook on a beach in front of luscious palm trees and golden sand. even worse, it was the day of jungkook’s return to the farm.

  in the hours between your awakening and jungkook’s arrival, your nerves casted away your grogginess. you wondered why you didn’t decline his offer to finish the gate, but remembered he made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you - there should be no problem, then.

  since he was coming in the evening, you had an entire day ahead of you. somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. it was maddening, as if the thoughts of jeon jungkook settled beneath your skin and chased your every move. it was a gloomy day with light showers, but the thoughts kept you warm and you didn’t like it one bit. 

  by 5 p.m, you were wrapped up for the day. it shouldn’t have taken so long, but with your late wake-up and the plaguing image of your childhood best friend, you found yourself sluggish. you decided that you were going to proceed like you’d done in the weeks prior.

  the last thing you wanted to take care of was inspect the garage once more. you’d been meaning to test out the old tractor inside to determine if you could sell it off or not, but it was a problem when the door was stuck in the same place. now, you were outside, wrestling with the garage, once again.

  “i guess this does have to be fixed. . .” you mumbled to yourself, remembering jungkook’s words.

  then, you heard your name being called. it startled you, since you hadn’t had any visitors in quite some time, considering jungkook’s absence. however, you knew that voice from a mile away and weren’t surprised when you turned around, taking notice of him approaching across the fields, coming face to face with the man in question.

  you hastily wiped the beads of sweat on your temple. “hey,” you said when you saw jungkook, who likely wandered to the fields when you didn’t answer the front door.

  “hey, y/n,” jungkook replied, setting his toolbox down by the fence he was to work on. today, he was wearing a black button down over a white t-shirt with jeans. his hair had grown slightly longer since you first arrived to amber valley and you liked the way it fell over his eyebrows. 

  as you always did, you graciously thanked him. “i really appreciate you coming to help me out.” even though he essentially shut down any possibility of you being able to come to terms with any feelings you had. you didn’t say that part out loud. 

  “stop that, you know i just want to lend a hand,” he waved you off and you wondered if that was what you knew. you weren’t sure if that was what your silent agreement with jungkook truly involved, with his persistence and your strong will - two things that were not easily challenged, but crumbled at one another.

"you still fighting with that old thing?" jungkook chuckled softly, looking at the garage door behind you.  

you only rolled your eyes. "i thought i could get it."  

he shook his head, continuing to laugh, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. “oh, i guess this is the first time i’ve come by in the evening. you’re done work for once.”  

you didn’t realize this fact either and tried to fight a silent panic - you usually had a task that you could pretend to be busy with, in order to distract yourself from jungkook’s presence. then, you began what to wonder what was wrong with you? it was just jungkook. were your vivid dreams really chasing you into acting strangely? and was he not quieter than usual, or were you overthinking things?

  jungkook eventually excused himself to get to work and you decided that you needed to push your barrage of thoughts and questions away. instead, you entered the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner as usual, except a bit extra for your handyman of a friend.

  when you peeked outside after finishing, you saw that jungkook was drilling something into place. he’d taken off his button down shirt at some point, tying it around his waist. you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention, but it didn’t stand a chance against the sound of the drill.

  “jeon jungkook!” you yelled, but he still couldn’t hear you. it was only when you brought your hands to your lips and let out a loud whistle when he finally caught your eye, turning the drill off promptly.

  jungkook shook his head in disbelief, walking towards you with a laugh. “namjoon was right, that is a really loud whistle you can do.”

  “i made dinner,” you said, hiding your nerves. in reality, you knew little could go wrong, as the two of you were sharing meals together for weeks. unless, of course, if he tried setting you up with a friend again.

  “you know, i took you as someone who would be shit at cooking, but you’re pretty good,” jungkook teased, as he left his tools on the ground and walked towards you. “and thanks, of course.”

  you rolled your eyes. “i’m good at everything.”

  “lies. there’s a bunch of things i’m better than you at,” he mused, as he opened the door back inside for you. 

  the half-serious bickering made you drop your shoulders in ease, settling back into the same comfortable atmosphere that you always shared with jungkook. this was still the brat that used to whine if you got a better guitar hero score than him.

  the two of you soon settled into some local gossip. jungkook began telling you about how your grandpa used to constantly predict that the lee family would divorce sooner or later, which was apparently now in progress. you wondered how close he really was to him.

  “i wish we gave him one more summer with the three of us,” you said, as the two of you moved in fluid motions around the kitchen. the movements were natural and almost domestic, with jungkook knowing where all of the plates and silverware was and made it his job to set the table. meanwhile, you began getting the food ready.

  he nodded. “i think he would have liked that. he’s probably happy that we’ve become friends again.”

  the image of your dreams last night flashed before your eyes when jungkook said the word “friends” and you chose to ignore it. 

  instead, you responded, “i’d like to think that we never stopped.” your voice was quiet, unsure of the statement that you just offered. 

  it was nice, the way that you and jungkook managed to pick up your friendship after thirteen years as if nothing happened in between. and, even then, over the past month, the two of you slowly began to grasp the lives you led in the time apart. the people you grew into. somehow, it still clicked.

  jungkook paused, in the middle of bringing out plates from the cupboards. “you know, me too,” he said. “too bad you stopped responding to my letters.”

  this made you also freeze in place, eyebrows furrowed at his remark. “what do you mean? i didn’t stop responding,” you turned around to face him. “you’re the one that stopped replying.”

  “i’m pretty sure i was the last one to send a letter, bunny,” jungkook chuckled, but you sensed some bitterness. “i sent you a letter one spring and then when june rolled around, your grandpa randomly told me you weren’t coming back.”

  you shook your head, lips parted. “i never got a letter.”

by now, you finished setting food on the table. it was a full american-style breakfast, with chicken and waffles, scrambled eggs, and a platter of fruit from the farm. you made a jug of iced tea and set out some water. jungkook’s eyes trailed to the table and his eyes were unreadable.

  “that’s too bad,” he spoke slowly, as if remembering something. “breakfast for dinner?” then, jungkook shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts off, and proceeded to set the rest of the table.

  your eyes widened. “sorry, do you not like it? i thought it would be a good change - “

  “no, it’s not that! thank you, it looks delicious. i love breakfast for dinner,” jungkook smiled. it was as if he flipped a switch and you were itching to know what he was thinking before.

  “if you’re not up for it - “

  “you’re annoying, come sit down with me,” jungkook interjected again, but was playful and rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

  you punched his shoulder, which you knew did little damage, but he yelped anyway. sitting down across from him, jungkook began serving the both of you and you didn’t object when he plopped food on your plate for you. it was the same routine that you had before and frankly, it was nice.

  “i just didn’t think it would you’d never come back to town again,” he commented and you were confused, until you remembered what he said earlier. 

  you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “me neither. i don’t know what hapened, i used to love it here. . “ you trailed off, looking around your surroundings and out the window, where the silver of the amber valley sky looked down on you. “i did try looking for you at some point, but you aren’t on social media.”

  jungkook shook his head, pouring two cups of iced tea. “not really. and especially not after i started taking care of jiwon.” he passed one cup to your side, which you quietly thanked him for. “i think i saw you one time online, in early high school, but you looked different and i wasn’t sure.”

  like every teenager, you had a phase of experimenting with your look and went through different kinds of hair colours and makeup styles. now, in your twenties, you’d grown tired of constant change and like your city life, settled for mundane and simple. just before his passing, your grandpa once remarked that you began to look like yourself again.

  “we would’ve still been best friends in high school. i’d keep you around to copy off your homework,” you joked, cutting into a waffle. you weren’t kidding when you told jiwon about how smart jungkook was, as he’d always been since you two were young. though you were academically gifted yourself, you’d held jealousy for the way jungkook learned every hobby you liked at twice the learning speed.

  “aw, i was your best friend?” jungkook banterd, which made you kick him underneath the table. “i’m joking. we’re best friends forever, isn’t what we put on the tree?”

  “oh my god, don’t remind me of that!” your cheeks went hot, as you recalled that memory that jungkook was referring to.

  when you were about nine years old, you and jungkook had the genius idea to carve your names into a random tree by the town square. while doing so, you were caught by mayor kim walking by, who made a big deal out of you kids “defacing” town property. when he scolded you and told your grandpa though, the latter got a kick out of it. 

  the rest of the conversation was light, which was exactly what you needed. in spite of this, jungkook’s remarks about your letters echoed in the back of your mind. you made a mental note to look into his claim - though the said letters from your childhood likely lived in your dad’s apartment, where you had spent your middle school to high school years at.

  midway through the dinner-slash-breakfast, you caught the way jungkook’s eyes were fixated on you and didn’t move. you gave him a questioning look and he sighed.

  jungkook said, “there’s jam on your face.” his tone was pretending to be disappointing, but holding back a laugh.

  “oh, where?” you began wiping your cheek, which turned out to be dry. you continued swiping around, still missing.

  he groaned. “it’s literally right there. by your nose, bunny. come on.” 

  after looking like he was about to simultaneously lose his mind and burst out laughing, his chair creaked loudly against the wooden flooring and jungkook stood up. he made strides around the table over to you and bent down to meet you at eye-level. you jumped at the sudden movement and the fact that jungkook’s face was inches away from yours. he was so close that you could count every single one of his long eyelashes if you tried.

  “it’s right. . .here.” at some point, jungkook ripped away a piece of paper towel from your side and you nearly flinched when you felt his touch on your cheek. 

  he gently wiped away the spread with a tilted head and a crease forming in between his brows, seemingly looking everywhere but in your eyes. you were so close to him that you could hear his steady breathing. you wondered if he was close enough to hear the army marching in the middle of your chest. it was hard for you to breathe yourself when your entire body froze at the contact.

  you managed to let out a whisper, fighting the shiver creeping up your spine. “thanks.”

  jungkook’s lips looked exactly like they did in your dreams. “no problem.” his voice was low and you swore you saw his eyes flash to your own lips, before looking up at you.

  you weren’t sure how long the two of you were still for. the only thing in your ears was the sound of your heart, which was amplified over the ticking of the grandfather clock several feet away. nobody dared to move until the ringing of a cell phone, which caused both of you to jump.

  it was jungkook’s. the phone was sitting on the dining table and it rang because you knew he always kept his phone off vibrate for his sister. when you saw a picture of jiwon and jungkook making silly faces at each other flash on the screen, you cleared your throat and scooted backwards, knowing that jungkook was going to immediately take the call.

  “sorry, one sec,” jungkook eventually snapped back into reality when he saw his screen. he picked up his phone and trailed into the living room to take the call.

  it was time for you snap back into reality, too. you felt stupid and like you wanted to bang your head into the table in front of you. there was no way he was going to kiss you, you’d witnessed one too many reruns of this fantasy in your dreams. you just spoke about how great your friendship was.

  best friends forever. you repeated that in your mind, along with jungkook talking your ear off about how great you and taehyung would look together.

xvi. the sunday market

on the last sunday of each month, the valley closed up most of its main roads for pedestrian access only and the community came out to hold a market in the town square. local busineses came out to sell their usual and offer up fun, seasonal products to buy. your grandfather usually set up a stand, but you found yourself a little too shy to be doing it alone for your first month in town. thankfully, you were wedged between jimin and hoseok, right in between their booths. 

  “honestly, i’m glad you’re with us, y/n. at least we can all smell like fish,” hoseok hummed, as he began unfolding a tablecloth.

  to this, jimin rolled his eyes and continued shuffling through some flyers in his hand. “we’re not even selling fresh fish this month.” in front of him was instead a variety of different seafood products, such as artisanal spread, marinated seafood in jars and sustainably sourced caviar. 

  meanwhile, you were proud of what you scrambled together last minute. cartons of eggs, jugs of milk, yogurt, and quick-growing crops like microgreens and radishes. you took your job very seriously and wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk.

  “thank you, y/n! hoseok, can you put some sunblock on for once? sheesh, you’re going to get burnt!” hoseok’s mom, mrs. jung, was one of your first customers that day and happily took home some fresh basil and eggs. her sneer at hoseok was clear as day, even underneath her floppy hat, snapping at her son from right beside you.

  hoseok groaned. “mom, i’m almost thirty. stop!” and still, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. 

  mrs. jung ignored him. “bye, y/n! bye jiminnie!” she blew a kiss to jimin, which made hoseok grumble.

  you laughed at the interaction, as you fanned yourself with one of jimin’s flyers. it’d been less than an hour since the market began and it was still early in the morning, so the square was sparse. you could even look down to your left and still see seokjin’s booth on the other side of the market, beside the mayor’s booth manned by namjoon. 

  it was now the end of june and marked your first month in town. the skies were clear and bright, a sight that you promised yourself you wouldn’t take for granted. every morning, you woke up before the sun did and by the time the morning came up to greet you, you were filled with vibrant energy for the day.

  “hi unnie! you look like you’re in a good mood today!” it was jiwon, holding onto peanut with one hand and her teddy bear in another. she was stylish for a kid her age, wearing jeans and a trendy graphic t-shirt that you suspected was jungkook’s influence.

  taking a cautious scan of your surroundings, you let out a quiet breath of relief when you saw that jungkook wasn’t around. he was definitely nearby, though, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let jiwon roam around with the puppy with anyone else.

  you greeted, “hi jiwon! you’re up early.” it was about nine in the morning and if you were a kid, you would not be a morning person during summer vacation.

  “yeah, oppa made me come with him,” she yawned extra loud, clutching her leash close.

  to your right, jimin cleared his throat. “where is jungkook?” he asked.

  “he’s avoiding y/n,” jiwon sang, like it was a normal thing to say out of the blue.

  your ears turned pink. you thought the two of you were good. it’d been over a week since your dinner with him at the saloon. now come to think about it, since your last encounter, jungkook had yet to make another return to the farm to finish whatever gate he was repairing - you stopped keeping track at some point, just letting him come over and continuing to hope that he found something new to fix. 

  hoseok pinched his nose. “jiwon, you can’t rat my boy out like that,” he whispered, side-eying you, even though you could clearly see. 

  to add fuel to the fire, you noticed the way jimin was scoping his surroundings. his eyes narrowed over to a corner, where you finally saw jungkook talking to mayor kim. when you did so, he looked over and made eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds, before darting away. before you knew it, jimin began hollering.

  “hey! jungkook! come here!”

  “what are you doing?” you hissed, taking a step towards jimin’s booth. “i thought we made a truce, park jimin.”

  “trust me, i’m helping you out.” jimin’s cheeky grin made you take a deep breath, holding back profanity for jiwon.

  you weren’t sure if the boys knew anything about what was going on with you and jungkook. hell, you weren’t even sure what was going on with you and jungkook. ever since he began detatching, you’d become confused and kept second guessing if you said or did something wrong. maybe coming by his house randomly was weird, but he did the exact same thing. the way he randomly suggested taehyung as a date for you also sent mixed signals.

  jungkook and mayor kim looked towards your direction, taken aback. then, jungkook gave the latter a polite smile, before walking in your direction. great.

  “did you need help with something, jimin?” the tight-lipped smile and tone coming from jungkook indicated he didn’t want to help with anything at all.

  jimin’s smile remained on his face, as he shook his head. “have you seen y/n’s, uh, cilantro? so fresh.”

  you turned to jimin, dumbfounded, but also irritated that you got roped into the conversation. meanwhile, jiwon batted her eyelashes, looking back and forth between you and her brother. her innocent demeanour was almost convincing, but you knew you were dealing with a jeon here. 

  “oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, y/n,” jungkook said. 

  bullshit. your tablecloth was bright yellow, compared to jimin and hoseok using the same white for their booths. you were wearing red lipstick and a sundress. he definitely noticed you. this made your jaw tense, annoyed that jungkook was acting different out of nowhere.

  “yup,” was all you could say, a dry tone settling in your voice.

  jungkook raised his eyebrows. “late night or something?” he asked, as if your voice indicated fatigue.

  “no.”

  “your eyebags say otherwise.” usually, jungkook teased you with a certain playfulness, but he instead matched your dry tone.

  hoseok immediately interjected, “oh, haha! ha - uh, haha!” he forced laughter out as if pushing with brute force, looking at you and jungkook strangely. the question in his eyes read what’s wrong with you two clear as day.

  you shrugged and luckily at that very moment, a small family began walking in your direction and approached your booth. on the other hand, jungkook suddenly became fascinated with the infused syrups at hoseok’s table and found the energy to talk his ear off about the ingredients. you missed the way jiwon shot a dirty look at jimin, as if this was his fault.

  “why are they acting weird?” jimin whispered to the smaller girl, as if buddies gossiping on the playground. 

  jiwon only rolled her eyes and huffed, walking away with peanut. she murmured things under her breath about adults being useless, wondering why she had to wake up early all to witness a dumpster fire between you and jungkook. she walked away, muttering to herself something about how she was determined to prove she was the only one with brains around here.

  𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177